“Is that what you’re calling it now…”
She laughed. “Ariihir, I love you and you’re a dear but I need to take a nap. You won’t do anything drastic and stupid while I’m sleeping?”
“Like book my partner an anniversary trip with me to the white sands of Tsera Nova?”
His sister perked up, eyes wide. “Wait, are you serious?”
“Mmm-hmm. I looked it up. Next quarter’s is in two months, coinciding with summer on Tsera Nova.” Vasiht’h grinned. “The test’s given on the orbital station. No doubt to keep the people taking it from being distracted by the views.”
Sehvi smacked her hand on the counter. “I was totally wrong. You should book those tickets immediately. Have you seen that place? It’s gorgeous!”
“I don’t know,” Vasiht’h said, looking up at Seersana’s gray sky. “All that sand in my fur… sounds kind of irritating…”
“That’s what fur blowers are for! Ahhhhhh, you have got to go and tell me all about it, call me the moment you get there I want details.”
Vasiht’h laughed. “I’ll take your very good advice on not making my partner’s decisions for him under advisement, ariishir.” He nodded, affecting a look of sage wisdom. “I can’t help but think that you might be right. I’d hate to be in any way coercive. You know.”
“You are awful,” Sehvi said, laughing. “I’m going to sleep. Tell me how it goes, all right?”
“My life as a romance novel hero,” Vasiht’h answered, grinning at her. “I can’t imagine what’ll happen next.”
“Your partner will bake you cookies and tweak your nose and tell you how adorable you are… no, wait, that’s my line.” She thought. “His too.” She leaned forward and kissed the screen. “Smooch, big brother. Love you.”
“Love you too, ariishir.”
Smiling, Vasiht’h tucked his tablet back into one of his saddlebags and squinted as a droplet of water smacked his nose. There was a Pad station in the center of the medical campus; as he rose and headed that way, the droplet became a drizzle. At least it wasn’t cold, which made it merely annoying, not uncomfortable. Vasiht’h’s pawpads squelched as he took a shortcut across a field, which made him think inevitably of those white sands he’d seen in the viseos of Tsera Nova. Even a relative shutaway like him had heard about it as one of the Alliance’s premiere vacation spots: a colony just close enough to the Core’s major homeworlds to make the trip feel like a jaunt without being painfully distant, and with an idyllic climate maintained by a complex weather system that had been pioneered for it specifically after the colony charter members had completed the terraforming. Not that it had needed much of that, but they’d further sculpted its already dazzling beaches and dotted the resulting paradise with verdant plants to nod pacifically in its breezes.
Vasiht’h wasn’t sure what it was about the sea, but every sapient species so far seemed to respond to it viscerally. Tsera Nova had a single small continent framed by a succession of largish islands and archipelagos that afforded multiple opportunities to enjoy the ocean vistas. And if the natural beauty wasn’t enough—if it could be called natural, given how much of it was contrived mechanically—it also had a reputation for the finest resorts and the most amazing food and entertainments suitable for everyone from parents with new children to the wildest of party animals.
It wasn’t a cheap place to visit. Vasiht’h was counting on that to work in his favor. Grinning, he ducked under cover to wait out the rain as it intensified. He might not be the hero of a romance novel, but he had a few tricks worthy of the cleverest of protagonists. I love you, he thought, that’s why I know you so well. And then he smiled, chagrined. Now if only I knew myself half as well as I do you…!
Chapter 6
It had been Jahir’s intention to make a graceful escape from Seersana. He had no reason to believe he wouldn’t; even had he been inclined to attach his name to any of his charitable activities, the u-bank censors would sweep up the evidence. He preferred it thus: he derived his pleasure from the act of giving, not from the reactions of the recipients, and in fact the contemplation of being forced to witness other people’s gratitude discomfited him in the extreme. He had money—well and again, he had done nothing to earn it, save be fortunately born. To be thanked for letting it pass out of his hands into the coffers of those using it for worthy causes… it was difficult to support. He had spent some time studying the economics of the Alliance after his discussion with KindlesFlame when first he moved to Starbase Veta; overwhelmingly, his impression of it was as a confused tangle of consent and the usual injustices of physical reality and the social systems that sprang up to address them. As much as possible, he embraced the ideal, preferring to allow people to work with his gifts without any of the emotional burdens incurred by associating with him as their benefactor.
