As they all walked forward, Rissa supported by Hawkman, Tregare saw his battered bride gesture toward himself. "But how can he be here?" Whatever his father answered, Rissa nodded.

  Bran's own questions gave Hawkman no pause, either. He'd asked if the marriage was to be oldstyle or freestyle. Head-shake. "We don't make the distinction here. Now let's begin. "

  Not one word of that ceremony stuck in Tregares memory. At the end of it Rissa turned to him; he tasted blood on her abused lips. Then she reached her head up and lightly touched her tongue to each of his eyelids. "If this is all you will show—" and he realized his face was still hooded.

  Hawkman was trying to wind things down. While Bran was trying to find an answer for his new wife, Blaise Tendal began to shout, challenging her as "the murderer of Stagon dal Nardo!" Wrenching away from Bran, she shouted an acceptance, but Hawkman in a cold voice negated the entire proposition: as a Hulzein connection by marriage, "Tari" was out of Tendal's status range for dueling. Tendal claimed he was a dal Nardo the same way she was a Hulzein. A short man, one of Stagon dal Nardos retinue, calling himself Talig dal Nardo and claiming to be Stagon's heir to power in the clan, told Tendal that his nominal marriage to Stagon's prepubescent daughter was annulled. Tendal, red-faced, threw his hat down and cursed the lot of them. "You all hide behind status, don't you? Well, dealing with Blaise Tendal, it won't help you! I'll get her anyway!"

  Enough of this shit. I want that one, Tregare stepped forward. "Tendal! If I headed the dal Nardo clan, I'd kill you this minute. If the new head doesn't, he should. Because I'm sure he knows, if you don't, what happens to anyone connected with the fool who harms the wife of Bran Tregare!"

  For seconds he thought it would work. Insane and raging, the man was, but Tregare was in position to stop him from getting near Rissa, and moving forward, too. Hawkman didn't hold him back. Bran stepped ahead, slowly. When he saw the man's mouth twisting and knew something was wrong, it was too late. The knife came from nowhere into Tendal's hand—so much for their damned Security here—and went far afield of Tregares frantic grab. He heard a gasp, a shout; he couldn't turn fast enough to see where the knife had gone, but in front of him Blaise Tendal's chest exploded into red steam. The black-clad referee put away her energy gun and said, "I should have done that when he threw the dirt. "

  The shout had been from Ernol Lombuno; now Tregare saw that the hilt of a knife protruded from the palm of the black man's hand, and the blade out the back of it. But Lombuno was grinning. "Best catch I ever made!" There was blood but not a whole lot, and shortly the senior medic worked the blade loose and opened skin enough to make sure there was no tendon damage, then administered antibiotics and closed the wound.

  Later they went out to the aircars. The others—the dal Nardos with the corpse to carry, the referees' group and the two medics (after the younger of those two had hugged Rissa for a time)—left earlier. Hawkman assigned passengers to his and Brans car. A small man, thin-faced and with a crooked nose, was waiting outside the arena; Hawkman said, "Lebeter, I wish we'd had you inside, there. The dal Nardos had a knifester who got in, armed. Nearly killed our principal. "

  Lebeter shook his head. "Bad. Who was it?"

  "Blaise Tendal. So damn' fast. "

  Lebeter spat on the ground. "I should of been there. " And Hawkman laughed, clapping a hand to the little knifemans shoulder. They both grinned, and Lebeter said, "Your car's crowded. I'll fly Splieg with me. Anybody else?" Hawkman shook his head; Lebeter said, "If you need no more now, I'll leave. "

  That car lifted; not long after, the remaining group boarded Tregare's car. He waved Hawkman to the pilots seat; after all, the man knew the way to Hulzein Lodge and dark would be coming soon. Sparline was making Rissa, sedated close to sleep, comfortable on the car's wide rear seat. That done, she turned to face Tregare. "It's been a long time, Bran. Are you reconciled to us now, or—?" He stared at her, and found that all the long hurt was somehow gone. So he hugged her, this tall beautiful sister he didn't really know. "All of a sudden, seems so. We'll talk later; okay?"

  "I'd like that. Rissa's said you're not so bad as people say. "

  He laughed. "I hope to hell not. Go sit down, so's Hawkman can lift us. "

  Strapping in, Tregare found himself sitting beside Ernol Lombuno, and said, "How's the hand? Hurting much?"

