Vyrl considered her. Then he reached out and pressed a turquoise stone on the nightstand.
A voice floated into the air. “Colonel Pacal here.”
“Dazza, when is Morlin coming back up?” Vyrl asked.
“I’m not sure. The techs are replacing the fiberoptics. Is there a problem?”
“No. I just need some information.”
“Maybe I can help.”
He scowled. “Yes, but Morlin never argues with me.”
Dryly Dazza said, “What are you about to do that you think will start an argument?”
“Do you remember our decision to minimize interactions with the native culture here?”
“Yes.”
“Well, we may have a problem.”
“What problem?”
“It seems that by marrying Kamoj, I’ve set myself up as a sort of sovereign in Argali.”
Dazza made an exasperated noise. “That’s hardly what I call ‘minimizing interactions.’”
“I want to send some techs to the villages.”
“Why? The villages have no tech for techs to work on.”
“That’s the point. These people have a killing winter coming. We can heat their houses.”
After a pause, Dazza said, “I’ll assign a group to it.”
“Discreetly, though. I don’t want to scare anyone. Dress them in native clothes and send some of my stagmen with them.”
“All right.”
“Some of the houses are old enough to have web systems—”
“Vyrl.” Her voice had a warning note. “Don’t push it.”
“Can you go down to Argali too?” he asked.
“Me? Why?”
“See if they need medical help.”
Her voice turned dry again. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m an ISC colonel. I have responsibilities.”
“Oh. Yes. Of course.”
The silence stretched out. Finally Dazza said, “I have some residents up on the Ascendant who are just out of medical school. They could benefit from the experience.”
Vyrl smiled. “Good.”
“We should send agriculturists too,” she said.
“We already have one.” His voice grew animated. “Dazza, listen. I’ve been working on quad-grains. Give me a few years and I could engineer crops and livestock that would increase production here tenfold.”
“We don’t have a few years.”
“Just think about it.”
She exhaled. “All right.”
“Good.” Vyrl grinned. Then he yawned and turned his head until his lips touched Kamoj’s thigh.
Tears gathered in Kamoj’s eyes. Softly she said, “Thank you, beautiful lion.”
“Vyrl?” Dazza asked.
“I’m sleeping,” he mumbled.
“Ah,” the colonel said. “Good-night, Governor Argali.”
Kamoj blinked at the phrase. “Good-night?” When no answer came, she said, “Dazza?” The nightstand remained quiet.
So she stroked Vyrl’s hair and watched stars move across the patch of sky visible through the window on the other side of the room. Could he truly warm their houses in winter? Heal their ills? Help them grow ten times as much food? It was remarkable how, when life seemed to reach its worst, things could turn about this way. Surely all would be well now.
Surely Vyrl wouldn’t drink anymore.
VII. Above The Sky. Integration
“Water sprite, wake up.”
Kamoj moved, then groaned. It felt like pins and thornbats prickled her legs, where she had folded them under her body. She didn’t remember sliding out from under Vyrl, but she was sitting next to him now, her hands tucked between her knees. Moonlight poured over the bed.
Vyrl lay watching her. “I need you to do something for me.”
She smiled, imagining his hands on her body. “Anything.”
“In the second drawer of my desk. There’s a bottle I need.”
Her good mood vanished. “You don’t need that.”
“I can’t sleep.”
“Dazza could give you—”
“No!”
“But—”
“I don’t need Dazza’s damn sedatives.”
“I can’t get you the bottle.”
His voice hardened. “Why not? You have two legs. You can walk the ten steps it would take to reach the desk.”
“The rum hurts you.”
“After two days you claim to know me well enough to dictate what is and isn’t good for me?”
“Vyrl, no. That’s not what I meant.”
“Then get it for me.” His voice gentled. “Just for tonight. To help me sleep.”
“I can’t. I—I’m sorry.”
His gentleness disappeared. “Then get out of my bed.”
“But I—”
“Get out.”
Stunned, Kamoj slid off the bed and ran across the room, her bare feet slapping the stone. Inside her chamber, she dropped onto her own bed. Moonlight shone through the window, creating a swath of pale colors across the floor.
A grunt came from the master bedroom, followed by the rustle of blankets. Kamoj froze, listening.
A gasp, labored but brief.
Silence.
Was he having trouble breathing? It was hard to believe he had suffered a collapsed lung only this afternoon. She started to get up, then hesitated. Get out, he had said. If she walked in and he was fine, she would look like a fool.
The crash of shattering glass broke the silence. She jumped up and ran into his bedroom.
Vyrl was kneeling by his desk, wearing only his sleep pants, his chest bare, except for the bandages, his arms wrapped around his body. Shards of broken glass covered the floor, glinting in the moonlight. A pool of rum was spreading under the desk.
Kamoj went over and knelt in front of him. Up this close she saw tears on his cheeks, just as she had seen them last night after his nightmare. She wondered if his waking helped at all or if his night terrors recognized no boundaries between sleep and reality.
Stretching out his arm, he pulled a strand of her hair away from her lips. “Touch me, Kamoj. Let me feel you. See you. Smell you.”
She reached for him. “Always. Whenever you want.”
Instead of responding, he grabbed the desk and pulled himself to his feet. The window above the desk looked south, over the Lower Sky Hills that fell away to the plains. Staring out at the mountains, he spoke in a distant voice. “I’ve a younger brother. Kelric.”
She stood up, trying to understand his mood. “A little brother?”
“Little?” He gave a short laugh. “He’s huge. Joined ISC.”
“Is he here now?”
“No. The war took him away.”
Kamoj lifted her hand, meaning to touch him, to offer comfort. Then she hesitated, unsure what he needed or wanted. Uncertain, she dropped her hand again.
“I have a lot of brothers,” he continued. “Althor. I always admired him. Looked up to him. He joined ISC too. Jagernaut.”
“Jagernaut?”
“Cybernetically enhanced star fighter pilot. Like Kelric. Like those new bodyguards Colonel Pacal gave me.”
“Althor is a soldier too?”
“Was.” In a wooden voice, he said, “ISC gave him a beautiful funeral.”
“Hai, Vyrl. I’m sorry.”
He kept on, as if unable to stop. “There’s my sister. Soz. We were closest in age, out of ten children.” He finally turned to Kamoj. “You look a little like her.”
“She is also a soldier? Like Dazza?”
“Dazza served under her.”
“Where is she now?”
“Blown to dust.”
“Vyrl, I—I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?” His words came like leaded rain. “My brother Eldrin is still alive. The Traders captured him. You know what they do when they catch one of us? No, never mind. You don’t want to know. My aunt and her son, they’re gone. Prisoners, maybe. Dead, probably. Then there is Kurj, my uncle. War leader before Soz. She took over after the Traders killed him.”