Light in the Darkness

by CJ Brightley

  “I have that honour.”

  “Well,” said Rosie, “thank you for bringing us an interesting problem. We’ll think about it and let you know.” She rose and led their visitor to the door, where they exchanged pleasantries and parted.

  “So,” said Bucket, when she returned, “an Assembly, eh?”

  “Thinking of standing?” she said.

  “Me? Nah. Be good to get some gnomes in there, though. What an opportunity!”

  “We probably shouldn’t spread it round that this is under consideration, I suppose,” said Rosie, who had grown up knowing about commercial confidentiality and now kept secrets by reflex.

  “I won’t say anything,” said Bucket. “Interesting, though.”

  In the event, they needn’t have concerned themselves. At breakfast the next morning, Courageous, the butler, placed a copy of the Koskander newspaper beside Rosie’s plate. “I thought you might be interested, Mistress,” he said, “in this.” He pointed to the name of the Clever Man’s Works near the end of an article. When she unfolded the paper to see the headline, she found that it was an announcement about the proposed assembly, bearing Persy’s byline. Rose ran her eyes back down to the mention of her workplace. “The Clever Man’s Works will prepare technical means to ensure that voting is fair and confidential,” it said.

  “Well,” said Rosie. “I suppose we had better get to work on that, then. Thank you, Courageous.”

  Hope woke on Oneday feeling positive, and more rested than she had since her fall. All of those good warm feelings over Threeday evening and Fourday had helped with her pain, and she had slept deeply in Patient’s arms. They had enjoyed plenty of light kissing, which Patient had to keep heading off from getting heavier. Above all, though, she had a sense of lightness that came from a fear being lifted, the fear that she would never know love or feel desire again.

  She didn’t bound out of bed, but she rose languidly and took a luxurious stretch. Then she had a long bath and a big breakfast, and settled down to work on her article.

  Her head was much clearer, and she got it outlined and wrote the introduction and the first sub-point before she ran out of steam. She toyed with some lunch, called Patient on the farspeaker (he had to attend to a customer, or she probably would have kept him on there half the afternoon), and, noticing the sunshine starting to creep across the windowsill, put on her hat and coat and went for a walk.

  Lost in thoughts of Patient, she found herself fetching up at the lab, which she hadn’t visited in far too long. She dug out her key and let herself in.

  Dignified and Rosie were working on a huge diagram on one of the boards, and rather than disturb them she poked her head into the manufactory (remembering, this time, to put on a helmet).

  She found Lathe packing a few personal items into a box.

  “What’s this, Mister Lathe?” she asked.

  “I’ve been passed over for promotion,” said Lathe. “Uncle Gizmo’s off to that Institute, and apparently Wheel’s ideas to change things were better than mine to keep things stable and secure.” There was a touch of bitterness to his tone.

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. You’ve resigned?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I’m sure that anyone who’s worked here will find a new position in no time.”

  “Already did,” said Lathe.

  “Oh, I’m glad.”

  She moved on to Gizmo’s old office, where Wheel was moving in.

  “Congratulations, Mister Wheel,” she said. “I hear you have some changes in mind?”

  “I do. There’s a rumour that we’re going to become part of the Institute, which may mean we don’t need to take external work, but the Clever Man’s Works Merchant Venture is going to become more profitable either way. Uncle Gizmo’s agreed to leave his shares in and take his buyout gradually, which will help with cash flow in the meantime.”

  “Well, Mister Wheel, I’m glad to hear it. I’m working for the Institute myself now, you may have heard, and I’m sure we’ll continue to see plenty of each other.”

  “I hope so, Mage,” he said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve some files to organise.”

  Hope drifted to the back of the lab and called her father on the farviewer. She mainly wanted to talk to Sincerity, and update her on the session with Mindhealer Lily, but she knew she also had to speak to her father.

  “Ah, Hope!” he said. “Delighted to see you. Nothing wrong?”

