Then the rest of the scene fell into place. The lot with its sleek, small-occupancy vehicles, meant to receive visitors from outside the university. The simple gowns, gaily patterned but all cut to the same design. The bald head…the ragged hair on the human…the sallow skin. The building across from him had to be—and was, he saw, squinting to read the plaque—a children’s hospital.
“Did you do your part?” the human girl interrupted. “’Cause we’re done.”
Jahir stepped away. “All free,” he said. “I’d love to see this jumping rope. There’s no such thing on my world.”
The Glaseah added, “Maybe I should watch you again. I’m obviously missing something.”
The girls nodded and rearranged themselves, one at either end of the rope and the other four in the middle. The two girls on either end sang out a count, and on the beat the four in the middle jumped. Over and over the rope struck the ground with a smart thap.
“Vasiht’h,” the Glaseah whispered. He had seated himself on his lower haunches beside Jahir, leaving only barely enough space to separate them. Jahir didn’t spare the dangerous closeness much thought, though. His sorrow for the sight consumed him. He would live over a thousand years, fifteen hundred if averages held, had already lived over a hundred and fifty, and yet these children would probably not see two decades. He knew little of Alliance medicine save for the rumor of the power of its technology, its knowledge. What diseases remained to afflict small children must be grave and virulent.
“Pardon?” he said.
“My name,” the centauroid said. “Vasiht’h. I’m a xenopsych student.”
“Oh!” Jahir exclaimed, then lowered his voice. “I am, as well. First-year. Jahir Seni Galare. Do you do this often?”
“Oh, no. I was wandering today and here they were. They needed to laugh.”
The girls had barely been jumping a few minutes and Jahir could see how they flagged. Their pleasure slipped away with their stamina, and took their grace with it. For there had been grace in the display, the grace of exhilaration and bare feet, the grace, briefly, of children. Fatigue aged them before Jahir’s eyes.
“I think I’m ready to try again!” Vasiht’h said, before exhaustion reduced them completely.
Jahir stood next to Vasiht’h. “I as well.”
The centauroid glanced at him, then grinned.
Together they tangled themselves in the rope, tripped over their own feet and apologized profusely before making their second tries. The game itself was simplicity, but Jahir found that the rope wasn’t long enough to accommodate the entirety of Vasiht’h’s length as well as his unusual height. He crouched as he jumped, which sent the girls into paroxysms of giggles, some so intense they had to stop the lesson altogether.
Jahir spied the healers-assist first, searching for their charges on the hospital lawn. He caught Vasiht’h’s eye and glanced their way.
“One more time,” Vasiht’h said. “I promise we’ll get it right this time.”
“Okay, okay,” the girls said, and began again.
Vasiht’h tucked in his wings and tail and danced over the rope, and Jahir went with him, still crouched.
“Yay, they got it, they got it!”
“Oooh, go-go manylegs!” They revived their chant, the same they’d used for themselves and sang as the two males danced to the thap-thap of the rope.
The game ended soon after. The girls’ nurses retrieved them, chiding them for leaving their biogems behind so they could not be tracked. The human girl stopped as she was being led away.
“Will you come visit?” she asked, addressing them both. “Maybe we can teach you other games.”
The harried nurse made a strangled noise. Jahir cleared his throat and said to the girl, “Perhaps something a little less strenuous? I’ve worked up quite a sweat…I could fairly faint.”
Vasiht’h nodded sagely and whispered to the girls, “Eldritch have very fragile constitutions! Maybe we should do card or board games next time.”
“Ooh! I know some!” one of the girls said.
“Me too!”
“Soon, then,” Vasiht’h said.
Their glee lasted long after the nurses herded them away. Jahir could tell even without touching them, so strong was their joy. It hung in the air like a trail of perfume.
“That worked out well,” the centauroid said, hands on the join between torso and lower body. “I hope you want to come back.”
“Absolutely,” Jahir said. He smiled down at the other male. “That was well done of you.”
“You too.” Vasiht’h grinned. “So, first-year xenopsych, ah? I’m second-year. It’s good to meet a colleague. Where are you staying?”
