Alawahea

by Sara L Daigle

  “Perfect.” The professor clapped her hands once. “I can help you with that. I believe Ambassador Corina is going to be making the choices on who goes to Azelle over the next couple of years. The Council on Azelle will be making final approvals. If you are that interested, I would be glad to sponsor you. You may have thought you were struggling last year, Tamara, but you actually have a better grasp of the fundamentals than many of your classmates. I think you would make a wonderful candidate for Azelle.”

  “Thank you,” Tamara responded. With her new knowledge about herself, she suddenly wondered if her emerging abilities could make her more suitable as a candidate. As a native Azellian, Professor Madrinn hadn’t mentioned that other abilities might be a benefit nor had she ever shown any signs that she herself might be talented psychically in any way. Maybe there were Azellians who were not as sensitive as others. Or some that were very, very good at hiding what they were, since the school might not appreciate their other talents. “When’s your first meeting with your literary group?”

  “Two weeks. I usually like to let the students settle in first. Let me tell you on Wednesday when exactly we’ll be meeting, all right?” The professor pulled her pad and pen closer.

  “Great.” Tamara shifted to Azellian. “Thank you very much,” she said somewhat awkwardly.

  The professor smiled up at her. “You are welcome, Tamara.” Her response was also in Azellian. “Until Wednesday.”

  Tamara nodded and turned to where Kari waited for her.

  “Damn, you are a diplomat,” she said as they left the classroom. “What do you have now?”

  “Chemistry.” Tamara made a face. “Oh joy.”

  “Good luck. I’m off to lunch. See you later?”

  “Later.”

  In her next class, Tamara was rather startled to see Alarin there. She walked over to the long table where he sat pouring over his workbook. “Hi there.”

  Alarin glanced up. “Hi. You’re in this chemistry class?”

  “Yup. And a tremendous dunce I am in it, too.” Tamara pulled out her books and put them on the table. “Math intimidates me.”

  “It’s not so complicated as all that.” Alarin lifted his notebook to show her some problems he had sketched out.

  “You do math problems for fun?” Tamara shuddered. “Oh God.”

  He chuckled. “It keeps your brain limber.”

  “I just had an hour of Azellian language. My brain is so limber right now it’ll probably slide out my ears if I try anything more.”

  “So you understand …” Alarin said in Azellian, losing her after the first three words.

  “I’m sorry?” she replied in the same language.

  “So you understand everything I’m saying, do you?” Alarin repeated more slowly.

  “Sort of,” Tamara admitted in English. “The second time, anyway.” She sighed. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get the hang of it.”

  “There are certain abilities that make learning a language easier, you know.” Alarin leaned over. “Among other things.”

  Tamara flushed, aware that he was talking about her own repressed abilities. “But right at the moment, I have to muddle through the hard way.”

  Alarin shrugged as the professor entered. “It’ll come one way or the other. It just takes time.”

  Tamara nodded and turned her attention to the professor as he started his usual first day speech. Like many of her other classes, this one ran late. As she was packing up to leave, she noticed that Alarin had already left. She walked out of the classroom and over to the cafeteria to grab lunch. She then headed to her room, ate her lunch, and worked on some homework until it was time to meet Greg.

  She was sort of dreading their meeting. Although Greg had made it sound harmless, it made her feel somewhat grumpy. When she got to Greg’s room, however, she was surprised to see Alarin sitting in one of the chairs in the lounge outside Greg’s room.

  “Hi.” Alarin stood up and gave her a little bow, carrying it off much more gracefully than she would have in the same situation. “Greg told me to tell you he forgot he actually has a lab today at this time, so I’m taking over for today. Merran’s invited us to the embassy to take a tour. You feel up to it?”

  Tamara blinked. “A tour?”

  “Yes. You are a diplomatic studies student, correct?”

  “Yeah.” She gave him an odd look. “I thought there was a party on Friday. I didn’t expect there to be a guided tour today.”

