by Karen Lord
He shrugged. “I could make everyone like me, but that sort of thing is frowned upon, oddly enough. As for the telepathy—there’s no one I really want to talk to, I guess.”
“Hmm,” I said. “Who’s in charge of your welfare around here?”
“My House Master, I suppose. Why?” He looked a little wary. “Don’t embarrass me.”
I gave him an incredulous look. “When have I ever not been cool? Don’t turn all teenage on me now. Just answer me one thing. Do you still like elephants?”
A quick consultation with his House Master ensured that Rafi and one other student would spend the next half-term holiday on an educational visit to the forest uplands.
“There’s more than one way to be popular, my boy,” I told him as I was leaving. “Elephants are cool. Eccentric aunts who send you and a fortunate friend to ride on elephants, they too are cool. You’re lucky I’ve had no reason to dip into my holiday fund this year. I can’t do this too often. Anyway, once should be enough to seal your reputation.”
He grinned at me. He knew I was up to something, more than was evident on the surface, but he trusted me enough to be amused and excited rather than worried.
“And by the way,” I added, “I’d practice my telepathy while I was out there if I were you. Loudly. Vacation is no reason to slack off.”
Transferring the lease on my apartment and spending such a large sum on impulse meant that I had to consider my future sooner rather than later. And so on the third day after the Consul’s leap of faith, I collared Nasiha in her temporary office at the Sadiri Consulate and asked bluntly, “Want to work with me?”
She raised an eyebrow. “You appear to have made certain assumptions about my future plans.”
“Or perhaps I’m trying to influence them.”
She smiled then, just a little. “I had noticed that in spite of the fact that your breach of the Cygnian Science Code has caused you to be barred from empirical research, you have somehow managed to become the cause of academic papers by others. I would welcome the opportunity to examine the phenomenon further by continuing our association within an entrepreneurial framework.”
“Tarik?” I asked. It was interesting, this new vocal shorthand. I was finally living my life as if I had no time to waste.
Nasiha’s gaze softened, and I was reminded just how much those two did love each other, although they would have found some other way to phrase it, no doubt. “We have assessed various locations in terms of safety, stability, and support networks. We have decided to spend at least one year living in the Tlaxce Sadiri Settlement so that our child can be born there. After that, Tarik will probably return to working with the Science Council while I remain as primary parent for the first seven years. At the end of those seven years … who knows? I may return to the Science Council while he becomes the primary parent. We may all return to New Sadira or to whatever planet we may be assigned. But that is in the future.”
I smiled. “Tarik is a good husband and will make an excellent father.” He loves you so much.
Nasiha gave me an amused look. “Of course.” And I love him.
For two days after that I didn’t try to save the world or solve anyone’s problems. I worked on my reports diligently from home, having wisely turned down the offer of office space at the Sadiri Consulate. With everything that was happening, I didn’t trust my professionalism that far. At home, I could at least periodically get up from my desk, look at the calendar, and scream into a pillow set aside for that purpose.
Then I got a call from Dr. Freyda Mar herself.
“I heard you’d come in, but I thought I should wait a bit. I’m so sorry,” she said.
“Freyda, it’s so good to hear from you.” In spite of everything, I smiled when I heard her voice. “Things have been a bit grim, but where there’s life, there’s hope.”
“That’s so,” she agreed. “Look, I’m going down to the homesteadings this afternoon to start the week’s rounds. Would you like to come with me?”
My gaze drifted to my handheld. I had been checking my messages in the minutes before Freyda’s call. A rather large number of the messages were from Fergus—several variations on the tune of his comm and the fact that I had not returned it, no doubt. Since I had last seen it in bits and pieces in the Consul’s living room, I was beginning to think that it might be a prudent move to try a change of scenery.
“Why, thank you, Freyda! That’d be perfect. We can catch up.”
