is said or decided, Jarn and I shield the colonists of Trellus.”
“As bondmate of a naturalized Jorenian, you have limited rights under our laws, Linguist Reever,” Volea said, his tone decidedly cool. “They do not include making decisions for a Ruling Council member, or shielding those responsible for threatening her life.”
“Then I will say the words,” I told him. “I shield the colonists of Trellus.”
Malaoan’s expression turned sympathetic. “Under ordinary circumstances, that would be acceptable, Healer, but in this case special considerations for your current mental state must be made.”
I tried not to grit my teeth. “What has my mental state to do with anything?”
“Your medical records indicate that you suffered extensive brain damage and severe emotional trauma while being held captive on Akkabarr,” the legal adviser said. “You persist in referring to yourself as another persona named Jarn. Add to this the ordeal you must have endured on Trellus, and it is apparent that your ability to make rational decisions has been compromised. In such cases, under Jorenian law, the affected individual’s HouseClan is required to intervene and provide consent.”
It took my vocollar a few moments to relate all that to me in the language I could understand. Not that I understood it. “Do you mean to say that I am too crazy to shield the Trellusans?”
“No,” Reever said, his eyes never leaving Xonea’s face. “He is saying you need a member of HouseClan Torin to approve your decision.”
“The Healer’s closest blood kin, to be precise,” Malaoan clarified.
Reever spared him a glance. “My wife is not Jorenian by blood or birth. Her only blood relative is deceased. Under Terran law, as her husband, I am her closest relative.”
“Once my ClanBrother Kao Chose her, Cherijo became Torin,” Xonea said. “After he embraced the stars, my House assured that she would remain our kin by granting her citizenship and formally adopting her.”
I felt bewildered, as I often did when being confronted by actions I had never taken. All of these things had happened to Cherijo Grey Veil, the woman who had inhabited my body before dying on Akkabarr.
“I do not consider myself Terran or Jorenian,” I reminded them. “I was born on Akkabarr, among the skela of the Iisleg. According to their laws, I am the property of my husband and subject to his will alone.”
“You may consider yourself whatever you wish, Healer,” Malaoan said kindly, “but your citizenship has never been revoked by you or your HouseClan. As such, it takes precedence over this claim of Akkabarran citizenship.”
“Very well.” It seemed obvious that they weren’t going to allow me to escape this special consideration. “So who do you define as my closest blood kin?”
“That”—Xonea kept his gaze locked with Reever’s—“would be me.”
If I was not crazy now, I soon would be driven to that unhappy state. “Then, Captain, would you please give me your approval?”
At last he turned toward me. “First you will provide more information so that I may know you are making a wise choice.”
My limited experience in dealing with my adopted Jorenian brother had not been terribly successful. On a previous occasion, when he had tried to prevent me from attending to the victims of a plague that was destroying the Hsktskt homeworld of Vtaga, I had been forced to threaten to take away his command in order to stop his interference.
Now, it seemed, he had the upper hand. My former self had referred to this sort of situation in her journals. She had called it payback time.
I resigned myself to dodging more questions. “What do you wish to know, Captain?”
The big male sat back in his chair, seemingly at ease now. “I want the name of the offworlder who harmed the female patient you operated on just before you and Duncan departed Joren. I want to know why you concealed the fact that the explosive device implanted in her body was mounted with a trigger specifically designed to detonate upon contact with your DNA. I want to know who is trying to assassinate you.”
Xonea didn’t care for my request for time to verify the medical facts behind his last barrage of demands, but I felt sure he wouldn’t accuse me of stalling in front of the other Jorenians. He didn’t. Nor did he protest when I suggested we reconvene the meeting at HouseClan Torin’s medical facility in the morning. I think he knew he had me right where he wanted me. I think my husband’s cold, unwavering stare also may have played a part.