“You say that like it’s some rare disease.” KindlesFlame sounded amused. “Don’t tell me, Healer… is it terminal?”
“Is it?” Jahir asked, turning inward.
“Iley Everlaughing!” The Tam-illee brought two mugs with him and set them on the table before dropping again into his chair. “Dire, alet. Very dire. I’m not dead yet, you’ll note.”
“But you are not working either. I didn’t think you would be ready to retire.”
“I’m technically not retired,” KindlesFlame said over the rim of his mug.
“Ah.”
“…just considering it.”
Jahir stared at him, then took up his own mug and had a seat across from his mentor. “I feel this requires explanation, and yet I would not ask.”
“Which is nearly as obvious as you ever get about personal questions, so you must be concerned.” The todfox grinned. “It’s not serious, I promise. But I’ve been at the university for three decades now. I’m allowed to want a change of pace.”
“I see now,” Jahir said, warming his fingers. “As when you went from the dean of the medical school to the head of its clinic.”
“Yes. Chasing a new perspective on things. You calcify, staying in one place. We’re not meant to be sessile.” Another smile. “You understand that better than most of the people I know, I imagine.”
“Yes,” Jahir agreed. “So does this sabbatical constitute a sufficient change of venue? Or will you move on, do you suppose?”
“Depends on if anything comes up,” KindlesFlame said. “I’ve got some offers to investigate before I make any decisions. Until then, I’ll probably do some lecture tours. I get enough invitations to talk at conferences to stay on the road all year if I wanted, and in the past I’ve had to turn most of them down. I enjoy being out, and it’ll be good for my curriculum vitae.”
“And… your family?” Jahir asked, delicately. “You have never mentioned them.”
“And this looks like a bachelor pad, is what you’re suggesting.” The Tam-illee chuckled. “That would be because I’ve been single again for a good two decades. Maybe I’ll meet someone while I’m out on the circuit. No, I have nothing to tie me down, alet, and a great deal left to learn and experience. The clinic’s been wonderful, but it’s time to hand it off to someone else for a while.”
Jahir exhaled, settling himself. “Rather a large change.”
“It is, isn’t it? But I’m excited. Which is as good a sign as any that it was time to shake things up a bit. Which brings me to you, ah? What are you planning to do with all those continuing education credits you’ve been accruing like some kind of dragon on a hoard of gold?”
The mental image was striking, and amusing. “I had no idea you were tracking my progress. Or even that my progress was trackable.”
“It’s hard not to keep your hand in,” KindlesFlame said. “I looked after you mentioned one too many esoteric topics in our correspondence. And while it wasn’t exactly easy to tie the data down, they have to keep it somewhere to know whether you’ve requalified for your license.” He cocked a brow. “You are going somewhere with all that extra education, aren’t you?”
“Is it so obvious…”
The Tam-illee laughed. “Yes? To you too, I assume. You’re doing it on purpose, aren’t you?”
Was he? When he and Vasiht’h had settled into their permanent location on Veta, he’d begun taking extra classes for the pleasure of learning, and because their licenses did require some amount of continuing education. At the time he’d pulled up the course list for a generalist healer-assist degree as inspiration, but he had long since ceased to notice, when consulting it for what he should take next, that his actions would inevitably result in him having completed the theory portion of the degree.
…which he had. “It was not my intention. I was merely pursuing my interests.”
“And your interests have landed you with all the credits necessary for another degree,” KindlesFlame said, mouth curving. “So is it that you intend to work your way through every degree in the known worlds, because you love learning? Or is this a more specific obsession?”
Jahir tried not to wince. “Calling it an obsession seems…”
“Accurate?”
“Prejudicial,” Jahir chose, ignoring his mentor’s amusement and his own chagrin. “But it’s a moot point, as without the practicum I cannot receive the license.”
“True. But you can sit for the written exam and then arrange to do the practicum at your local hospital.” KindlesFlame leaned over and set his mug on the table. “They’ll log your time for the licensing board and as long as you get in the requisite within five years, you’ll be fine.”