Freyda was as kind as ever. She opted for nav but no autopilot so that I wouldn’t feel pressured to make small talk for the entire journey. I dived right into the important stuff, using my new blunt-and-direct mode. “You and Lanuri. Progress?”
Her face was calm, her tone lighthearted. “You are aware, Ms. Delarua, that government officials are not encouraged to fraternize with colleagues. It might interfere with efficiency. What they do at the end of the assignment is, of course, their own business.”
“Entirely appropriate,” I agreed.
There was a small silence, and then we burst out laughing.
“I can play Sadiri for about ten minutes, tops,” I admitted. “Longer if I’m really concentrating. So, you guys looking to get married soon after?”
She nodded happily. “Yeah. It’s funny; I didn’t even have to make any moves. Once I started looking at things differently, it all seemed to unfold naturally somehow.”
“How do you attract a Sadiri’s attention?”
“Sound intelligent,” she answered. “Tell them something they didn’t know or hadn’t figured out for themselves. How do you know you’ve got their attention?”
“Intensity like whoa,” I said immediately. “They drop everything and listen to you and then come up with all kinds of reasons to keep you around. How do you know they like you?”
“Unusually touchy. Brushing fingers when handing you a cup or a handheld. Protective, solicitous behavior. Very quick to catch you if you stumble or lose footing, very concerned if you’re unwell. Personal distance decreases significantly. Then one day, next thing you know, he’s holding your hand and gazing into your eyes,” she concluded dreamily.
But do you ever kiss? I wanted to ask that really badly. I just smiled instead.
She smiled too. “And you?”
“Better ask when my assignment’s formally over, Dr. Mar,” I said archly. Then I fell silent, remembering the number of days till then and also the unknown number of days before the Consul’s miracle would arrive. Might arrive.
When we reached Lanuri’s office, he greeted me with unexpected warmth, clasping my hand and saying, “It is fitting that you should be here for the memorial.”
“What memorial?” I asked, confused.
He looked slightly concerned. “You have not received word? The rescue has been called off. Increased seismic activity in the area has made it impossible for excavation to continue safely.”
The unopened messages from Fergus, I thought. The room slid slowly to one side, and I was surprised to find that Freyda was gripping me by the shoulders. I shrugged her off.
“I’m all right,” I insisted. I took a step and swayed. “I just need to sit down for a bit,” I amended in a small voice.
They were very attentive. They took me to Lanuri’s residence and made me sit still and drink tea. It was all I could do. My brain simply shut off, refusing to accept any possibility that I would never again hear Lian’s laugh and Joral’s earnest voice.
The following day, I was at a Sadiri memorial service or, as I preferred to call it, a funeral for bodies that were very likely still breathing. Two memory trees were planted before the Local Council Hall in a ceremony that was a curious mix of Cygnian and Sadiri traditions, and then the attendees retired to the Hall for a few solemn minutes of awkward interaction.
I found it indecent. “They could have waited,” I said angrily.
Nasiha, who didn’t even know about the Consul’s call for help, also found it unseemly, but she tried to
excuse it. “The chances of survival are now negligible,” she stated, her morose expression suggesting that she disliked the sound of her words even more than I did. “Furthermore, the council was of the opinion that delaying the customary rituals would give the event more weight than is warranted.”
“It’s the settlement’s first funeral,” I murmured.
“Yes. And there will be more, in time. That is the point. These young men must learn to face death again.”
“But couldn’t they at least have waited till we knew for sure?” I demanded.
She shrugged. “They have no reason to believe in miracles.”
“I do,” I said fiercely.
There was, however, a limit to the sympathy Nasiha and I could share. Thank God for Freyda Mar, because we exchanged a single glance across the crowded room, made our excuses, then went together to a private corner, fell into each other’s arms, and wept silently for fifteen minutes or so.
“How did you know?” I asked her when we had both composed ourselves.
She smiled ruefully. “Lanuri says that when I want a hug but I’m afraid to ask for it, I clasp my hands behind my back. You’ve been gripping your wrists for the past hour now.”
