Page 10 of The Warrior's Oath
“I could not help but notice that you lack any runes at all.”
“I’ve never really had any interest in getting inked.”
“But it is Dotharian Conglomerate law.”
“Well, I’m from Earth, and I’ve never heard of your Dotharian Conglomerate.”
Korvin seemed perplexed by this admission. “All living under Dotharian rule receive their first markings as children, with more added as they grow older. The Infala rune is absolutely required on all who have come of age.”
“Like I said, we humans aren’t part of your little club. And thewhatrune is required?”
“The Infala,” he said, pulling his shirt open and showing the rune on his chest. It was more complex than the others, featuring many smaller lines folded into the larger design.
“Pretty,” she remarked.
“It is the bonding rune. The one that determines our mate.”
Nyota pulled back. “Determines your mate? You don’t have any say? What kind of society is this?”
“No, you do not understand. It is not like that. We may choose our own mates if our Infala has not found its match. And this happens often. To encounter your bonded Infala mate is something we hope for, but it is not a simple affair.”
“Why not? And I still don’t get how a tattoo determines who you’re with.”
“The pigment in the rune is alive, always growing. Shifting. And when it comes in proximity of the one it is destined to bond with the designs will connect with each other and begin to change in both parties until eventually they share the same rune.”
“Matching tattoos. How quaint.”
“It is not a thing to be mocked,” Korvin snapped. “If you weren’t from some uncivilized world, you would know this.”
Nyota bristled. “I’m sorry, did you just call me asavage?”
“I did not say that.”
“It sure sounded like it.”
“You know full well…” he groaned. “Frustrating woman. I simply mean you should mind your words on subjects you do not understand, which is surprising as you clearly possess a translation rune.”
Nyota’s fingers moved subconsciously to the newly applied patch of ink behind her ear. “That was involuntary. They did it to me when I arrived. While I was asleep. I didn’t consent to it.”
“The Raxxians do not ask for consent from their livestock,” he replied. “I must admit, however, for so brutal a race they actually did a surprisingly good job. Especially for a Raxxian.”
“Oh, it wasn’t one of those bastards who did this. There was a man who did it. A prisoner. Actually, he looks kind of like you.”
His jaw twitched. “Like me, you say? Then others of my kind still live.”
“At least one does, yeah. He was being kept in our holding compartment. Really big guy. Bigger than you, even. Had a few more markings on him from what I could see.”
Korvin’s interest piqued. “Moremarkings, you say? And skilled with applying the pigments? Did you happen to learn his name?”
Nyota thought back to her time in the shared compartment. “Uh, it was Hobar. Or Heyfar. Something like that.”
“Heydar?”
“Yeah! Heydar. That was it.”
Korvin’s back straightened and a new fire burned in his eyes. “My general. He lives!”
“Last I saw. But with the ship blowing up and all, I don’t think we can really say for sure.”
