“I’m hoping…” She hesitated, then shrugged. “I know it’s a long shot, but.”
Of course. “I could use the company.” He thought of Mercy and shuddered. “I don’t like hospitals.”
Kristyl glanced at him with a frown. And then shared a lopsided smile with him. “I’ll protect you then. Come on.”
Together they made their way back to the main room, where the staff members were corralling the guests into columns based on the urgency of their situations. Vasiht’h, with his injury, went into one of the lines waiting to move after the stretchers went. He was all too willing to let them go first, searching the pallets as they were carried past between jogging emergency medical assists for the Asanii whose hand he’d been holding. She was the second one through, and he exhaled, raising his gaze to search for the Tam-illee from last night. Had he noticed? And yes, the todfox was standing next to one of the columns, his eyes locked on the stream of evacuees with a look of profound relief.
“All right, your turn,” someone said, and Vasiht’h’s line started moving. “Go on through and register at the desk, they’ll check you in.”
‘Register at the desk’ turned out to be optimistic advice. Vasiht’h stepped over the Pad and into a chaotic tangle of reuniting families and agitated new admissions. Kristyl wrapped a hand around his upper arm and steered him out of the way of a crash embrace between two Tam-illee, and somehow they made it to someone in uniform, who was scribbling on a data tablet as fast as the people dictating information to him could speak. “Here!” Kristyl called. “Another one!”
“What’s wrong?” the med tech asked him.
“Broken wing. Maybe ribs? I don’t know about that part.”
“Breathing all right? Can you inhale all the way? Any stabbing pains?”
“Yes, yes, no, but it aches.”
“And a broken wing… that’s a quick fix. As soon as we free up a bed for you, we’ll have you back, alet. Name?”
“Vasiht’h.”
“Thank you.”
“Now we just have to find a place to sit….” Kristyl trailed off and smiled. “At least this is a much better place to wait than we were before.”
And… it was, despite it being a hospital, because the number of people finding one another was heartening. Vasiht’h watched two more reunions as the stream from Serenity Isle continued flowing, and he was so distracted by the relief of just being here, and the storm being over, that he didn’t realize….
…that he could taste coffee…
He licked his teeth and reached, tentatively for the mindline. /Arii?/
/Vasiht’h!/
Vasiht’h sat upright so fast he pulled against his splint and hissed. /What are you doing so close! Aren’t you in orbit?/
Tension in the mindline now, an impending urgency. Sounds of people talking. Bootsteps snapping against tile. Vasiht’h frowned, processing the lurching of it, looked up… and found the Eldritch on the other side of the room. The Glaseah rose to his paws, stunned. What was he… why wasn’t he on the…
Jahir strode across the room, and everyone around him flowed out of his way, such was his presence—Vasiht’h could only admire this sudden air of command—and then his Eldritch was in front of him, on one knee, and had taken one of his hands and pressed it against his chest where Vasiht’h could feel his heart racing under the thin medical uniform.
Was he blushing? He was. The Eldritch cupped Vasiht’h’s cheek, those long fingers gentle against his fur. The skin under it was hot and he didn’t even know why: gratification? Abashment? Pleasure?
…Tsera Nova. Your seaside destination for joy
Vasiht’h exhaled, eyes welling. Yes. That.
“You live,” Jahir breathed, brushing his thumb against the Glaseah’s cheek just under the eye. “Arii.”
“A little beat up,” Vasiht’h began, and when he felt the frantic searching in the mindline, “Not seriously! They even told me I had to wait for a bed. It’s just a broken wing. I’m more scared and shaken than seriously hurt.” He squared his shoulders and tried for sternness despite his watery tone. “But why are you here! You were supposed to be safe, out of the way, on the station!”
“Did you think I could tarry there when I heard this news?” Jahir’s eyes widened. “To have the atmosphere between us was intolerable. I had to find you.”
“Wow,” Kristyl said from beside him. “And I wondered why you had all this fairy tale stuff happen to you. He acts like a fairy tale.”
Startled, Jahir looked over at her.