I had been trying to avoid even the sight of Dllenahkh, afraid to ask him if he had any news, afraid to glimpse something in his eyes that might destroy my hope, but when she said that, I had a yearning to go find him. He seemed to know I wanted him, because the moment I looked in his direction, he disengaged himself from a knot of grim-faced councillors and came toward me.
“Delarua,” he said abruptly, “where are you staying?”
“Dr. Lanuri’s residence. I’m going back to the City with Freyda tomorrow, when she’s finished her rounds,” I replied.
“Come back with me now.”
“Okay,” I said immediately.
On the way there he explained to me what needed to be done. “Naraldi does not wish to involve himself directly, nor does he wish the Consulate to be implicated in any way. I have the reassembled comm. He wants you to take it and wait at your apartment. Someone will come to you at the designated time.”
I looked at him, looked at him properly, and dared to allow myself to feel.
“When did you sleep last?” I asked quietly.
He glanced aside in that way he had when he was hesitating to speak the truth. “I—”
How many times had we slept in a groundcar on autopilot? Too many times. I touched the controls, darkening the windows and adjusting the seating. “Take a nap. We can talk when we get to the City.”
We lay down side by side. Dllenahkh started to move, hesitated, and then reached out to place his hand gently on the side of my face, reminding me of the time he had helped heal me. Instead of the expected delicate brush, a heavy warmth poured into my brain. It felt like nothing I’d experienced with him before.
“What are you doing?” I asked, holding very still.
“Making sure you won’t forget anything,” he replied in a near whisper.
I would have questioned him further, but before I could, I fell into a deep sleep.
And so, the following day, the eighth day after meeting with the Consul, I nervously waited in my apartment, holding the comm in my hand. I didn’t know what to expect. Would there be a mundane buzz at my door? Would the heavens open and the earth shake? I knew neither who nor how in this adventure, and the only thing that was keeping me sitting expectantly in my living room was faith.
The reality was somewhere between the two extremes of my imagination.
First there was a voice, a very ordinary voice except for the fact that it seemed to be coming out of thin air. It said simply, “Naraldi sent me.”
Then I blinked—and there it was. I jumped out of my chair. It was too bizarre to inspire awe. I had never seen a Sadiri mindship in real life, but I knew their look, something like a manta ray, very smooth and dark and naturally designed to slip through any tear in the fabric of space-time. Not only was this like nothing I had imagined, I was sure it was like nothing anyone had imagined. It kept to the oceanic theme, at least, for it resembled the keel of a boat, all carved and sanded wood in the shape of a high, curving bow. But there was no boat, only a tall figure wearing a close-fitting metallic jumpsuit and a helmet, with one hand resting on the wood as if keeping the keel upright. Was there an invisible boat attached? I stared.
“Oh, good. You didn’t scream, or fall down, or run away.” The voice was slightly muffled at the beginning, and then the shining helmet was removed to reveal an equally shining face and a wide, white cloud of hair.
I quickly revised my interpretation of what I was seeing. “I should,” I said reproachfully to the gilded stranger. “You’re naked.”
He looked down nervously, then gave me a stern look. “Don’t scare me like that. I haven’t lost pubic sphincter control since I was twelve.”
“Oh?” I said faintly.
A worried expression came over his face. “That was a joke. Please don’t take me seriously. Pubic sphincter. As if there could be such a thing.” He gave a short, awkward laugh, then shut up and looked at me sheepishly.
The conversation was getting away from me, getting away from any semblance of common sense, in fact, so I tried to bring it back under control. “I’m Grace Delarua. How do you do?” I said, stepping forward and holding out my hand.
The stranger eyed my hand, then looked at me doubtfully. He put his helmet back on, this time with the faceplate open, and reached out to me. “Well, if you’re sure.”
