Mind Over Psyche

by Karina L. Fabian

  “Deal.” They shook on it. “You ready to go find the baths?”

  Joshua rose. “Oh, yeah. We’re both pretty skanky.”

  “‘Skanky?’”

  “Hey, that’s an old one. My mom uses it all the time.”

  Chapter 7

  Tasmae left the two brooding over the last of their meals. Leinad would not have approved, but he did not know Deryl like she did. She trusted Deryl, as the Miscria had always trusted the Ydrel. Still, it bothered her that Deryl refused to answer her questions until he’d taken care of his friend. In truth, he seemed as confused about his arrival as they were. Perhaps Leinad was right that the answers could only be found in the Remembrance.

  She reached out with her senses, determined where Salgoud and Leinad stood conversing, and headed in that direction. The earthquake had stilled under her care, and she thought she had a few days’ respite. If Deryl could advise Salgoud directly on the strategies she had tried to adapt, she could take time to experience the Remembrance. Not that she had a choice, but she would do it on her terms.

  She found them, as expected, leaning against a wall in the outer courtyard where many of the warriors busied themselves with sword practice. Salgoud’s eyes were on his troops, taking in flaws of step or swing, noting improvements, but even so, he kept his attention on what Leinad was telling him—about the Ydrel and probably her, no doubt. She did not interrupt. She would know what she needed to know soon enough.

  Leinad pinned her with his stare. She felt his urgency, the call of the Remembrance—

  And I shall, she agreed. But that is not my only duty now, and I cannot allow it to monopolize me. She shared with him a hint of the obligations pulling on her: the preparations for war, the increased needs of Kanaan, neither of which she could tend to while under the influence of the Remembrance. Add the sudden, mysterious arrival of the Ydrel—

  That is why the Remembrance Calls! he protested.

  Salgoud, whom they’d included in their conversation, added that Ocapo and his everyn, Spot, understood their roles well enough that they could do without her for much of the training. For whatever reason, the Ydrel is here. Let him teach us directly, Salgoud added.

  She projected warmth—how often they thought alike. She told Leinad that she would take time to make the arrangements with Deryl, and then—if Kanaan were still—she would give herself to the memories of Gardianju. She felt his sullen assent, turned to go.

  Salgoud pushed her into the middle of a sparring circle. She managed to duck and roll to avoid getting smacked by a practice blade. She came up in a crouch, her short sword out of the scabbard she wore and a dagger from her hairpiece in her other hand. The two sparring warriors hesitated only a moment before turning on her. She ducked below the swing of one, scored on the side of the other, barreled between them, and spun toward Leinad and Salgoud. She swung her sword toward the unarmed Leinad, forcing Salgoud to defend him, while with her other hand, she jabbed her dagger toward the warrior’s gut. He anticipated the move, blocked it, and the three stood, weapons locked, until neither could stand it and both broke into snickers.

  Leinad, still flat against the wall, gave them the full brunt of his displeasure.

  You know what happens when you bring a Remembrance into a ‘war’ zone; besides, we need to work on your reflexes, she chided lightly as she backed more carefully away from her general and left the practice grounds.

  The Ydrel and his friend had had enough privacy, she’d decided. It was time they spoke with her.

  She shivered with excitement. Only a few Miscria were ever blessed with the ability to contact the Ydrel. Her mentor hadn’t been one of them. Her talent had focused on Kanaan—detecting the changing weather patterns, the unrest caused as the Season of War approached and the planet Barin shone too bright and too large in their sky. No one understood why their world suffered as the other neared. Perhaps Deryl knew; she would ask now that she’d thought of it. Nonetheless, her mentor had been especially adept at regulating the tides, calming the earthquakes, and redirecting Kanaan’s life blood so that when the pressures were too high and it sought release through the violent bloodletting of burning stone, it was done in areas where damage to life was minimal. At least she had taught Tasmae that much before she was killed by the traitor the Barins now called Alugiac the Prophet.

