The Best of All Possible Worlds

by Karen Lord

  And yet we soared.

  We swooped down the narrow valley, following the line of the river as if it were an arrow to our destination. I was tempted to look back to see if there was a line of robed figures just beyond the edge of the pool, wafting us gently homeward, but I knew that was just a silly cinematic image, possibly a memory from some ancient holovid. So I looked forward in wonder, seeing the kind of bird’s-eye view of the landscape that even a shuttle can’t give.

  Some people, of course, have to prove they can’t be awed by anything.

  “Telekinesis is a natural consequence of intensive psionic development,” he remarked after a minute or so.

  “Shut up! You’re spoiling it!” I screamed. (I may also have shrieked “Wheee” at some point. I admit nothing.)

  However smooth our descent as we followed the water down, I began to realize something. “I think we’re going to get wet again—aughhhhh!”

  But it was only to our knees, and the current was comparatively tame. As we slogged to the nearest bank, heavy and earth-bound once more, I heard the most beautiful sound, the chirp of my own missing comm, miraculously coming from Dllenahkh’s pocket. He had the decency to look slightly ashamed as he fished it out of hiding and answered the automated emergency call. When he signed off, I held out my hand accusingly, thinking of my conveniently smashed handheld. He placed the comm on my palm with a small, regretful smile that made me relent.

  “He was right. There was no need to worry about me. You could have stayed,” I admitted.

  “I believe I acted appropriately,” he replied, both smile and regret erased from his features. “It would not be helpful to hold dual loyalties at this stage.”

  I wanted to believe him, so I dropped the subject before I could persuade myself otherwise. After that, the only thing left to do was find a shuttle-size clearing, sit, and wait.

  It was a grand reunion. There was the expected hugging (by some of us at least!) and mutual relief and general elation at being home safe and sound. Only Qeturah looked grim and almost tearful, and it struck me that she must have convinced herself that she had been responsible for sending us to our deaths. I gave her a tiny chastising shake of the head for thinking such folly. It turned out, however, that she had other things on her mind.

  “There’s someone waiting to speak to you on the shuttle comm,” she said.

  I perked up even more. Rafi! Excusing myself hastily, I ran to the shuttle and quickly keyed on the monitor.

  “Grace.”

  Maria’s eyes looked shadowed, as if she had been crying and might start again without warning.

  “Hey, Maria,” I said tentatively. I really had no idea what to say.

  She smiled weakly. “Good to see you alive and well.”

  I gave a small smile that wasn’t entirely kind. “Thought I was dead?”

  The stricken look that flashed across her face convinced me—she had wished it. I exhaled and looked away, tears stinging my eyes.

  “Look, I—”

  “Grace, please—”

  We stopped talking. “You first,” I said eventually.

  “Okay,” she said, and took a big breath, bracing herself. “I … we’ve got a long road ahead of us, me and Gracie. The influence went on for so long, they can’t just put things back the way they should be. Rafi’s all right, though. He—he’s more like you. Grace, you must promise me, if I can’t take care of him, if they try to take him from me, you’ll look out for him? Be his guardian? I’ll sign whatever I have to. I just want him to be with family.”

  “Of course, Maria,” I said, tears now falling freely. “Of course.”

  We spoke for a few more minutes. I told her a message would be coming for Rafi very soon. I apologized for not having done more. She told me not to be silly, and she even sounded as if she meant it.

  I left the monitor with eyes red but face wiped dry. Then I saw Tonio outside and realized I had to brace myself for another encounter.

  He was perfect. He took me by the hand and led me away to a quiet place under the eaves of the forest. He sat down on a fallen log and pulled me gently into his lap. Unexpectedly, in contrast to his calm face, his emotions sang against mine in a mutual cacophony of mingled joy and sorrow. Perhaps we were both a little giddy, a little susceptible to the melodrama of the moment. Perhaps not.

  “Now stop that,” I said, swallowing down my tears. “You’re so loud the Sadiri will hear you.”

  He gave me a wide-eyed look of innocence. “Perhaps you’re projecting your feelings onto me.”

