A/N: Sorry for the long delay between postings (over a month!), but I was hugely blocked. But I've now finished this story so will post this part and the rest in one go to make up for it. Thanks for the great reviews, and the little kick up the butt I so evidently needed (Tatsu-Zzmage).

11 — Kahs-wan

"I wish you wouldn't," I said.

"I am a Vulcan," our son responded, his arms folded defiantly over his chest.

Looking at Storel now, I could barely believe he was part human. Not a trace of his human genes showed. He had his father's looks (already handsome at only ten) and bearing. He had my temperament — for now, at least. No doubt as he grew older, he would emulate the full-blooded Vulcans and control his emotions.

I'd never made any attempt to do so. In the years since our marriage, I'd … well, blossomed, I suppose (oh, someone shoot me now for using the word 'blossomed'!). I was surrounded by people who accepted me and respected me despite my many flaws, I'd become an administrator in the English department at the new academy in Shana'Kai, and I had a husband and son who loved me — even though they'd never say it out loud.

I'd also spent time with T'Para and the clerics, developing my psi abilities. My telepathic rating wasn't very high — I could communicate with my family and gifted Vulcans, but that was enough. However, my empathic rating was extremely high — not requiring physical contact, it was different to that of Vulcan sensitivity. There'd always been rumors (fed no doubt by my father) that my family was descended from an Irish witch who'd died during the Salem trials. Maybe what the Pilgrims had feared and burned as sorcery was simply a high-level empathy?

I sighed heavily and regarded my son. At only ten, he was already nearly as tall as me, with the wiry strength common to the Vulcan race. "You are a Vulcan," I acknowledged, "but you're also part human. Is it logical to deny who you are?"

An eyebrow crawled up the young forehead, then he frowned thoughtfully. "I'm not ashamed of my heritage, Mother," Storel said. "I celebrate Christmas with you and my middle name is an English one. But I live on Vulcan and I go to school with Vulcans. I want to do this."

The plaintive wail of childhood — "I just want to be like everyone else". I sighed again, and pushed a lock of hair out of my eyes. "Well, then you must do it," I replied.

A beam appeared on my solemn son's face — solemn when he remembered, anyway. "Thanks," he said. "And I'm going to win, too! That'll shut up Soval!"

"Ambassador Soval," I corrected in rebuke, although I couldn't rebuke the sentiment. The years that had passed since our first encounter had not lessened the Vulcan's animosity toward me, but for him to spread his bigoted poison around my son was … well, it was intolerable!

However, more than eleven years of living on Vulcan had taught me how to stop projecting my emotions. Therefore, Storel was unaware of my less than charitable thoughts regarding Soval.

"Ambassador Soval," Storel acknowledged, then raised an eyebrow. "His head is up where, Mother?"

I stared at my son. The standard tests that all Vulcans took upon entering school had indicated that Storel — like most Vulcans — was telepathic only via touch. There had been the rare instance of a non-touch telepath, but none in recent history — certainly not since the Reformation.

He stared back placidly. "Yes, Mother — I can read your thoughts," he said. "And I'm sorry for intruding."

No wonder he'd been so hostile to Soval! He'd no doubt picked up on the ambassador's subtle brand of nastiness toward me and, like children everywhere, was defending his parents in the only way available to a ten year old — rebellion.

With this revelation came the realization that it would be best for Storel to choose the Vulcan way rather than to emulate human behavior. I felt a stab of guilt for expecting him to choose between two cultures — I couldn't do it and I was thirty four years old!

In a rare gesture for a Vulcan — or any ten year old, for that matter — Storel put an arm around me. "Even though I've chosen to be Vulcan, I haven't rejected my human heritage," he said. "That would be like rejecting you, and I couldn't do that." He dropped the arm. "I must begin preparing for the kahs-wan," he added.

"Okay," I replied. "Will T'Mina be present?"

Storel nodded his head. "She'll be participating too," he said. "She'll be a worthy opponent."

I smiled slightly. Three years ago, Storel and T'Mina had been bonded — against my better judgment at the time. But now I'd resigned myself to it. When on Vulcan, yadda yadda yadda …, the thing, the thing, the thing …

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Flashback — four years earlier:

"My wife," Sutak said solemnly, extending his fingers toward mine.

I brushed his fingers, then smiled at him. "What is it, Sutak?" I asked merrily. "You look very solemn. I haven't done anything particularly bad today — just ask T'Para."