“That’s Kristyl,” Vasiht’h said, smiling. “The human I’ve been telling you about.”
“Not Gladiolus’s Kristyl,” Jahir said, astonished.
“Yes?” the human answered.
Jahir rose. “Come, now.”
“Do you mean…”
But Jahir was already walking so Vasiht’h hurried after him. Even so, Kristyl beat him to the Eldritch’s side. By the time Jahir was calling down the hallway, the human was in front of him and they both had a perfect vantage for the sight of the human and her Asanii friend rushing into one another’s embrace.
/That’s exactly what I needed,/ Vasiht’h said with a glad sigh.
Jahir eyed him. /You hurt when you breathe./
/It’s probably nothing. Triaged already, remember?/
/Injuries to the chest cavity can be serious and subtle—/
Vasiht’h chuckled tiredly. /Then I’m in the right place for it to go terribly wrong, right?/ The mindline surged with horror, sour and edged with scalpels, and he held up his hands, wincing. “Sorry! Sorry, I spoke before I thought. Or, I thought before I could think better of it. I didn’t mean to worry you.”
The prickle in the mindline smoothed down again. Jahir glanced at him, his smile faint. “I know. None of this was supposed to have happened.”
“And yet, life does. And accidents too.” Vasiht’h shifted on his paws, grimacing. “I do ache, though. Sit with me until they call me back?”
“And after.”
“Always after,” Vasiht’h said.
Chapter 18
Jahir accompanied Vasiht’h when he was called back for formal diagnosis, which involved a broken wing and several bruised ribs. A quick session under a bone-setter put paid to both injuries, and the hospital released them, with thanks to the Eldritch for his aid. He’d considered asking if they wanted him to remain, but he himself didn’t want to stay, so he refrained. What he most wanted was to escape the planet entirely, and from the exhausted tension in the mindline, his partner felt the same.
“We might as well pick up our things from the hotel,” Vasiht’h said as they headed for the doors out of the lobby. “There’s no use staying. I’m assuming they won’t be having any parties on the beach for a while.”
When they stepped into the wan sunlight and confronted the destruction, they both stopped short. The buildings remained intact, unsurprisingly: the Alliance did not build flimsy structures. But entire trees had been pulled from the earth, leaving muddy sockets, and the detritus that had been whipped from the landscaping and the sea had been thrown against windows and roofs and all over the ground.
“Unless they’re ‘let’s clean up’ parties,” Vasiht’h finished, the distress in the mindline twitchy and strange, tinged with the taste of saltwater.
“They will be some time in the doing,” Jahir said. “Even with the Alliance’s many tools.”
“Yes,” Vasiht’h answered, perturbed. “Let’s… go see if we can check out. Do you think we could catch a shuttle back to Veta today?”
“It is likely,” Jahir said, thinking of the expense and deciding not to mention it. He no less than the Glaseah was eager to be gone. “And we can take our meal on the station while we wait. You will probably enjoy the station.”
“I’m guaranteed to enjoy anything that doesn’t involve being on the surface of Tsera Nova.” The Glaseah smiled, wan. “Probably not the sort of thing they want to hear from departing gues
ts.”
“No,” Jahir agreed. “But in this case, I doubt they will blame any of us.” He watched the Glaseah trot ahead of him toward the public Pad station and allowed himself to exhale. He’d never allowed himself to seriously consider the possibility of Vasiht’h dying in the storm, despite knowing the mindline being active was no guarantee of continued existence. To see that familiar shape, feel it in his mind, sense and see no harm…
Vasiht’h paused and looked over his shoulder. “Coming?”
“Yes,” Jahir said, and hastened after.
Their hotel was nearly empty, but the one person at the concierge station offered to escort them to their room, ‘because some of the buildings are blocked by downed trees.’ That was where most of the staff was: assessing the damage. Vasiht’h felt badly for them, though his foremost desire involved getting back home, where the most he had to worry about was whether one of their clients would be having a bad day. Having Jahir alongside helped, enough that Vasiht’h couldn’t find it in his heart to upbraid his partner for heading for the epicenter of the disaster instead of staying out of harm’s way.