“I don’t know,” Jahir said. “I had paid for a single, but…”
“But they wouldn’t give you one, I bet,” Vasiht’h said, nodding. “I heard about their being full. Enrollment this year is high. Do they know where they’re putting you?”
Jahir folded his hands behind his back. “Unfortunately not. They’re supposed to offer a selection of places off campus presently.”
Vasiht’h squinted. “Am I reading your body language correctly when I guess you aren’t thrilled by that? I’ve never met an Eldritch before. You don’t seem to move much.”
“We like to minimize the possibilities of accidental contact,” Jahir said.
“Ah, that makes sense,” Vasiht’h said. He began strolling back toward the campus core. Bemused, Jahir fell into step alongside, leaving enough space in case the Glaseah’s body-talk involved his wings. Far be it from him to resist the lure of the alien, particularly when it came in such a bizarrely painted package. That Vasiht’h did not seem to emanate the same agitation and disorder characteristic of so many other aliens didn’t hurt. Come to the thought, Jahir had bumped into him several times during their comedy routine. What had he sensed? A stillness, a competence. Mild concerns for the children, pleasure at the unexpected partnership. All gentle feelings, held in a calm mind.
“So, you’d prefer being on campus?” Vasiht’h asked.
Jahir glanced around at the trees, the grass, the broad sky. He took a long, measured breath, chest barely rising. Part of that was habitual control… the other half, a vague weariness. “Yes,” he said on the exhale. “This is a new enough experience without adding the complexities of navigating a new city. Still, I would not prefer to sleep in a conference room for the duration of the semester.”
Vasiht’h tilted his head. “My roommate just graduated. They’ve probably already assigned me a new one, but I bet we could get them to move you in with me, if you wanted. I have one of the older residential apartments. You’d have a room to yourself—not a big one, but there’s a door.”
Jahir hesitated.
“And if it doesn’t work, you can always pack up and move off campus,” Vasiht’h said. “It’s easier to find apartments a few weeks after the semester’s started, when people decide to drop their classes or find alternate arrangements.”
Jahir glanced at him. “I’ve only just met you.”
“That’s better than not having met me at all,” Vasiht’h said, “which is the situation most people are in when they get on-campus housing…!” He smiled. “We’re in the same program. We could compare notes, study together. And I like to cook.”
Why had he come, if not to take risks? And as the alien said, he could always leave if it didn’t work out. “Would they let you switch your current assignment thus?”
“I don’t know,” Vasiht’h said. “Let’s go find out.”
The woman behind the registration desk actually flinched when she saw Jahir coming, but her expression was nothing to the one that blossomed when Vasiht’h reared and hooked one forepaw over the desk, leaning over it with his torso.
“These desks,” he muttered, “are far too high.” More clearly, “My roommate graduated last semester, which means I have an opening. I’d like to room with this student.”
“You can’t choose your�
��”
“Ma’am,” Vasiht’h said, “I presume you know this man?”
The woman glanced at Jahir, ears flicking back. “Yes,” she said, drawing the word out.
“And he made trouble, didn’t he.”
She said, “I’d rather say he was surprised by the fact that we didn’t have any single rooms available.”
“He’ll probably make trouble again,” Vasiht’h said. Jahir opened his mouth to object, and the centauroid pointed. “See? He’s about to start.” Vasiht’h leaned toward her. “We can all spare ourselves frustration if you just switch the room assignments. Take whomever you were planning to put with me and move them into whatever room you had the Eldritch in and I’ll take the Eldritch home. You’ll be happy. Your supervisor will be happy. I will be happy. And the Eldritch will be happy. You will solve every problem! Surely that’s better than trying to find him a conference room to malinger in.”
The woman stared at him and then started to laugh. “Fine, fine. I’ll arrange it. What’s your name?”
Vasiht’h gave her the pertinent information, received the promise of a mailed confirmation and smiled at her. “Thank you, alet.”
“You’re welcome,” the foxine said, shaking her head.
Vasiht’h dropped off the desk and turned to Jahir. “So, let’s go get your baggage.”
