Trickster

by J. C. Andrijeski

  “Are you threatening me, Terry?”

  The lightness evaporated from Terian’s face.

  That time, the anger in his voice was undisguised.

  “It got you to look at me, didn’t it?” he said.

  The black-haired seer flinched, surprise wafting off his light.

  Turning for real then, he stared at Terian’s face, his eyebrow quirking in a silent question. Terian felt his jaw harden under that stare, despite the caution he saw on the other’s face.

  The caution reached the other’s light, as well, along with a softer, probing tendril that examined Terian like a whisper of soft feathers. As he scanned, the black-haired seer sank back into his velvet-padded chair, folding his muscular arms across an even more muscular chest.

  Terian found himself looking at that body, and at that angular face.

  He could not seem to stop himself from looking, even now, when he was furious with him. Sex pain rippled through his light, pulling at his gut, causing him to notice every detail in the eyes and face in front of him. That dark narrow mouth firmed as he watched, and Terian found himself thinking of things he’d felt from that mouth, things he’d seen that mouth do, and his pain worsened.

  If Dehgoies noticed, it did not show on his face.

  Instead, the dark-haired seer’s scrutiny intensified, the longer he looked at him across the table.

  Avoiding that stare, Terian looked down at the table itself, at its dark wood, at the two rocks glasses on red cocktail napkins. Both of them needed new drinks, but Terian hadn’t seen the waitress for a few minutes, perhaps because a group of businessmen had just filled a longer table on the other side of the hotel barroom.

  “What is it?” Dehgoies said finally. “Did I offend you? Really?”

  Terian felt his jaw harden more.

  “If you have to ask me that question,” he said lightly, his finger tracing the rim of his glass without him looking up. “I suspect you already know the answer, my friend––”

  “Or I don’t,” the other said at once. “Know the answer. Which is why I’m asking.”

  Terian exhaled in annoyance.

  Folding his own arms inside the dark brown suit he wore, he re-settled his weight in the velvet-padded chair, unconsciously mirroring both the movements and the pose of the man seated across from him.

  Those glass-like eyes noticed.

  Terian felt his chest clench when he saw the other male follow his movements minutely, forming opinions, making judgments, drawing conclusions––seeing him, beyond where others saw him. It had struck Terian more than once that Dehgoies Revik saw him more clearly and more accurately than anyone had ever seen him.

  Even his parents.

  Even Galaith.

  Terian hated and loved, feared and desired the depth and intensity of that gaze.

  More than that, he hated and loved the knowledge and understanding he sensed behind it.

  He’d never met anyone he couldn’t lie to before.

  He’d never been with anyone he couldn’t manipulate, and get away with it.

  Dehgoies was too smart, too insightful, to play those games with.

  They were too much alike.

  Terian hated him for that.

  He hated him and loved him and wanted to kill him for that… and he desperately needed him because of it, and he hated that, too.

  That intelligence and insight in his friend both relaxed him, in that he didn’t have to bother with fronts or complicated maneuverings… and stressed him out constantly, in that some part of Terian could not stop trying. Moreover, it embarrassed him, for whenever he did try, he inevitably failed, and saw that failure clearly in his friend’s eyes and light.

  He found himself buying time, even now, as he considered how to reply.

  As he did, his eyes glanced over the dark lines of the suit his friend wore, how the jacket hugged and emphasized his broad shoulders and narrow waist, how the tie was the perfect shade of gray and black to bring out his eyes. Dehgoies wore handmade Italian shoes, a subtle diamond in his tie pin, a watch that probably cost more than the car in which they’d been driven here, a tailored shirt to go with the tailored suit.

  His friend had expensive taste.

  He also had taste, something that didn’t always go with the desire to spend a lot on clothes.

  Dehgoies’ black hair had been cut recently, and apart from those high cheekbones, and the unusually colorless eyes, he could almost be human in this part of the world.

  Which was good, because that’s what both of them were pretending to be.

  Dehgoies’ gold cufflinks wore the mark of the Org, as did his tie pin, but both things were too subtle for any but one of their own to identify.

  Terian found it ironic in a way, that they had to worry more here––in New York––about being exposed as sexual partners than they did about being exposed for being non-human.

  Homosexuality was still illegal in New York City.

  For the same reason, he switched to his friend’s mind.

  I want to fuck you right now, he sent. It’s all I can think about… and you’re staring at female humans. Eye-fucking their asses. Wanting their mouths on you. If you desired a female so badly tonight, why did you invite me here?

  His friend’s dark eyebrow rose elegantly over one eye.

  He didn’t answer immediately, but continued to gauge Terian’s face.

  Terian was already fidgeting under that stare when Dehgoies’ narrow mouth pursed, just before his mind rose in Terian’s.

  Are we exclusive now?

  Dehgoies’ thoughts were blunt, as blunt and as deep as his physical voice.

  You didn’t tell me you wanted that, Terry, he added in a faint rebuke. If you want us to be exclusive, then––

  I didn’t say that––

  But you’re implying it, the other cut in. So obviously something’s changed.