“I… I beg your pardon?” Jahir asked, startled. “They would permit me to go about it backwards?”
The Tam-illee chuckled. “There are multiple routes into the license. You’ve been working on the educational institution model, because that’s what you know, and how most people do it. But there are apprenticeship programs as well, plus the on-the-job training model, which is where they take people who’ve either had experience and need the theory or vice versa and arrange for them to get what they need. You’d be going in under that model, and for that you take the theory exams to prove you’ve got the book learning down. Then you have five years to get in the practicals.” KindlesFlame laced his fingers over his abdomen, slumped in his chair. “Assuming you have to do much of that. They might apply your Selnor experience toward it. It won’t get you all the way there—psychiatric residency isn’t the same—but the fact that you worked a medical track in a critical care unit will weigh in your favor.”
“God and Lady,” Jahir said, startled. “You mean to tell me I might be credentialed as a healer-assist within five years?”
“Two, probably. It takes most people less than that but they work at it full-time.” Studying him, KindlesFlame nodded. “You’re going to do it. Good for you.”
“I have not said—”
The other man snorted. “What’s stopping you? Having that in your back pocket’s a good thing, and it’s not like the continuing education for both is going to break your stride if you’ve managed to accrue one and a half times the credits you need for the degree in your downtime. It would be a handy thing if one of your clients starts having a seizure, or you discover one of them has a medical issue that might be interfering with their ability to make the most of your therapy.”
What good he could do on his homeworld as a modern healer! Some part of him had been cherishing that future, the one where he returned with the fruits of the Alliance’s many excellencies. And how badly did the Eldritch need medicine. The faltering birthrate, the appalling number of deaths in childbed, the avoidable deaths from accident and the more mysterious ones from illnesses no one could name or explain… his world needed researchers, doctors, specialists in pharmacology, midwives, and hospitals….
But he wasn’t planning to go home to stay, not for many many years. And he had no idea what Vasiht’h would say if he discovered his partner had been secretly pursuing an alternate degree. No amount of protestation on Jahir’s part that it hadn’t been an entirely conscious decision would offset his partner’s anxiety about the wherefores of the situation. Jahir sighed.
“Now that’s a long face for what sounded to me like good news.” KindlesFlame’s brow went up. “What’s inspiring it?”
“I like the life I have now,” Jahir said slowly. “I do not relish the prospect of disturbing it.”
“No reason this should,” KindlesFlame said, unconcerned. “They offer the exams quarterly in all the Core sectors. Find the closest, take it, leave. Then volunteer at your local hospital—which you’ve already been doing—and eventually you end up with a license. What needs to change?”
“That sounds… minor enough.”
“The exams take three days,” KindlesFlame said, folding his legs. “And inevitably the licensing boards schedule them in the prettiest places they c
an find. They can afford to, since most people get their licenses through school; the only people left to go for it sideways are usually older and can afford the trip. It’s ideal for vacationing.” He grinned. “I almost envy you.”
“Perhaps you can become a proctor as one of your ‘changes of perspective’?”
The other man laughed. “Not a bad idea. But speaking of which… I’ve noticed you eyeing the view. Would you like to take a hike through the backyard?”
“Oh, absolutely!”
As Jahir rose, KindlesFlame said, “Seriously, my student. You’ve done the work, and the credits are good… for now. But they’re going to expire if you don’t use them for something, so decide soon whether you want the paper to go with the knowledge, mmm?”
“I promise to consider it,” Jahir said.
Chapter 3
That the girls had grown should have come as no surprise, and yet the sight of them surprised Jahir… for he and Vasiht’h had left them as children, and returned to find poised young ladies, sitting at one of the high tables in the coffee shop attached to the hospital’s garden. Or at least, mostly poised, because their approach caused all four to jump from their chairs, eyes alight. Kuriel and Meekie descended on Vasiht’h with glad squeals, and Jahir hung back to watch his partner disappear beneath their enthusiastic embraces before he turned to the human teenagers waiting behind them. Amaranth was gowned in the hospital patient’s uniform, soft top and bottoms, and slippers, but she had her chin lifted and her cropped auburn hair stubbornly styled with pins that cast a veil of moving sparkles. Persy was standing beside her in street clothes, her arm hooked through her friend’s. They now had adult faces, and if Amaranth’s bones were more prominent than one expected in a girl of her age, she still looked healthier than she had as a child.
