“As in telepathic compulsion? Even most Kinsmen can’t do it, Ser Janek. You and I are presumably protected from such incursions—at least any your Concordat Kinsmen could anticipate. If Ronan possesses residual telepathic abilities, they couldn’t be powerful enough to approach such an extraordinary act.”
“Forgive me, Captain, but I doubt your objectivity where our guest is concerned. Telepath you may be, but you are not trained to conduct the kind of interrogation necessary to clear VelKalevi of suspicion.”
Cynara narrowed her eyes. “You don’t speak like a mere observer, Ser Janek. Why don’t you share with us the source of your expertise in these complex and confidential matters?”
“I’m sure everything will become clear on Dharma,” Janek said. He stepped to the side for a clear view of Ronan, who returned his stare. “You’re being watched, VelKalevi. Cooperate, and you may find your stay on Dharma relatively pleasant compared to captivity among the stripes.”
Ronan smiled. “Perhaps I will, Va Janek.”
“Until we reach Dharma and contact the Council, you will not obstruct ship’s operations,” Cynara told Janek. “We’ll proceed on the assumption that Ronan is a friend and ally.”
Janek clicked his heels and bowed. “As you wish, Captain D’Accorso. Until Dharma.”
He left the ward as abruptly as he’d come. Zheng grunted in annoyance. “Bastard, upsetting my patients—”
Cynara patted her shoulder. “For a tech-bureaucrat from the bowels of the Persephonean Space Authority, Ser Janek is a little too used to getting his own way. I don’t intend to see Ronan subjected to the tender mercies of the Council without adequate representation. I’ll be sending a message to my Uncle Jesper as soon as we clear the wormhole.”
“Isn’t he the most liberal-minded burgher-lord on Dharma?”
“And one of the most powerful. If he’s convinced that Ronan is safe, Janek won’t have an oar to row with.” She turned to Ronan. “You’ll have to trust me.”
“I do, Aho’Va,” he said, his eyes bright with something perilously like adoration. “Ta’i’lai, ta’i’ma.”
Cynara found an excuse to escape soon afterward, evading Kord’s knowing gaze. Only when she was on the lift to the bridge did she consult the Voishaaur-Standard database and translate the meaning of Ronan’s last phrase.
By my Path and my soul.
It was her own soul most in danger now.
* * *
Chapter 8
« ^ »
The mess was crowded with crew, every member except those few required to manage the ship in its last leg of the journey home.
Ronan stood beside Cynara at the captain’s table, facing a mob that regarded him with curiosity largely shorn of suspicion. Kord sat in the chair to Ronan’s right, relieved of the necessity of standing on his mending leg. The woman Charis sat two seats down from Cynara. Lizbet Montague, Cargomaster Basterra, Toussaint, and two other unnamed males had their seats in this place of honor.
Cynara held up her hand, silencing the murmur of voices. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she said, “the Pegasus is fully repaired, we’re less than a day’s travel from Nemesis, and I can think of no better time to introduce the newest addition to our crew.” She smiled broadly and laid her hand on Ronan’s shoulder. “I take great pleasure in presenting Ronan, the man who saved the Pegasus and the lives of myself and Ser Kord d’Rhian O’Deira.”
The applause was loud and sustained. Ronan listened to it with distant curiosity, comparing the gesture of acclaim to the far more subdued whistling of shaauri commendation.
So easy it was to win human trust. He might have died on Bifrost, but the unwitting act of self-sacrifice had been well worth the risk.
He was alive and exactly where he needed to be.
Something tapped his leg. He glanced down at Kord, who wielded his crutch very much like a weapon.
“They want you to talk,” he said. “Half the crew is Dharman; they always expect speeches, at least from males.”
Ronan glanced at Cynara. She nodded encouragement, clearly pleased at the reception and at Kord’s change of attitude. Even the young warrior, who should have known better, had abandoned his sensible caution.
Ronan lifted a hand. The crowd fell silent.
“I am not eloquent in the language to which I was born,” he said. “I do not know the way of making speeches. I can only say that it is a great honor to repay my debt to this ship and its crew, which preserved me from my enemies, and to serve its captain.”