It was not always appropriate to pass silently through the lives of others. This, he judged, was one of those few exceptions.
He was therefore unnerved to exit the hotel lobby with Vasiht’h to find Kuriel, Meekie, and Persy waiting in ambush. The hiccup in his step must have communicated through the mindline, because Vasiht’h threw a glance at him, brows lifted, before greeting the girls with open arms. “This is a nice surprise! We’re on our way out, but we’re glad we got to see you one more time? We have a few hours before we make our shuttle…”
“We know,” Persy said.
“You know!” Vasiht’h exclaimed.
“You told Jill when you were leaving, Manylegs,” Kuriel said, dyed tail waving.
“And us where you were staying, while we were talking,” Meekie added.
“We did not!”
“Sure you did,” Persy said, hands in her pockets. “You mentioned taking a Pad to the hospital and being able to walk through the shopping district for meals, and this is the best hotel in this area that meets both those criteria.”
“And only the best would do for our princes,” Meekie finished.
“After that, it was just a matter of asking if anyone had seen an Eldritch in the area,” Kuriel finished, ears perked. “Since we knew the hotel wouldn’t tell us if you were staying, if we asked. And of course, you’re highly noticeable, especially as a couple. Lots of people said they’d seen you coming in and out of this plaza, so… here we are!”
/They’re a little terrifying, aren’t they??/ Vasiht’h asked.
/Rather a great deal./
Vasiht’h eyed him. /Why does that sound ominous?/
Jahir suppressed a sigh he knew would feel like a vacuum between them, accepted there would be no escaping this situation without discomfort. /Ask them why they’ve come./
“I don’t know how I got elevated to princedom,” Vasiht’h began. “And I’m almost scared to ask if there’s some reason for all the work you did figuring out where and when we’d be…”
“Don’t worry, it’s not a fancy kind of princyness,” Meekie said, comforting. “You’re obviously the prince of cookies.”
Kuriel grinned. “Cookies need royal representation too.”
“And we’re here because we want to say thank you.” Persy folded her arms and looked at Jahir. “Because… it was you, wasn’t it?”
“Dare I ask how you derived the conclusion,” Jahir said, resigned.
“Princes also have lots of money, and you never really denied the whole ‘dragon on a treasure hoard’ thing,” Persy said.
“And also, Persy and Kuriel are scary with computers,” Meekie said. “Kayla’s tapa was pretty aghast.” She grinned, tail swishing. “We got such a lecture.”
“Did you,” Jahir murmured.
Kuriel’s ears sagged. She looked up at the sky and said, “Um, yeah, something about… ah… respecting the wishes of our donors, particularly in regards to privacy….”
“Oh, I see now,” Vasiht’h said. “He tried to give you secret money and you found him out?”
“We guessed,” Persy said, stressing the last word.
“Yeah, ‘
who would have a lot of money’ and ‘who would have been sending it from a location near this hotel the week they came to visit us after five years away’,” Kuriel said, voice trailing off. She folded her arms behind her back, rocking on her painted toes—eye-piercing cyan today. “Locational data isn’t tied to people, but, you know, if you can unearth it, then you can use common sense to figure that out. Sometimes.”
“I think you’re oversharing,” Meekie said to her.
“No, it’s all right,” Persy said. “In this case, anyway, because we owe it to Prince Jahir. So that he knows that we didn’t do anything illegal and we weren’t snooping on purpose. It’s just that it was a big donation and we were suspicious.”
“In a good way,” Meek assured them.
Vasiht’h chuckled. “We’ve got time before the shuttle leaves. Let’s get ice cream.”
Kuriel brightened. “Really?”
“Your princes need it if this discussion is going to go any further. Particularly the taller of the two. Me only being the prince of cookies.” Vasiht’h canted his head. “Can I expand my… uh…”
“Aegis,” Jahir murmured.
“My that to include all baked goods?”
“Oh, sure,” Meekie hastened to assure him. “It’s the least we can do.”