It was only in the moment when the brass-bright skin touched mine that it struck me why this would be a bad idea. Too late. The world vanished. I shut my eyes tightly and tried to scream, but it wasn’t working.
The stranger’s voice rang clearly in my head, sounding disconcertingly like my own tone and rhythm and idiolect. “You can call me Sayr, by the way. I didn’t think you’d want to travel with me. I just came to get the comm so I’d have a point of reference, but this way’s good too.”
“Ahhhhh!” I finally managed to make some noise. It echoed so loudly that I opened my eyes immediately. There was nothing before me but a pure, rich darkness that made me welcome the solid feel of rock under my feet, because without it I would have imagined myself floating in outer space. Suddenly, a glow appeared to my left, making me jump. Sayr’s entire arm had gone luminescent, and he was studying a faint overlay of lines on it. For a bemused instant, I wondered why he was looking at his veins, and then I realized it was a map.
“So this is where you were when you saw the light come through. Hmm. The terrain has changed quite a bit. Would you like to try calling your friends?”
I hesitated: one second to understand that I was on the other side of the world, once more underground in the abandoned city; two seconds to wonder whether Sayr was human or machine or both; and one more second to remember and be grateful for Fergus’s comm still held tightly in my left hand. I turned it on, fumbled with the lit control panel, and selected Lian’s ID.
“Unavailable. Leave a message.”
It wasn’t even Lian’s voice, just the generic recording. I held the comm out mutely to Sayr. His eyes widened and glittered in the dark, reflecting the glow of the comm display.
“I’ve found them,” he said.
The comm went dark as the connection cut out, and for a moment I was convinced I was alone in the dark. Then I told myself not to be silly. As if Sayr would leave me alone in a derelict mine with an active volcano rumbling nearby. That would be irresponsible. He was probably in deep thought or something. I tried to be quiet so as not to disturb him.
His voice rang out so close, so sudden, that I almost fell down in sheer fright. “Sorry I didn’t take you, but it’s easier when there aren’t any collective memories—”
“What? You left me here?” I squeaked. It was too much. I immediately began to hyperventilate.
Bright sunlight seared my vision, and icy air pricked my skin. I gasped and scre
wed up my face, but at least the shock put an end to my dry sobbing. When I was finally able to squint my eyes open again, it was to see Sayr standing close to his keel, one hand in the usual rest position on his transport and the other patting me reassuringly on the shoulder.
“Look,” he urged. “There they are. They’re calling Emergency Services now. Everything will be fine.”
We were on a hill, where exactly I wasn’t sure, but it was cold enough that I knew we were still near the polar regions. There were indeed two figures, tiny in the distance, heartwarmingly familiar and blessedly alive. They sat huddled together, arms around each other. I stopped shivering with cold for a moment to shiver with pure joy.
I had no more time to be sentimental. In another twinkling of an eye, we were back in my living room.
“Thanks for the experience. Sorry I can’t stay longer.” His face went from friendly to serious, and I knew what was coming next.
“Wait!” I wailed. “Before you wipe my memory, can’t I ask you some questions? A question? Just one question, please?”
Sayr paused, eyeing me warily as if suspecting me of employing delaying tactics, which might have been partly true. “What would be the point if you can’t remember the answer anyway?”
“I’d have a sense of satisfaction,” I said, guessing wildly. “That would be enough.”
“Let me hear the question,” he said, still wary.
I took a deep breath. This was my chance to find out the meaning of life.
“Is it true that the Caretakers save people who are essential to the human race?” The words were rushed and inelegant, but I couldn’t risk waiting in case he changed his mind.
Fortunately, the query appeared to interest him. “That’s a complicated question. It has a complicated answer to go with it.”
“That’s fine,” I said encouragingly. I sat down in a chair and raised my hands hopefully, trying to project the image of a supplicant who would be grateful for the merest scrap.
His face relaxed, slightly amused at my eagerness. “I’m going to tell you in such a way that you’ll remember the answer but not the question or the asking of it.”