Different Senses

by Ann Somerville

  I held my hand up. “You need time to redecorate, buy furniture and so on. Besides, it’s about time I had my own place. I’ve lived with someone else all my life. I’d like to see what it feels like.”

  “Okay. When you put it that way. But don’t rush into anything, please. And make sure you can afford whatever you choose. You have a business to think of. Don’t get into debt on our account.”

  “Yes, Dad. Stop thinking about me, and tell me more about this baby. Have you picked a name? When’s the due date?”

  “He sounds like my sister,” Tara said. “Are you sure you’re male, Javen?”

  “When I looked last night, I was.” She flushed and grinned while Yashi hit me on the back of my head for being crude. “So, come on. Tell me about my niece.”

  They were sincere in not wanting me to leave. But lately I’d been thinking my lack of relationships might have at least something to do with not having my own place, and it was possible, if not very likely, that I might have a slightly higher chance of persuading Shardul to take a chance on me if I could invite him to my own home like a grownup. He didn’t want to trust me on his own territory, and I didn’t blame him for that. He deserved better than a hotel, and anyway, I didn’t think of him as one-night-stand material in the least. Having him over to my own apartment or house, making him welcome on his own terms, would show serious intent. At least I hoped it would.

  But for now, Tara and Yashi persuaded me house-hunting could wait another day and that a day at the beach with my beloved, if noisy, nephews would do me good. Which it would. Spending time with them always made me feel better in myself. After the breach with my parents, I’d been pathetically grateful for my brother and sister-in-law’s unstinting support. They didn’t know what had caused the argument—I hadn’t wanted to tell them what my mother had been up to, and I guessed she was too ashamed to say—but it didn’t matter. That faith in my good character meant more to me than any fortune could. I’d miss being around such unconditional affection, but my niece would be welcomed to a house as stress-free as her fond uncle could make for her. I was already looking forward to babysitting duties.

  Didn’t stop me making a list of properties to poke around the following day, and, on a whim and not expecting a positive response, I sent a message to Shardul, inviting him to join me house-hunting.

  Ten minutes later, I got a response. “Certainly. Lunch is on you. Pick me up at nine.”

  Hmmm. He must be bored. Or perhaps he liked the idea of being able to look around some chuma housing without anyone giving him a hard time about it. It occurred to me some sellers might not appreciate me bringing him along. All the more reason to do it then.

  I made an effort to dress respectably, even ostentatiously so, to reinforce my fiscal credentials. Shardul seemed to have had the same idea, because he was as soberly and conservatively dressed as I’d ever seen him.

  “Is that what you wear to court?” I asked as I gave him the once-over.

  “Prison visits. So your sister-in-law is pregnant?”

  I gaped at him. “Okay, that’s verging on the supernatural. How the hell did you work that out?”

  “You’re too cheerful to have had a fight with your beloved brother, and since your love life is a sorry thing, I can’t credit that you found a lover and need for a love nest in the space of a single day. So, pregnant brother’s wife.” He folded his arms and radiated smugness.

  “I could have found a lover.”

  He clicked his tongue. “Please. I’ve had to spend more than enough time listening to my female relatives plotting to save you from your own pathetic existence, to believe that. So where are we going, and did you consider that taking me along might not be the most sensible thought you’ve ever had?”

  “Exdan Park, and yes. I want to buy from someone of impeccable social sensibilities. If they can cope with you, then I’ll consider their property.”

  “And you had no one else to ask.”

  “And I had no one else to ask. Except Jyoti, or Kirin, or Madan, or my assistants, or I could have gone alone. It’s not too late to back out, you know.”

  He leaned back in his seat and smirked. “Wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

  “You’re such an irritating sod.”

  “Indeed. Time’s getting away from you, Javen.”

  Exdan Park was a newish middle-class development of apartments and managed gardens. I wouldn’t have normally gone for something like that except the price was reasonable and it was on the right side of the city for Yashi’s home. As I drove through the ornate but useless gates, Shardul peered around. “Nice, but there’s nowhere to keep your kolija.”

