Nightshade - Laurell K. Hamilton [16]
In that moment Troi wanted to help the boy, not just for his own sake, or for the peace talks, but to take that haunted look from Talanne’s eyes. The look that had seen too much that was bright and wondrous wither and die. Troi knelt beside the mother and child. She spoke softly, “Jeric, can you look at me?”
The little boy peered at her through his mother’s arms. His large, brown-gold eyes shimmered with tears.
Troi smiled at him. “Did you have a bad dream?”
He nodded solemnly.
‘Can you tell me about it?”
He just blinked at her.
‘It’s all right, Jeric,” Talanne murmured. “Tell the healer what you dreamed.”
The boy’s fear was fading, replaced by puzzlement. He didn’t understand the question.
‘Jeric,” Troi said, “did you see scary pictures in your head?”
He nodded.
‘Can you tell me what the pictures looked like?”
He nodded. Talanne held him tight, as if her arms could keep him safe.
‘I saw Bori.”
Troi looked a question at Talanne. “It is… was his sentinel,” Talanne said.
Troi nodded. “What was Bori doing?”
‘He was talkin’ to a man.”
‘Could you hear what they said?” Troi asked.
Jeric shook his head.
‘They just stood and talked?”
He nodded.
‘Nothing else?”
Jeric shook his head solemnly, eyes too large for his tear-stained face. He was telling the truth as far as he knew it. But it wasn’t the whole truth, just the truth as his conscious mind understood it. Underneath, in the subconscious, was another truth. Down where his nightmare had come from, Jeric knew why seeing two men talk was terrifying. But he was not ready to face what he had seen. Troi thought it likely that Jeric had seen his sentinel die in defense of his life. It was a terrible burden for one so young.
Troi patted the boy’s hair. He just stared at her with large blue eyes. His skin was still fear pale, but he didn’t remember why two men talking should fill him with such dread. “May I speak with you in private, Colonel Talanne?” Troi asked.
‘Of course.” Talanne’s concern for her boy was like a sharp push in Troi’s gut. Talanne might be the perfect warrior as most of the Orianians were, but she felt real fear, normal mother’s fear for her child. Troi thought that was a good sign all on its own. If the Orianians loved their children, then peace was possible.
Talanne settled Jeric on his sleeping mat. She smoothed his fair hair onto the silkiness of the pillow. She handed him a stuffed animal that looked vaguely like a horse, except it was bright red with delicate embroidery covering most of its body. The embroidery was images of leaves, flowers, trees. The stuffed animal, like the wall hangings, spoke of artistry, grace, softer things than war.
Jeric clutched the toy in his small arms. “Rest, my little love. I have to speak with the healer. I’ll be right back,” Talanne said.
The boy didn’t cling to her. Rather, he lay, tightly clutching his toy, and said, “Right back, Merme?”
Talanne smiled. “Right back, I promise.” She kissed him gently on the forehead and stood.
Troi walked to the other side of the room with the woman trailing behind her. Worf stood near the door with the other guards. He looked at Troi, his eyes flickering back to the boy. She could not read his mind exactly but would have bet that Worf was thinking about his own son. Alexander, more than anything else, had softened the Klingon, made him able to sympathize with a parent whose child cried out in the night.
When Troi was sure the boy would not overhear, she asked, “Was Jeric close to his sentinel?”
‘Yes. Bori had been his personal guard since he was born,” Talanne said.
Troi was surprised. The changing of the guard had seemed so random.
‘Is it usual to have a personal guard?”
‘Every leader and each member of that leader’s family has at least one personal guard. Someone who is loyal to that one person above any other loyalty.”
Troi thought of something.