Jeanne G'Fellers - No Sister of Mine by Jeanne G'Fellers (reading tree TXT) 📗

white witches, of the barren, pale-eyed women who’d rather die in the fires than kneel before an Autlach husband. To seed or bear one was unnatural, despite any rumor the Taelach might spread about genetics. If anyone knew, Laiman’s descendants would be unmarriable, untrustworthy, barred from holding public or temple positions. No, it was too great a risk to tell Trazar. The midwife’s silence had cost the family’s savings, and the ties had been cut with the infant’s shushed cry. Laiman’s hands returned to LaRenna’s etched name. The Taelach pair had seemed stable enough. Well off. Not children, but the Taelach never sent children. Nor had he ever heard of them sending anyone besides the customary Kimshee, and worst of all Laiman had recognized the taller one’s voice. It was a voice few Auts could forget. Belsas Exzal had spoken to the Autlach people at large on several occasions since the Taelach civil war had ended. Laiman’s recognition of the voice had only made things worse. To be known as the sire of the Taelach of All’s daughter? No one could ever know. It would be the family’s ruin. The secret was his alone to bear and bear it he would, for the rest of his life.

Chapter Four

Your post is your life. Guard it as such.

 —Sarian Military Standards of Honor

“It must be there somewhere. You’ve just overlooked it.” Malley fidgeted as LaRenna re-read the courtyard postings.

“For the third time, Mal, it’s not damn well there!” LaRenna flung the list at her dorm mate. “You look!”

Malley’s fingers drew over the series of names and destinations in hopes of spotting an error. Finding none, she gave LaRenna a nervous, lip-chewing glance. “You’re right! What gives—you fail a final or something?”

“Not bloody likely,” came the flustered reply. “There must be a mistake. I’d better check with the Master Yeoman. I’m sure she has my posting.” LaRenna cast her roommate a circumspect look and their eyes locked in the same dumbfounded manner. What could she possibly have done wrong? Had Quall been aware of her mischief? “I hope she has my posting.”

“I’m sure she does.” An odd grin splashed over Malley’s cheeks, scrunching her broad face as she turned toward the opened dormitory doors. “You check then come back to our room. I’ll be packing. I still can’t believe I’ve been posted to Master Engineer Ockson on the Predator. Praise be, my posting is to a Taelach ship. No Auts to deal with and no Kimshees to work under! No offense intended.” Malley bubbled with such excitement that LaRenna felt a twinge of jealousy. “Besides, I’ve no desire to be around the Master Yeoman. Grandmaster Quall lurks around there entirely too much.”

“Well, they are life mates.” LaRenna sucked her cheeks in dismay. “But I so hope Quall’s not around. Last thing I need is the Protocol Master on my back—again. Wish me luck.”

“You’ll need it if Quall is about.”

“Gee thanks, Malley.” With that thought weighing her mind, LaRenna jogged toward the Stores building, reciting a little prayer as she went.

Mother Maker take this day and make it work for me.

Your gentle help I’ll hold up high for all the world to see.

Your praises I will sing out loud, rejoicing in your light.

Give me the strength to do your work, do what you will as right.

The Stores was a massive facility located in the heart of the training grounds. It was easily ten times larger than the senior dormitory and all the darker, its echoing halls the dirge of many a disobedient student, LaRenna included. The outside columns were carved with the everyday scenes of Sarian life and the walls graced with paintings of Taelach folklore. LaRenna usually stopped to enjoy these captivating pictures but this time passed them without notice. She identified herself to the sentry posted outside the main doors then went down the hall leading to the Yeoman’s workroom. The door was ajar.

At her worktable, Wreed Qualls, Master Yeoman, her hair pulled into a neat twist, scribed on a thick bandit-hide scroll. “All the modern forms of recording and communications, and some of the Kinship still insist on the tradition of scrolls,” mumbled LaRenna. Some habits died hard.

“After six passes under my careful guidance, I would think you would have more presence of mind than to skulk in someone’s doorway.” Protocol Grandmaster Quall Dawn’s commanding voice boomed from a dimly lit corner. LaRenna cringed and took a small step forward. Sometimes even the most consecrated of prayers went unheard.

“Hmm?” The Yeoman squinted her bright, saucer-shaped eyes at the doorway. “Ah, Belsas’s daughter. Come in, child. We’ve been expecting you.” The word we’ve soured the remains of LaRenna’s breakfast. She swallowed hard.

“There’s been a mistake then?”

“Manners, girl!” Quall began to rise. “Remember our ranking before you proceed.”

“Apologies, Grandmaster Quall.” LaRenna folded her right arm across her chest to her left shoulder and bowed her head in salute.

“Quall,” reprimanded the Yeoman. “She’s graduate braided. The salute isn’t called for among officers of the Kinship in a setting such as this and you know it.”

“It is until she officially leaves my training grounds,” snapped Quall. The heavy heel of the grandmaster’s right boot tapped at a rapid pace, a sign that sent seasoned students fleeing for cover. “At rest Third Kimshee LaRenna Belsas. Have a seat and we’ll begin.”

LaRenna chose one of the oversized chairs facing the Yeoman’s worktable and sat in awkward silence, crossing and uncrossing her legs, wishing that her feet touched the floor. It made her feel like a child in need of discipline and for once, she truly didn’t know her crime. Yeoman Wreed picked up on her anxiety and sulked with displeasure. “Quall Dawn!” she exclaimed, pointing to the young officer in front of her. “Look at what you’ve done! You terrify every cadet to the point they won’t come see me unless their life depends on it.” Extreme discontent curled the Yeoman’s ruby mouth as she peered over her shoulder. “Come