"In less than a year, our son will be seven years of age," Sutak responded, accepting the cup of Tarkalean tea I offered. "It is at that age that most Vulcans are bonded."

I frowned. "I think I know where you're going with this, Sutak. You've had a lot of dealings with Stepn lately — you want Storel and T'Mina to bond."

His dark eyes glinted with affection. "I should have learned by now that I can keep no secrets from you," he admitted.

"Why?" I said. "You weren't bonded as a child — if you had been, we couldn't have married, and Storel wouldn't exist." I hugged my arms to myself, feeling suddenly chilled. "Do you … regret us?"

"Of course not," he declared warmly. "You are the mistress of my heart. But there is not another human female like you ready to take possession of Storel's heart. He is more than half Vulcan, and we agreed when he was born that he should be brought up in the Vulcan traditions."

"Uh," I grunted. "I'm just wondering how my life would have turned out if I hadn't gone into the Crash & Burn that day you arrived." I smiled to soften the gibe, then ran my fingers through my hair, dislodging the complicated arrangement of loops and coils. "Well, do I at least get to meet T'Mina before a decision is made?"

An eyebrow shot up. "I regret my lapse," he said, "but I confess that I thought you were acquainted already with the young lady. You have, after all, been friends with Stepn for several years."

The aforementioned Stepn had been one of my colleagues at the Science Academy, and I'd facilitated the friendship between him and Sutak — that was a bad day's work on my part, I thought bitterly. There was something so … archaic about an arranged marriage to my North-Am-centric mind.

I pushed my hand through my hair with an irritated sigh and, as I did so, the flash of an emerald caught my eye. The ring had been Sutak's present to me for our fifth year of marriage. Although Vulcans didn't wear wedding rings or celebrate anniversaries, he'd chosen to honor human custom by giving me an eternity ring. I sighed again — if Sutak could overcome his innate Vulcan-ness to give me something as sentimental as an eternity ring, then surely I could put my North-Am prejudices aside and at least meet this kid? "Fine," I grumbled at last, well aware the Vulcan summer was making me unusually cranky. "Let's do this."

I headed into the bedroom and applied my suncream, then grabbed my floppy hat before joining Sutak outside. I recoiled from the blistering heat, then set my jaw and followed my husband's elegant form to the gate.

My disapproval of the idea must have been clear to Sutak, for he showed even less inclination to talk as we made the short walk to Stepn's house. "Well, for crying out loud, say something!" I muttered crossly in English. Although I was now fluent in the Vulcan tongue, certain North-Am expressions just did not translate into the austere Vulcan language.

"Forgive me, Charlotte," he apologized. "I was meditating on a personnel quandary — T'Sev has chosen to accept command of the shuttleport on P'Jem, leaving me to choose a new First Officer."

"Charlotte Logan," a new voice said.

I turned and beheld a Vulcan male of about my own age. I could swear I'd never met him before, yet he looked … familiar. "Sonak," I said, recognizing him now. He'd served on the T'Plana-Hath during its visit to Earth and had made my acquaintance in the Crash & Burn. However, after the Rihannsu hijacking, I'd not seen him again and had presumed him dead.

He bowed slightly. "I must confess I did not expect to find you still here on Vulcan," he said. He turned to Sutak, seeming to just now see him, then gave the ritualistic Vulcan greeting. "Live long and prosper, Sutak."

Sutak returned the greeting "Peace and long life" coolly enough, although it seemed to me that he'd experienced a flash of dislike for the younger male. "I recently learned that you have entered the Science Academy — I trust that your studies are profitable."

"Indeed," Sonak replied, his gray eyes fixed on me.

I shifted uncomfortably, unnerved by the steady scrutiny. "Hey, pal, quit gawping at me," I snapped at him — once again, in English.

A wave of discomfort shot through him before I could get my shields up. "I apologize, Charlotte," he said. "But you are … very lovely."

A Vulcan rarely complimented someone's looks even when they were bonded, and my eyes widened as his emotions poured into my unwilling mind. Even without touching me, he seemed able to communicate telepathically — I knew of no full Vulcan with that kind of telepathy.

"My wife." Sutak put a hand on my arm, and I felt his shields shore up my own defenses. "We must go," he added to Sonak. "Live long and prosper."

"Peace and long life," Sonak got out, then turned and strode briskly away.

I sat down heavily on a bench. "What the hell was that?" I blurted out.