Which she wasn’t any longer, so he gathered Amaranth’s hands and bowed over them, as he might have a family member’s, and then did the same with Persy’s. Through their fingers he felt their effervescent delight at the gesture, savoring it. Only when they’d made their best attempts at maintaining what they felt was a properly adult dignity, did they give up and hug him, together. With that touch he gathered their changes in: the grief, the strength, Amaranth’s continuing fight… Persy’s dedication to her. Their love of the other girls. Their sense of purpose. The latter was overwhelming, enough that when he parted from them they could see his comprehension in his face, somehow. Here again were people who knew him well enough to read him.
“You feel it,” Amaranth said. She had a young woman’s voice now, the melody line a touch lower than before. “Don’t you? You can tell.”
“I can tell,” he answered. “And I hope you will explain everything to us. We can’t wait to listen.”
Kuriel and Meekie by then had come for their hugs, leaving the humans to Vasiht’h’s embrace. The flush of health on the latter made it clear the treatment she’d received on Selnor had allowed her to make a full recovery, and she looked every inch the cheerful Tam-illee teenager, complete with painted swirls on the insides of her ears to match her colorful glass jewelry. The former was no longer in the hospital’s gown, but her fingers, tail-tip, and ear-tips were still dyed bright purple, as they had been when she’d been seeking a way to manage her symptoms, and her gaze... at some point, Kuriel had lost the tinge of pessimism that had darkened her hazel eyes.
“Let’s sit!” Kuriel said, tail swishing. “We can have coffee!”
“But at a different table,” Meekie said, frowning. “This one’s too tall for Manylegs.”
Vasiht’h laughed. “Yes, absolutely. Let’s find a table I don’t have to climb onto.”
They repaired to a cozier corner that suited them all, and Persy excused herself to get drinks. She insisted on buying some for Jahir and Vasiht’h, too.
/Let them,/ Jahir murmured before Vasiht’h could protest. /They are claiming their autonomy./
/I know. I just wanted to be the one to buy the snacks!/
Jahir hid his smile at the amusement in the Glaseah’s voice. /Next time, perhaps./
“So we find you outside the hospital,” Jahir said, when they were all together again.
“Except for me,” Amaranth said. “But… that’s all right. I’m getting better.”
“She is,” Persy agreed. “She’s doing great on the same treatment they tried on me.”
“And the rest of you?”
“We’re done with the hospital!” Kuriel exclaimed. “Even me! Though I have to go back every week for treatments.” She flexed her purple fingers. “They think this is something I’m going to have to manage all my life. But that’s okay? Because it means I have a rest of my life, you know?”
“You weren’t the last one out after all,” Amaranth teased.
Kuriel’s ears sagged, but she smiled sheepishly. “No.” More steadily, “But you’ll get out too.”
“We’re helping Amaranth with school,” Meekie told them. “So when she’s done, she can jump right into classes with us.”
“We’re all going to school for the same thing,” Persy agreed. “And we’re planning to do college together.”
“Here!” Meekie exclaimed.
“Stop, stop!” Amaranth said, laughing. “You’re overwhelming them! Start from the beginning.”
“Okay, the beginning,” Meekie said, ears flipping outward. Then she rallied. “It started with you leaving, Vasiht’h-alet.”
“What?” Vasiht’h asked, bemused.
“When you left to get Pri—” Kuriel stopped herself, the insides of her ears pinking. “Um, to go get Jahir-alet. You remember we decided then that we were going to stay and help other people like us. Kids like us.”
The faint embarrassment easing through the mindline felt like an itch. Jahir glanced at Vasiht’h with interest.
