The Bronze of Eddarta Read Online Free Page A

individual’s actions and attitudes to a wide spectrum of experiences, and to define his motivation.
    If Markasset had such a link, it was entirely subconscious in Rikardon. But Ricardo hadn’t lived for sixty years without learning something about people. Gandalarans weren’t human, physically—their body and facial construction differed slightly from
Homo sapiens
—but their mental and emotional patterns were very human.
    “Perhaps it’s because I’m older, Tarani.”
    “You’re referring to your … other lifetime?”
    “Yes.”
    “What was it like?”
    I shrugged. “Ordinary.” I felt the usual twinge at the deception; I let her assume that we shared the same heritage. “I was something of a scholar, something of a fighter.”
    I was grateful that she didn’t pursue her curiosity. She merely nodded. “I expect it was the second one that lets you see what Thymas is feeling.”
    “I … can appreciate something else he feels,” I said.
What the hell am I doing?
I asked myself.
    “The sha’um,” I stammered lamely, and too late.
    “Don’t back away from it, Rikardon,” she said quietly. “You and I—we need to ‘know where we stand’, too.”
    She was right, of course. And in the lamplight—in any light—she was beautiful. Even Ricardo would have appreciated Tarani’s slim, dancer’s body, the high-cheekboned face. She shared the patrician looks of the Lords of Eddarta, which were closer to human facial features. The wide tusks that took the place of canine teeth were there, still, but the supraorbital ridge was less pronounced, the face more narrow. Her unusual dark head fur and the glow of power in her eyes set off her striking appearance—even now, with refracted candlelight wavering across her face.
    “Before I walked into Thymas’s life, he had everything, Tarani. The respect of the Riders, a guarantee of the future he had aimed for all his life, a woman he hoped to marry. I’m not responsible for the upheaval he has lived through in these past weeks, but I am associated with it.
    “He and I made a start, this afternoon, toward—well, not friendship. Call it noncompetition. If I were to … say certain things to you right now, that balance would be destroyed.”
    Her back stiffened. “You seem to know so well what Thymas feels,” she said. “Assuming that I am no more than a prize for a footrace, does he think he can still compete for me?”
    “You know I didn’t mean it that way. Thymas has an abundance of pride. I think he’s accepted the fact that the woman he loved was only one dimension of the complex Tarani he’s getting to know now. But he knows—more importantly, you and I know—that, within the limits of the personality you showed him, you really did love Thymas.
    “Maybe you still do.”
    “Yes,” she admitted, and her stiff posture relaxed. “At least, I still care for him insofar that I would not wish him any further hurt. I do see your point. It is one thing that I have turned away from him. It would be quite another if I turned to you. It would disturb him and disrupt the healing process.”
    “And we need Thymas healthy when we meet Gharlas,” I agreed.
    She shook her head. “Your concern goes deeper than that,” she said. “I can read that much, at least. In spite of all the trouble he has been to you, in your own way, you care for Thymas, too.”
    “I said we have ridden together. You know Thymas, and the Sharith.”
    “A bond of loyalty,” she said. Abruptly, she took a couple of paces, then came back.
    “I confess that I feel drawn to you, Rikardon. It may be no more than curiosity. It may be a kinship created by what we are trying to do. It may be gratitude for your compassion toward Thymas, and Volitar. Whatever is causing it, the attraction is there, and it is better that we recognize and control it.
    “I think you and I must ‘stand’ apart, for now.”
    She walked away, leaving me feeling uncertain as to whether something had been