Sutak dipped his head and his eyes glinted with humor and affection. "You do not know?" he said. "Sonak came to me the day before you boarded the T'Plana-Hath to seek my advice — he wished to approach you, but did not know how to do so with an Earth female."

I was stunned — surely my empathy should have picked up on his feelings for me! Then again, I'd had no idea about Sutak's feelings toward me before we bonded, and we'd spent weeks in each other's company. "Okay," I said slowly. "But he could see from this" — I tapped my ear-ring — "that I'm bonded, so what could he hope to gain from complimenting me?"

I felt a wave of anger as I recalled how he'd practically undressed me with his eyes. "The nerve of him — I should have knocked him from here to Ch'Rihan." I felt rather than saw Sutak's eyebrow lift, and realized it may have been more than the hot weather that was making me so irritable — after all, I'd made it through the last six summers without wanting to kill anyone. "Oh, crap," I groaned.

"Indeed," Sutak replied.

End flashback

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"I knew I shouldn't have allowed this," I fretted, pacing back and forth.

A glint appeared in T'Para's eyes — the High Priestess seemed … amused by me. "Storel is a stubborn child — he would have prevailed eventually. I believe you knew that when you agreed to this."

"Uh," I grunted, conceding the point. Since she'd joined Sutak and I more than eleven years ago, I'd spent a lot of time with her and had been privileged to have her call me 'friend'. The High Priestess was a lonely woman — her husband had died two years earlier and she'd been disinclined to rebond, and her position ensured her distance from her fellow Vulcans. I'd often been lonely before I met Sutak, and I wouldn't wish it on anybody. "Yeah — he gets that stubborn streak from Sutak," I added.

Another gleam appeared in T'Para's eyes and the corners of her mouth lifted slightly. "As you humans would say, he came by it honestly. His parents were, by Vulcan standards, mavericks."

"Tell me about them," I said. Sutak's parents had died a couple of years before I'd met him, traveling a hazardous part of space known as the Delphic Expanse. The Expanse had assumed an almost mythical quality in many races' cultures — much like Earth's own Bermuda Triangle — and it was true that no ship that ventured there had ever returned to tell the tale.

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Flashback — Four years earlier

I sat down in Stepn's living room and accepted a glass of iced tea gratefully. I sipped it and started as I tasted the distinctive flavor of bergamot. "Earl Grey," I mused. "Where did this come from?"

"My wife spent some time on Earth several years ago, and developed an appreciation for the beverage," Stepn responded. "She brought back several crates of tea — I thought you would … enjoy a little taste of home."

"Well, Vulcan is home, but I have missed this," I said. Earl Grey had been pretty hard to get hold of after the war — the Brits wanting to hang onto what was left of their diminished stocks.

A young girl rushed into the house, followed closely by a sehlat — a large, fanged, bear-like creature that the Vulcans had bred to be as loyal and protective as dogs. "Father," she said delightedly, then stopped, abashed to find herself in the presence of a stranger — namely me. "Hello, Sutak," she added formally.

"T'Mina," Sutak replied just as solemnly, "I would like you to meet she who is my wife, T'Sai Charlotte." T'Sai was a Vulcan honorific for a married female, and translated somewhat inadequately in English to 'the Lady'.

Little T'Mina raised her hand in the Vulcan greeting. "Peace and long life, T'Sai Charlotte," she said, stumbling slightly over my name.

Something tugged at me about this little scrap aping adult ways, but I returned the greeting. "Live long and prosper, T'Mina," I said. I raised my eyebrows. "You know why we've come, don't you?" I added.

She nodded her head. "I will be seven years old in less than a year and so will Storel," she said, once again sounding older than her years. By human standards, all Vulcan children were serious, but this little pixie was abnormally so. "I don't understand why you want us to do this, though — you are an offworlder."

I grinned suddenly, amused at her bluntness. "Out of the mouths of babes …," I murmured. Like most kids, she had a way of cutting right through the crap. "I have to admit, T'Mina, I have my doubts," I said candidly, as Sutak and Stepn headed out into the garden.

T'Mina nodded. "I did too, when I realized what Father and Mother wanted." A small smile appeared on her pointed face, giving the promise of great beauty as she matured. At the moment, she reminded me rather of a young filly — all huge eyes and long slender legs. "But when I met Storel, I liked him — I believe that we would make good bond-mates."

I smiled, settling back in the chair. The sehlat had gotten his head into my lap and was snoring blissfully. "You realize that Storel is partly human — he's different to the other boys you know," I said, stroking the sehlat's silken head.

