Triangle

by Sara L Daigle

  “It’s one of the reasons Azellians don’t live anywhere else on Earth but near the embassy. The Council usually warns us at least a few hours before it happens, and we’ve negotiated with the aarya to send out a call before the Song gets into full swing, so the Azellians can gather here on the embassy grounds. You’ll feel it. So will Tamara, since she interacts with us on a psi level. We close the embassy, chase off the humans, and let the Song take us.”

  Alarin blinked. “Humans haven’t even been curious about it? I can’t believe that no hint of it has ever gotten out during the fifty years Azellians have been here.”

  “Oh, hints have gotten out. Don’t tell me you haven’t heard the rumors. Why do you think my reputation is what it is? We play the media, work the story, write Festival off to a holy day, and that gets us the tolerance we need. It’s worked well in the past, and probably will continue to work well if we continue to restrict exposure to it.”

  “I still can’t believe humans accept this,” Alarin said. “Or that all our kinsmen here on Earth accept the restrictions.”

  Merran shrugged. “Do you want to be caught among humans when out of your head with Festival?”

  Alarin shuddered. “No. The aarya preserve us, no.”

  “There you are.”

  “It’s that loud?”

  “As if we were on Azelle.”

  “Shit,” Alarin muttered, leaning his arm against the door.

  “What?”

  “You know how Tam is about frightening new experiences … and unusual sex in general,” Alarin replied. “How is she going to react to Festival?”

  Merran laughed. “Ah, well, I suggest you get her used to the idea. You have, oh, a few months to do it. Good luck with expanding her sexual horizons before Festival does it for her.”

  Alarin snorted and pulled open the door. “Thanks so much.”

  “You’re so welcome.”

  As they opened the door and headed into the outer office, Tamara stood up from where she’d been seated in one of the waiting room chairs. “Is everything better?” she asked, looking from one to the other.

  Alarin slipped an arm around her waist, leaning over to kiss her. “Everything’s fine,” he said after he’d pressed his lips against her temple.

  Tamara didn’t glance at Merran, but he could feel her soft question inserted on his private level under his shields. Is it, Merran?

  Merran gave her the mental equivalent of a hug and sent back reassurance, although he didn’t speak in words. She relaxed visibly and let Alarin cuddle her close to his body. Merran blinked, keeping his own emotions carefully shielded. He did care about Tamara, Alarin, and his friendship with Alarin, but sometimes, like now, when he would have liked to greet his lover with a passionate kiss and some intense lovemaking in his office, it was difficult. He turned back to his office and the cold comfort of work.

  A few hours later, high in the World Tower not far away from the embassy and campus, Tamara sprawled on the plush soft leather armchair in Greg Tenricth’s apartment. Since the whole revelation had come out about his identity and his psi abilities, he’d moved to the secure World Tower, just a few floors below Merran. His Healing talent made him the focus of all kinds of attention, and living on campus would have become impossible, even if the college had been willing to allow the Azellians to live on campus anymore. It made visiting him a little more of a pain, but Tamara had caught him at home this afternoon on a rare day off.

  “How did you manage to get a day off?” she asked, looking around the obsessively neat apartment. Merran’s apartment was almost as neat, except for his office and closets, where it looked like someone had exploded paperwork and clothes everywhere, or her own place, which also had its hidden messy areas. Greg’s, however, was perfectly arranged and perfectly cleaned, making Tamara wonder why he was now in the midst of cleaning. He moved around the room, dusting off the few personal objects he’d displayed to decorate the place, as Tamara sat in his armchair.

  “By sticking to my guns. I am actually scheduled to be four days on and three days off. It’s partially my fault that I keep booking my days off,” Greg replied calmly. He shook his head. “Healing isn’t something I can turn off and on at will, but today I just needed to take the time.”

  “I’m interrupting then,” Tamara said, shifting so her legs were on the floor as she leaned forward. Greg shook his head. She felt the slightest pressure against her shoulder, as though he’d touched her, although he was six feet across the room. “It’s not a bother, Tam. No more than Merran or Alarin are. I can still clean while we visit,” he said, dusting off a large polished wood statue of a tree. It didn’t look like it needed dusting, but then she wasn’t nearly as picky as Greg.

