Beyond Varallan Read Online Free PDF Page A

for a few minutes so her ClanParents could each give her a careful embrace.
    “She is always so impatient to explore,” Darea said to me as her hand smoothed Fasala’s tangled black hair back from her small brow.
    “Ring…” Fasala, who had fallen back asleep, muttered under her breath. “Ring… light…”
    “What is this ring and light?” Salo asked.
    “Probably nothing.” I scanned the child and made a chart notation. “She’s talking in her sleep.”
    “Fasala has an abundant imagination,” Darea said, and straightened the pillow beneath the small head. “Her enthusiasm to explore springs from that, I fear.”
    “She needs to temper such enthusiasm,” her ClanFather said. Salo Torin worked on the Command level as the Senior Communications Officer. Like Xonea, he also wore the warrior’s knot that symbolized combat experience. Both men, according to Tonetka, had served together during several Varallan conflicts. Despite the tough appearance, I suspected this quiet man was as shaken up over Fasala's injuries as Darea.
    Squilyp bounced by the berth and stopped when he saw me working on Fasala’s chart. He got there in time to hear the last part of our conversation.
    “An extended interval of discipline will do much to curb her inappropriate behavior,” the Omorr said. “Punishment often discourages children from repeating thoughtless acts.”
    I saw the identical reactions of Fasala’s ClanParents as they swung around, and shook my head sadly.
    Squilyp, Squilyp. This was not going to be pretty.
    “You speak of punishment ? With my ClanDaughter here as she is?” Darea rose, every muscle on her substantial frame tensed. An assistant in the subexecutive level, she hardly resembled an administrator now. If there had been a pointy object within her reach, Squilyp would have had it sticking out of some part of his body.
    “Omorr.” Salo took a step toward the resident. His six-fingered hands knotted into very large, resident-flattening fists. My vocollar didn’t translate the rest of what he said, much to my secret disappointment. Squilyp's gildrells twitched and he backed off a good meter. Fasala's Clan-Father smiled.
    I was enjoying this a little too much, I thought. Time to break it up before we finished with Omorr smeared all over the decking.
    “Okay, Mom, Dad.” I stepped between them and the intended victim. Jorenians were wonderfully nonviolent beings, except when someone threatened their kin. Then they made the Hsktskt look like League Armistice Envoys. “Calm down.” I looked over at Squilyp. His derma was turning as white as his gildrells. “Resident, go check on those patients at the far end of the ward.”
    “I just examined those patients.”
    This was the thanks I got for saving his miserable hide?
    “Do it now, Squilyp, or you’ll end up in surgery as a patient.” I even gave him a push with one hand to start him hopping.
    “Squilyp needs a refresher course on Jorenian HouseClan protocol,” I said to Salo and Darea. “I’ll schedule him for one as soon he untangles his foot from his gildrells.”
    My little joke didn’t make a dent in the thick aura of anger emanating from Fasala's ClanParents. They eyed each other, with that silent form of communication Jorenian bondmates lovingly shared. Only now it seemed much more ominous.
    “Darea, Salo,” I said, and my sharp tone got their attention. “He’s insensitive and ignorant, but he's not a threat to Fasala. Stop it .”
    All those bunched blue muscles relaxed a degree. Darea glanced at her ClanDaughter. That gave me an idea.
    “Concentrate on your child. She needs to be lo—” I hastily recalled there was no such word as love in their language. “She needs both of you.”
    I took a cautious step, placed my hand on Fasala’s brow, hoping to draw their attention away from the Omorr.
    “Salo, would you lift her for me?” I asked. “I want to change her bedding. Good. When we’ve done that, Darea can help me put