  Alarin grinned at her. “Oh, it’s not a big deal. It’s really just that Merran wants to hide from his responsibilities today.”

  Tamara laughed. “All right, then. I guess we can’t refuse someone in his time of need.”

  Alarin chuckled and bowed to her again. “Shall we go?” As they walked down the hallway and outside toward the embassy, Alarin asked her, “So what did you think of chemistry today?”

  “It’s going to be a lot of work. Three problem sets due for Wednesday. I worked on some of them before coming over and at least two of them have me stumped.”

  “Which ones? I got a chance to glance at them.”

  “The second one. How are you supposed to figure out how many grams per liter?”

  “It’s all about plugging in formulas from the chapter. Which units do you want on the bottom?”

  “Liters.”

  “Then you just need to find a formula that will give you the liters on the bottom and the grams on the top.”

  Tamara halted in midstep and stared at him. “It can’t be that easy.”

  “It is that easy.”

  “I’ll try it. But if it’s that easy, I’ll be angry at myself.”

  Alarin laughed. “Most problems usually are not as complicated as they appear on the surface if you break them down into doable pieces.”

  “You’ve figured that out already? But you’re in a beginning chemistry class?”

  Alarin rolled his eyes. “I haven’t had any formal chemistry recognized by the university so they required me to take the beginning level class. But we Azellians are not completely clueless about chemistry. It just isn’t quite as developed—or formalized—on Azelle as on Earth.”

  “They didn’t let you test out of the beginning level class? That’s rude. You’re going to be bored stiff in class if you are already beyond it.”

  Alarin sighed. “Tell me about it. I’m trying not to get bored silly already.”

  “You should approach the professor directly if the university won’t work with you. It’s a way to work around the system.”

  A slow smile spread across Alarin’s face. “Why, thank you, I think I will.”

  They approached the tall entry gates of the embassy. As usual, a guard stood in the gatehouse in front of the closed portal.

  Alarin said something in Azellian, too rapid for Tamara to catch anything more than his greeting.

  “The ambassador is expecting you,” the guard replied in smooth English, with less of an accent than any other Azellian she had met besides Merran. He added something in Azellian.

  Alarin grinned but did not reply. Tamara realized somewhat uneasily that there could have been a whole subtext she did not hear, and probably was.

  Alarin must not have noticed her preoccupation, or did not mention it, as they walked through the quiet gardens to the front door of the huge mansion.

  The front doors opened at their approach. Merran stood at the top of the curving staircase that led up to the offices on the second floor. He wore a suit today—a navy, tailored, smooth suit jacket and a pair of navy tailored dress pants. His shirt was light blue, with an intricate tie of various shades of blue. Tamara almost didn’t recognize him. His dark hair was clipped short above his ears and around his neckline, changing his looks dramatically and making him stand out from his fellow Azellians. Except for the Azellian exchange students, most Azellians wore their hair longer. It also made him look startling, disturbing, and very different from the almost feminine look he had cultivated wit
h the long wavy hair. One could not have told the difference between him and any other human businessman walking down the sidewalk. “Welcome, Tamara, Alarin.” The fluid Azellian accent sent a shiver down her spine.

  “That’s different,” Alarin commented as Merran joined them downstairs. “Nice haircut.”

  Merran ran a hand through his shorn locks. “I needed a change. And I have to give a presentation to human leaders next week. I thought they might prefer someone who looks more professional … from a human point of view. I’ve learned over the years that it’s all in the presentation.” He turned to Tamara and smiled at her. “As you’ll learn soon, I’m sure. Were there any places you might like to start with to tour?”

  Tamara thought for a moment, shoving away the shivery feeling that Merran was someone entirely new. His short hair really disturbed her for some reason. “How about your office? We can work our way down from there.”

  Merran laughed. “Starting at the top, eh? You certainly don’t waste any time.”

  Tamara flushed. “Well, it’s a place to start.”