Which would have been out of character, anyway. When had Jahir not flung himself into danger to save others? And to help Vasiht’h? He’d probably go to the ends of the universe for me. Vasiht’h snuck a glance at the Eldritch pacing him. But then, I would too. I proved that already when I went to Selnor.
“A fin for your thoughts?” Jahir asked, quiet.
Vasiht’h looked at the Asanii leading them back to the shore. “Just… glad you’re here.”
“I will be being glad you are here for quite some time.”
Vasiht’h didn’t comment on the fumbling of the language. That Jahir could lose some of his facility when overcome, and that he was overcome because of the Glaseah, was too gratifying.
When they reached their room, they found their door accessible, but the two doors beside them…
Jahir, staring with him at the crumpled stairs, murmured, “There but for the grace of God and Goddess.”
“Amen,” Vasiht’h said, fervent.
“Go ahead, aletsen,” their guide said. “I’ll take care of the paperwork on our end. And on behalf of Diamond Sands… our deepest apologies for your distress. You’ll be contacted by a representative regarding a refund. We’ll make this right.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Vasiht’h said. “But thanks. And good luck with the clean-up.”
The look that got him… pained and exhausted and stricken all at once… he almost regretted saying it, though he’d been sincere. The stab of regret raised Jahir’s head; glancing at the retreating back of their host, the Eldritch murmured, /Leave it be, arii. There is nothing for it but time./
Which was the truth, so Vasiht’h didn’t call the Asanii back. There was enough that needed repair without him wasting his efforts on something that only time could heal.
The view from their room couldn’t have been more different from their experience that first day. Vasiht’h paused in front of the permeable wall after gathering his saddlebags, watching the gray waves smack against the shore beneath a sullen sky, part blue clarity, part torn-cloud smudges. When Jahir joined him with his messenger bag over his shoulder, Vasiht’h said ruefully, “You won’t be swimming in that.”
“I would prefer not to, no.”
Vasiht’h folded his arms. “We’ll have to find a different celebratory ocean to swim in.”
“The starbase has them.”
“Artificial, but at least not likely to involve hurricanes.” Vasiht’h shook his head. “Let’s go. I think we’re both definitely done here.”
“Yes.”
On the way out, on the table by the door, was the shell Jahir had found for him on the beach. Vasiht’h paused, then palmed it as they walked out, rubbing his thumb along the smooth inside edge. How many shells had been washed up by the storm? How many of them had been broken by it? He was in possession of a shell that had been shielded from the disaster… did that make it better than the shells that had weathered the storm? Or was he reading too much into this? As usual? Was it reading romance novels that had made him start putting too much stock in symbols, or was it his association with an Eldritch, who loved such things? Or both?
“You are thinking very busily,” Jahir observed.
“Too busily,” Vasiht’h admitted. “We should go find someplace to eat.”
Jahir did one better, and got them a temporary room on the station so they could drop their bags and take a quick shower, which Vasiht’h discovered he really, really wanted. Goddess alone knew how much salt was crusting his fur, and he hadn’t even noticed in his eagerness to be gone. After that, the Eldritch escorted him to the terraces, and they really were everything he’d promised. They ate what was either a very late lunch or a very early dinner at a restaurant with a patio overlooking the world; Vasiht’h found Tsera Nova palatable from this distance, though his eyes kept returning to the torn-taffy clouds stretching over the ocean. How had the rest of the tourists fared? Had Kristyl and Gladiolus left yet? Were they checking on the Harat-Shar they’d gathered? Were Bodken and Keridwen on their way to TKI&I, or had this incident put them off worlds-traveling? Would he ever see any of them again? Did he want to?
“Food has not made your thoughts less busy,” Jahir said.
Vasiht’h looked up. “I just… I’m processing, I guess.”
“A very great deal.”
“It was a lot to take in.” Vasiht’h pushed at his dessert with a spoon… a delicate flan with a clear mango glaze.