  Prophet, Tasmae thought, her anger washing away her excitement. The only prophecy he’d brought was one of doom. He had once been Kanaan, a brilliant warrior healer—and her parents’ best friend. He had assisted with Tasmae’s birth and had tended her along with the other warriors in their group. She remembered him and her father trading amused glances when she would run up to him to demand a healing of some cut or bruise she’d gotten in practice, only to run back to the practice ground to get injured again. Once a lapse in attention had made her drop her guard and receive a blow that had knocked her senseless. Her mother had scolded her, but Alugiac had come to Tasmae’s defense, reminding her mother of the time he had healed her of a concussion. However, he’d also recognized there was more to Tasmae’s “lapse” than carelessness; not long afterward, her Miscria talent overwhelmed her. He had taken her to the elderly Miscria himself.

  At least they didn’t live to see him change, she consoled herself. Alugiac had last been seen in the thick of the battle that had killed her parents, healing friend and foe alike. Then he was gone. The Season of War ended, and they scoured the battlefield yet never found him. The next Season of War, he reappeared, leading a Barin army on a sneak attack. Their target: to destroy the Miscria and thus doom Kanaan.

  Tasmae frowned. A group of warriors passing her in the hall picked up the grim nature of her reverie and gave her a wide berth, but lost in her memory, she didn’t notice. The Barins had killed her mentor, but they hadn’t killed her, and they’d paid dearly for their error. Tasmae’s talent had come upon her later than it did for most children, and she’d spent the bulk of her childhood learning from her warrior parents. She had a great deal of skill and a natural ability to see beyond what her senses told her, and to use her talents in unique ways.

  Seven of her friends had died trying to protect her that day as they fought their way out of the city. When the last Kanaan had dashed out, the door closing on the enemy’s fingers and toes, Tasmae had pressed her hands against the building, drawn on the power of her world, and sent a command. The building trembled and collapsed in on itself, crushing everyone inside, burying her dead friends and dear mentor.

  She would protect Kanaan and her people against any threat, even if that threat was Deryl and his friend.

  *

  “These are the baths. Hope you don’t have privacy issues,” Deryl said.

  “Nah. I’m fine,” Joshua replied as he surveyed the room. It resembled a locker room—if one grew out of a humongous plant. Josh eyed the walls of hexagonal shelves as he sat on a long, flat mushroom and pulled off his shoes. “Those are kind of weird. Like the honeycomb in a beehive.”

  “What’s the matter? Scared the laundry bees will get you?” Deryl teased as he pulled a towel from a shelf and replaced it with his shirt. He brought the towel to his face. It felt soft as a flower petal, but thick and sturdy. He expected it to smell like lilac, but instead it had a basic non-scent of clean clothes.

  “Laundry bees? You’re kidding, right?”

  Deryl laughed at the trepidation in his friend’s voice. “I’m sure they’re too busy to bother with you.”

  Joshua paused, his shirt dangling in one hand. “Did you just pun?”

  “I don’t pun.” Deryl said with complete seriousness then murmured, “I’m stung by the accusation.”

  He felt Josh’s surprise, quickly replaced by amusement. “Arrgh! Who are you, and what have you done with my friend?” He finished undressing, and wrapped a towel around his middle. “Wish I had a change of clothes. So, where are the showers?”

 
; “No showers. Communal baths. Like ancient Rome or something. Hope that’s not too weird for you.”

  “Just as long as we don’t run into any laundry bees,” Joshua quipped as they headed across the room and through the next door.

  Two steps out of the doorway, they stopped. Joshua let out an appreciative whistle as they scanned the “baths.”

  They had passed out of the plant part of the keep and into the part within the mountain. The large cave was illuminated by some kind of phosphorescent moss on the walls, covering everything in a shimmering shade of near-twilight blue. Wide, flat-topped stalagmites served as stools or tables around a deep pool more suited for a gym than a bath. Above it, stalactites hung, condensation dripping off them and into the pool. The sound and the ripples caused by the drops were both peaceful and entrancing. Despite the size of the cavern, it was pleasantly warm and just a little steamy.