She returned the smile. "You have not met my mother, then, T'Sai Charlotte?" she said. "She is half Rigellian; therefore, I am also not a pure Vulcan."

The Rigellians — like the Rihannsu — were an offshoot of the Vulcans, with the same physical features but without the great strength granted to their Vulcan and Rihannsu cousins. "I see," I said for lack of anything better to say.

"A child between Storel and I would be part Vulcan, part human and part Rigellian," she added — what a baby like this was doing talking seriously about children was anybody's guess! "He or she would truly represent infinite diversity in infinite combinations."

The sehlat lifted his head and glared balefully up at me — I resumed my rhythmic stroking and his eyes closed once more. "Oh," I said rather blankly. I truly had no idea what to say to this self-possessed youngster, and I vowed I would teach her how to be a child.

My eye was caught by a beautiful lyrette — a miniature version of the lyre — hanging on the wall, and I got up to investigate it, unmindful of the sehlat's reproachful look. The patina of the wood suggested extreme age, and the strings were discolored, showing frequent use. "This is beautiful," I said.

"My brother gave it to me when he entered the temple of Gol," T'Mina said. "He wanted me to become a musician, but I have no gifts in that direction. Like Solkar, I am much better at mathematics."

"Solkar's your brother?" I was truly taken aback at that, for I'd known him and the other Kolinahru for years now, and he'd never mentioned that he had a sister. "Vulcans are hardly blabber-mouths compared to humans, but I'm surprised he didn't at least mention it."

"My half brother," T'Mina amended composedly. "He is a son of Stepn, but his mother died several years before my birth."

I gestured to the lyrette. "May I?" I asked. I'd learned to play the instrument fairly well, and T'Mir had said I was progressing satisfactorily — high praise from a Vulcan.

T'Mina dipped her neat dark head. "Of course," she said. "I have no talent myself, but I love to listen."

I lifted the lyrette from the wall and fitted the plectron to my thumb. I plucked a few of the strings and nodded — this was probably the finest instrument I'd ever handled, the Stradivarius of lyrettes. "It's beautiful," I said, running over a scale in the major mode before breaking into tune — a Vulcan atonal piece by an up and coming musician named T'Pas.

The sehlat lifted up his head as I played and snorted at me — whether that was a comment on my playing, I couldn't say. I reached the end of the piece, then hung the lyrette back up. "If you want," I said, "I can introduce you to T'Mir — she's the one who taught me, and she's really good."

"I believe," T'Mina said thoughtfully, "I would like that, T'Sai Charlotte." Her third attempt at the strange English name was much more successful than the first two, I noted.

"Well," I said, "it's past four, and I'm sure you have homework to do."

"I do," T'Mina replied. She dipped her head gravely toward me, then left the living room.

I sat back down, unwilling to go back out into the afternoon heat, and mused upon little T'Mina. The sehlat regarded me with pleading eyes and I grinned. "Oh, okay, you big ol' moocher," I said, patting my lap. The sehlat either understood my words or more likely my actions, for he settled his head into my lap with a contented expression on his face.

Stepn and Sutak strolled into the living room from the garden and looked at me, each with a raised eyebrow. Sutak sat down next to me, prompting a wounded look from the sehlat, and touched his two fingers to mine. "It went well?" he asked.

"She's lovely, Sutak," I admitted, "but I'm still doubtful about pushing two little kids together. I know it's worked for Vulcans for centuries, but I can't always be logical."

Sutak's eyebrow shot up. "Indeed not," he agreed dryly.

I couldn't think up a suitably scathing retort, so I didn't respond. "Stepn," I said instead, "I'd like to say congratulations on your promotion — you worked hard and you deserve it."

Stepn dipped his head. "Thank you," he said, "but you have seniority — you should have been promoted first."

"I've made enemies," I said, shrugging. "There are a few superintendents who don't quite approve of me, but that's all right. I am who I am, and they'll have to accept me as I am — warts and all."

He perused me carefully. "I do not detect any such blemishes on your features, T'Sai Charlotte," he said.

I stifled a chuckle and a yawn at the same time; the result being a weird grimace that would have put the Notre Dame gargoyles to shame. "Sorry," I said. "I'm pretty tired — Vulcan summer is almost unbearable for me."

"In that case" — Stepn rose to his feet in a fluid movement — "I will not keep you any longer."

