Green, Sharon - Mind Guest.htm Page 9

  that the face you stared at wasn't your own and that it would take a

  while to get used to your new image? My eyes found Bellna staring back

  at me, her face even more beautiful than the photo had shown it to be,

  her blue eyes sparkling with life and an impish delight, her bright red

  hair falling in thick cascades around her face and shoulders. My face

  and shoulders. I shook my head, trying to break away from the sense of unreality, finding myself even more confused when the image in the

  mirror did the same.

  Okay, let's bring this back down to earth, I told myself firmly,

  straightening myself and the mirror image at the same time. That's what

  you look like now, and you'd better get used to it. Have you ever seen

  a complexion that flawless? Such perfectly arched eyebrows? Such real,

  true beauty? You know you haven't, and now it's yours; how about

  getting started on using it?

  I let a smile come through and the mirror face glowed with warmth and

  invitation, so softly sensual that the smile suddenly disappeared and

  the wide blue eyes widened even farther. A smile on that face was a

  devastating weapon, one I'd be smart to take it easy with. I didn't

  want to spend my time on Tildor fighting off rape attempts, especially

  since Bellna's face went so well with my body and hers. The girl and I

  were almost equally well-endowed, the only major changes intended

  having been to lighten my skin to a red-head's shade, and change all of

  my bodily hair to match hers. Luckily, Bellna was a big girl, only

  about two inches less than my own height, which meant it hadn't been

  necessary to shorten me. The clinicians had discussed the point at some

  length, and practical considerations had dictated their final decision.

  My reflexes and sense of balance were adjusted to my body as it was;

  shortening me would throw off that adjustment, possibly fatally if I

  couldn't readjust before I had to defend myself from serious attack. It

  would be a lot simpler putting me in flat-heeled boots rather than the

  high-heeled ones Bellna wore, thereby adjusting the height difference

  painlessly. I moved my body slowly in the mirror, glad it was more

  recognizable than my face even if it was covered by that ridiculous

  bodysuit. The pink of it went terribly with my hair, and I saw my new

  face frown as the thought came that the thing was much too revealing

  and immodest. Whoever had put me in it should have been whipped for the

  insult, to do such a thing to someone such as I! How dare they treat me

  so, as though I were a peasant girl or a slave! Who would dare!

  "What's the matter, don't you like it?" a voice came suddenly from

  behind me, and I whirled around while blinking back clouds of highly

  incensed anger. Valdon stood just inside the door to the corridor,

  still too close to let it slide closed again behind him. He'd come in

  with no more announcement than I ever got, and I was getting tired of

  the intrusion.

  "Next time, you'd better figure out some way of letting me know you're

  out there," I said, only somewhat distracted by the sweet, girlish

  tones I'd produced that just had to be Bellna's voice. I value my

  privacy, and have been known to go to some lengths to ensure it.

  "You can worry about your privacy once this is all over," he countered,

  taking a few steps forward and folding his arms across his chest. "In

  case it hasn't come through to you yet, I'm part of this project too,

  but in a position just a little higher than yours. Now, what were you

  doing a minute ago?"

  He stood there in front of the now closed door, that unwavering stare

  coming straight at me, and I suddenly realized something else about

  him. It wasn't only a hunter who looked out from his eyes, it was also

  a man who was used to dominating everything and everyone around him. I

  hadn't seen that look often before, but I was bright enough to

  recognize it - and human enough to resent it. I didn't work for Valdon

  no matter what opinions he had to the contrary, and it was time he knew

  it.

  "None of your damned business what I was doing a minute ago," I

  answered, turning back to the mirror. "You managed to find your way in here, so now let's see if you can remember the way out. If I decide I

  need you for something, I'll send someone to rattle your cage.

  I shook my head to move the hair back from my face, seeing, in

  reflection, the way Valdon's jaw tightened in anger, the look in his

  dark eyes hardening even further. he unfolded his arms and straightened

  to full height, then started coming toward me.

  "Now, you listen to me, you little" he began, his right hand

  outstretched to wrap around my arm again, yet that was far too much. No

  one had the authority to touch my person, least of all boorish louts

  such as he. I turned somewhat back to him, my right side toward his

  reaching one, struck upward with my arm against his to raise it, then

  kicked sideways into his ribs, twisting my hip into the kick. The churl

  grunted aloud with pain as he bent forward, his arms wrapped about

  himself, and then he leaned upon one knee, seeking with eyes closed to

  recover what breath he might. I had swiftly taken myself back a pace or

  two, well prepared to continue should he show signs of further

  foolishness, but then came an interruption.