  Nothing’s changed––

  Dehgoies clicked at him, shaking his dark head, that narrow mouth firming.

  I can’t follow rules if I don’t know what those rules are, brother, he sent.

  When Terian didn’t answer right away, Dehgoies shifted in his seat, folding one leg elegantly over the other. Those glass-like eyes never left Terian’s, and when he next spoke, his thoughts and light showed an utter lack of interest in banter.

  Just tell me if that’s what you want. He prodded Terian gently with his light. Sometimes you bring others into our bed, Dehgoies reminded him. Including females. But now I’ve offended you by looking. So which is it now? What do you want now?

  Pain coiled through Terian’s light, bringing a harder pain to his gut.

  Just looking at that fucking mouth was distracting him.

  He wanted to fuck him.

  Right now, he also wanted to hit him. He wanted to hit him, and order him down on his knees and hit him again, right in that fucking mouth.

  He didn’t want to be in this bar.

  He didn’t want those glass-like eyes staring at him, judging him… seeing him in all of his weakness, seeing past what everyone else saw.

  Terian could feel the other react to his pain, even before that angular face softened.

  Terry, he sent, his thoughts a whisper. I’m not going to say no.

  Bullshit, Terian responded, unthinking. You want females. You always want fucking females. Even when they’re only worms, you want them. You’ve got a goddamned fetish.

  Pain rippled off the other’s light, a mental flinch.

  Still, he paused, considering, before he answered with words.

  It may be a fetish–– he began, cautious.

  Terian let out a disbelieving grunt.

  I am seer, Dehgoies sent, his thoughts warning that time, and firm. I want light. The bodies might be a preference, but in the end… they don’t matter, brother.

  Terian let out another grunt, one that didn’t hide his opinion of that, either.

  Bullshit, he added, unnecessarily. Bullshit, br
other Revik.

  Dehgoies sent a heated pulse of warmth, one that made Terian instantly hard, one that twisted in his gut, making his separation pain worse.

  Flinching in reflex, Terian squirmed in his seat, feeling his annoyance turn to anger.

  Dehgoies noticed that, too.

  His thoughts grew even softer.

  Why are you speaking to me like a human? Dehgoies sent. If we seers cannot be open with one another on such things, who can be? Do you not trust me?

  Terian frowned.

  He found himself thinking about the question, in spite of himself.

  When the silence stretched, Dehgoies prodded Terian again with that maddeningly sensual and contradictory light of his. Dehgoies’ light had fascinated Terian since the first time he saw him. That light was utterly uncompromising, disturbingly complex, strong and clear… and disarmingly soft, at least when he wanted it to be.

  “Tell me, brother,” Dehgoies said aloud, his voice soft. “Do not be afraid of me.”

  Terian stared at him at that, even as he felt his skin warm.

  He was afraid of him, he realized.

  Maybe he always had been afraid of him.

  The thought was maddening.

  It was maddening, frustrating, infuriating, embarrassing.

  But like most things Dehgoies, he felt powerless to do anything about it.

  Six

  Do I Know You?

  Guorum Work Camp

  Nearest city: Manaus, Brazil

  November 27, 1978

  For a long-feeling moment, I could not answer him.

  Realizing I was still staring at Varlan’s pale, violet-tinged irises, I jerked my eyes off the older, gray-haired seer, feeling my chest clench.

  Brother Terian? A psychopath?

  Varlan could not be serious.

  Galaith would not put a psychopath in charge of the vast majority of his military strength.

  No leader would do such a thing. A military and political genius like Galaith certainly would not do it.

  I continued to look surreptitiously at Varlan after he said it, a faint suspicion now growing in my chest. Was it possible Varlan was jealous of the other seer?

  On the surface, Varlan acted like he lived far above the petty rivalries and political maneuverings I witnessed in many of the Org leaders. He seemed to even lack ambition, in the normal ways I saw it play out.

  Now I found myself wondering, though.

  Then something else occurred to me.

  Did Varlan have a sexual interest in me?

  I’d heard the elder seer had a preference for male bodies, but he’d never tried anything with my light before, despite the mentor-student relationship he seemed to be actively cultivating with me since Galaith put me under his command.

  What other possible explanations could there be, though?

  Was this a test of some kind? Another one?

  A head game, perhaps, to assess my loyalty?

  Perhaps they wanted to see whether I would align myself with Varlan over Terian? Or perhaps they simply wanted to ensure I would not overreact to sexual and psychological stressors, or perceived rivalries among my betters?

  My frown deepened as I turned over possibilities.

  There remained so much I didn’t know… so much I wasn’t privy to.

  Sometimes, I really hated the limitations of my position within the Org.

  It was maddening.

  “You worry yourself needlessly, brother Quay,” Varlan had said to me, the last time I grumbled about this within his hearing.

  His eyes had contained a faint twinkle when I looked at them.

  “Your skills are valued,” Varlan added warmly. “Far more than you know, brother. You have a unique place among those in the field. Do not let your outward rank fool you into thinking otherwise.”

  Smiling more, the older male had added,

  “See it as a test, if it helps you endure obscurity. A means of building humility… something that comes far less easily to those so naturally gifted.”