  "Some. Not too badly. " A pause, and then, "So you've married her. I hope you know what she's worth. "

  Tregare thought that remark over. "Maybe. Do you?"

  Lombuno cleared his throat. "Her worth, I do know. " Before Bran could answer, he said, "We had moments. I fought her in practice. Fought with her when that Tendal tried ambush, once. Made love together, after. " Sidelong glance. "Does that bother you?"

  Tregare shrugged. "Why should it? People don't own each other. Never have, never can, never will. "

  In peripheral vision he saw the other man shrug. "I'm glad you see it that way. Because if you held anything against her, you'd answer to me, for it. "

  In wonderment Tregare looked at the man beside him. "I think I need to tell you something, Lombuno. Which is, we're on the same side. "

  Seeing the wounded bandaged hand reach out for handshake, Bran Tregare made his clasp gentle.

  As Hawkman, in early dusk, approached Hulzein Lodge, Bran found the place even more impressive at close range. The entire complex sat at the edge of a high valley, with a wooded sweep dropping away below. Landing near the Lodge itself, Hawkman taxied the aircar to the front entrance. Tregare unfastened his harness and went back to see how Rissa was doing.

  She was awake, maybe still a bit drug-punchy but not much. He and Hawkman helped her out the aircar's door; then she said, "I can walk unaided now, I think. Let me?" And though she moved as awkwardly as stiffened bruises might justify, Tregare contented himself with staying close in case she stumbled.

  As they entered, he spoke softly to her. "On the ship I took you when I had no right to. Now I've got the right—but I won't come to you until you say so. "

  She touched his arm, then his tattooed cheek. "Be with me now. " He must have looked surprised, because she added, "No—only to talk, while I soak out some hurt, in a hot tub. "

  He nodded—and so, approaching now, did Liesel Hulzein. Bran waited for some unbidden emotional surge within him, but nothing came except curiosity: what would his mother say?

  Her response was pure Liesel. She hugged him as though he'd been away for the weekend, and said, "Yes, go with her, Bran. We all need to talk, but that can wait. " Quickly she gave Rissa some comforting words and an embrace to match, then asked Hawkman to go with her and give a full report. "I want to hear all of it. " Looking after them, Bran shook his head. Those Hulzein women! And half his genes were theirs....

  Guiding Tregare to her upstairs room, Rissa needed to lean on his arm. Inside, she shed her robe. The marks she bore would have fit well on a Slaughterhouse snotty.

  Finding the bathroom, Tregare ran water into the tub, gauging and adjusting the temperature as hot as a person could stand without real pain, or injury. "I look like a gargoyle!" He turned to see her before a mirror, and had to agree: bloody, swollen lips, the purple-bulging right eye above the bandaged cheek. As she touched fingers to her upper front teeth, he saw her wince. "He has loosened a few; for some days I shall not chew well. "

  Then she entered the tub, sliding down until only her face appeared above the water, and asked him to bring her some brandy, in the flasks oversized cap. The first sip made her shudder; the second brought what she probably meant to be a smile. But not today, it wasn't. Pulling a chair over, to sit beside the tub, he said, "You ever marry before?" Her headshake was slow and lazy. "Neither have I. It feels ... odd. "

  "Do not worry. Sparline said we need not be bound, after this crisis. " She shrugged. "Whatever that might be. "

  He tried to explain: Bleeker, the oligarch's reactions to learning Tregares Hulzein status, the dal Nardo succession, and more—but she wasn't interested. Interrupting, "Say instead how you are here. Inconnu was not at the Port—did you land elsewhere and travel overland?"

  She was kneading lather into her hair, and he could see her wince at working with sore arms. "Here—let me do that. " While he did so, he explained how he had Inconnu out circling the big planet ("almost a grey dwarf") and serving as a relay station for incoming ships, and that he'd sneaked back to Number One in his scoutship. "Landed at a place I have, the other side of the Big Hills, and called Hawkman to come parley. "

  And heard what he said: why did I lie? Because he wasn't ready to tell her, or anybody else, how he'd fallen apart, was why. Someday... ?

  "That is where he has been?"