“It really is,” Vasiht’h said. “And since you girls are apparently so good at snooping, you can tell us where the best ice cream place is.”
“I know!” Kuriel exclaimed.
“Lemme just tell Dami we’re going to be a little later than we planned,” Meekie said. “She worries.”
As Persy and Kuriel discussed the best possible site for their dessert and Meekie called her mother, Jahir braced himself for the inevitable. When it didn’t come, he chanced a look at his partner and found the Glaseah smiling up at him crookedly, sitting on his haunches with his tail wrapped around his feet.
/I’m not going to bite, you know./
/I know?/ Jahir answered, sheepish.
Vasiht’h looked at the girls. /You gave them money for their project?/
/I… wanted to see what they would do, if they didn’t have to fret themselves with… unnecessary concerns?/
Vasiht’h wrinkled his nose, his pensiveness a warm weight in the mindline. /They have to learn how to budget. That’s important./
/They have already been at the work for over two years. Surely that is a good enough grounding in fiscal management, particularly with Kayla’s father at the helm./ Jahir watched them, his fondness for them and his pride at their ambitions pushing away his ambivalence. /Only look at them, arii. Would you not help them if you could?/
Vasiht’h followed his gaze and sighed, and it felt like contentment. /Yes. Of course./ He folded his arms. /I don’t guess they’ll run out of your donation anytime soon./
Thinking of the recurring schedule his manager had set up, Jahir answered, /Not if they’re careful./ Aloud, he asked, “So?”
“We’ve decided,” Persy said. “And Meekie’s done with her mom, so… that way?”
“Lead, then,” Jahir said, “And we follow.”
On the way, they talked… mostly about the girls’ families, and how nice it was to be autonomous after so long in the hospital. Jahir couldn’t decide whether he was astonished at how much freedom the girls had, or chagrined at how much more he’d had at their relative age. Even coddled as the heir to the estate, he’d spent long days on his own exploring the grounds, and when he wasn’t in more sedentary lessons, he’d been learning to ride—a dangerous pastime on a world without modern medicine—or handle livestock. And unlike these girls, there would have been no way for him to call for help, had he found himself injured and alone.
But they had access to wonders he had only been capable of imagining after his mother granted him access to the Queen’s Wellstream. To wander abroad in such a city with friends and enough money in pocket to enjoy themselves….
/How fortunate we are,/ Jahir said, wonder tinting his voice.
Vasiht’h glanced at him and smiled. /Yes./
When Persy stopped in front of the restaurant, Jahir sighed.
/Let me guess… this is the place you did it from./ Vasiht’h chuckled. “Don’t you think this is rubbing it in a little bit, girls?”
“We thought we’d make right by buying you both your drinks?” Persy said, her cheeks pink.
“And not with your money!” Meekie added. “With our money. We don’t use the charity’s money for ourselves.”
Kuriel said, “At least, we don’t now. Kayla’s tapa says eventually we need to pay ourselves.”
“But we don’t yet,” Persy said. “So…?” She paused by the door.
“In that case,” Vasiht’h said, “I think I’ll have the biggest crepe they have.”
“They have one they stuff with bananas and chocolate.” Kuriel grinned and wiggled her blue fingers. “And then the chocolate melts, because the crepe is still hot, and it’s gooey and gets all between the spaces and it’s like having fondue wrapped in pastry.”
“Sold,” Vasiht’h said.
Jahir did in fact have gelato, at the insistence of the girls and his partner both: salted peanut, which went well with the cup of espresso. Once they were seated, though, he said, “You do know you should not be chasing the identities of your anonymous donors.”
“I told them not to do it!” Meekie exclaimed.
“You did not!” Kuriel objected. “You said we shouldn’t and then you asked, ‘but no, really, do you think you know.’”
Meekie cleared her throat, ears flicking back. “All right, I did say that. But only because we all sort of knew. If we hadn’t sort of known, we wouldn’t have done it.”
“That part’s true,” Persy said.
