The green-eyed Golgoro turned to regard Al’Kara. “You would bring a stranger to the Moot? A Ranger of all things?” Al’Kara’s uncle curled his lip. “He injured a wandsman.”

“After he put hands on me,” Rick said. He looked up to see Al’Kara’s uncle snap his head back to him.

“Do not speak, Earthman! I will—”

“Is that true?” Al’Kara asked the wandsmen on the ground, ignoring her uncle. The wandsman still nursed his injured shoulder. The green-eyed Golgoro looked shocked that his niece ignored him. Rick smirked. She would do something like that. Several of the wandsman’s fellows had appeared, all with their batons out in a semi-circle around the two wandsmen, Al’Kara, and Rick. It wasn’t until then that Rick realized the wand’s two silver balls were different sizes, a thicker ball on the end held out and a smaller one where the wandsmen rested their hands.

“No,” the injured wandsmen said, looking up at Rick with a rictus of pain and anger. “He attacked me without provocation.”

“I would never,” Rick started. “I—”

Al’Kara held her hand up. “Beloved, be quiet. We have ways of knowing.”

“Are you saying the wandsman’s word is a lie, Al’Kara?” her uncle asked, his tone icy.

Al’Kara looked at Rick and swallowed hard, clearly torn. Rick wanted to say something, but she held up her hand when he tried to open his mouth. “Yes, Uncle. The wandsman is lying,” she said. Her eyes flickered to Rick a moment, then she turned and faced her uncle.

A muttering sprang up from the crowd that had surrounded the small cluster of wandsmen, Rick, Al’Kara, and her uncle. Her uncle swept a hand over the crowd, and there was silence. Rick felt a soft hum in the helm and realized the man had just used some kind of mental attack on him and the rest of the crowd. Rick’s hand dropped to the Tellic but only rested on it. I have to trust Al’Kara. She knows what she’s doing. If he tried to do anything with his raygun, he’d be causing more problems, both for Al’Kara and himself. And it was already looking grim.

The uncle glared at Rick for a long moment, and Rick thought the Golgoro man wanted him to pull the Tellic. That’s an insane thought. Stop thinking that all the Golgoro are the enemy. Al’Kara isn’t. She is . . . more. So gentle and yet . . . He stopped himself from continuing that line of thought. It wasn’t professional to think of her like that.

“This needs to be held in a Guild Tent,” Al’Kara said, looking at her uncle.

He glared at her, then nodded. Two wandsmen and the injured one followed Al’Kara and her uncle. Al’Kara beckoned Rick to follow along as well. The rest of the crowd slowly dispersed.

They entered a large tent of red and gold. The tent was large enough to easily accommodate the assembled group as well as at least ten more people without having a hard time finding a place to sit and or stand. Rick tried to get closer to Al’Kara, but two men in similar garb to Al’Kara’s uncle waited inside the tent as the wandsmen pushed him away bodily from Al’Kara. Rick could overcome them with the suit, but he let them stop him. Trust Al’Kara. You’ve no other choice.

Her uncle wheeled on her when all were assembled. “Al’Kara, what is the meaning of allowing guest rights for an Earthman! The vileness of his presences causes the Twins to weep.”

Al’Kara stood her ground. “He helped me, Uncle. He saved me from the Thrane. Please, Cal’Bain, he—”

“He helped you? A psi-blade needed the help of an Earthman?” Cal’bain demanded as shocked looks were traded amongst the rest of the gathered people.

“Yes, Uncle. I was on a mental quest. The Thrane and his forces overwhelmed me. I awoke to find Rick Tavish. Neither of us could escape alone. I made a water pact with him.” All eyes went to Rick. “And then we helped each other escape.”

Cal’Bain cleared his throat, and Rick looked to him. “Is this true, Earthman?”

“Yes,” Rick said, He felt a small twinge from lying. Yet it wasn’t all a lie. At least he told himself that.