  “What is that?”

  Greg touched it lightly, brushing his fingertips over the silky wood with a caressing gesture, an unconscious sensuality the other Azellians showed but Greg did not often display. “It was a gift. I Healed a Miir symbiont some years back and its host gave me this.”

  “You Healed a Miir?” Tamara asked, surprised. The Miir were even more secretive than the Azellians were reputed to be. Although the Azellians have never been particularly secretive around me, she thought.

  “A Miir symbiont. Most people have such an anthropomorphic bias, whether human, Atheran, Tyr, or we umanaarya, as we Azellians call ourselves. The beings we see as the Miir are actually nothing more than the eyes and ears of the Miir intelligence. They have little or no native intelligence themselves.”

  Tamara stared at him. “What do you mean?”

  “They are conduits for the larger Miir whole. If you go to Miirjl, the whole planet is forested, covered in a thick stand of what we’d call trees. About half of them aren’t.”

  “Aren’t what?”

  “Trees. At least not as we know trees, anyway.”

  Tamara’s eyes widened. “The Miir are trees?”

  “No more than you are apes.”

  Tamara blinked. “So the beings that move around and interact with humans on a limited basis are …”

  “Symbionts.”

  She struggled to process such an alien thought. “How do they react to our tendency to cut down trees?”

  “Badly. It’s one of the reasons the Miir are found in very few places on Earth. They tend to avoid areas where humans harvest lots of trees, which is pretty much everywhere.”

  “How did you learn so much about them?”

  Greg grinned at her. “Earth is not the first place I’ve spent away from Azelle. I’ve been an unusual Healer from the time I Awakened.”

  Tamara heaved a sigh. “That I can believe. I’ve always thought that Healers were the least likely to travel away from Azelle.”

  “I don’t know that the proportions are any different from the non-Healers who want to leave Azelle; there are just fewer of us than there are non-Healers,” Greg replied, moving on to another shelf on the corner cabinet in the entryway of the apartment. “I know quite a few Healers who love to travel, to explore alien bodies, and to learn about new biologies.” He glanced back at her. “In more ways than one.”

  Tamara managed, with something of an effort, to control her blush. “Ah, so you mean not every Healer is as celibate as you are?” she half-teased, although she knew embarrassing Greg was as impossible as embarrassing Alarin.

  Greg gave a small smile. He slapped the dusting rag against his leg and hesitated for just a moment. “It’s complicated, but not all Healers are as celibate as I have been, no.”

  Tamara blinked at him. “Not all Healers are homosexual, are they?” she asked curiously, thinking about the new Healer arrival, Rory. Tall, charming, roguishly handsome, he exuded that same undefinable, but potent, sexuality she’d noted in Alarin and Merran. He’d certainly appeal to many of the girls on campus—he’d appeal to her if she didn’t have her hands full with Alarin and Merran.

  As he usually did, Greg saw right through her, either knowing her well enough or reading her because she�
�d been leaking curiosity. “Rory’s most certainly not. I’d suggest moving carefully around him, though. You’re used to me, and Rory has a very different style. He’s also … fresh from Azelle.”

  “Which means?” Tamara asked, her face heating up as it usually did when she talked about subjects like this with Greg.

  “It means, I’d suggest that any move on Rory’s part you consider from the point of view that Rory may misunderstand you. He likes women, a lot, and though he is a Healer, he’s not nearly as interested in working all the time as I am. Not all Healers are workaholics. Or therapists. I like both physical and emotional Healing, but Rory does nothing but Heal physical complaints. He’s not the slightest bit interested in counseling or teaching beyond the bare basics. While I’m gone, I suggest you not consider him a replacement for me.”

  It took her a moment to process everything Greg had said. She did indeed have a counselor-teacher-type relationship with Greg, although she’d never really thought about it that way before. “Wait a minute, wait a minute,” she blurted, processing the last bit of what he’d just said. “Gone? Gone where? Where are you going?”