  “And there is at your place?”

  “What’s the point of living with space if you’re not using it productively? The Seeker teaches we should occupy no more land than we truly need.”

  “I don’t own any pets or farm animals, and the last plant I grew was a weed in my granddad’s garden when I was five. I don't think he had the heart to tell me what it was. I don’t have time to garden.”

  “You spend too little time on activities which enrich your soul, Javen. You should meditate, or paint. Learn to play music.”

  “If I shag a musician, does that count?”

  “Depends. Would he play a tune when you fuck him?”

  “I’d like to find out.”

  “You have no chance with Tushar. Zero.”

  “Huh, says you.” I pulled up into the guest parking spot and climbed out. “Did Jyoti tell you he was a null?”

  He stared at me over the roof of my auto. “I haven’t spoken to her since the concert. Tushar? She’s sure?”

  “Neither of us can sense him. She seemed sure. Why?”

  “No reason. An interesting but useless fact, that’s all.” But his suddenly disturbed emotions didn’t back up his careless dismissal and I wondered what he hadn’t told me.

  I forgot about it with the distraction of meeting the apartment’s owner, and being amused by his attempt to show how much Shardul’s presence didn’t bother him. Shardul, of course, poked him unmercifully while peering around the place like he was a health inspector thinking of condemning it. I introduced him as my legal adviser, which always made people swallow hard.

  “I don’t do conveyancing for Kelons, you realise,” he said as we walked out.

  “I know. I mean, if you wanted the work, I’d be delighted but....”

  He shook his head. “No money in it. Don’t buy that apartment.”

  “I wasn’t planning to. It’s all corners. Why don’t you like it?”

  “It’s shoddy. The tiling in the bathroom is of low standard, and the paint’s peeling in areas where there would be no traffic or damp to explain it. Indicates to me the substance of the structure is likely of similar quality. If you wanted it, I’d insist you obtained a survey.”

  “I would do. You really do know about everything, don’t you?”

  “Yes. I’m very clever.” He laughed as I rolled my eyes, which was why I did it. I loved his laugh.

  “I was thinking of a house, actually, but the maintenance might be too much.”

  “Then have a lodger. Or a lover. Or a toyboy.”

  “Toyboys are high maintenance and tend to dislike repairs. Maybe student lodgers? Through the Institute?”

  “Your neighbours will hate you twice over,” he said, no longer smiling. “Javen, you can’t blur the lines between our two peoples like that in Hegal. I know you mean well, but it’s my people who pay the price.”

  “Not everyone thinks like that.”

  “More than you know. Many who pretend tolerance, like your Kirin Nel, do so because we’re kept in our place. Wait until we have a sizeable middle class and we try to buy into estates like this. Or worse, actually succeed. Then it’ll be ugly.”

  “Kirin doesn’t pretend tolerance,” I said, really annoyed. “He employs indigenous people, he enjoys their company, and he’s even dated them. Which is a lot more than
a lot of us will do.”

  “None of those things carry a risk to him, Javen. You’re the only Kelon I know who’s put himself in harm’s way, literally or figuratively, for us.”

  I growled in frustration, pleased at the compliment, but annoyed that Shardul’s odd prejudice against my former lover made him dislike a man I knew to be as good and tolerant as he appeared. Well, usually. His freak-out over my empathy was hardly typical. “There are others. Look at Tanmay Kly.”

  “Yes, look at him. Died at seventy, and for sixty-nine and a half of his years, he saw us as nothing more than servants and curiosities. I don’t want to have to wait for each of your people to be facing death before they realise what they’ve done.”

  “What about Yashi?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know Yashi. He’s loyal to you, no doubt, but to those you’re loyal to? Be thankful you may never find out the truth of that.”

  I climbed into the auto, sliding the door shut with a bang. “Why does every damn conversation with you end up being about this?”