  "Right. Now hold your breath—" And for the next minute or so, Rissa's attention was distracted by being underwater longer than she truly enjoyed, while Bran scrubbed away at lather. When she came up spluttering he apologized; both offense and apology were horseplay—and meanwhile he could change the subject.... "That thumbnail you tore, there, in the duel— I'll have to fix it. Mights well cut back those other claws, too. We need any more fighting around here, it's my job. "

  "No! Married or not, I do my own fighting. And you forget— Sparline said the ceremony was for political reasons. We are not bound unless we both wish it. "

  He stopped filing the broken nail. Suddenly he knew what he wished. He couldn't stop his scowl. "Forget politics. You want free of me so soon, without even trying the marriage? Without seeing what it's like?"

  She looked at him. He was pretty sure what she was thinking, and that he wasn't going to like it. But he had to listen. "I cannot know, Tregare, what I will want later. But mask and all, I recognized you before the ceremony. And now—there will be time, for both of us, to decide our wishes.

  "Will you help me out of here? My muscles have turned to wax. " Like his scowl earlier, he had no control over the grin that came now. He aided her to stand and leave the tub, then handed her a large towel for herself and took a smaller one to begin the drying of her long hair. When he stood back, as much done as a towel would manage, she put her own towel aside and again he saw the swollen, distorted attempt to smile. "How can I have such hurt, from blows I do not remember?"

  He helped her into her robe. "I don't know. How could anyone your size stand up against the likes of dal Nardo—and kill the bastard?"

  "Dal Nardo was not trained by Erika Hulzein. " Well, he couldn't argue with that answer.... With an arm around her, he walked Rissa into the bedroom and brought a chair so he could sit beside her bed. "Something I didn't know before. On Inconnu, any day you could have killed me. The way I treated you, how come you didn't?"

  Lying down, it's hard to shrug, but she managed. "First, because no stranger kills a captain on his own ship and survives. Later—as I said before our landing here—I ceased to hate you. "

  "Ceased to hate? Is that all, Tari?" Tari? His mind had slipped back to the Inconnu time with her—and that was all right, because he wanted her to do the telling.

  Her answer belied her headshake, then—what was she thinking? "More than that, Tregare—but probably not what you would like to hear. Toward the end I felt a kind of sympathy, a precarious comradeship—but also that you were a dangerous man who might still be useful to me. "

  Useful? She was certainly laying it on the line! "You still feel that way?"

  "After what you said to Tendal before he threw the knife? Ah, no, Tregare—whatever happens between us or does not, I will never try to use you. Can you say the same to me?"

  He found one fist pounding into his other palm. "Peace, yes! But I can't speak for the rest of the family. They—"

  Then they came near to arguing, Rissa saying she begrudged no advantage Liesel gained by their dealings, Tregare telling her that to Hulzeins everyone was expendable if the stakes were high enough. "I sure as peace was. " And found himself rehashing the old grievances, until by main will he stopped himself. "Oh, I believe it now, that they had to leave me in hell to save my life. " Shaking his head, "You wouldn't believe what

  UET does to young kids, to weed out all but the very toughest. Either you turn into a kind of monster, or you die. "

  Staring, he didn't really see her. "I didn't die, Tari—/ didn't die. "

  Her hand touched his; by reflex he jerked away, then came back to himself and clasped hands with her. "There—you see? Thinking back to that, any touch—even yours—is a threat. "

  "But only for a second—then you recovered quickly enough. "

  "I don't know. It's been years, and still—"

  "To let go of old hurts, there are methods. I can show you, if you like—if you will let me. "

  "Maybe. If we ever have time for it, maybe I will. " At first he couldn't identify the feeling that came to him then, because not since he lost his home had he known it, much. That feeling was, he finally decided, trust. He also decided it scared him a little.

  She was trying to say something and he hadn't been listening. "And I—" in a small voice, then nothing more. His questions brought no response; she changed the subject to the matter of dinner. "Soft foods, please. " The loosened teeth; sure. So over the intercom he ordered up a meal. He thought he'd done a good job of it, so that couldn't be why she was frowning. Then she said, "Tregare? As married persons, should we not know one another by our true names?"