Jahir couldn’t help a laugh. “Just like that.”
“Just like that,” Vasiht’h said. “You forget, I’ve been attending here for a year already. I know how it works.” He peered up at Jahir. “You see, that’s why you need someone like me. Like a native guide.”
“And will my tour also include cultural explication?” Jahir asked.
“As much as you want,” the Glaseah said. “Let’s go get you settled in.”
CHAPTER 2
An Eldritch! Vasiht’h chanced a look at the man walking beside him, one long stride for two of his own. He’d been on Seersana for almost six years now, attending the university, had seen members of all the Pelted species and almost all the aliens besides, including humanity. He’d listened to the sound of multiple languages, struggled through the customs of at least three major races, and considered himself cosmopolitan for one of his race. But never in his life would he have thought to meet one of the Eldritch. They weren’t just rare, they were… well… mythical.
But he was being paced by one, and nothing about this Jahir Seni Galare dispelled the fairy tale feel of the stories of the reclusive species. He was taller than any humanoid Vasiht’h knew, at least a head and a half taller than Vasiht’h himself (and probably closer to two). Though he shared a similar face and body to the humans Vasiht’h had met, the Eldritch’s frame was more attenuated, and his movements had a finish that suggested training: dance, maybe, or deportment? Except that his body language was so minimalist it drew the eye immediately, like a puzzle begging to be finished.
He wore clothes not unlike some of the plantigrade Pelted, but unless Vasiht’h was mistaken those garments had never seen a genie: someone had hand-stitched them, he was sure. There were other signs of wealth too: a jeweled ring on one long hand, a strand of gems braided into the hair—and there was a lot of the hair, a straight satin fall to the Eldritch’s ribs—even the messenger bag slung from shoulder to hip looked expensive.
In anyone else, Vasiht’h would have wondered if this was some pampered lord. But not in someone who’d faced him across a jump rope with eyes that made a lie of his mask-smooth face, eyes that had sparkled at the chance to delight a group of children. And even now, walking down the sidewalk toward the library and the apartments there, the Eldritch was looking around him with too much interest for a jaded personality.
No, this was something special. And Vasiht’h had stumbled right into it. Truly, the Goddess loved a good coincidence.
The apartments came into view far too soon. Or maybe not soon enough. Vasiht’h couldn’t decide what excited him more, the thought of having a chance to get to know this alien in a quiet apartment over a cup of kerinne, or taking him all over the campus and deciphering the subtle signs of curiosity and wonder on that reserved face. Speaking of which, the Eldritch was wearing a look like that now.
“It’s because the campus has grown,” Vasiht’h said. When Jahir glanced at him, he said, “You’ve got this… look in your eye. Like you’re puzzled. Am I right? Your facial expressions are really minimalist compared to Pelted or human norms.”
“I—yes.” Jahir stopped, looked down at the other. “How…”
“I’ve been in the xenopsych program for a year already,” Vasiht’h said. “It’s part of what I’m supposed to be learning, right? Humanoid body language. They’ll teach you too, you’ll see.” He resumed walking up the lane. “It’s up here, we’re in apartment four. Anyway, the campus used to be smaller, but it’s grown a lot, and as it has they’ve added more housing. That’s why it’s scattered all over campus. This was one of the first built for the medical campus, so it’s the closest to a lot of the buildings.” He grinned. “Everyone fights to get into these. I won the lottery last year.”
The apartments were astonishing things, by Jahir’s standards: stripped of any ornament save large windows, they were single-story buildings, each with two entrances. He could divine nothing of the interior from the exteriors, which were block-shaped and obscured by climbing vines; he found the architecture mysterious, accustomed as he was to the Eldritch’s rococo styling.
Vasiht’h approached the door and then paused. “Here, see if they’ve set the code for you yet.”
“The code?” Jahir asked.
“Try to open the door… do that by waving your hand in front of it.”
Determined not to make the puzzled face again, Jahir offered the door his hand. It opened for him with a chime, and he pulled his hand back, surprised.