“You could share,” Jahir said, quiet.
And through the mindline, he really could, and in every particular: the terror of nearly drowning, the fear, the chaos of the storm, the shock and relief of being rescued, the panic that rescue might not matter, and then the painful hours waiting out the hurricane… shaking himself, Vasiht’h said, “I’m not sure if I’m ready to. Or even if I can? I could, but some part of me wants to know why I’d want to dredge it back up, when I survived and what I want to focus on is the fact that it’s over.”
“Is this what you would tell a client?” Jahir asked. Like Vasiht’h, he hadn’t eaten much of his dessert.
The Glaseah wrinkled his nose. “I think I’d tell me that being confused about how to react was normal, and to be easy on myself for a few days.”
A smile that Vasiht’h felt through the mindline more than saw, tender as a ripe pear. “That seems reasonable advice to me.”
“I guess I should take it then.”
Jahir nodded. “Our ship leaves in two hours. We might walk?”
“Walking sounds good.” Walking wasn’t drowning, or sitting, waiting for something. “Let’s walk.”
For once, physical activity proved a better distraction for his partner than food. Perhaps food bought and eaten did not have the same power to soothe as food prepared by hand. Jahir strolled alongside Vasiht’h and watched the Glaseah exclaim over the solidigraphic fish, and laugh at the children chasing the jumping water, and muse over the shops selling brightly colored sarongs. “A lot like my sari, except in more shocking colors.”
It was while Vasiht’h was in the restroom that Jahir’s data tablet trembled against his hip. Since he had very few alarms, he dug it from the messenger bag and flicked it on, only to find his test results. He had passed every section except the last two, for which he had been absent… which meant he’d failed the exam in toto. Did he feel anything about it? He could sense nothing in himself beyond the overwhelming relief that Vasiht’h was with him. His statement to the Hinichi stood: he could not imagine the Alliance without the Glaseah.
Vasiht’h, however, might have different feelings on hearing that not only had their vacation been truncated in the worst possible way, but that Jahir hadn’t succeeded in passing the exam that had been their primary motivation for the trip. The Eldritch tucked the tablet back in his bag and buttoned it closed, smoothing his palm down the leather before folding his arms and co
mposing himself to wait. The test could be retaken. He would concern himself with it some other time. Some better time, because obviously God and Lady had other plans for him.
When Vasiht’h rejoined him, Jahir said, “We are about due at the port. Shall we pick up our baggage?”
“I can’t wait.”
Chapter 19
Vasiht’h had never been so glad to see their apartment. The first thing he did after he tossed his bag in their bedroom was head for the kitchen.
“You will bake now,” Jahir guessed, his amusement a gentle caress through the mindline.
“All the things,” Vasiht’h agreed firmly.
“Then I shall fetch us groceries. And perhaps our evening meal, so that you might concentrate on aught else.”
“Perfect,” Vasiht’h said, getting out a bowl.
“I shall return anon.”
“And I will be right here.” Vasiht’h pulled out a sack of flour and dropped it on the counter, satisfied by the thick thump it made. “Wrist-deep in dough.”
Jahir chuckled softly and went for his walk. Which was good, because the mindline clearly communicated the Eldritch’s restlessness. Despite the brevity of their return flight, the transit had made them both feel antsy. Addressing that for Jahir meant stretching his legs, and for Vasiht’h…
“Call Sehvi,” he told the computer. “If it’s a reasonable hour on Tam-ley. And see if Allen’s got an open appointment this week.”
A chirp, and then the sound of the call connecting. Vasiht’h didn’t bother looking up a recipe. For a moment like this he wanted something simple and old, so well-known it was muscle memory. That meant cookies. When Sehvi’s face appeared on the wallscreen, he said, “Frosted or chocolate chip?”
His sister pursed her lips. “Embrace the power of both?”
“So now, it’s ‘both’ and not ‘there’s only so much stomach to go around’?”
“You are talking about chocolate chip cookies,” Sehvi pointed out. “For some things, you can find room.”
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