“You have our guarantee of due process,” Tulain said.

Jax snorted. “As I had your guarantee of a truce last night?”

“We’re making full recordings of this Inquiry,” she said. “We will provide you with copies of those recordings and a web system to verify them, as well as equipment to contact whomever you wish to represent your case.”

“Not good enough,” Jax said. “I have no way to stop you from setting your machines to break after you have what you want.”

“What is it you would have us do?” Tulain asked.

“When your people returned my stagman to Ironbridge,” Jax said, “a delegation came with him. Including a man called Drake Brockson. He told me he was part of an organization that represented worlds like ours in the Imperial Assembly, to ensure we weren’t mistreated. I want you to contact him. I want his representation.”

“Professor Brockson is an anthropologist, not a legal counsel,” Tulain answered. “He can’t represent you.”

“Then he will find me someone who can,” Jax said.

Ashman spoke. “No.”

Vyrl swung around to him. “What?”

“I will not submit to threats,” the general said.

“Damn it, Ashman,” Vyrl said. “He’s not bluffing. He’ll kill Kamoj.”

“The answer is no.”

Jax moved the knife on Kamoj’s neck, “You have fifteen seconds to contact Brockson.”

Tulain stared at him. “You would kill your own wife? The woman you’ve fought this entire conflict for? Doesn’t that defeat your purpose?”

“Nine seconds,” Jax said.

“If she dies,” Tulain said, “you have nothing.”

“Seven seconds.”

“Are you willing to give up everything,” Tulain asked. “Your realms, title, freedom, possibly your life?”

Jax turned the blade so its edge lay against a large vein in Kamoj’s neck. “One second.”

“Ashman, do what he wants!” Vyrl’s voice snapped out. “Now.”

Jax paused, his knife against Kamoj’s skin. Ashman turned to Vyrl, the two of them locked in a silent battle Kamoj knew had nothing to do with her or her world.

Still watching Vyrl, Ashman spoke in a harsh voice. “Major Tulain, contact Brockson. Have the transcript of this Inquiry transmitted to him.”

Kamoj almost sagged with relief. Jax turned the knife, setting the flat of the blade against her neck.

Tulain contacted the Ascendant using her aide’s book-box. Watching her “upload files,” Kamoj felt a dazed detachment, as if she were an observer in a distant place. The knife made a bar of ice against her throat. No one spoke. No one moved.

The blow came from behind. Kamoj glimpsed a Jagernaut, not one of Vyrl’s bodyguards but someone else. Jax must have caught sight of his approach, because he was already jerking away his arm when the Jagernaut grabbed for it. The Jagernaut caught cloth instead, ripping Jax’s sleeve. He had also fired a sleep weapon, but either it missed Jax or had no effect; he kept moving, yanking Kamoj back on the bed until they faced the Jagernaut as well as everyone else.

“Liar,” Jax spat at Ashman, stabbing his knife down at Kamoj’s heart—

“NO!” Vyrl shouted. In the same instant, Tulain said, “Wait! Brockson is transmitting his reply.”

Jax froze, the tip of his knife touching Kamoj’s bodice. “And?”

A man’s voice came into the air. “Governor Ironbridge, this is Drake Brockson. I will take your case and find you legal representation.”

Watching General Ashman, Kamoj saw his sour look. Apparently Brockson’s word was good.

Jax must have seen it as well. Softly he said, “Good.” Then he let go of the knife.

The blade fell down Kamoj’s front and onto the bed. Holding her around the waist, Jax sagged forward, letting his head rest against hers. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “If it makes a difference, I couldn’t have done it. I meant what I said, but I misjudged. I could never have killed you.”

“Saints almighty,” someone muttered.

Jax held onto her, rocking back and forth, a ritualistic soothing motion Kamoj knew well, having often lapsed into it herself. With the same inbred instincts, she stroked his arms where he held her around the waist, offering comfort.

Dazza watched them with a strange expression, as if what she saw was breaking her heart. She raised her sleep tube and the expected hiss came from it. Although Jax stiffened, he made no further protest. When Kamoj felt his weight slump against her, she knew he had passed out.

Ashman turned to Vyrl. “You said he wasn’t bluffing.”

“I wasn’t sure,” Vyrl said. “I couldn’t take chances.”

“Damn you, Valdoria,” Ashman said. “With Brockson on the case we can’t keep it quiet. Do you have any idea of the diplomatic and political repercussions this mess will create?”

“What would you have me do?” Vyrl asked. “You said it yourself. I’ve been in a telepathic catatonia. I couldn’t be sure if he would kill her.”

Kamoj extracted herself from Jax’s embrace and shifted her position so she was behind him. Sitting cross-legged, she laid his head on her knees, just as he had earlier done with hers. When she began to massage his temples, everyone stopped talking and stared at them.

Vyrl looked as if his heart were being torn in two. Walking forward, he spoke softly. “Kamoj, you don’t have to do that.”

She cradled Jax’s head, too dazed to answer.

As Vyrl knelt on the bed, Dazza warned, “Leave her be.”

Vyrl shook his head. “She needs—”

“Valdoria, don’t be an idiot,” Ashman said. “Touch that girl again without her consent and I’ll throw you in the brig myself.”

Vyrl looked up at Ashman as if he wanted to punch him. But he stood up, moving away from Kamoj. Ashman’s words echoed in her mind. Consent. Consent. Consent.

“Governor Argali needs to eat,” Elixson said.

“Can you get her something?” Dazza asked. “Plain broth, if possible.”

Elixson spoke to a stagman and the soldier left, the entrance flaps swinging back and forth after he was gone, back and forth, back and forth…

Kamoj swayed. Her arm was growing numb from supporting Jax’s head. She shifted his weight, easing him to a new place.

“Gods,” Dazza whispered.

Puzzled by the shock in the colonel’s voice, Kamoj tried to focus on her. Dazza was staring at her arm. Looking down, Kamoj saw that when she had moved Jax’s head, it had dragged the sleeve of her dress up past her elbow. There, in humiliating detail for everyone to see, was her shame, the bruises and welts that covered her skin.

Vyrl spoke to Ashman. “Now do you believe me?”

Dazza sat on the bed and spoke gently to Kamoj. “Governor Argali, I won’t touch either you or Governor Ironbridge without your permission. But if you will allow it, I can treat those wounds.” She swallowed. “And any others you have.”

“Will it hurt?” Kamoj asked.

“I can anesthetize the area. What I did with your foot the other night. You won’t feel anything.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.” In a healer’s gentle voice, she added, “I’ll make the hurting stop.”

“Yes,” Kamoj said. “Do that.”

“We need to separate you from Governor Ironbridge. It that all right?”

“No.”

“We won’t hurt him.”

“What will you do with him?”

“He’s just sleeping,” Dazza said. “We’ll leave him here with his healer. He’ll wake soon enough.”

Kamoj looked up at Vyrl. “You told me that you would protect me last night if I asked for your help. I asked. This is what happened. If I ask again, will I get hurt again?”

Vyrl sat on the bed, ignoring Dazza’s warning look. “If I could take back last night—” His voice caught. “I can’t change what happened. But I can promise it won’t happen again.”

Moving with care, Kamoj set Jax’s head on the bed. She slid closer to Vyrl and nausea swept over her. She waited for it to subside, then moved another hand span. The nausea surged. She was dimly aware of everyone watching her, but she didn’t care. Right now all she could deal with was this journey of hand spans.