  Merran grinned at her. “Indeed it is. My office is this way.” He led them both up the stairs to his office, introducing them to Janille. Tamara listened carefully. Every last member of the embassy was Azellian. Each of the two hundred staff members, she was told, had been handpicked by either Merran or his predecessor. Earth was a permanent post, if one wanted it to be, and many did stay for a long time. Janille had been with the embassy for twenty years, for example, and she knew every aspect of it intimately. She handled most of the things Merran could not possibly attend to personally. Janille juggled the personnel and paperwork issues, keeping the embassy running smoothly. Her responsibility occasionally encompassed meetings with ambassadors, if Merran was otherwise occupied. Merran’s bailiwick included meetings with ambassadors, all high-level negotiations, and any troubleshooting that came up. He usually orchestrated most human contact, especially in the wake of his exchange program. Tamara suddenly wondered about her ability to convince Merran to accept a human intern. No other human worked at the embassy, not even in the mail department where they sorted the electronic mail that came in. Most of the staff members processed visas and requests to go to Azelle. Surprisingly enough, quite a few people requested medical visits to Numorantxl and the hot springs there.

  “Is it really the hot springs or the Healers?” Tamara asked, as Merran showed them the mailroom, watching as several staff members sorted the requests and read through them, while others sat around on the computers sorting the electronic requests that came through.

  Merran smiled enigmatically. “Considering they don’t know for sure about the Healers, it’s the hot springs. And the therapists who work with them, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  After about an hour, Merran ended at the cafeteria. “This is everyone’s favorite spot … from the top,” he grinned at Tamara, “to the bottom. Would you like to join me for a refreshment?”

  Alarin glanced at Tamara. She glanced at her watch. It was only three thirty. “Sure. I have to get home by five, so we have some time.”

  Merran led them to a round table. “What would you like, Tamara?”

  “Chai, if you have it.”

  “Sure.” Merran was silent for a moment and Tamara again got the sense she was missing something. “So, that’s how the embassy works,” he said a moment later, turning to Tamara. “Being ambassador means that you’re the one everyone wants to talk to. The rest of the staff must sift through the requests and see who really needs to talk to you and who can be put off or handled by someone else.”

  Tamara took a breath as a cafeteria staff member appeared bearing their drinks. Merran must have communicated mentally, because the woman had everything right. Tamara steeled herself. It might not be the right time, but she had to at least broach the subject she’d been dying to ask. By doing it here, if she got shot down, it wouldn’t be in front of her college peers. “Have you ever thought about taking on an intern to help with some of the busywork?”

  Merran, who was sipping his chai, choked and set his cup down. He eyed Tamara, his dark eyes unreadable. “You wouldn’t happen to be taking a class from Jason Bennington, would you?”

  Tamara blushed furiously. “Uh, yes, actually. Why?”

  “Because he’s been trying to get me to accept a student of his as an intern for years. They’ve been hounding me about it since I got here.” Merran cocked his head. For some reason, he was much more nervewracking with his short hair. Tamara fidgeted under his gaze. His longer hair softened his image, made him less disturbing—that was it. It had nothing to do with the fact that she found the shorter hairstyle much sexier. “He didn’t, by chance, suggest to the class that he would offer a bonus if they managed to talk me into accepting an intern, did he?”

  Tamara blushed even more violently. “Uh, actually he did.”

  Merran winced. “The aarya damn it. I’m going to be fielding requests from greedy students to be an intern for the next three months. He did this to me four years ago. I thought I had clarified it with him then.”

  Alarin sat next to Tamara, a wide grin on his face. “Of course, things are different now. We’re going to have humans arriving on Azelle with the exchange program, so they are going to be exposed whether we want them to or not.” Tamara sat quietly, willing Merran to agree—letting Alarin do the arguing for her. He was an unexpected ally, but she wasn’t about to complain.

