“I’m sorry,” Cynara said in the doorway. “Did I wake you?”
“No.” He gathered Archie into his arms and held the thrumming animal tucked under his chin. His heart had begun to beat very hard. Stroking the cat gave him some measure of control over his disobedient emotions. “You are well, Aho’Va?”
“Quite well. I thought you might appreciate a little company, and Archie seems to like you.” She made an odd, dismissive gesture and smiled. “This isn’t likely to be a very interesting voyage for you.”
“I am interested in the fact that you have saved my life, or at least my mind.” He scratched Archie between the ears. “How do humans pay such debts?”
She folded her hands behind her back and leaned against the door. “You don’t owe me anything.”
He chose not to pursue that course. “Have we entered shaauri space?”
“Not yet, but we’re approaching the first border crossing. Unless something goes very wrong, we should be able to evade shaauri patrols and make an uneventful run.” She cleared her throat. “When this is over—” She looked at him, skin taut and pale. “If you join us, I hope that we can remain friends.”
Friends, that odd and very human word. He set Archie down and stood. Cynara tensed.
“I know you no longer trust me,” he said. “I understand. Because of you, my mind has reawakened and I cannot yet master it. I also know what you may have given up for my sake. Whatever the future holds, I will never forget.”
“Neither will I. Not as long as I live.”
Though she guarded her mind, her feelings washed over him, mingling with his own so violently that he found it necessary to lean back against the bulkhead.
Cynara pounded the door lock with her fist. She was halfway into the corridor before she stopped.
“Swear to me, Ronan,” she said in a whisper. “Swear that you will make no attempts to enter my mind.”
What she asked was impossible, as desperate and hopeless as a ne’lin’s challenge for First. Yet she waited for his answer. Waited, as if she believed she, like Kord, could still trust his word.
“I swear,” he said. “I will not try to enter your mind without permission.”
She turned her head, and he caught a glimpse of her distress. Then she was gone.
In the silence of the cabin, Ronan began to shake. Archie’s rubbing and kneading offered little comfort.
There was no day or night on the Pegasus. Ronan felt the ship’s vibrations change when it entered and exited a wormhole, or engaged the mysterious alien drive. No alarms sounded, nor indications of shaauri interference or pursuit.
Meals were delivered to Ronan’s cabin, and he ate them to maintain his strength. He performed Sihvaaro’s vek’riam exercises, designed to develop absolute command over muscle and movement, warrior’s strikes slowed to a fraction of their usual speed.
And he prepared himself for what must be done. When his fourth meal was delivered, he cautiously touched the crewman’s mind, seeking a single piece of information. Unlike Cynara, this man had no shields and went on his way unsuspecting.
Ronan pushed his meal aside untasted. What he planned was within his powers. He had used the technique all unknowing on a Pegasus guard before he regained his memory and sense of purpose. He had felt his mental strength building with each passing day. But to walk in another mind at a distance—a mind he had never touched, certainly shielded—and then to compel such a mind to do his will was a dangerous and terrible matter.
The Kinsmen had claimed to despise mental intrusion, yet they used such methods on Ronan. They had sent him here expecting that he would not hesitate to do the same. At the very least, the process weakened the wielder and brought grave discomfort and illness.
Ronan had not lied to Kord when he’d said he would not harm the crew. The one he sought to move to his will would have only vague memories of dreams, unable to explain if others questioned her later. No permanent damage would be done to her mind or her being.
Lying back on the bunk, Ronan recited the Eightfold Way until his mind was calm and his heartbeat slow and steady. For a time he simply breathed. At last he began the seeking, stretching his mind beyond his cabin, into the corridor, past the crewmen and women in their quarters or at their posts, down and down into the heart of the ship.