  “Whoa,” Joshua breathed.

  “Like their idea of a tub?” Deryl smirked at his friend.

  “What? That? It’s bigger than the swimming pool at SK-Mental. Where’s the soap?”

  “Don’t need any. There’s some kind of microbes or something that eat the dirt and oils.”

  “Really? Are you sure it’s safe?”

  Deryl rolled his eyes at him. “Only one way to find out!” He threw off his towel and dove in.

  It felt like swimming in Perrier. The bubbles tickled him so that he came up laughing. He took a huge breath and ducked under, rubbing and fluffing his hair with his fingers to get the water all over his scalp, ridding it of the sweat and dirt of the past couple of days. Then he surfaced for a breath, and ducked under again, letting the water drag his hair back. When he surfaced, he saw Joshua staring doubtfully at the frothy water around him. “Come on!” He laughed. “It’s not acid. It’s…effervescent!” He swept his arm, splashing his wary friend.

  Joshua didn’t flinch, but he didn’t jump in, either. He stood at the edge and dragged a foot through the water. “How deep is it?”

  “I don’t know,” Deryl replied as he treaded water. He’d rather carelessly dived in head first, but hadn’t touched the bottom. One stroke had pulled him to the top, but he hadn’t tried to dive any deeper. “Eight, ten feet. Maybe more. Why?”

  “There a shallow end?”

  Deryl started to ask him why it would matter, when it occurred to him. “Oh, right. Boy genius can’t swim.”

  Tasmae walked in, her bare feet silent against the mossy floor. Like Joshua and him, she was unclothed, but unlike them, she carried her towel loosely in one hand. Not even her long hair covered up her figure; her rich dark tresses were pulled up in an elaborate bun held together by the unusual hairpiece.

  The words he intended to tease Joshua with caught in his throat. His awareness narrowed to just her.

  He heard Joshua’s yelp and a large splash.

  “Josh!” Deryl moved to rescue his friend, but Joshua had already clawed his way to the surface and was struggling to the edge. Tasmae leaned down to offer her hand, but he waved them both off.

  “I’m fine!” He sputtered, as he hooked one arm over the edge. He coughed and hacked water and kept his face averted.

  Tasmae squatted beside him. “So you can swim?”

  “Yes! No. Sort of. Not well. I sink like a stone.” He paused to cough again, but nonetheless refused to look her way. “My throat is burning! What kind of stupid baths are these?”

  Deryl felt Tasmae’s confusion—what other kind of baths are there?—but to Joshua, she said, “It’s not meant to be drunk. Did you swallow much?”

  “No.”

  “Then I’ll get you something to soothe your throat, and meet you in the shallow end. Or there are smaller baths if you so prefer.”

  She stood to go. Deryl, too, did his best not to watch and instead concentrated on his still hacking friend. “You okay?”

  “You could have told me the baths were co-ed,” he snarled.

  “I didn’t know. She said they were empty for awhile. I thought it’d be just us. Besides, what’s it matter? You’re in love with Sachiko.”

  Joshua gaped at him as if he’d said something incredibly clueless. “All the more reason for me to get out of this tub—and considering the suspicion people have for us right now, you should, too. To wash my hair—I just duck under?”

  “Yeah. Shouldn’t take long, with your hair so short.”

  Still holding the edge, Joshua took a breath and submerged.

  Deryl’s arms had tired of treading water. He hung onto the side and waited until Joshua surfaced. “You know, they don’t think like that here,” he said. “I mean, a body is a body.”

  “Yeah, well, we’re not from here, remember? I’m pretty certain that guy in brown at our table isn’t going to forget that. Have you?”

  Deryl started to protest, then thought about Leinad’s glares—and his own reaction to seeing Tasmae. “I’d better get your towel,” he said.

  “Good. ‘Cause I’m using yours.”