“It recognizes your biosign,” Vasiht’h said. “Which is good, means they processed the housing change already. Anyway, go on in… your room’s on the left. Cadia left several weeks ago so it’s already empty.”
Jahir stepped directly from the door into a high-ceilinged great room that segued into a kitchen, set off by a counter/bar. The back wall of the kitchen was composed entirely of a bank of windows, floor to very high ceiling. To the left he found a hall broad enough for another of those windows, and built into it was a reading nook, complete with bookshelves. The door at the end of the hall opened on a small room with a bunk on the right and a desk on the left; after the opulence and echoing emptiness of his family home, he found the room’s size strangely appealing. It was barely the size of an Eldritch closet, but it felt more complete somehow, in itself. He set his bags down and thought he could be quite content here.
“The bathroom’s shared,” Vasiht’h said, peeking in. “I’ll show you.”
The bathroom was indeed shared, off the great room to the right. A skylight, rather than a window, illumined a sunken tub; there was some sort of cube as well, with falling water—Jahir paid attention to the controls as Vasiht’h explained them, hoping he’d remember how to use the thing—and indoor plumbing as well, something he’d come to expect from the Alliance on the trip here. It still struck him as miraculous, how everything always worked when used, and how none of the Alliance’s citizens expected it could be otherwise.
It was a small suite to be sharing with a stranger, but Jahir found it oddly comfortable. The great room had a short couch, a chair, and a strange nest-like arrangement of pillows on the floor, all arranged facing a fireplace, and it felt cozy, even though the kitchen not fifteen feet away was flooded with sunlight. How they’d partitioned it so effectively without walls, Jahir had no notion. But he was glad to sit and rest a moment.
“So, house rules,” Vasiht’h said. “You can come in my room, but knock first, and if you borrow something please put it back when you’re done. I like to cook, but I won’t do all the work—the person who cooks doesn’t do dishes or do the grocery shopping. Cadia and I used to switch off with that e
very other day. And your friends are welcome anytime. Just tell them to keep the noise down, we share a wall with another duplex.”
Jahir said, “I’ll bear that in mind.”
“Overwhelmed a little, I’m guessing?” Vasiht’h said, and smiled. “Don’t worry, it’ll sort itself out. As my grandmother used to tell me, one paw at a time.” He stretched. “Thirsty?”
“A little, yes,” Jahir said. “Have you anything warm? It’s a touch raw out.”
“We have kerinne, hot cocoa, tea—mostly herbals, I haven’t checked lately—and I might have some coffee left. Cadia was a bigger coffee drinker than I am.”
“Kerinne is…?”
“A cinnamon drink made with cooked cream,” Vasiht’h said. “I was going to make myself some, you can try mine.”
“Thank you,” Jahir said. “I’ll have the coffee, then, and a taste of what you’re having.”
He closed his eyes, heard the Glaseah pad off the round braided rug and onto the wooden floors. The weather was cooler than he’d expected, and a little more humid to boot, but he hadn’t expected to be quite so tired so quickly. It was probably the excitement of the new situation, and the worry over the housing issue. No doubt a good night’s rest would put paid to it.
He smelled the coffee before he heard Vasiht’h’s footfalls approaching and sat up to receive the cup.
“I put it here… right?” Vasiht’h said, setting it on the little table next to the chair. “Because we’re not supposed to touch.”
“Yes, thank you,” Jahir said, surprised.
“And a little kerinne,” Vasiht’h finished, adding a glass cup alongside it. The drink was an appealing pale orange, and smelled fragrantly of spices. Jahir sniffed it, sipped, felt the hairs rise along the back of his neck. Vasiht’h chuckled at his pause. “Too strong?”
“I… wasn’t expecting it to be quite so rich,” Jahir admitted. “You can drink an entire mug of this?”
“I can drink two or three, I’m afraid,” Vasiht’h said, feathered ears fanning downward. “Which isn’t such a good thing, since after two or three even I begin to feel a little like I’ve eaten a lead weight. Some people water it down, but it’s supposed to be made like this. Oh, I forgot to ask… do you take milk? Should I have brought honey or sugar? Or a lemon?”
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