I Dare by Steve Miller, Sharon Lee

that this man is lifemated," he said, his voice sounding thin in his own ears.

    The tech inclined his head, nervously. "Indeed. It is so noted in the file. However, normal cerebration is not—"

    "Out," said Shan.

    The tech blinked. "Sir?"

    "You will leave," Shan repeated and heard the power echoing within each word. "You will not return here until Val Con yos'Phelium has departed the area. You will not report this to your superiors. Go!"

    The tech's face wavered, eyes going cloudy. He bowed, precisely, and walked briskly down the room and out the door.

    Shan slapped the lock up as the door closed and strode back to the brooding black unit and the enormous, patient turtle.

    "I am able to end the healing cycle," he told Edger. "Some time will elapse before our brother may be removed from the unit, for systems need to cycle down in an orderly manner."

    "I understand you," Edger rumbled and looked about him. He raised one three-fingered hand and swept it toward the wall with its profusions of equipment. "And are you able to silence those, as well?"

    "Yes." Shan was already at the unit's control panel, flicking switches, turning knobs; withdrawing sensors, shutting down the flows of drugs and nutrients, canceling the muscle toners. When every light on the panel was dark, saving the master, he went over the wall of instruments.

    Gods, gods—normalizing cerebral function? Fools! And if Val Con were crippled because they had denied him his lifemate . . .  Shan took a breath, deliberately leashing his anger, and threw the last switch, then cast about him for—there.

    He rolled the cot over to the healing unit, shook out the blanket, and took a moment to master an urge to pick up the nearest heavy object and have at the delicate instruments lining the walls.

    "While we await our brother's release," the Edger's voice rumbled him out of his thoughts of mayhem and despair, "there is a matter we must undertake."

    Shan looked up at him. "Yes? And this matter is?"

    "A thing—you might perhaps call it 'fine tuning'," Edger said. "Your sight, your love and your understanding will aid me in what work I undertake, for the best health of our brother. You will guide the song—and deny it, should it wander from its purpose or reach beyond its bounds. Before we meet together in the field of mutual labor, it is prudent to test our partnership and strengthen that which may not be as strong as will be required."

    "A dry run," Shan said, and nodded. "I understand the concept. What would you have me do?"

    "Only listen, while I sing, with the scales behind which you shield your seeing eyes put aside."

    Yes, of course. Shan took a deep breath in preparation, focused and brought down his shields, completely, as Priscilla had warned him not to do, his inner self exposed entirely, so that any with eyes—or other senses—to see might find him revealed in all his faults.

    "Ah." A sound like the purr of an impossibly large cat. "You are a blade to behold, Shan yos'Galan. Who crafted you may be justly proud of his work. Hear me now."

    The first note was an iron-tipped bolt through the living core of his heart.

    The second note was a dash of acid across his eyes.

    The third note flung his essence out into the snarling winds of Fortune and Mischance. Harried by their teeth of ice and iron, he struck back, willed walls and walls there were—stone walls and a stone floor on which he knelt, doubled over and sobbing, making no sense of the hand held down to him, until a stern female voice scolded him.

    "This is no safe haven—and well you know it! Rise now and return. Quickly!"

    Long strong fingers closed around his wrist. He rose, whether by her will or his he could not have said, and stood looking into the chill blue eyes of a raw-cheeked blonde woman no longer in her youth.

    "Priscilla." How he was certain that this woman was she—but certain he was. "Priscilla, the song is changing me."

    Her face softened. She let go his wrist