together and separated them again three or four times. And then her right true-hand positioned itself horizontally below her left, palms facing and fingers curled, and circled in opposite directions.
'She says she was confused, not lonely,' Honor translated, but then Samantha's hands moved more urgently.
<Listen before you tell,> the flashing fingers commanded. <You hurt. He hurts. Nimitz and I feel your pain. It hurts us as much as it does you, but understand. This is a two-leg pain, because all but you are mind- blind. Your People can't taste what People taste, and there are reasons you and he can't mate. But that doesn't change what you need to do, and not doing makes you hurt worse. When he came, your pain was very great. Great enough even mind-blind could taste it, and he did. And it made his pain much, much worse. Pain is a terrible thing, but can make the mind-glow even stronger, and did. For the first time, truly tasted him, not just on own, but through you, as well, and his mind-glow captured. Did not plan it. Did not
She stopped signing, hands motionless once more, and gazed trustingly up at Honor.
She could see why another human in Samantha's place—assuming any human could have been there— would have hesitated to explain that in such detail to Hamish. Honor herself still had no idea how the hopeless yearning she and Hamish felt could ever be assuaged, how the impossible might somehow be made possible. And if that could never happen, then telling him it was the pain caused by his love for her which had drawn Samantha to him might contaminate the adoption bond with the same hurt and unhappiness. Her ability to taste Samantha's mind-glow and those 'emotional sidebands' she'd mentioned to Hamish and Emily told her that the adoption bond was independent of whatever she and Hamish might feel for one another. That it wasn't the specific cause of Hamish's pain which had brought his mind-glow into such acute focus for Samantha, but only the fact of that pain's existence. But Hamish lacked that sensitivity. He would never be able to taste the absolute proof that Samantha's bond to him was completely independent of Nimitz's bond to Honor or the complex emotional tension between himself and Honor, and Samantha knew that. Which was probably only to be expected out of someone who was also a memory singer, Honor knew. Yet even after all these years, she was both surprised and deeply touched by Samantha's sensitivity to humankind's alien codes and concepts and emotions . . . and her determination not to hurt Hamish on their sharp, bitter edges.
Now it was up to Honor to protect him, as well, and she looked up from Samantha to meet his waiting gaze.
'She says,' Honor Harrington said, 'that the tension you and I have been under made your mind-glow stronger. Strong enough that she really 'saw' it for the first time.'
'It did?' White Haven sat back in his chair, surprised, then smiled slowly, and Honor tasted the many levels of bittersweetness inside him.
'I see,' he said, looking at her, not aware even then that his very heart was in his eyes for Honor—and Emily—to see. 'Well, if it brought us together,' he said, 'however inconvenient the timing, I can't help feeling at least a little grateful.'
Chapter Fourteen
'Damn.' The Twelfth Earl of North Hollow, said the single word quietly, almost calmly, but there was nothing at all calm about the look in his eyes. He managed not to glare obviously across the huge expanse of Mount Royal Palace's Queen Caitrin's Hall, but only because he knew every eye which wasn't watching the liveried chamberlain by the door prepare to announce the latest arrival was riveted to him.
'Her Grace Admiral Lady Dame Honor Harrington, Duchess and Steadholder Harrington, and Nimitz!'
The huge chamber's advanced sound system carried the announcement to every ear without the need for anything so crass as bellowing, despite the fact that Queen Caitrin's Hall was big enough to have hosted at least two basketball games simultaneously. The chamberlain's voice wasn't intrusive enough to interrupt ongoing conversations, but conversations broke off throughout the Hall anyway. A wave of sudden quiet, almost a hush, rolled outward from the entry as every guest became aware of the tall, slender woman who had just stepped through it.
As always at formal affairs here in the Star Kingdom, she wore her own version of traditional Grayson female attire, but tonight her gown was a deep, jewel-toned blue, not the simple, unadorned white she usually wore. The tabard-like over-vest of the dark, jade green which had become known as 'Harrington Green' by clothing designers in two star nations complemented the blue, yet the combination was far more intense than her normal garb, and the Star of Grayson and the Harrington Key flashed golden on her breast. Her hair was straight, gathered at the nape of her neck by a silken ribbon, also of Harrington Green, before it fanned out to spill down her back. The dark brown cascade had been arranged with deceptive simplicity to look natural while it fell gracefully to her left and remained safely out of the way of the treecat on her right shoulder.
She was probably the tallest woman in the whole, vast expanse of Queen Caitrin's Hall. If she wasn't, she was certainly
The Queen had looked up from where she stood engaged in conversation with Lord William Alexander and Theodore Harper, Planetary Grand Duke of Manticore, as Duchess Harrington's arrival was announced. Now, in complete disregard of centuries of protocol, she moved swiftly across the floor with both hands extended and a huge smile of welcome. The duchess smiled back, and swept a deep, graceful Grayson-style curtsey before she took the Queen's proffered hand and shook it firmly.
Something like a silent sigh seemed to roll through the Hall, but if Harrington sensed it, neither she nor the 'cat on her shoulder gave the slightest sign of it. Her expression was calm and attentive as she bent her head to listen to something the Queen had just said, and then she laughed with what certainly appeared to be a completely natural ease. The Queen said something else, touched her lightly on the shoulder, and started to turn back towards the Duke of Manticore, then paused as the chamberlain announced the next arrival.
'Admiral the Earl and Lady White Haven and Samantha!'
If Duchess Harrington's arrival had sent a ripple of quiet throughout the Hall, that announcement produced something much more profound. It was almost as if every one of the scores of guests had simultaneously drawn a deep breath . . . and held it.
The earl was perhaps two centimeters taller than Lady Harrington, and his wife's life support chair floated silently at his side as the two of them moved forward into the stillness. Neither of them showed the least awareness of all those watching eyes, although the very tip of the tail of the slender, dappled treecat on the earl's shoulder twitched in small, slow arcs. They came through the entry, paused ever so briefly in recognition as they saw the duchess, and then came forward more quickly, with smiles as huge as the Queen's own.
'Honor!' The welcome in Lady White Haven's voice cut clearly through the unnatural stillness, although she certainly hadn't raised it. Then again, she'd learned the actor's tricks for voice projection more than half a century ago. 'It's wonderful to see you again!'
'Hello, Emily,' Harrington returned the greeting as she and the countess shook hands, then nodded to Earl White Haven. 'Hamish,' she said, and smiled at the 'cat on his shoulder. 'And hello to you, too, Sam!'
'Good evening, Honor,' the earl replied, then bowed and kissed the Queen's hand as Elizabeth retraced her steps to greet the newcomers.
'Your Majesty.' Conversation had resumed throughout the Hall, but his deep voice carried almost as well as his wife's had.
