by Cari Z.
“Although we could if you wanted us too,” Neyarr offered with a smile as they set out.
“I’m fine,” Jason said firmly. “But keep speaking in Perel, please. The more you say, the more my translator will improve its speech recognition.”
“And the more you will be prepared to face Matriarch Jlinn tomorrow,” Garrell added slyly. But they obliged him, pointing out different plants and giving Jason their names, telling him the words for street, path, building, restaurant, and shuttle.
The air was filled with sound. Very little of it was the kind Jason was used to, the low-level hum that came from the complex machinery that powered most of human society. There were animal calls in the night, the chirping of insects, and the rustling of high branches that moved in a wind Jason could barely feel from his position on the ground. He stared up at the sky for a moment. Somewhere up there, Jason knew, were stars. He wondered if he’d ever actually see them from Perelan.
They kept moving along the street, which appeared to be solely for pedestrians. There were plenty of other people walking there as well, but Jason couldn’t make out any distinguishing features in the dim light. The twins had no such problem, greeting almost everyone who went by. They stopped a few times, but no one spoke directly to Jason, and he didn’t feel the need to reach out quite yet, not when he could barely see whom he was speaking to.
“You’re doing fine,” Garrell whispered to Jason after one of their brief interactions.
Jason smiled slightly. “Do I feel nervous to you?”
“Just a bit.” Garrell indicated the door of the next teahouse. They had briefly visited two already, but hadn’t stayed long enough to drink. The teahouses had tunnel entrances that opened out on the street, and the interiors were decidedly intimate and even darker than outside. They smelled incredible, though. “Do you want to try here? There will be fewer people.”
“How do you know that?” Jason asked.
“Because this tea house belongs to Srell. And Srell is not very popular this close to the House of Grenn.”
“She is not a supporter of Grenn’s policies,” Neyarr added. “But her House makes excellent tea. Very spicy.”
“Let’s try it, then.”
True to his word, Srell’s teahouse had only one other Perel in it, and that was the male brewing the tea in a large urn with multiple spigots on the sides. His eyes widened as the trio came inside. “Welcome… brothers.” This Perel was older than the other males that Jason had seen, slightly more drawn, and didn’t look at all pleased to have them in his shop.
“Thank you,” Neyarr said. “Three cups, please.”
“Of course.” The male moved slowly, filling three stoneware cups and placing them on a low counter. Garrell passed the cups around, and the two Perels began to drink instantly, with every sign of enjoyment. Jason held his cup in his hands for a moment, surprised to find that he liked the feel of the heat radiating from it, even though he was sweating inside of his slicker. He closed his eyes and sipped. The spice was intense, not at all mitigated by sweetness. It tickled in his throat and made him want to cough, but he swallowed the urge back.
When he opened his eyes, the unnamed Perel was staring at him intently, as though he had seen him before, but didn’t know where. Jason knew he’d never met this male before in his life. He tried out the word that Matriarch Jlinn had tried so hard to pound into his throat earlier. “Hello.”
The male’s eyebrows rose a little, and Jason realized the harshness of the tea was actually helping him in this case. The male didn’t respond, though, and Jason set the cup down after his first sip.
“He spoke to you,” Garrell said after a moment, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “Are you mute, that you do not respond?”
“I heard nothing,” the male replied calmly, “but the grunt of an animal.”
“We shall leave,” Garrell said in the Federation tongue. His tone was frosty. He and his brother set their cups down as well, and a moment later they were down the tunnel hall and out the door.
“Rude,” Neyarr said, and his voice was very nearly a hiss.
“Not unexpected,” Garrell reminded him, but he looked apologetically at Jason. “I am sorry if that caused you discomfort, though.”
“It didn’t,” Jason replied, and he was being absolutely honest. “If that’s the worst I ever have to deal with, I’ll consider it a win.”
“It won’t be,” Neyarr growled, but Garrell smacked his arm, and he quieted down.
“Not here,” Garrell said.
“Later, then,” Jason agreed. He could tell it wasn’t a subject that either of the twins wanted to discuss, and he was content to let it slip by the wayside for now. Discrimination was inevitable. He only hoped it stayed low-key enough that Ferran didn’t hear about it. The last thing his husband needed right now was something else to worry about.
Chapter Seven
A FEW minutes later, Jason and the twins arrived at the Council House. Before they could reach the audience chamber, they were waylaid by Penelope, looking sharp and calm in bright blue silk. “The Council is currently in session and can’t be disturbed, but your mother is waiting for you in a side chamber.”
The number of mothers Jason had was a little dizzying. “I’ll follow you, then. Is Ferran there?”
“Ferran’s work with Ambassador Howards has finished, and he is awaiting his mother’s pleasure in her private rooms.”
“We’ll go to him,” Neyarr said. He took his brother’s arm and headed away down the hall. Jason turned back to Penelope, who inclined her head slightly and gestured to the right.
“This way.” The rest of their walk—and it was fairly long, down halls that weren’t nearly so elaborately decorated—was a silent one. The slicker became looser and looser on his body, until Jason finally stopped to pull it free. Penelope didn’t say anything; she just waited with a look in her eyes that somehow took the place of a tapping toe. Jason folded the wet fabric into a small roll and straightened his tunic before raising his eyes again. The rest of the walk was mercifully brief.