“And… you’re not angry at us, are you?” Meekie asked, hesitant. “We just… we wanted to say thank you. Because you two… you were such a big part of our lives in the hospital. I guess it’s not fair for us to say we’re close to you because we don’t… I mean, we’re not technically… friends? Or… I’m saying this wrong.” She covered her face with a hand.
Vasiht’h started to reach for her and paused when Jahir murmured, /Let me./
/Are you sure?/
/It has to be me, arii./ Jahir slipped his fingers around Meekie’s wrist and tugged her hand gently until it lifted off her face, exposing her astonished eyes. With that touch he took in her surprise, her gratification, and her confusion and yes… her love. Did he need the touch to tell him? They had loved him with all the open-hearted innocence of children when they’d met in the hospital ward. Growing into their teens had only complicated those feelings, not erased them. “Meekie. We are friends. More, I think, for we spent a great deal of time together, and in difficult circumstances.”
“Family,” Vasiht’h said firmly.
“Even though we don’t… really talk or see one another much?” Meekie asked, but the hope in her belied the hesitance of her voice.
“Family can go long periods without seeing one another, and it changes what one feels not at all,” Jahir said. “And there is no reason why you should not see us more often, when you are older and more likely to travel.”
“You can visit us on Veta one day,” Vasiht’h said, smiling. “Give an inspirational talk, or even start a chapter of your charity there. We’ve got a hospital.”
“We do have plans to spread out,” Persy said, subdued. “I mean… this is what we want to do with our lives. We want to help kids.”
“Like us,” Kuriel added, fingers nervously tapping the walls of her sundae glass. “Kids like us. Like we were. Still are, I guess, because sometimes I don’t feel all that grown up.”
“Having said that, though,” Vasiht’h said. “This is me reminding you that just because you’re close to someone, doesn’t mean you get to trample their boundaries.”
Persy blushed brightly, looking down at her cup of melting gelato.
“We didn’t think of it that way,” Meekie said, wilt
ing.
“We just thought…” Persy stopped and turned her cup on the table. “I guess it doesn’t matter what we thought. It was still wrong.”
“I think it matters that we didn’t intend to hurt anyone,” Meekie said, looking pale. “We were thoughtless, not mean. So we apologize for being thoughtless, because it really does upset us that we hurt you, and that makes it all right. Right?”
“And family forgives mistakes,” Kuriel added, “if we say ‘sorry’? We are sorry.”
“We are,” Meekie agreed.
“We just wanted to say thank you,” Persy said. “We didn’t do it to make you feel hunted. We don’t want that, ever.”
Kuriel whispered, “You need to actually say the words.”
“I know.” Persy raised her head, meeting Jahir’s eyes with a confidence he found astonishing in one her age. “I am sorry.” She smiled, weakly. “Will it be okay if I promise to use my powers only for good from now on?”
“So long as you understand that knowing ‘good’ is not always simple,” Jahir said, “and that you must be willing to reflect on your actions when you discover otherwise.”
“That’s… part of being grown-up, isn’t it,” Persy said. “Finding out that things are… complicated.”
“By that standard we’ve been grown up a long time,” Kuriel muttered.
“In some things,” Meekie said. “But not in all of them. Which is how we trip up, I guess. Just because we know what it’s like to be scared about things most people our age don’t have to worry about doesn’t mean we get it about everything. Like invading the privacy of someone really important to us.”
“We are bad at normal relationship things,” Kuriel agreed, glum.
“I think you’re doing great,” Vasiht’h said. “Plenty of adults don’t think things through this much.”
“Are we all right, then?” Kuriel asked, anxious, and the other two girls looked so worried the Eldritch couldn’t help the tenderness that afflicted him at the sight.
Jahir offered his open hand to Kuriel and Persy, keeping Meekie’s in the other. Persy set her hand in his palm, and Kuriel grasped his thumb, and he squeezed all three. So much good in them, and so much intensity: their youth was like a draft of strong wine on an empty stomach. “We are good, yes. Of course I forgive you—Meekie is correct, it matters that you didn’t intend to hurt, and that it distresses you to have done so.” He smiled. “I think you will do great things. And I hope you keep us informed about the course of your lives. And if time slips away in between your updates, it won’t change anything. Not in us.”
Dreamstorm Page 7