  “If that’s true, then drop the ‘perhaps’ and tell me so directly,” I challenged him. “Hmm. I didn’t think so,” I added as he looked away for a moment with a wistful smile.

  “We’ve had too little time, you and I,” he said quietly. “And now you go that way,” he continued, nodding toward the forest, “and I return this way.” He looked in the direction of the savanna. “So it goes.”

  “No jokes?” I said breathlessly. “No lighthearted humor to make it easier?”

  He gave a half smile, touching my cheek softly with the back of his hand. “I don’t want easy. I want true.”

  “Then this,” and I kissed him lightly on the lips, “is not easy, but it is true.”

  He pressed his forehead to mine, then kissed me, a kiss as brief as mine had been but far more intense. “Worth it,” he sighed.

  I know, perhaps it wasn’t a grand passion by the usual standards, but can anyone understand what it meant to me? To have had for however short a time the interest and attention of a man who was strong enough to walk away from me and strong enough to let me walk away from him—it might be too much to say it healed something in me, but it was a start.

  There’s a nice little postscript to this adventure. Two weeks later, long after we had left the area, Qeturah informed Dllenahkh and Joral that a remote village in the forest uplands had made an unheard-of effort to contact Central Government authorities.

  “It seems they learned about your quest to find taSadiri brides for your homesteaders, and they’re impressed with your courage. They’ve submitted genetic samples as proof of their eligibility and wish to send a delegation of women to the Tlaxce settlement.”

  “That’s marvelous!” I exclaimed. “I wouldn’t be surprised if—”

  Yes, I was going to say it. I was going to start talking about the place I’d been to and the people I’d seen and the things I was supposed to keep secret. But instead my voice dwindled and choked off, my mouth closed, and my teeth clenched shut so fast that I bit the tip of my tongue. Lian gave me an odd look, but otherwise no one else remarked on my strange little coughing fit. Dllenahkh, who had noted with concern and sympathy my sudden stop and watering eyes, came to me after the meeting.

  “I may have neglected to mention that the injunction placed on us to say nothing to others on this matter is far too strong for me to remove,” he said softly.

  “No kidding,” I said, and tried to squint down at my outstretched tongue.

  “But you have guessed correctly. I am grateful that they found a way to acknowledge our need without compromising their way of life.” The words were neutral, the tone calm, but his eyes sparkled with triumph.

  I smiled at him. “I’ve got something for you.”

  I reached into a pocket. It had been in a batch of knickknacks I’d picked up for Gilda’s kids, but for some reason I hadn’t sent it on with the rest. “Never did thank you properly for saving my life and healing me and getting me back safe. So … here.”

  He took the small brown object, bemused. Then his lips twitched. “Highly appropriate. I thank you. It is good to have someone with whom I can remember this.”

  He gravely affixed the teak elephant to the collar of his tunic and gave it a pat of satisfaction that reminded me of my own dealings with the real-life, full-size versions.

  Zero hour plus one year two months twenty-four days

  Some mornings, inspired by good weather and exception
al scenery, all four of them meditated together. In the initial days after his return from the hidden monastery, the communal sessions became more frequent, perhaps out of relief and gratitude that he had returned. For Dllenahkh, it was more; he could now sense the latent connections that would lead them into that deeper communication shared by the people of the monastery. It took away the bittersweet nostalgia of the old familiar ritual and replaced it with the new excitement of this is what we will become.

  One day, Commander Nasiha lingered to speak to him after meditation. “I have been thinking,” she said. “Delarua could benefit from some of the techniques of the basic disciplines.”

  Pleased that she had spoken his innermost thoughts, Dllenahkh responded promptly. “That is an excellent suggestion. When will you start?”

  She gave a brief nod in begrudging acknowledgment of the compliment and the trick, fixed him her usual direct look, and pressed on. “We both know that you are far better qualified to train her.”

  “That might be considered a conflict of interest,” he remarked.

  She kept her face expressionless, and that was as bad as an out-loud laugh. “Oh? How so?”