I got up also, dislodging the sehlat. "We'll let you know soon, Stepn," I said as Sutak shepherded me out of the living room.

The sehlat sat back on his haunches and cried after me. "The sehlat seems … fond of you," Sutak said as we made our way along the busy street.

I paused to jam my hat onto my head, then smiled up at him. "And why not?" I said. "I'm pretty lovable, you know."

"Also immodest," Sutak observed dryly.

"You know; it wouldn't kill you to play along, just once," I said crossly. "I don't know why you try to hide your sense of humor — it's one of my favorite things about you."

"Charlotte; do not make a scene," he said.

A scene? He thought that was a scene? "Speak to me like that again, mister, and you'll be staring down the business end of a world-class hissy fit," I retorted in English.

Sutak switched to English also, perhaps sensing that I was in no mood to search for Vulcan phrases. "You are unusually emotional today, my wife," he said. "I too feel the ancient fires, but you should not worry. The initial madness that brought us to each other seven years ago will not be as potent this time."

I heaved a sigh and wondered how he always seemed to know just the right thing to say. I brushed his fingers with mine. "Thanks," I murmured. "I don't know how you put up with me sometimes."

"It's not an easy job, but someone has to do it," he responded, deadpan.

I spluttered with laughter, and a pair of ancient Vulcans looked at me with barely contained disapproval. "Now, that's the Sutak I know and love!" I commented.

End flashback

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My father had always said time passed slowly when you're in hell. I'd never really understand that but now, waiting for Storel to come home, I could comprehend it.

My imagination insisted on throwing out horrible scenarios, and it seemed I was powerless to shut them out. Even the years of Vulcan discipline proved no match for the horrible thoughts bouncing around in my head.

I looked up as I felt the cool tide of my husband's thoughts. "Sutak," I breathed, getting up and brushing his fingers with mine. "When did you return?"

"Several hours ago," he responded. "I learned of Storel's participation in the ritual, and knew my place was here."

I smiled slightly, basking in the unspoken yet solid emotional support of my favorite Vulcan. The years that had passed since our meeting had had little effect on him — Vulcans aging far more slowly than humans — and he was as handsome as ever.

To me, he seemed like a lion of a man — powerful and urgent — and, in retrospect, I knew I'd fallen in love with him the minute I saw him. That he felt the same way about me still seemed like a miracle.

I gasped and went white as pain knifed through me — ever since my telepathic contact with Sonak's raw desire four years earlier, I'd struggled to maintain my shields. T'Para and her team of adepts had helped me somewhat, but they were only able to do so much.

"You are in pain, Charlotte?" T'Para rose gracefully, belying her years, and pressed her fingers to my temples, initiating a healing meld.

Some of the pain eased and I was able to nod my head. "Someone's … been hurt — le matya," I muttered. The le matya was a predator that roamed the plains of Vulcan and was as willing to kill a Vulcan as it would a smaller animal.

After more than ten years of marriage, Sutak had learned to trust my empathic flashes — very different to Vulcan telepathy — and he put his hand on my shoulder. "We will go to Shir'Kahr," he said.

"It may not be Storel," T'Para pointed out — her attempt to comfort me. "After all, you have an empathy that extends beyond those of your family."

I smiled wanly at her, knowing that she was referring to her husband's death. He'd died suddenly when his ship was destroyed during an Andorian attack, and the sudden disconnection of their bond had almost killed T'Para too. I'd melded with her, helping to bring her out of her fugue, and had since been described as her friend.

"Thanks," I said now, heading out of the door with Sutak close behind me.

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It was only a short journey from Gol to Shir'Kahr, but for me it was the longest trip of my life. I was the first one off the shuttle when it landed — barely waiting for the airlock to open before stepping out.

I made the half-hour stroll to the ritual grounds just outside Shir'Kahr in a mere ten minutes, anxiety having given me warp speed. I scanned the vista anxiously, trying to pick out my son from what seemed like hundreds of children, and my heart lurched as he appeared from behind a large rock, beaten and bloodied. "Storel …," I breathed.

He put up a hand. "I am quite well, Mother," he said stoically. "Suvak needs medical attention, however. Please summon assistance."

Sutak dipped his head and set off, his long strides covering the ground rapidly. I went around the rock. My hand flew up to my mouth. "Oh, no," I breathed in English.

Lying on the ground was the aforementioned Suvak. Most of his clothes had been ripped off, and he bore long gouges along his torso and face. The boy had retreated into a deep fugue state, but I could still detect his presence.

