Sweet Starfire

bar her from her world just as surely as her lack of telepathy.
    If Cidra wasn’t fated to be happy in Clementia, then he had a right to take her with him. That knowledge had been growing steadily since he had put her on the freighter back to Lovelady. He had a right to take her, Severance decided, because she belonged to him now. She would always belong to him. If she didn’t yet realize that, then he would have to make her understand.
    The restless desire to be on his way back to claim his woman made Severance lengthen his stride toward the port offices. The sooner he completed his business on QED , the better. The most important thing in his life was waiting.
    “You’ll go with him when he comes for you, won’t you, Cidra?” Talina Peacetree smiled gently at her daughter, who sat across her from on a white stone bench. The bench had been handcarved by an expert craftsman who had worked the hard substance into a light and balanced piece of sculpture. It had cost a great deal of credit, but Talina and her husband, Garn, could afford it. The garden in which the stone bench resided was even more expensive. It was shaded with a unique variety of graceful pala trees that had been cultivated to order. Formal swirls of flowering plants added color and scent to the perfectly designed scene. All was serene.
    “If he comes for me, I’ll go with him.” Cidra finished the last step of the highly ritualized ceremony that proceeded the serving of ether wine and handed her mother a crystal goblet full of the golden liquid. Her green eyes met those of her mother. “I will be going away even if he doesn’t come for me.”
    Talina nodded with an air of quiet acceptance. “I know. I have always known that one day you would leave. But remember that Clementia will always be here for you when you wish to return for a while.”
    “I would never cut myself off from my home. Even though I am not a true Harmonic, the Way is a part of me.”
    “It is a part of all humans,” Talina said.
    Cidra’s mouth curved in amusement. “That’s what Severance once said.”
    “Your Severance sounds perceptive.”
    “He’s also occasionally rude, arrogant, and obnoxious.”
    “He’s a Wolf.” Talina’s hand moved gracefully in her lap. She was wearing one of her exquisite early afternoon gowns, a cream-colored robe embroidered with silver floss. Her silvered hair was bound in the same regal coronet that Cidra wore. She had bequeathed many of her features to her daughter, but in Talina those features were overlaid with an internal serenity that Cidra could only approximate.
    “I am also a Wolf.”
    Talina watched her daughter as she made the quiet declaration. “It is not difficult for you to accept that now?”
    “No.”
    “Then your adventures on Renaissance have indeed been worthwhile. You have learned much.”
    “I have learned to accept myself for what I am. But the most interesting part is that even if I were offered a clear choice now, I would not choose to become a Harmonic. I don’t think I could bear to give up what I have found waiting inside myself.”
    “Then you will be content with your future. I am glad for you, my daughter. Most glad.” She sipped the wine and then turned her elegant head as her husband stepped into the garden from his study. “Ah, Garn. Will you join us for a glass of wine?”
    “With pleasure.” Garn came forward to sit beside his wife. His clear blue eyes were full of intelligence as he regarded Cidra. Garn Oquist wore the shorter, masculine version of the early afternoon surplice, a deep brown robe belted with a knotted thong of multicolored braided floss. His handsome face with its strong nose and high forehead held the same air of inner serenity that his wife’s wore.
    When Garn took his seat beside his wife, Cidra sensed the brief, silent mental communion that took place between her parents. It was a quiet touching of minds that Cidra had once envied with all her heart. Once that subtle communication had made her feel left out and deprived. But today she found she was accepting it for what it was: a Harmonic way that she could not follow. She had other methods of communication open to her. They might be less certain, more vulnerable to risk, but when they worked, they worked well. She was satisfied with them now. They held their own rewards.
    “What are the two of you discussing?” her father asked.
    “My future,” Cidra said with a smile. “But the truth is that I’ve got