Read Online Dream Called Time by S. L. Viehl - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: S. L. Viehl
Tags: Fiction, General, Science-Fiction, Medical, Speculative Fiction, Women physicians, Cherijo (Fictitious Character), Torin; Cherijo (Fictitious Character), Torin
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his private glidecar about the current political situation.
“We were not filled with joy at the prospect of allowing the Hsktskt delegation on planet,” he admitted, “but their Hanar offered many assurances, and Teulon Jado gave his full endorsement to the request. Apparently the two have grown to trust each other since the peace negotiations concluded.”
Despite their abandoning planetary raiding and slave trading, I wasn’t entirely convinced that the Hsktskt had been transformed into a benign, peace-loving civilization. “Have we signed any treaties with the Faction?”
Xonal shook his head. “The Hsktskt have extended several offers, but to date the council has avoided agreeing to any formal settlements with the Hanar. Few have forgotten that the last time they sent their troops to Varallan, it was for the purpose of invasion and enslavement of our people.”
“They wouldn’t have come here at all unless TssVar thought he had no other choice,” I said, thinking out loud. “We were never friends, ClanFather, only enemies with a healthy amount of mutual respect. Surely that hasn’t changed.”
“It has, somewhat, since Jarn went to Vtaga,” he told me. “By doing so, she averted a rekindling of hostilities between the Faction and the League, and she was able to stop the spread of the mind-plague that was destroying their population. TssVar owes you—and, by extension, our people—a debt he can never repay.”
“He owes me nothing.” I wasn’t going to take credit for what Jarn had done on Vtaga. I caught the look on Xonal’s face. “Of course, I don’t ever have to tell him that.”
He grinned. “It is good to have you back, my ClanDaughter.”
A Jorenian celebration could never be called a paltry gathering. Every member of the House came, and each one brought something to the party. They weren’t stingy. I saw enough food laid out on the banquet tables to feed five or six HouseClans.
Then there were the flowers, which my adopted people loved to use as decorations. Strung in swatches of color to imitate the multicolor skies, they festooned the ceilings and draped over entries and sprang in huge bunches from every imaginable type of container. The varieties and colors made me dizzy; it was a bit like being smacked in the face by ten thousand rainbows all at once.
“Cherijo.” A tall, solemn- faced warrior came and made a formal gesture of greeting before grabbing me in a gentle hug. “Welcome home.”
“Salo.” I remembered seeing him chasing after Marel when she came running out of the passenger terminal. “Thanks for taking care of my kid.”
He drew back and smiled. “She has brought much happiness to my bondmate and ClanDaughter.”
“I imagine she brought some other things, too.” I glanced at the young Jorenian female standing behind him. She was nearly as tall as Salo, but I didn’t recognize her. “Who’s this?”
“Healer Cherijo.” The girl smiled. “Do you not know me?”
I knew the voice. “Fasala?” It was Salo’s daughter, only much taller than I remembered. “Suns, you’re all grown-up now. Just yesterday you were . . .” But yesterday for me was five years ago for everyone else. Awkwardly I finished with, “You look wonderful, honey.”
“I thank you.” She had Darea’s regal smile, but mischief danced in her white eyes. “ClanMother says if I grow any taller, she will have to wear a neck brace when she speaks to me.”
“She is not yet majority age,” another familiar female voice grumbled, “and still I must alter the hems of her garments every season.” Darea Torin put an arm around Fasala’s waist before she regarded me. “Welcome back to Joren, Cherijo.”
“Darea, it’s lovely to see you.” She had been one of my best friends on the Sunlace , but now it was as if we were strangers all over again. “I appreciate you and Salo looking after Marel while we were . . . while I was . . . away.”
“She was our joy.” Darea
“We were not filled with joy at the prospect of allowing the Hsktskt delegation on planet,” he admitted, “but their Hanar offered many assurances, and Teulon Jado gave his full endorsement to the request. Apparently the two have grown to trust each other since the peace negotiations concluded.”
Despite their abandoning planetary raiding and slave trading, I wasn’t entirely convinced that the Hsktskt had been transformed into a benign, peace-loving civilization. “Have we signed any treaties with the Faction?”
Xonal shook his head. “The Hsktskt have extended several offers, but to date the council has avoided agreeing to any formal settlements with the Hanar. Few have forgotten that the last time they sent their troops to Varallan, it was for the purpose of invasion and enslavement of our people.”
“They wouldn’t have come here at all unless TssVar thought he had no other choice,” I said, thinking out loud. “We were never friends, ClanFather, only enemies with a healthy amount of mutual respect. Surely that hasn’t changed.”
“It has, somewhat, since Jarn went to Vtaga,” he told me. “By doing so, she averted a rekindling of hostilities between the Faction and the League, and she was able to stop the spread of the mind-plague that was destroying their population. TssVar owes you—and, by extension, our people—a debt he can never repay.”
“He owes me nothing.” I wasn’t going to take credit for what Jarn had done on Vtaga. I caught the look on Xonal’s face. “Of course, I don’t ever have to tell him that.”
He grinned. “It is good to have you back, my ClanDaughter.”
A Jorenian celebration could never be called a paltry gathering. Every member of the House came, and each one brought something to the party. They weren’t stingy. I saw enough food laid out on the banquet tables to feed five or six HouseClans.
Then there were the flowers, which my adopted people loved to use as decorations. Strung in swatches of color to imitate the multicolor skies, they festooned the ceilings and draped over entries and sprang in huge bunches from every imaginable type of container. The varieties and colors made me dizzy; it was a bit like being smacked in the face by ten thousand rainbows all at once.
“Cherijo.” A tall, solemn- faced warrior came and made a formal gesture of greeting before grabbing me in a gentle hug. “Welcome home.”
“Salo.” I remembered seeing him chasing after Marel when she came running out of the passenger terminal. “Thanks for taking care of my kid.”
He drew back and smiled. “She has brought much happiness to my bondmate and ClanDaughter.”
“I imagine she brought some other things, too.” I glanced at the young Jorenian female standing behind him. She was nearly as tall as Salo, but I didn’t recognize her. “Who’s this?”
“Healer Cherijo.” The girl smiled. “Do you not know me?”
I knew the voice. “Fasala?” It was Salo’s daughter, only much taller than I remembered. “Suns, you’re all grown-up now. Just yesterday you were . . .” But yesterday for me was five years ago for everyone else. Awkwardly I finished with, “You look wonderful, honey.”
“I thank you.” She had Darea’s regal smile, but mischief danced in her white eyes. “ClanMother says if I grow any taller, she will have to wear a neck brace when she speaks to me.”
“She is not yet majority age,” another familiar female voice grumbled, “and still I must alter the hems of her garments every season.” Darea Torin put an arm around Fasala’s waist before she regarded me. “Welcome back to Joren, Cherijo.”
“Darea, it’s lovely to see you.” She had been one of my best friends on the Sunlace , but now it was as if we were strangers all over again. “I appreciate you and Salo looking after Marel while we were . . . while I was . . . away.”
“She was our joy.” Darea
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