  “Hello, Father. No, I just wanted to talk to you, and Sincerity if she’s available.”

  “Of course. What about?”

  “Well, you see, Father, I… it looks like Patient and I, that’s the man I mentioned, well, it seems as if things may be going well between us, and I…”

  “Oh, that’s wonderful, Hope! I’d like to talk to him some time. What’s his occupation?”

  “He’s a woodcarver. He has a shop in a village between here and Gulfport.”

  “His own business? That’s good, if he’s considering taking an oathmate. He’ll be able to support you properly.”

  “Oh, Father, it’s not that far along yet. And besides, I make more money than he does.”

  “You do?”

  “Of course I do. I get well paid here, and I get license payments from the farspeakers and farviewers, and anything else I help to invent in the future.”

  “I didn’t realise. You’re probably making more than I am.”

  Hope let that one lie, because she almost certainly was. “Anyway, since I’m… thinking about such things, I… Sincerity said… I asked her about you and Mother.”

  Her father went still, like a deer trying not to be visible. “What did she say?”

  “Oh, you know Sincerity, you’d sooner pry gold away from a dwarf than get her to talk about someone else’s business. She said I should ask you.”

  Her father looked away. “Hope, I… I’m going to have to think about that. It’s not a pleasant story.”

  “So Sincerity implied.”

  “And it’s not something I… frankly, I don’t like to talk about it to anyone, least of all you.”

  “I understand, Father. But you see my perspective, don’t you? I mean, Mother’s always been… odd, and if there’s something… something I should know…”

  “Yes,” said her father. “Look, Hope, I’m going to have to think about it. Do you still want to talk to Sincerity?”

  “Yes. And don’t worry too much, Father, you know I love you. You’ve always supported me.”

  “Yes, well… yes. Let me go and get Sincerity.”

  10

  Bath

  Lily began their next session by asking them to describe what they had said, done and felt over the previous Fourday. They were continuing with the kissing, pleasurably to both of them, so far without further incident.

  “Good,” said Lily. “Now, we need to talk about next steps. I have a book for you.” She rose, and took a clothbound volume from one of her bookcases. More books with the same binding took up the whole of the shelf.

  “A colleague and I wrote this, partly based on a rare old book called A Treatise Concerning the Arts of Love. It’s for couples.” She handed the book to Hope, and Patient leaned over to look.

  The title on the spine was Love Matters.

  “It covers everything you need to know about intimate relationships,” she said, “including, of course, the mechanics, which you should definitely learn about in advance. Yes, even you, Hope, though you’ve had some experience and probably think you also know about it from lifemagic classes. There’s a difference between sex and intimacy, and also a difference between good sex and bad sex, some of which is attitude and some of which is knowledge and some of which is communication. I cover all of those in the last section of the book. Don’t read ahead. I want you to concentrate on the first of the three sections, which is about familiarisation with each other, communication and commitment.”

  “What’s in the second section?” asked Hope.
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  “It’s called Prelude to Intimacy, and it covers some other activities I don’t think you’re ready for yet. Again, you may well be aware of these, but the book goes into a lot more detail.”

  Patient’s eyes went wide as he looked at the book, which Hope had opened to a page with a very explicit diagram.

  “What do you want us to do with this?” he asked, his voice shaking just a little.

  “I’m going to assign you exercises from it each week. Please don’t move on to the next exercise unless I tell you that you can do so,” said Lily. “For the first week, I’d like you to read the introduction and the first two chapters, which cover more or less where we’ve got up to so far, and then skip Chapter 3 on caressing for now. You can read it if you must, though I suggest you don’t, but don’t apply it just yet. The exercise I want you to do is in Chapter 4. Read the whole of the chapter, then do the exercise exactly as written.”

  He nodded. Hope was already turning to Chapter 4, and her beautiful eyes went wide in their turn as she saw the chapter heading: Observing and Describing Your Bodies.

  “What exactly…” she began.