  "Now what are you two doing?" Dameron demanded from the doorway,

  frowning at Valdon and me. I shook my head hard as I relaxed from the

  standard attack-defense position I'd taken, and Valdon raised himself

  to his feet, though obviously still in pain. He took a deep breath,

  wincing as he did so, then made for the door as Dameron moved to one

  side.

  "Nothing but a small difference of opinion," he muttered as he passed

  Dameron. "I'll see you later."

  Dameron leaned out to watch Valdon disappear up the corridor, then came

  back in to turn his sudden confusion toward me.

  "I don't understand any of this," he protested, a plaintive note in his

  tone. "What happened between you two this time, and where is he going?

  There's a briefing scheduled for you in a little while, and I wanted

  him there."

  I moved my hand over the panel, closing up the mirror again, then gave

  my attention to finding the closet that had been used the last time.

  When I did find it and found that it had been used again; I pulled out

  the jumpsuit that had been neatly hung back in place. As I began

  getting into the suit, I shrugged in answer to Dameron's question.

  "I don't know where he's going," I said over my shoulder, predictably

  adding to Dameron's confusion. "And it's just the way he said. A small

  difference of opinion."

  Dameron shook his head without comment, not terribly satisfied with my

  answer, but I wasn't very happy with it myself. I was trying to Tigure

  out what had made me act the way I had, but the crystal-clear reasons

  of a few minutes earlier had somehow clouded to total irrelevance. No

  matter how annoyed I got, I wasn't in the habit of assaulting people

  who weren't bent on offering me harm. Getting physical rarely does more

  than cause hard feel
ings or create awkward, unexplainable bodies. I'd

  struck out at Valdon without warning or excuse, and the action bothered

  me more than any possible consequences. It wasn't like me to do

  something like that, and I'd have to be careful to watch myself closely

  in the future. I closed the jumpsuit with a stroke of my hand, then

  went with Dameron to his briefing.

  The scoutship settled to the ground in the deep black of the woods,

  making no more sound than a leaf settling the same way. The night sky

  was dark with racing clouds, and we nestled in the darkness, showing no

  lights of our own. The hull of the small scout ship was clear all about

  the pilot and me, but nothing could be seen through it from the outside. The pilot's instrument board glowed a steady, unexcited blue,

  and he and I sat in silence, waiting for the agent who was supposed to

  rendezvous with us.

  The past few base days had been dull tripled and squared, filled with

  nothing but briefing sessions. Right from the very first, the impressed

  memories I'd been given had made the briefings a bore, going over and

  over again points I already knew. I kept getting the urge to explode

  and walk out, but I overrode that feeling. I've been invited to many

  briefing sessions, but I've never purposely missed one and I never

  will. When your life can depend on some insignificant little point some

  bore grinds out, you learn to listen with full attention. I was told

  about the political and geographical twistings and forkings, given a

  list of friend and foe, filled in on plans, hopes and wishful thinking.

  I was a fairly good improviser and hadn't been caught off-balance too

  many times, so I wasn't worrying about the operation, but that didn't

  mean I had no worries.

  I'd been silently examining my inner self, and what I'd noticed about

  my attitudes and reactions had not only not gone away, it had begun to

  spread, coloring my thinking when I wasn't consciously willing it not

  to. When someone warned me to watch out for this or that possibility, I

  experienced a very strong desire to laugh at him and tell him just how

  good I was. That part of it scared me more than the presence of a knife

  at my throat would have; thinking you're the best and smartest around

  is the first step toward a messy ending. Over and over I caught myself

  mentally strutting around, discounting advice even before I'd heard it,

  minimizing the plottings of opponents. I kept telling myself that it

  was only a slight aberration, a weird reaction from having been alone

  so long, thinking myself finished, and then suddenly finding myself

  saved. Relief can do strange things to people, and as soon as the shock

  or whatever it was passed, I'd be my old, practical self again. I told

  that to myself often, and hoped that I wasn't conning myself.

  The woods around us were thick and old, the black shadow leaves swaying

  in a rhythm that had been known forever. I couldn't feel what was

  moving them, but I could see its passage, and I recalled what the woods

  were like during the daylight hours, when I had ridden them with my

  escort. My escort had been large, of course, as befitted a princess,

  and they had been ever alert to keep harm from me. My ladies had

  disliked riding the woods as often as I did, finding the experience

  uncomfortable in the extreme, therefore did I ever insist upon their

  accompanying me. It was necessary to teach them that my needs and

  desires were all-important, theirs nothing but ignorable whim. Once, to

  punish them for daring to beg to be excused, I picnicked for a very

  long time with the captain of my guard, allowing all of my escort the

  time to carry my three ladies off into the woods. I knew they and the

  others of my ladies had been taken into the woods before by certain

  members of my escort, yet never had all of them taken only three. I

  felt the punishment would do well for them, and when they were later

  returned to me, tears staining their cheeks, I considered the matter

  properly seen to. Thereafter they recalled that I was a princess and

  they were not. It was a - I broke off the thought fast and shook my

  head, forcing the rambling back from wherever it had come. Bellna's own

  neighborhood seemed to have triggered her memories, and it wasn't

  taking me long to discover that I didn't like her very much. I moved

  around in my seat, ignoring the questioning look I was getting from the

  pilot, and that reminded me of the other questioning looks I'd been

  getting lately - or maybe "questionable" would be a better word. Not

  long after the briefings had started, Valdon had shown up and put himself in a quiet corner, listening but not contributing. No one had