There was a moment of silence as Cal’Bain looked from Al’Kara to Rick and back, looking as though he was weighing their words. Finally, he asked, “And you gave him guest rights when you entered the Moot?”

Al’Kara ducked her head. “Yes, Uncle.”

There was a much longer pause this time. Cal’Bain looked like he was mulling things over for some time. Rick twitched a little. He opened his mouth to speak, but Cal’Bain spoke again.

“You disappoint me, Kara. I am glad you are safe. And this human will be given guest rights. I would have liked to make him remove his Ranger helm so I could probe his mind. However, that is not possible thanks to his right. He’s to be kept separate from the rest of the Temple. You will be the only one allowed to interact with him.”

“Yes, Uncle,” Al’Kara said with a small nod.

Cal’Bain’s frown softened. He moved closer to her. “It is good to see you, little blade.” He took her in his arms and gave her a hug.

“It is good to see you too, Stone,” Al’Kara said, returning the hug with warmth.

Her uncle then pushed her away. “Please go and attend to him. I must settle the issue with the wandsman for the Temple, since the wandsman attacked someone under our protection,” he said, giving Rick a hard look.

“Yes, Uncle,” Al’Kara said, pulling Rick from a stupor into another portion of the tent. He followed without saying anything as they entered a partitioned section of the tent. Rick found it strange that when Al’Kara dropped the partition back into place, the noise from the main part of the tent went silent. He looked at the partition material, confused.

“How is that—”

“It is woven from a specific plant and treated with alchemical processes to block noise, beloved. We have complete privacy here.”

“Who was that?”

“My uncle. The Stone of the psi-blades. He is the leader, the one who handles disputes between members and for certain situations, like the current one.”

“Why a temple? I thought you said it wasn’t all mystical hoodoo?”

Al’Kara smiled. “It is not ‘hoodoo,’ whatever that means. It is a place of learning of your inner self. It is a place of meditation and reflection. Most Golgoro have some form of a temple. Do you not have something like that on Earth?”

Rick looked at her and shook his head. “A few places, but a temple implies religion though, right?”

“It was a religion, until the Golgoro realized it was our own mental powers that allowed ‘miracles’ to occur form the varied prophets. It is a holdover of an older era, beloved.”

“What is a psi-blade?”

“Psi-blades are not the crazy mystics that you think we are, beloved. The Psi are those of the Golgoro who can make weapons of our minds. Many of us can influence others. Yet, the Psi can do more.” She closed her fist, and an aura of darkness swept over her closed fist. A blade of dark light extended from her fist. “This is one of the first things we are taught. To make a blade of our mental energy. Hence the term psi-blade.”

“Why did he call you little blade?”

She snapped her head toward him. “That is a Temple name, beloved. You aren’t allowed to use that. Unless . . .” Her face softened, and she moved closer, her hand moving over the suit’s shoulders, across his chest. “You wish to use this place of solitude for something more . . . amorous?”

“Not now. Please, Al’Kara. Can you at least tell me why you lied?”

“The short answer is that I don’t trust the Temple. It is very possible that whoever controlled me is here. The longer answer requires more time than we have. Do you trust me?”

Rick looked at her and smiled. He let out a breath. “Yes. Yes, I do.” He took her hand in his gloved one.

“Good. I will explain more later, when we are completely safe.”

“We aren’t now?” he asked.

“No. You wounded a wandsman. That is usually punished by death.” Al’Kara let her hand slip from his grasp. “We have to wait until—”

The partition opened, and one of Cal’Bain’s men poked his head in. “You and the Earthman are needed out here, little blade.”

“Only me, Rick,” Al’Kara said as she moved toward the exit.

“No, the Earthman as well. Cal’Bain has come up with a solution,” the guard said with a smile when he looked at Rick.

When they entered the main portion of the tent, Rick saw the wounded wandsman staring at him, and he didn’t look harmed at all. Before he could say anything, Cal’Bain spoke, pulling his attention.