  I’d forced a thin-lipped smile at that.

  Truthfully, the older seer’s words just pissed me off.

  Varlan only laughed, obviously feeling that.

  “You are too impatient, brother Quay,” he’d chided, smiling even more humorously. “Did it not occur to you that I was trying to tell you something? Not only using soft words to soothe your ruffled feathers?”

  I hadn’t answered him.

  The seer’s words had unnerved me, though.

  Mostly because I’d felt the truth of them, and had been unsure how to react.

  Varlan was the first superior I’d ever had to drop such hints in my hearing, who implied my position in the hierarchy might have more nuance than it appeared. He’d hinted outright, at least once, that my being passed over might mark me with favor, rather than the reverse.

  But was Varlan lying to me, with these hints of his? Was it simply another means to control me? To bring me to heel? Or were the higher tiers really watching me, biding their time to move me into some pre-defined role, perhaps once I had matured in some way?

  I had no answer to that question.

  I could not help wondering, but I felt like a sucker for wondering.

  Now, standing on the packed dirt outside a work camp military bunker, I wondered again.

  Again, I felt like a sucker for wondering.

  When I next glanced at the seer with the iron-gray hair, I saw a faint smile touch that scarred mouth. From his eyes, I knew he had heard at least some of my thoughts.

  “You are very young still, brother Quay,” Varlan murmured. “Patience. Your time will come.”

  I only nodded, retracting still more of my light.

  The other male’s words didn’t reassure me.

  I knew it was a common Org tactic, to spy on their own agents. The upper tiers tested different segments and individuals within their hierarchies often. They did it to learn our stress points, our specific triggers. They did it to discern what truly motivated us.

  The upper-tier seers all fought one another at the top of the Pyramid, too.

  They fought one another more fiercely than those of us at the bottom did.

  It was possible Varlan and Terian could be political rivals.

  If they were, Varlan was playing a dangerous game. He risked a lot in telling me his opinion of Terian’s mind. Particularly given that we were about to enter Terian’s construct, and therefore a segment of his mind.

  In the process, I might be forced to divulge what I knew, willingly or not.

  So, either Terian himself was in on this test… or Varlan did not fear Terian nearly as much as he perhaps should.

  Either way, why were they involving me in this game?

  Gazing back towards the compound, I found myself studying Terian’s face anew.

  Perhaps it was my imagination, but I could almost see it there, that wrongness to which Varlan referred. Something there didn’t quite connect with the handsome, relaxed, confident face I saw on the surface. After what Varlan had said, my mind now extracted and interpreted a subtle spark of crazy in those amber-colored eyes.

  Or perhaps not crazy, precisely, but certainly some element of instability, only thinly veiled behind the ease of that full-lipped smile.

  Well, smirk, really.

  Really, it was more of a smirk than a smile.

  As soon as I noticed it, however, that spark seemed to vanish, shift… perhaps melt away. It was as if the auburn-haired seer changed the frequency in which he operated, letting that less public-oriented version of himself recede to the background.

  It didn’t occur to me until later that perhaps Terian knew of that faint stutter in his light, that he may have learned to work around it, particularly when it grew visible in the wrong environment.

  At the time, it struck me only that brother Terian may have caught my stare.

  And that he may have caught some portion of my thoughts.

  I shifted my eyes
and light from his, feeling my face warm, and not only from the stifling climate. I needn’t have bothered, however.

  Whatever that spark or stutter had been, imagined or not, when I next looked at Terian, I could see no trace of it. Any hint of that wrongness disappeared so completely, I could not find it at all, no matter how hard I looked.

  A few seconds later, I found myself dismissing Varlan’s warning altogether.

  “Psychopath” was a strong word for someone who might be slightly strange due to the unique and intense frequency of their light.

  I had zero doubt Terian might act eccentric from time to time, given that he clearly carried a significantly higher voltage than most seers could conceivably carry on their own. Given the limits of our aleimic structures, most seers could not maintain even half of what I saw sparking and buzzing around Terian’s lean, muscular form.

  I had heard stories of such seers as this.

  It was said there were seers so powerful, their own aleimic structures drove them a bit mad, simply because they could carry so much more light than a normal Sark.

  It made them odd, went the consensus.

  For the first time, it hit me just how powerful the seer in front of me really was. As one of the very few seers who reported directly to Galaith, Terian was light years above me within the chain of network command.

  Even among that handful of elites in Galaith’s inner circle, Terian occupied a different place than the rest of those whose names I had heard whispered. Terian alone didn’t have a direct affiliation to any one of the branches of the Human Protection Authority.

  Rather, he operated under multiple aliases, floating between them.

  Rumors placed him also within the private sector, including the upper tiers of Black Arrow, along several human governments.

  Not since Dehgoies had anyone held a position comparable to Terian.

  Well, no one whose name I had ever heard.

  Varlan reported to Terian, too.

  Ostensibly, at least.

  “You’re late,” Terian said.

  He lifted a bottle I had missed with my physical eyes, raising it from where it rested by his left hip, the one that leaned into the wooden doorframe.