  Merran glared at Alarin, not happy about having to face this particular issue right now. However, given the last time Bennington had popped this on him, he knew he’d better address it immediately. “But not everyone who is in Bennington’s class is going to Azelle, Alari. And Azelle has managed to keep the human fear of us under control by being careful not to show them anything they don’t want to see. I don’t need wild rumors running all over campus about what the students see here. It’s going to be bad enough if you, Greg, Mel, and Justy aren’t careful,” Merran replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not fair to keep two hundred staff members from behaving as they do at home just so a few humans don’t see us.”

  “You could always agree to take Tamara this semester, Mer. You already know she won’t freak out about our little displays, and she will keep quiet about it. Next semester, you could choose someone from another class … or keep Tamara for the full year. You could always insist the intern be someone who is going to Azelle anyway. You’re going to be reviewing all the students before they go, aren’t you?” A message came through on Merran’s intimate level. We desperately need to keep Tamara exposed to the idea of psi and to us. Greg can’t do it alone, you know. I’m in at least one class with her, and if she saw you a few times a week, we could keep an eye on her. How else are you going to find the time to spend with her?

  The thought of regularly seeing her made Merran’s stomach jump, but he kept himself shielded. Alarin was making uncomfortably good sense. He sighed. “Let me talk to Janille and see if we have some office work or something else Tamara could do.”

  Alarin’s nostrils flared as he suppressed a grin. Tamara let her breath out slowly. She may have missed something, but whatever Alarin had said worked.

  Merran pushed his chair back. “I have to get back to work. I’ll let you know on Friday, if I don’t have time to get back to you this week, Tamara.”

  He gave no sign that he felt pressured into it, but she rather felt like they had pushed. “Thank you. I—will you tell Professor Bennington? Or did you want me to?”

  “I’ll deal with it.” Merran got to his feet. “Once I’ve talked to Janille.” He shook his head. “It will be quite a triumph for the Diplomatic Studies Department. I’ll have to make up a formal agreement and submit it to them.”

  Tamara rubbed her temple self-consciously. “He also promised the bonus if we got into the Dorbin embassy. It wasn’t just here.”

  That made him laugh. “Oh, Ki’i will love that. But I don’t think any of you
r students will be able to get in there. There are reasons why we don’t allow humans to work in our embassies. As you know from when you met him, the Dorbin are uncomfortable for non-psi corporeal beings to be around. They also have the strangest sense of humor. Any typical human would be crazy within days of working there. As for here, well you know why we haven’t allowed it.”

  “I do. But I can handle it. I do want to work in an embassy and go to Azelle. That means I need the exposure.”

  Merran’s gaze caught hers, and she could feel a pressure build behind her eyes. Rather than pulling back in fear, she tried to show him how sincere she was. It was hard, but she did want this, badly. Grandpa Jim was a diplomat, she said in her head, hoping Merran could catch it. He told me stories. It calls to me. Can’t you hear it?

  Merran touched the edges of her aura, which flared as he touched, sending tendrils out to probe into his. Her shielding, which had been quite heavy since that first episode, thinned, and he caught the tailend of her thought accompanied by a fierce longing that drowned the fear. An imagined vista, sand dunes stretching in front of her. It calls to me. Can’t you hear it? Then the shields returned, her aura faded, and he was left breathless.

  Alarin stared at them, having caught some of the event, too. By the aarya’s eyes, she shouldn’t be able to do that!

  Merran let Alarin read his reactions. I know. Just be glad you weren’t on the receiving end of it. Shit, she’s a projector all right! I pity the man who receives her Awakening … if Greg’s right and she Awakens the way we do.

  Or maybe it won’t be much of anything at all. If she’s got enough control to do that now, maybe it won’t be so bad.

  Her future lover is going to have his hands, and everything else, full.

  She’d be wasted on a human. Can you imagine …

  Merran thickened the shields between them, only letting the slightest trickle of thought through. I thought you were in a relationship, Alari. I don’t need the mental image forming with that thought, thank you. I still have work to do. You might be able to go home and imagine away, but I have to manage to concentrate for the rest of the afternoon.