  All right, it was her surprise; he wouldn't spoil it. Pretending ignorance, he played straight man; yes, the disguise, and so that was why the lockbox wouldn't open, and so on. When he saw she was on the verge of exasperation, he said, "You want me to ask, don't you? All right, I'm not married to Tari Obrigo. Who, then?"

  "I am sorry it makes little difference to you. " She was wrong, there, but he didn't interrupt. "To me, it does. I am Rissa Kerguelen. Now, I suppose, we can talk about something else. "

  Faking surprise he said, "Sure! I remember now—" and told of seeing her Welfare press conference back at Earth—his glee at the spunk she'd shown and at learning of her later escape from UET. Then his smile faded; he could feel it go. Done with acting, he said, "On the ship—I wish I'd known. I wouldn't have—"

  "Ease your mind, Tregare. If you are in dire need of something to regret, I am sure we can find a more worthy subject. "

  Their meal's arrival interrupted any further protest. As she looked at the tray he said, "Does my order suit you? Does it— Rissa?"

  A nod. "Yes. "

  "Real names. If they're important to you, mine's Bran. " She'd know already, of course, but this was the way he wanted to do it.

  "Yes—Bran. "

  "That's better. Let's eat. "

  Later they talked more. On the matter of names, Rissas view was that only in private were the usages important. "Because publicly we use automatic defenses. By ourselves we must discard these or remain strangers. " He wasn't sure he followed her thinking, but it felt right.

  In light of her physical state, at bedtime he offered to leave, but she said, "Not unless you wish to go. I am in invalid status, but if you would like merely to stay with me, this bed is large and your presence would comfort me. "

  "Maybe yours will comfort me, too. " Her lips would pain her too much to accept a kiss, so he settled for her forehead. And in bed, knowing how stiff and sore she must be—bath or no bath—he attempted no cuddling.

  But once, in the night, he woke to find her snuggling close. Yawning, he smiled, and let sleep come again. Without nightmares.

  Next morning, Rissa had a bone to pick. Two, in fact. First, the woman Chira; well, sooner or later he'd have to explain so why not now? He told about it: "... bought her for a packet of drugsticks and a rusty knife, because she was next up for sacrifice to their tribal god, a nasty bastard as such things go, " and how by no purpose of his own he'd wound up stuck with her. Next, the women in Hold Portside Upper. So he told that, too: the buying and transportation, and the lucky deal to send them off to Farmer's Dell with Pell Quinlan. And that Chira had gone with the rest. Ending, "That suit you, or do you still think I lie to you?"

  Smiling, she shook her head. "Bran Tregare, you are too proud to lie—except, of course, in the line of business. You are what my father used to say—a brass-plated sonofabitch who takes no crap from anyone. There is much to be said for that land of person. So I accept you... no, not yet, you ravisher of cripples!" But his hands were gentle on her, and she laughed, even leaning to touch her damaged lips to his.

  "Rissa—how can you fit into the stretched-out life I must lead?"

  "How could I know? But for now, while we are here, I think I can. Shall we try?"

  Later when he'd run another hot bath to soothe her aches, she lay near-submerged, only eyes and nose and mouth above the steaming water. "Bran Tregare? Now I shall trust you. "

  "If you do, then except for my people on Inconnu, you'll be the first. " But I won't let you down.

  She couldn't have heard him; as he spoke, she had ducked her head under water. No point in saying it again, the said or unsaid, either one. He'd show her, was all.

  As she sported, lazily, in the steaming tub, Bran did some thinking. It wouldn't be easy, putting together a fleet to go take Stronghold. Then the gamble he couldn't even estimate: lying in wait to take UETs incoming ships, and finally moving against UET on Earth itself. But he had to try—it's what I'm built for.

  His odds were better now. Looking back, he saw that since the Slaughterhouse had begun to warp him, he hadn't been truly a whole person. All that waste—walling off Hawkman and Liesel and Sparline. I had to do it, but—if it hadn't been for Krieg Elman's example, I could have turned just as bad. And a paranoid can't do this job of mine; who'd follow him?

  After Tanit Eldon he'd thought he could never trust another woman. How could he accept Rissa so easily? Well, Zelde M'tana had taken the edge off—impossible that she could be phony. And Rissa, instead of ingratiating herself as Tanit did, had faced up to him, brought him to a standstill sometimes. That made her real.

 

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