/I’ll explain later?/ Aloud, Vasiht’h said, “Right. So… you meant it!”
Persy snorted. “Of course we meant it! Anyway, Jill-alet told us there are lots of jobs that we could do relating to kids who have to stay in the hospital. Most of us are going with some form of therapy, but—”
“I want to be a doctor,” Meekie said.
“Yeah. So. We’ve set up a volunteer group.”
“A what?” Vasiht’h asked, ears sagging.
“I know,” Kuriel said, rueful. “We wanted to do nothing but leave, and once some of us do, we turn right around and go back in!”
Meekie took the conversational floor back. “We go see other kids and we tell them our stories—”
“Not just in the hospital,” Persy added. “Outside it too. We talk at other schools and stuff.”
“And we tell them not to give up,” Meekie finished.
“Or why we need money,” Kuriel said. “So we can use it to buy things to give to kids. Or to travel.”
“Travel!” Vasiht’h exclaimed.
“Kayla’s still on Selnor,” Meekie said. “Her dami found a good job there and didn’t want to move. But her tapa’s really good at fundraising? So he’s been helping us set up. Kayla’s got two other girls on Selnor with her, that’s our Selnor branch. We have branches!”
“We call ourselves Nieve’s Girls,” Amaranth said. “Because we are.”
That struck so hard Jahir flinched, and immediately all of their attention fastened on him and all of them reacted, wide-eyed, staring, reaching across the table or the mindline. Vasiht’h most intimately: /Arii?/ But the girls too, in various expressions of dismay.
“No,” he said. “No, it’s well. It’s a perfect name.”
“Until you get some boys in there. Then what?” Vasiht’h wanted to know, which made all the girls erupt into giggles. ‘Nieve’s Kids’ was rejected immediately, but all the other alternatives inspired a great deal of humor, from Nieve’s Posse to Nieve’s Honor Guard.
“We’ll figure it out when we need to,” Persy said finally.
“Yes,” Vasiht’h said. “Yes, you will. So tell us all about school.”
“Oh yes,” Jill said to them when they walked upstairs to see her. “They are on fire with this plan of theirs—oh, for me?” She accepted the bag, peeked in it and laughed. “Coffee, of course. You remembered.”
“Of course we did,” Vasiht’h said. /You more than me…./
/You remembered too, arii./
/Thank the Goddess she didn’t give up caffeine while we were gone!/
“Anyway, they’re doing great in school,” the human said, sitting back down at her station. “I have no doubts at all they’re going to accomplish what they say they will. They don’t just talk to kids… they go to General, too, and sing songs to the elderly, and comfort the non-natives, and bring donuts to the staff.”
“They’ve found a calling,” Vasiht’h guessed.
The human smiled at him, eyes bright. “They certainly have.”
Quietly, Jahir asked, “Alet? What is Amaranth’s prognosis?”
Jill glanced at him with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. How remarkable smiles were, that they could contain such nuance. One need not be an esper to understand the emotions that had prompted the complexity of her expression. “You picked up on that, did you.”
“Persy said something about the treatment that worked on her working for Amaranth?” Vasiht’h said, his unease thickening the mindline with a cold fog.
“Persy wants the treatment that worked on her to work on Amaranth, but it doesn’t seem to be,” Jill said. “But to be honest, aletsen, Amaranth’s still alive after years of this thing chewing on her. Cancers as virulent as hers—and Persy’s—usually kill people within a handful of years, and both of them made it from childhood to a point where Amaranth is worried about make-up and dating. I’m not happy that Persy made it into remission and Amaranth didn’t despite their having the same diagnosis, but… I’m cautiously hopeful that if Amaranth made it this far, she’ll make it to remission.”
Which was all they could ask of medicine. Jahir said, “Thank you. For telling us.”
“You two are on her list of people allowed to know. Which should make you both feel pretty good, because you know human privacy restrictions are more stringent than Pelted ones.” She smiled at them both. “So… what about the two of you? What have you been up to?”
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