  “Do you have a bathtub?” asked the mindhealer.

  “Yes, a big one,” she said.

  “How’s it heated?”

  “We have a small heat gate that heats the house, the kitchen range and the water. I put it in myself.”

  “Good. You won’t run out of hot water, then. I want you to take turns having a bath, with the other person in the room, watching you.”

  “Nude?” asked Hope, startled. Patient glanced quickly at her — her face had gone pale — and then back to the healer, shocked by her words.

  “Of course. And as you wash yourself, talk about the part of your body you’re washing to the other person. What you like about it, what you don’t, how you feel about it being touched. As much as you’re able to say. The other person doesn’t get to express an opinion at that point, but can ask questions to draw out more thoughts and feelings from you. Then when you’re completely washed, lie back in the bath, with your arms resting on the sides, and close your eyes, and the other person will then talk about your body parts and how they feel about them. Then you’ll get out of the bath, dry yourself, dress, and swap places. No touching just yet, by the way.”

  “Just yet?”

  “All going well, later on you’ll wash each other. That’s Exercise 2 in Chapter 4. But I don’t think you’re going to be ready for that until a later shift-round.”

  They shared a glance of did-she-really-just-say-that, and broke into nervous laughter.

  “I know this will be awkward for you,” said Lily, “and I know it’s not something that conventional Asterist morality would encourage for a couple who aren’t even oathbond-promised yet, let alone oathbound. I’m Earthist myself, as you’ve no doubt guessed from my name, and we’re a little more open about such matters, on the whole. That doesn’t mean, though, that it’s right for me to tell you to do something that you really don’t want to do. Are you willing to try this?”

  Again, they shared glances, this time holding the glance. Patient wasn’t going to be the first to nod. It had to be Hope’s decision. After a few heartbeats, she gave a tiny nod, and they turned back to their mindhealer. “Yes,” said Patient. “If you really think it will help.”

  “I do. At the moment, both of you are inhibited about your bodies. You also don’t like your own bodies, don’t think they’re attractive, am I right?”

  Both of them nodded. “How did you know?” said Hope.

  “Because I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who wasn’t unhappy with something about their bodies. Even people who everyone else thinks of as stunning.”

  “I think of you as stunning,” said Patient to Hope.

  “Thanks,” she said, with a nervous smile. “But… well, wait until you see me.”

  “I’m sure I’ll still think the same,” he said.

  “So am I,” said Lily, “and that’s what makes it a good exercise. Hope, my working theory is that part of your problem is that there’s some part of you that doesn’t believe you should have sexual pleasure, that it’s wrong and bad and harmful.”

  “You’re probably right,” admitted Hope.

  “Not liking your body is part of that. I think appreciating each other’s bodies is going to help to deepen your connection, and an exercise with clearly defined boundaries, especially in the context of getting clean, is a safe way to help you do that.”

  “You don’t think this will trigger me?” asked Hope.

  “I’d be very surprised,” said Lily. “When do you usually bathe?”

  “In the morning,” said Hope.

  “Usually the afternoon, for me,” said Patient, “to get the sawdust and sweat off. But I have a wash in the morning to freshen up for the day.”

  “You bathed before you came here?” asked Lily. He nodded.

  “I suggest, then, that you spend the night as usual, and do this exercise in the morning. Will you be alone in the house?”

  “Yes,” said Hope. “My flatmate spends Threeday night down in Gulfport with a group she’s part of, and gets back late on Fourday.”

  “Good. Take your time, enjoy the exercise as much as you can — I know it will feel awkward — and report back to me next time.”

  They held hands as usual when they emerged from the office to wait for the horse bus, but this time they laughed nervously when their gazes met. Hope clutched the book.

  “How do you feel about that?” asked Patient.

  “Strange,” she said. “I mean, I do want you to see me, but… as an exercise? It seems so…”

  “Wait,” he said, “you want me to…”

  “Yes, of course. Eventually, I mean. So I suppose it might as well be now.” She glanced down, then up, with those enormous eyes, and his heart missed a beat.