  “Because I don’t have the luxury of walking away from ‘this’. I assumed you understood that, but if you don’t want to be burdened....” He made a zipping gesture across his mouth. “So where’s the next place you want to use me as an indicator of acceptable tolerance levels?”

  “Shardul, I do want to be burdened. I want to understand as much as I can...but when you attack Kirin, and Yashi, and people you don’t even know like my grandfather, good decent folk, it’s hard to condemn them for racism I’ve never heard them express.”

  He turned to me. “Fish aren’t to blame for the water they live in, but they get wet along with the quirnel. You’d never have realised Kirin had a problem with empathy if you hadn’t become an empath. Many people don’t show their attitudes to us until they’re forced to deal with us on our terms. If you don’t want to acknowledge that side of them, then don’t have indigenous lodgers in a Kelon neighbourhood. Otherwise you’re in for a nasty shock.”

  I clenched the drive stick in my hand. “Okay. It was just a thought. I won’t go ahead with it.”

  “The thought is a worthy one.”

  I forced myself to calm down and respond to his concession and the good will behind it. I didn’t want to fight with him over this, and I did understand why he couldn’t leave it aside for even an hour, but sometimes it drove me crazy that even having Shardul as a friend was a political act. He had to weigh up every consequence of that friendship, the risk or otherwise of every place we were seen together, and so did every one of my indigenous friends. It didn’t have to be this way, and yet it was. Even when I was house-hunting.

  “Let’s go.” I started the engine. “I don't like these places anyway. Let’s look at a real house.”

  The next place was isolated enough that the neighbours weren’t a problem, but the owner gave Shardul such a look of pure disgust that I turned on my heel without another word, and walked back to the auto. “Bad aura,” I said, straight-faced.

  “The kind you can’t pray away,” he agreed.

  As I was in no hurry, and the exercise was just to find out what was available for the money I had, I let Shardul choose the next three places to go. To tell the truth, the excitement at the idea of having my own place had already died, between what he’d said, and my facing the reality of living away from Yashi, Tara and the boys. I loved their home, and them. Walking around a bunch of strangers’ houses reminded me of what I’d be losing, and the appeal of having a ‘love nest’ as Shardul insisted on referring to it, was lost on me now.

  “If this process makes you so unhappy,” he said after we’d left the last property, both of us wiping our hands on our trousers because the owner’s cleaning left a lot to be desired, “why not build a house?”

  I stopped dead. “I hadn’t even thought about it. Isn’t that something for a family to do?”

  “I don’t see why it should be. You can afford it, and you have strongly defined tastes that you’re unlikely to satisfy with these mediocre constructions.”

  “You might have a point. But I have no idea how to go about it.”

  “I have a cousin—”

  “Of course you do.”

  He laughed. “Yes. She and her husband build houses for our people. She’s got quite a flair for design, though she’s not formally trained. Perhaps you could consult her.”

  “Let me buy you lunch and we can talk about it.” The idea cheered me up a little. At least building would mean I could avoid dealing with racist homeowners with lousy taste and standards of hygiene.

  Given my inclination, I’d have taken Shardul to Kerteze’s but mindful of what he’d said earlier, I asked him to choose where we ate. We ended up at our usual because he liked to give his business to his people. Suited me as the food was good and he could relax. No one paid me any attention any more. I was just the crazy chuma Shardul-ji tolerated for unknown reasons.

  Since it was Shardul’s day off, we could take our time, and even drink some of the Nihani fruit beer I’d acquired a taste for. Shardul offered some ideas for what I might want in a house and before long I had my reader out and drawing sketches to remind me of what we talked about. “It looks like Kly’s house in miniature,” he said after I finished one drawing.

  “I guess it does. I want a house covered in plants.”

  “Thought you knew nothing about gardening?”

  “Yeah, but plants just grow, don’t they?”

  He grinned and took a sip of his beer. “Oh, my cousin will love you. Hope your wallet’s as large as your ignorance.”

  “Not everyone...oh. Hello, Tushar, Sri Ursemin.”

