Return to Eddarta by Randall Garrett

Author:Randall Garrett [Garrett, Randall]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-625670-26-7
Publisher: Jabberwocky Literary Agency, Inc.
Published: 2014-08-29T04:00:00+00:00

11

A shudder of tension ran through me and the two people I was touching. Shola said awkwardly, “It is the luncheon hour, Captain, and we were preparing to eat. You will join us, of course?” She was a chunky, hearty woman who could be beautiful when she wished. She was looking up at me with an air of not looking at her husband, and the rounded cheeks seemed hollow, the skin of her arms loose, the goldish headfur thinning noticeably.

“It has never lasted this long before, has it, Shola?” I asked her quietly.

She closed her eyes and took a breath. “It will be this way,” she said shakily, “until Doran returns. I am sure of it.”

I squeezed her shoulder. “Would I pass up one of your meals, Shola? Please go on ahead; Thymas and I will be there in just a moment.”

She left us, the boy and I, looking at the palefurred man who had led the Sharith for most of a long and capable life. We had found him in nearly the identical position when we had returned from Omergol with the note that Dharak had scrawled and sent to us. It had named Thymas as Lieutenant.

“Captain,” Thymas said suddenly, stepping away and half-turning his back on me. “Please stay in Thagorn.”

It was difficult for him to say that, I thought.

“What’s wrong, Lieutenant?” I asked.

The boy whirled. “That’s wrong,” he said. “I don’t want to be the Lieutenant, not this way.”

“You knew it would happen someday,” I said. “You hoped for it, didn’t you? How would it be different if Dharak were dead, instead of just … missing, as he is?”

The words shocked him, but I knew Thymas. It was like the old story with the jackass and the two-by-four; first you had to get his attention. Thymas was either learning discretion, or was getting to know me, too. He started toward me with anger in his face, but stopped, took a deep breath, and smiled wryly.

“The difference is, I haven’t had the training I expected,” he said. “Oh, I can assign duty and plan sentry patterns and supervise a work crew. If people have to do things, I can see that they work at it. But I don’t know a thing about how to control the way people feel. And—Rikardon, you don’t know what it is like now. The Riders are all right on the surface, but there’s not a one of them who goes to sleep with the assurance that his sha’um will be there in the morning. The others function, they do their work, but all they think about—they don’t even talk about it, mind you, for fear it will make things worse—is how things have changed, and how they might change tomorrow.”

Thymas lifted his arms and dropped them, in a gesture of futility.

“I can direct people,” he told me. “I can’t lead them. I never knew the difference until …” He waved a hand in the direction of his father.

“How can my staying be of help?” I asked.

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