  *

  Joshua waited until Deryl had dived under, then checked to room to see if Tasmae was around, trying to keep his eyes at floor level. She’d apparently gone off to fetch him something for his throat. He didn’t know where he could go without an escort, but he did not want to be in the same room with a naked woman. He had enough to confess as it was.

  Seeing the area clear, he pulled himself up, snagged Deryl’s towel, and strode to the lockers. If nothing else, he could dress and wait there.

  What if she’s in the locker room? he thought, then shoved down his panic. I’ll just ask for privacy. Even if they don’t understand lust, they have to have some concept of privacy, right?

  He stepped through the weird door to find two everyn circling the room. He froze at the threshold. What? Co-species as well as co-ed?

  A young man in a colorful vest over a beige shirt and pants rose from where he lounged. “You are Joshua?” He spoke with Tasmae’s accent—Deryl’s accent.

  “Yeah…?”

  The stranger nodded, his eyes moving over Joshua. “She said you had the color of rich earth. I am Ocapo, Bondfriend to—” He made a piercing cry followed by a warble, so Joshua guessed he was talking about the tiny dragon over their heads. “But you may call him Spot.” He made a second sound. “—is not bonded, but serves with us. Tasmae has given me your language and asked us to befriend you.”

  “Okay,” Joshua said slowly. “Uh, can I dress first?”

  *

  Deryl retrieved Joshua’s towel, flinging the sopping thing onto the ground, then swam the length of the pool. He concentrated only on how his strokes cut through the water, trying to decide if the water really was more viscous than regular water or if it was just his imagination. He did not want to think about Leinad’s distrust, Joshua’s worry—or his reaction to seeing Tasmae.

  But when he turned around to head back to the shallow end and saw Tasmae lounging there, he knew evading the problem wouldn’t help. At least she was up to her neck in the dark water.

  He swam underwater until his fingers brushed the bottom, then surfaced and walked the rest of the way. The edge was lined with seats, and he took one not far from hers.

  “Joshua decided to go in,” he told her.

  She nodded in that odd way they had, but didn’t open her eyes. She sent him the image of a young man with wild hair, a large grin, and an everyn on his shoulder, and he understood that Ocapo and the everyns had the juice to soothe Joshua’s throat and would keep watch over him awhile.

  Which left him alone with Tasmae.

  He found his thoughts jumbled and his tongue—even his teleping tongue—tied. Fortunately, she had a topic of conversation in mind, and she did not intend to let him put her off as he had earlier. He’d seen his Joshua; he knew he was fine; now, Deryl would answer her questions.

 
He embraced her determination and the distraction it brought from…other things.

  I’m here because you Called me, he told her. I was in danger, and I was thinking about escape just as you Called me.

  Danger? You said you had been sick, had almost died—

  That was my appendix. He shared with her what little the doctor explained about the surgery and his recovery.

  “Wait a minute!” He set his hand on his side, found it smooth and whole. So the healers had taken care of him. He felt awful for doubting them.

  They did not touch your mind, she assured him. You are the Ydrel. But why has the oracle of God come to us now? He felt her doubts—was he, then, an imposter?

  He impressed on her negation. He was no oracle, of God or anything else. But he was the Ydrel who had given the Miscria the information they’d sought.

  What else could you be? Tasmae sat forward.

  Once again, her unusual beauty struck him, and part of him answered that he was very much a man. He squashed that thought, and all the ones that wanted to follow, before Tasmae picked it up. Joshua was right: that line of thinking would only lead to trouble, and they were in enough trouble as it was.

  Joshua has a better handle on the situation, and he’s not even psychic. I should have focused more on Leinad and Salgoud. Tasmae trusts them. I have got to pay better attention. I need to be what these people expect from me…even if I’m not sure what that is.

  On Earth, he could have read the person’s mind and played into the persona. Here, he had the feeling such an intrusion would earn him a knife in the gut.

  Tasmae still watched him intently. He tried to look at her face, but his eyes moved down.

  Three parallel scars marred the front of her shoulder, just above the waterline.