I knelt down next to him, gathering up my strength, then put my fingers gently to his temples, initiating the healing meld I'd learned from T'Para. As I did so, I felt the boy's prejudice toward offworlders, which had manifested as abuse of both Storel and T'Mina. He was kin of Soval, which explained his rotten attitude.

I could feel his mind retreat as it detected my alien presence, then I felt … confusion. You … are Vulcan?

Partly, I responded, having adjusted to my dual status some years ago. And now you must enter the healing trance.

I am … afraid, Suvak admitted. I don't want to die. I want to marry T'Pel. I want to tell my friends that we have been wrong. Offworlders are not inferior — just different.

You're not going to die, I projected as firmly as I could. You don't think you're the first person I've helped, do you? Just listen to me, and you will get well again.

I will … try, he acquiesced hesitantly.

Good. I took a deep breath, then forced my mind to go blank, absorbing the pain of his wounds as best I could.

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How long I remained with young Suvak, I have no idea, but I eventually became aware of my husband's presence.

My head pounded and my entire body ached. I was lying on something soft and I couldn't feel the heat of the sun. I opened my eyes a crack, slamming them shut against the glare of a light. "Hey," I muttered.

"Charlotte," he replied.

"Storel; where is he?" I rasped. God, my throat hurt!

"Stepn has taken him home," Sutak replied. "I could not break the meld and had to bring you to the hospital with Suvak."

"Suvak!" I lurched up from what I now realized was a hospital bed. "Is he …?".

"He is doing well," Sutak said. "He regained consciousness several days ago, and the doctors are confident that he will make a full recovery."

"Several days?" I blinked at my husband. "How long have I been out of it?"

"Three weeks, six days and four hours," Sutak responded.

"What; no minutes and seconds?" I teased, but my heart wasn't in it. "Why … what happened to me?"

"Perhaps T'Para can explain it better." Sutak dipped his head to the older woman.

"We are pleased to see that you have recovered," she said. "Your empathic abilities have grown immeasurably, but you are in danger of losing yourself. You will need tutoring in the art of divorcing your emotions from the act of healing."

"But … isn't that illogical?" I blurted out. "If I can't feel someone's pain, how can I heal them?"

"People on your homeworld believe psychiatrists and doctors should not bond emotionally with their patients as they lose objectivity," T'Para shot back. "The principle is the same."

"Yeah, but I'm not a doctor or a shrink," I protested. "I can't cut off my emotions — it may work for Vulcans, but it doesn't for me."

"Until you have learned to control your skill, it will be safer if you do not attempt another healing meld unless I am there," T'Para said. "You are highly skilled, and it is illogical to put someone with your talent in danger. Will you consent to lessons with L'Dir and the adepts?"

"Huh?" I said blankly. "I told you years ago I didn't want to be a Healer — my decision stands."

"You are already a Healer," T'Para pointed out. "You made that decision the day my husband died."

"T'Para is correct," Sutak put in quietly. "If you will stop fighting it, you will see the logic."

"But … I …". I trailed off at the look on his face. Part of him — a small part — rebelled against this as much as I did. Yet he seemed to believe that it was the best thing for me. True, my job as an administrator hardly left me fulfilled — it bored the hell out of me, actually — but considering that everything else about my life was so good, I had no right to complain.

"You should not make a decision of this magnitude quickly," T'Para said, interrupting my brooding silence. "In the meantime, we have some good news for you. Storel was the victor of the Kahs-wan."

"He was? But, he didn't finish it!" I said, lurching up once more and being bodily restrained by Sutak. At any other time, I might have enjoyed a little wrestling match. Vulcans didn't make love only during pon farr, and my husband tapped a passion I'd never known I'd possessed. But I wasn't exactly healthy right now.

"He risked his life for another," Sutak pointed out. "Ambassador Soval and the other judges were most impressed at his nobility."

"Especially from a part human, I'll bet," I muttered snidely. "You know something? I'm hungry."

"I will summon an orderly," T'Para said, moving gracefully out of the room, with a speed no sixty year old human possessed. Of course, by Vulcan standards, sixty wasn't even middle-aged yet.

After she had gone, I touched my fingers to Sutak's. "Is she right?" I said.

After more than a decade of marriage, Sutak had learned to follow my train of thought. "She is correct about the danger you face without training, but the decision to become a Healer is not one I can make."

"Fat lot of help you are," I grumbled, shooting him a wicked grin.