  “Well, let’s try to forget about it until tomorrow and enjoy this evening,” he said. With her head injury much improved, they had decided to go to Honey’s Tavern to hear Hope’s musician friends Reed and Marsh perform and meet Briar before she headed down to Gulfport.

  Hope wasn’t allowed alcohol until her head cleared up completely, and Patient limited himself to a single glass. He didn’t want to be too relaxed and let things get out of hand. They sat with Briar, eating Honey’s stew-in-a-loaf, a speciality of the tavern. He took the opportunity to chat with Hope’s friend, getting to know her as best he could, and enjoying her sardonic remarks. She and Hope, he saw, acted as well as looked like sisters.

  The tavern was noisy, and Hope’s posture was drooping a little, her voice becoming harder to hear as it lost force. “Do you need to go?” he asked her.

  “Let me just say hello to Marsh. Then, yes, I think I would like to get home.”

  “Big evening planned?” said Briar with a cheeky smile.

  “Hush, you,” said Hope, returning the smile with an affectionate one.

  “Oh, don’t look at me like that, Mister Patient,” said Briar. “I know you only cuddle. Good for you, by the way. She needs looking after.”

  “Oh, I do not,” said Hope, but her disagreement seemed more a matter of habit than conviction. “Marsh! Good to see you.” The musician brothers had just finished their set and come to sit down. They exchanged greetings and commonplace enquiries, and then Patient quietly but insistently steered an increasingly limp Hope out of the tavern.

  “Thanks,” she said, leaning against his side.

  They took a cab home, even though it wasn’t far, and changed for bed in separate rooms after a nervous, wordless exchange of glances. Hope was already in bed when Patient returned from the bathroom, and he slipped into the other side of the bed and held her in what was now an accustomed, comfortable posture.

  “You ready to go to sleep?” he said.

  “I’m pretty weary, yes. Let me just look at Patient the Eagle and trigger my sleep spell, and I’ll go out at the same time as the light. You all right?” />
  “Fine,” he said, and when she had invoked her spell, he touched the lamp and said the word that extinguished it.

  He himself, not as tired, lay awake turning over everything in his mind. What if, as was looking increasingly likely, they ended up getting oathbound? Where would they live? Could he move his business? He liked his village. Almost everyone he knew, apart from Hope and the military comrades who he had taken no steps to keep in touch with, lived there. He had grown up there and inherited his father’s and grandfather’s shop. But did he want Hope driving that airhorse thing every day to and from Illene? He sheered off from thoughts of the morning, every time they arose, and went determinedly back to thinking about the more distant future in terms as pragmatic as possible.

  On about the eighth inconclusive round of these thoughts, lulled by Hope’s peaceful breathing and her warmth beside him, he fell asleep.

  As always, he woke first (she needed a lot of sleep to heal). He disentangled himself without waking her, and made breakfast, skipping his usual morning wash and leaving his night clothes on. His stomach was imitating a diver-bird, and he didn’t really feel hungry, but he carried the tray into the bedroom and called his beloved’s name.

  He loved watching her wake up. First her eyelids fluttered, and she stirred, and then the first signs of her powerful intelligence returned to her face and firmed its expression as she rolled her head upright and opened her glorious eyes. She rubbed her eyes, sat up, and stretched like a cat, then rewarded him with a smile for making the breakfast (more than a fair exchange, in his view). He slipped into the bed and placed the tray between them.

  “How are you this morning?” he asked, taking up his second cup of tea of the morning and sipping to try to calm his stomach.

  “Refreshed,” she said. “I always sleep so much better with you here.” She looked at him from under her lashes. “Looking forward to this morning?”

  He blushed. “Nervous,” he said.

  “Who’s going first?”

  He swallowed hard, and nibbled on a piece of fruit to delay answering. Did he dare?