  Patiently, Dllenahkh explained, “I do not wish to be seen as another Ioan.”

  She blinked, shocked. “Councillor! I did not mean—”

  Neither did I. He tried to explain without compromising the safety of his bridled tongue. “Of course, but the fact remains, she can trust me while we remain colleagues and equals. Becoming her teacher would shift the balance of power, and I would prefer not to lose her friendship.”

  For I have already done too much to alter that balance. He was relieved that he could not speak of what he had done, because for all his good intentions, he felt strangely close to the edge of guilt. Healing Delarua had been unexpectedly exhilarating, partly due, no doubt, to the thrill of learning a new, nearly miraculous skill, but also perhaps akin to the transcendence of bonding with a mindship and feeling the bones, tendons, and nerves of another being—not as a puppet master but like a dancer fitted to a partner, able to suggest a movement with a light press of silent, invisible communication.

  “I will teach her,” Nasiha said with a firmness that was as good as an oath.

  “Thank you, Commander. If I may make a suggestion, be subtle. She may appear fearless, but she is very quick to retreat if she feels pressured.”

  “I will be careful, Councillor,” she promised.

  THE FAERIE QUEEN

  Her hair was a cloud of silver foam growing back from her temples in tiny soft curls, then expanding up and out in fierce glory. Few crowns of the traditional mold could encompass it, but none was necessary when diamonds of all colors, rose and white and gold, sparkled freely throughout her tresses, transforming the cloud to a starry nebula. Her eyebrows were golden and perfectly shaped, each one a gentle, delicate arc. Dark pupils stood out starkly in sea-gray irises; long, light brown eyelashes framed all with a sleepy sultriness. Her look was forgiving of the ordinariness of others and understanding of their natural desire to adore her. Slender limbs made her sprawl elegant; the very fineness of her bones drew the eye along her lines and subtle curves. Her skin defied common sense; it combined translucency with an amber tint, revealing an intricate tracery of blood vessels under the paler skin of her inner arm. She would have made an artist weep for shame that neither brush nor tint could do her justice.

  A catalog of my own flaws began to scroll through my mind. The uneven texture of my hair, whose inability to decide whether to curl or ripple meant that a crew cut was the best out of a bunch of bad options. The mundane brown of that same hair. Flat, broad eyebrows strongly marking my face, eyes that needed the help of kohl to become remarkable. Thick bones and muscles that spoke of sturdiness rather than grace—ha, the irony! Cedar-brown skin that might have been just acceptable if it hadn’t been for the faint dusting of freckles across my nose and cheeks.

  Ah, there. I consoled myself. We had very much the same nose, a happy medium that was neither big nor small, broad nor pointed, just well proportioned and joined harmoniously to the forehead with a gentle dip. I held on to the image of my nose and tried to feel confident as I looked down it at her—insofar as it is possible to look down at someone seated on a throne elevated on a dais.

  “The Tlaxce Visiting Mission of the Central Government of Cygnus Beta thanks Your Majesty for her kind invitation and wishes to avail itself of the opportunity to renew to the Seelie Court the assurances of its highest consideration.”

  The impressive part wasn’t the high diplomatic language. It was the fact that I was able to resurrect enough of my Cymraeg to say this without pause or stammer.

  The Faerie Queen inclined her head graciously. “Be welcome,” she said.

  It had been blissfully mundane for almost three weeks, exactly what I needed after the excitement of waterfall jumping. We had flown the shuttle south and made our way across open farmland, visiting settlements with scant humanity and an overabundance of ruminants. I might have glanced once or twice at the gray edge of wooded hills to the west. I might even have wondered a little, but when Qeturah told me that we had obtained clearance to go to Faerie, my immediate reaction had been that it was a Bad Idea with a capital B I, because I was damned if I was going to explain to the Sadiri how a community of their people had ditched their own culture wholesale to actualize an obscure Terran myth. But I was stuck with the job, so I went ahead and tried my best.