“Jason!” Giselle was right there the moment the door to the side chamber opened, smiling broadly. She took his arm and pulled him inside. Penelope didn’t follow him. “How was your first night in your new home?”
“Fine.” And even if it hadn’t been, Giselle wasn’t the one Jason was going to be complaining to.
“Good. Grenn and I spoke this morning, and she speaks very well of you. You’ve made a good first impression.”
“That’s what I do.”
“Funny man. Dori wants a look at you.” She made way for her physician, who came out from behind her and cupped Jason’s face impatiently. Jason jerked back, surprised out of his normal imperturbability for a moment.
“Oh, hush. I’m just checking for any sign of allergic reactions,” Dori tutted. “Open your mouth, stick out your tongue, and say ah.”
“No.”
“Close enough. No spots, no discoloration….” He felt Jason’s lymph nodes. “No swelling. Anything else I should know about? Strange reactions to food, loose bowel movements, erectile dysfunction—”
“Stop,” Jason said firmly, pulling Dori’s hands down. “I’m fine. And besides, I’ve only been here for a day. How is that enough time for you to determine whether I’m going to stay healthy in this environment or not?”
“It isn’t,” Dori agreed. “That’s why I’m going to have to examine you on a daily basis for the next little while.”
“Just until you get your feet under you,” Giselle added.
Jason looked back and forth between the two of them. He had the suspicion that he was being effectively tag-teamed into doing something kind of underhanded. “I don’t need a medical checkup every day. Why are you saying that I do?”
“Because,” Giselle said, frowning in annoyance, “I’m operating under very tight constraints. The Council is concerned about the repercussions of our relationship and the ways in which it might affe
ct your smooth transition into Perel society.” She snorted. “Which is a fancy way of saying the Solitarians don’t trust Grenn and me not to issue open invitations to every human in the system now that you’re here, and are doing their damnedest to slow everything down to a crawl.”
Jason raised one eyebrow at her and glanced around, but Giselle waved his concerns away. “Penelope set up a jammer. We can’t be heard electronically, and she’s in the adjoining room, monitoring for life signs creeping a little too close. We can speak freely for now.”
“It’s a bad habit to get into.”
It was Giselle’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Is there some part of your military history that I’m missing, Jason? How much do you know about tradecraft?”
“I was never a spy,” he assured her. “I just pay attention.”
“Good. That might save your life someday.”
Dori, after taking Jason’s pulse, finally let go of him. Jason sat down on one of the strange, organic chairs and looked hard at Giselle. “Do you know something that I need to hear?”
She shook her head firmly. “Just a general warning. Before your arrival, things promised to be difficult here, but the conservative party has come out far more vocally against you than any of us had anticipated. Are you sure you can’t teach tai chi? Meditation isn’t active enough, but maybe yoga? It would be a help.”
“I don’t know either of those.” Inadequacies appearing where Jason had sworn he had none disconcerted him, but he was doing his best to roll with the punches. Although around here, if he threw any punches, he’d probably be arrested. “When is my teaching demonstration scheduled for?”
“The end of the week. It’s solely for the Council and their nearest kin. Do you have something planned for it?” The prospect of Jason teaching martial arts had turned into a particular sticking point for Giselle. While he couldn’t be overtly aggressive, he also couldn’t be too mild, or no one would want to take his classes, and his lack of expertise would shame his mothers. No pressure.
Jason just shrugged. “I plan on performing some kata. I won’t be wielding a sword or tossing around throwing knives, so don’t look so worried.”
Giselle didn’t look at all soothed. “Can you act? You could do a dramatic reading.”
“Stop trying to help, please. It’s going to be fine.” Jason did have an idea of what he could do to make it more interesting, but he hadn’t manufactured the things he needed or even had time to practice yet, and he didn’t want to make a liar out of himself. What he really wanted was his husband’s opinion on his idea. “Where’s Ferran?”
“Still with Grenn, probably.”
“What did you two do today?”
Giselle smiled a little. “You should ask him about that. I think he’s got some questions he wants to run by you. He has a lot to learn about the wider universe.”
“I could be a bigger help to him if we worked with you together,” Jason pointed out. “It’s the same with my classes. He could help me with my pronunciation and with getting around in Berenze, and I could help him learn the nuances of different human cultures.”
Giselle was shaking her head before he finished. “No, Jason. Part of this year is a trial of both of your characters. You have to be able to adequately cope without each other if this is going to work for Perelan. The matriarchs need to know that Ferran won’t be ruled by your opinion when it comes to protecting their interests abroad, and you have to prove your personal integrity and your devotion to your new life without the constant reminder that your husband would provide.”
“So we’re sacrificing both efficiency and effectiveness for the sake of political jealousy.”
“Don’t get snippy with me,” Giselle warned him. “I never promised this would be easy, Jason. You had your first chance to refuse, and you don’t get your last one for another year.”