  questioned his presence so I couldn't very well object, but he'd spent

  most of his time staring at me with no expression on his face. Normal

  staring doesn't bother me a bit, but there was something about his

  stare that rubbed me the wrong way, something behind it that primed me

  like a high explosive. I gritted my teeth and stuck it out during the

  briefings, but made sure to be nowhere near him afterward. The new,

  touchy part of me felt satisfaction' over what I had done to him and

  was more than willing to have me do it again, but there was no sense in

  adding complications. Dameron was trying to minimize possible trouble

  spots in the operation, and I had decided to try doing the same.

  Although nothing but a sprinkling of stars relieved the darkness

  outside, the planetary time wasn't all that tata153?? late. Just then

  I was waiting to be collected by one of the resident agents of Tudor,

  who would escort me - or, rather, the Princess Belln - to a hunting

  lodge not far from Havro's keep. The lodge was sometimes used by

  certain of Havro's guests, but just then it would be empty. The agent

  and I would spend the night, and in the morning my secret mercenary

  escort would pick me up. No one knew about this secret leave-taking but

  Prince Clero and his cronies, who had been told soon enough to target

  their plans against my traveling group, but not soon enough to send

  riders against the lodge. I'd be able to get one night's uninterrupted

  sleep before the fun began, and after that it would be catch as catch

  can.

  I sighed as I thought about the plans that had been made for after the

  attack. They all hinged on whether or not I was still breathing, of

  course, but assuming I was, I was to dump my escort and then head

  south. Once I had put a lot of emptiness between me and other people a

  scout ship would pick me up, guided in by the beacon that had been

  implanted somewhere in my body. Just where that beacon was I had no

  idea; there wasn't a mark or scar on me. As a matter of fact, one or

  two scars that I'd had for a while had also disappeared without a

  trace, all of it due to the process known as Healing. I wanted to spend

  a lot of time thinking about that, but in the middle of Dameron's

  precious project I couldn't spare the attention. Once it was over,

  though.

  The pilot next to me had been helping me watch the darkness, but he'd

  been using his instruments instead of his eyesig
ht. He stiffened

  suddenly just before I caught a hint of movement about twenty-five feet

  from where we sat, but the stiffness left him almost immediately and

  his hand relaxed away from his sidearm. His panel light glowed a cool

  blue, telling us my date had arrived.

  Four dark, cloaked figures came up to the scouter, one slightly ahead

  of the other three, all of them waiting for the pilot to activate the

  access release. When the panel next to my right arm slid aside I

  gathered my cape together, then climbed out into the night. The figure

  closest to the scouter took my arm to help me down, then all five of us

  moved back about ten feet from the scouter and watched it rise

  soundlessly into the air, gliding higher and higher, becoming harder

  and harder to see. In no more than seconds it had blended with the dark

  gray clouds sliding through the skies, totally gone from mere mortal

  senses. I took a deep breath to drown the sudden, childish feeling of

  abandonment I was abruptly filled with, and only then discovered that

  the hand that had taken my arm hadn't let go again. I tugged slightly

  to show that I was ready to be turned loose, but the hand on my arm

  only tightened.

  "Have no fear, you will not be harmed," a gruff, impatient voice came from the shadow figure beside me, speaking the Tilddrani language.

  "These-ah-guardsmen - and I will escort you to your destination,

  Princess. During this short journey, we require no converse from you."

  It wasn't hard to tell that I'd just been ordered to keep quiet, or

  that the other three men were Absari agents posing as Tildorani. The

  Bellna memories I'd been given identified the voice as belonging to

  Grigon, Prince Havro's chief adviser, but the tone and sense of command

  weren't part of those memories. Grigon usually used smoothly

  professional calm on Bellna, and I couldn't see any reason to change

  that.

  "Converse is unnecessary when issuing commands, Grigon," I told him

  coldly, resisting the pull that was trying to take me deeper into the

  surrounding trees. "You and these others may indeed escort me, yet only

  in the manner befitting my station. Release my arm, and begin such

  actions at once."

  "Your station during the longer journey before you remains as yet

  undetermined," the Grigon-shadow growled, obviously displeased with my