  Greg came around the corner of the white leather couch. “Ather. There’s a plague there and the Atherans are asking for help.”

  “For how long? When? When did you find out about this?” Greg’s warnings about Rory evaporated in the shock of finding out he was leaving.

  He perched on the arm of the heavy couch. “I don’t know … soon … and about three days ago. Merran found out about it through his contacts, then asked me and I said yes.”

  Tamara pressed her hands against her head. “Plague? Is it dangerous for you?”

  Greg shrugged and said neutrally, “Depends on the plague. The differences in Atheran and Azellian genetic makeup are significant enough that it’s unlikely, but there is always some risk.”

  “Some risk? Why go then? You can’t go. You can’t. Greg, what would we do if we lost you?” She tried to control the fear and worry that began to spread through her, but she knew she was leaking emotions past her shields.

  Greg moved so he faced her. “I’ll be fine. Even if I’m not, I have little choice in the matter. I’m a Healer. Sick people call and I go.” He crouched in front of her, swirling his hands lightly through her aura, soothing her, both hands smoothing out the roils in her aura and the disturbances in her emotional state. Her shields steadied under his ministrations. “You can be sure I’ll be back if it’s in my power.”

  Tamara took a deep breath and let the calm spread from his fingers through her. “I’m not worried about what is in your power. Just what’s not.”

  Greg leaned forward and kissed her lightly. He stood up. “You’re sweet to be worried about me, Tam, but I’ll be fine. I’ll make sure I take extra care.”

  She blinked at him. “You’d better.”

  He smiled again. “Now, you didn’t come over here to discuss my plans or talk about Miir symbionts. What’s up?”

  Tamara fought the blush. “Can’t I just want to visit?”

  Greg raised an eyebrow. “Sure. Do you? Or are you trying to pretend because I talked about how not all Healers are counselors and you don’t want to see our relationship that way?”

  “How do you do that?”

  Greg smiled. “Not all Healers are counselors, but we do have a leg up when it comes to training and sensitivity. And I know you pretty well. We haven’t shared ourselves quite the way you, Merran, and Alarin have, but I’ve studied quite a bit about you while I’ve trained you to access and use your psi.”

  Her blush slipped out from her control. She suddenly didn’t want to talk about it.

  He sat beside her on the couch. “Trouble in paradise?”

  Tamara shrugged, not liking that he knew her that well. “Yes. No. Maybe. I don’t know. It’s not working, Greg. The agreement we made during my Awakening is pretty much defunct. Nothing left. Alarin gets jealous if I even mention Merran, and Merran … well … he’s been so busy I don’t think I’ve gotten to spend more than a couple of hours with him in the past few months, outside of the office.”

  “You knew going in that Merran is committed to his work first and foremost.”

  “I know. I know. It could be worse. I mean, I like Merran, enjoy spending time with him, care about him, but …”

  “But what?”

  “But I can’t see depending on him on a day-to-day basis. He carries such a wall in his head. Even when we were … when I Awakened … I didn’t get through it, not really. Certainly not now. He won’t share with me, not the way Alarin will, and that makes it hard to have an open relationship with him.”

  “It’s common for sensitive empaths to do that, to build barriers to keep others out, and it is pretty much the way it is for channeling empaths like Merran. Other people’s emotions overwhelm an empath, so they stay hidden behind thick walls, which sometimes looks like they are cold or don’t care. To add to that tendency, Merran had a rougher childhood than many, and he’s driven. It means he holds everyone at arm’s length.”

  “I can accept that. It’s part of who Merran is and nothing I can change. Or would even want to. I mean, Merran’s drive and ambition are too deep a part of who he is. But what does it mean to us, as a couple? Or a trio, for that matter? How do we work it out?”

  “Have you ever thought about letting him go? Not trying to push yourself or him somewhere he’s not able to go?”