  “Reports are sketchy. Faerie has been closed for more than a century, because visitors tended to treat it a bit like a theme park.” Smart visitors, I thought cynically to myself. “But they say that for centuries the land was populated by two taSadiri clans who were constantly at war with each other. They had endured a particularly bad run of hostilities when a strange Cygnian turned up with an intriguing solution to their problem. Since the main cause of their war was the question of which clan’s rituals and dialect should take precedence, the compromise was for both clans to learn an entirely new identity.”

  Tarik was utterly disbelieving. “This makes no sense. Do you mean to tell me that two taSadiri tribes abandoned millennia of tradition for a society drawn from folktales and fictional writings?”

  “I’m afraid so,” I said, trying not to smirk at his appalled expression.

  As a belief, it was rather seductive, actually. Long-lived, superior, and mentally dominant over the weaker Terrans, the Elves were clearly an indication of some covert pre-embargo Sadiri visit to Terra. If you’re out of your skull, that is.

  “Who was the Cygnian who told them this?” asked Dllenahkh.

  “Some crackpot academic descended from the Druids of Ynys Môn who made it his business to know all ancient and modern manifestations of Celtic culture. They say his forefathers founded New Camelot. I don’t know. Frankly, I find it all a bit silly, but they’ve heard about us and they’ve invited us, and we can’t very well say no.”

  Fortunately, I had set their expectations so low that when the shuttle set down on the bald brow of a tree-ringed hill, we were relieved to be greeted by ordinary Cygnians dressed in contemporary attire and with only slightly glossy hair, drawn up in a welcoming party around the Queen’s throne. They did, however, hold firmly to their own language, and until Tarik could get a translation program up and running, that meant yours truly was the main conduit of communication on our end.

  The Faerie Queen was eloquent but slightly insane, and this made translation difficult. After descending the dais to greet the Commissioner gravely, she turned her attention to the rest of the team as introductions were made. Initially, she nodded perfunctorily at each name, but then she began to walk among us, her slender height both imposing and fragile. Lian earned a lingering look, Nasiha another grave nod, but at Fergus she stopped and considered. With a sideways glance at Qeturah, she murmured, “Probably hers,” and went to Joral. Taking the poor young man by the chin, she examined him and proclaimed, “Young,” before moving on to Tarik. Nasiha
, who was quicker on the uptake than the rest of us, seized her husband’s hand and stared challengingly at the woman, who merely smiled and came to stand before Dllenahkh. Keeping her gaze on him, she beckoned me over.

  “You represent the newly arrived Sadiri on Cygnus Beta?” she asked him.

  I translated, and Dllenahkh nodded. “I do, Your Majesty.”

  She was perhaps three centimeters taller than he was, not counting the fifteen centimeters that was hair alone, but he was three times broader and just as self-possessed. She suddenly smiled brilliantly, as if deigning to recognize him as an equal.

  “I will speak to you,” she declared. “You,” she addressed me, still without looking at me, “will translate. The rest of you are granted the freedom of the Seelie Court until our discussions are completed.”

  I repeated this in Standard for the benefit of the team, looking anxiously at Qeturah. She smiled reassuringly, but her eyes signaled caution as she said, “Tell her that in accordance with government practice we would be happy to set up shelter near the shuttle.”

  The Queen was appalled at the idea. “Nonsense!” she said, looking at Qeturah as if she were both mad and discourteous. “It is far too dangerous to stay on the ground at night. We have prepared lodgings for you.”

  Qeturah’s gaze followed her pointing hand, looking up walkways into the heights of huge trees where wooden platforms spanned branches and surrounded trunks in a vast tree city. “Thank her kindly for us, First Officer Delarua,” she said somewhat breathlessly.

  Our platform—or t’bren as they called it—had no barrier rails, something that seemed to worry no one but us, but they did offer us rope netting to string over and around our bedding, perhaps as a deterrent to sleepwalking. I was careful with mine that first night, hooking it securely to a branch above and tucking it under the bedding. This made waking up suddenly at midnight even more exciting as I promptly got tangled up in the mesh.