There was a part of Jason buried deep inside his soul that he didn’t acknowledge very often. It was the part that thrilled when he held a naked blade, the part that woke him up screaming when he was afraid as a child and panting and breathless as an adult. It was the part where he harbored his darkest energies, the kinds of thoughts and feelings that he knew would spell ruin if he ever let them out. It was the primal, burning part of him, the part he usually kept under control with the meditation he hadn’t had time for, and that part was clenched tight like a fist, using ruthless logic to deconstruct the craziness he was getting into and pointing out just how foolish so much of it was.
This part of him flared with resentment that he could barely identify, much less understand. This part of him wanted to take his husband, tell all the interfering parties to fuck off, and fly off into the anonymity provided by hundreds of worlds in a dozen different galaxies.
The rest of him tamped it down, and after a second, Jason could barely feel it pressing at the back of his mind. He didn’t say anything, just stared coolly at Giselle until she sighed. “I’m sorry this is becoming so complicated.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“No, it’s not, but I do understand that it isn’t what you’d like right now.” Suddenly, her usual energy seemed to reinfuse her, and Giselle sat forward. “Being the first to do something is never easy, especially not when so many eyes are on you, watching and assessing every move you make. But when it’s done right, the benefit of your sacrifices to subsequent generations is immeasurable, Jason. This isn’t just for humankind—this isn’t even mostly for humankind. This is for the Perels themselves, to help them modernize and move on in a way that would have been inconceivable when Grenn was a pup.”
Jason smiled a little at her earnestness. “Do you have these pep talks written down somewhere? Do you practice them in the mirror?”
“Damn right I do,” Giselle shot back. “You can never be too prepared, Jason, especially not when it comes to how you go about influencing others. Now, then. Do you feel better?”
Come to think of it, he did feel a little better, the fever in his subconscious cooled somewhat. “Yes.”
“Good.” The pep talk might have continued, but a chime sounded a moment later, and Grenn entered the room, followed by Ferran and Penelope. Jason locked his eyes on his husband, taking in the dispirited slump of his shoulders and his lowered eyes. That simmering fever inside of Jason receded even further as a desire to comfort enveloped him. He wanted to take Ferran into his arms right now and tell everyone else that they needed some time alone, but before he could even move, Grenn was speaking.
“It would please me if you and your entourage would join me at my house for a meal tonight,” Grenn said politely to Giselle.
“We would be honored,” Giselle replied, standing with regal elegance.
“My personal shuttle is waiting for us. All of us,” Grenn added. “We can go together, as a family.”
“That’s very kind of you.”
Jason personally disagreed, but at least by the time they were in the shuttle, he was sitting next to Ferran. His husband wasn’t looking at him, but he did lean into Jason’s side, and when Jason took his hand and squeezed, Ferran squeezed back instantly. He barely loosened his grip for the rest of the trip back to the house.
DINNER AS a family apparently included eating with the entire House of Grenn in the audience chamber, and there was no chance for Jason to eat more than a few bites of something that tasted like an overcooked mushroom in vinegar between questions from his youngest relatives and gamely practicing his Perel with them. Apparently his pronunciation was a little better, because Grennson and three other small pups were throwing new words at Jason faster than his translator could make them out by the time Grenn called an end to the meal.
Then there were the ritual good nights, which Jason rushed through, a few minutes of necessary ribbing from the twins about the two of them being ready for bed, and finally, finally, Jason and Ferran were alone in their den.
And Jason had no idea what to say. How was your day? was the standard, he knew, but asking that had
always seemed to piss Blake off more than it gave Jason credit for showing interest. He finally settled on “Are you all right?”
It seemed to be the right thing, because a moment later, Ferran was in his arms. “I don’t know anything,” Ferran rumbled disconsolately. “Nothing about the proper way to greet delegations, or how to say hello to them based upon rank, or what the first topic of a formal but unofficial conversation should be…. It is so hard to remember it all!”
“Is that what you went through with Giselle?”
“And with Matriarch Jlinn. And Matriarch Hrekk.”
“Who is Matriarch Hrekk?”
“She works with the other delegations, the Dorn and the Mazi.” Ferran’s quills sharpened and feathered rapidly for a moment. “She is very demanding.”
“I know the feeling.”
Ferran pulled back a little. “Are you all right?”
Jason thought about his day, about the small moments of strangeness and the odd sensation of being treated like a schoolboy again, but none of that was really material. “I’m fine.” He kissed Ferran and then said, “Show me your studio.”
Immediately, Ferran’s eyes brightened, and his quills softened to silky smoothness again. “It is a beautiful place. Come.” He led the way into a large, dark room that lit slowly from the ground up. The walls were painted like the ones in the Council chamber, but these were done in bright greens and blues and yellows, and the patterns embedded in the color weren’t so much defined as hinted at—whimsical swirls and drifts within a mesmerizing whole.
Jason turned a slow circle, vaguely aware of Ferran removing protective cloths from several tables and an easel. There was the skylight, which was still mostly dark and would probably stay that way even when the sun rose. Jason resolved to take Ferran up into the garden sometime soon and watch the sunrise with him. Even if it was just a bare change of color in the blurry sky, it would be something that they could do together that would remind Jason of home.