  Tamara held herself very still, probing at that thought. “Completely, as in break up with him?” She hesitated, finding it hard to admit that she might have had a part to play in why she and Merran hadn’t spent any time together. Yes, he was busy and spending most of his time in meetings, but he’d invited her several times before she left on vacation to stop by for a romantic evening and she’d turned him down, afraid of Alarin’s reaction, and not wanting to spark off a fight before her father dragged her out of town. “Maybe, just a bit. But it’s hard to let Merran go, to see him draped over someone else. I’m not sure how I would handle it.”

  “I think you’re safe. Merran doesn’t drape himself over anyone, not even you. I bet you’re one of the only women in his life that has even seen his barriers. Most of the time, he doesn’t let them get that close.”

  Tamara’s stomach fluttered a little, and she sighed. “I guess we have to do something, because it’s going to come crashing down around our ears if the three of us keep trying to make this work. It’s obvious that Alarin’s not going to tolerate it if I spend any time with Merran.” She buried her head in her hands.

  “Why do you think there’s a problem with Alari?”

  Tamara lifted her head to meet Greg’s calm gaze. “Alarin’s been so touchy lately.” She lifted a hand and rubbed her forehead. “Not wanting me to do anything with Merran, not even talk to him. He’s jealous, I think. I don’t know. He won’t talk to me about it.”

  Greg got up and went into the granite-and-stainless-steel kitchen. “Do you want some tea?”

  Tamara nodded and got up, too, trailing him to settle down on a tall barstool that stood underneath the stone pass-through to the kitchen. She rested her arms against the cold surface, then sat back, as the chill of the countertop seeped uncomfortably through the sleeves of her blouse. “Lemon, if you have it.”

  Greg poured water into the teakettle and touched the button to start the heating cycle. He reached up and pulled out two large mugs and two small plates, retrieving a bright yellow box from another cabinet. He unwrapped the box, took out two tea bags, and settled them on the two plates.

  She watched him for a few seconds, then asked, “What do I do about it?”

  “Have you talked to Merran?”

  “Not yet. I haven’t had the chance.”

  “Talk to Merran. Emotionally, he’s got less riding on this than Alarin does and he’s more likely to be logical about it. Who knows? He may even have a solution for you.”

  Tamara’s eyes widened. “Have you talked to him?” Gr
eg shrugged noncommittally. He met her eyes calmly, without a flicker of reaction. He might know her, but she knew him, too. “You did! You talked to him about this. What did he say?”

  Greg put his hands up. “I don’t get in the middle when I have a choice, Tam. You know that. Talk to Merran.”

  Tamara’s mind raced as she thought about it. She squirmed on her chair. “What about that bond thing we have? What are our solutions? Doesn’t it kind of take away our options? I thought you said it was permanent.”

  Greg raised an eyebrow. “Nothing is permanent. Everything renews itself … changes … based on how we react to it and what we do to develop it, or not. This bond may not be any more permanent than … love.” He flashed her a quick grin. “Not that I want to burst your romantic ideals, but even the love we call romantic love isn’t permanent. Or really even designed to be.”

  A weird sensation crawled through her stomach. “Does that mean … what does that mean?”

  Greg shrugged, putting his hands out. “I’ve said as much as I’m going to, Tam. Talk to Merran directly.”

  Tamara sighed. “Fine. When?”

  “Now, that, my dear Tamara, is something I can’t help you with. Schedule an appointment.”

  She could feel herself relax a little. “Scheduling an appointment is a good idea. And probably the only way I’ll get a chance to talk to him without someone interrupting us.”

  The teakettle reached boiling and clicked itself off. Greg poured their tea. Smiling at her, he shifted topics. “Now, while I’m gone, I want to be sure that you do your focusing exercises every day, Tam. Otherwise your shielding may slip. And as an empath, it will be uncomfortable to you and the people around you. Other people’s emotions can really mess with yours when you’re not shielded, and things can get blown out of proportion. If you start projecting things back at people, it will be uncomfortable for them,” he reminded her as he poured.

  “I know, I will, I promise,” Tamara replied as she leaned back in her chair. “Speaking of psi, I heard you guys talking about family talents before I left on vacation and have been meaning to ask you about it. What did you mean by family talents?”