  Shardul turned. Tushar smiled, but he shifted nervously from one foot to other. “Sorry to interrupt. Javen...and Shardul, isn’t it?”

  “That’s right,” I said. “Would you like to join us?”

  “Uh, we were just leaving, thank you. But, um....”

  “We were hoping to make an appointment to talk to you about a very private matter, Sri Ythen,” Ursemin said. “I don’t suppose you’re working today.”

  “Uh, no. Although you could come to my office—”

  “Mine would be more discreet,” Shardul suggested, to my surprise. “If that’s all right, Javen?”

  “Sure. Today?” He nodded. “Okay, how about you meet us at his office in an hour?”

  “My card.” Shardul handed it to Ursemin. “There’s parking in front.”

  “Thank you. I’m sorry to interrupt your day off,” Tushar said.

  “It’s fine. If we can help, I’d like to. See you over there.”

  Tushar grinned happily and gave me a little wave as he walked out. No one recognised him. Without his makeup and gaudy finery, and his braids covered in the loosely wrapped turban many younger Nihan wore, he was just another pretty indigenous youth. Ursemin drew more looks than Tushar did, but no one was particularly surprised to see them together.

  “I wonder if they’re lovers,” I said slowly. “That reminds me. What’s so odd about nulls?”

  “Nothing,” Shardul said. “Nothing at all. I was simply surprised to encounter one, that’s all.”

  “Right,” I said, not believing a word. “So why were you in such a hurry to have him over at your office and not mine?”

  “Because going to a lawyer’s office is no great curiosity, unlike going to that of a private detective. The last thing I want is our first indigenous crossover star to be embroiled in scandal.”

  “Ah. Good point. Though I hadn’t really meant to work today.”

  “My apologies. I don’t expect it to take long.”

  I shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. But I want to finish my beer and my meal.”

  We took our time but, to my regret, the conversational thread about the house design had been broken. I’d discovered something new about Shardul today and I’d have liked to have explored it a little longer, since he gave so little out about himself. Ah well, if I went ahead with building my own ho
me, he’d offer me his opinion freely and often on the project, especially with his relatives involved. It might even distract me from the inevitable pain of having to leave Yashi and Tara’s house, and if Shardul had a hand in the design, he might be happy to visit when it was done. As good a reason as any to go ahead with this idea.

  Tushar and his manager were nowhere to be seen as I parked my auto, but just as I was about to complain about ungrateful clients, they emerged from the side of the building. “Ursemin’s worried about how it looks too,” Shardul murmured.

  Tushar’s nervousness was more pronounced now, with the quick, forced grin and the fidgeting. So odd to see such obvious signs of an emotion I couldn’t sense at all. His manager’s feelings were easily detectable. Ursemin was calmer but he was certainly concerned about something.

  Shardul let us into his quiet office, and took us through to an interview room. He offered chai but had no takers. “So,” I said. “Now we’re private, what’s up?”

  Tushar looked at Ursemin, who cleared his throat. “Are you familiar with stalking, Sri Ythen?”

  “Of course. It’s a serious domestic violence issue. Are you being stalked? Tushar?”

  The lad nodded. “Not by a lover, though. A fan. Though not exactly a fan.” His mouth twisted in revulsion, as he looked at his manager again.

  “Tushar’s been receiving some quite threatening notes from an individual ever since his video was released. We’re worried.”

  “Have you spoken to the police?” Shardul asked.

  “Yes, but they say the threats aren’t specific enough, and they don’t think the person will do more than write. They said it’s a common problem for famous people.”

  “It is,” I said, “but famous people have been killed by stalkers, so the police should have taken it seriously. I could put a word in for you, if you like.”

  Shardul glanced at me. I knew what he would say, but he let it lie. Ursemin shook his head. “We hoped you could investigate the person, locate him. Perhaps warn him off.”

  “I could, but you do realise it’s expensive? The police are the ones who should handle this, especially if you really believe this person is capable of carrying out his threats.”