Different Senses

by Ann Somerville

  I didn’t have time to chase the matter up. I figured Ursemin would get back to me once they’d decided what to do. Between thinking about house designs, my regular caseload, and a security assessment Roshni-ji wanted for the nearly completed conference and lecture hall up at the Institute, I had plenty to keep me occupied. Vik and Prachi went on study leave to prepare for their exams, and their absence only reinforced how essential they’d become to the business. Time to think about a third trainee.

  I was walking back to Yashi’s house after work when my phone went. “Sri Ursemin, what can I—?”

  “Javen, Tushar’s been attacked! Please, can you come to my house? The police are there and they said they want to talk to you.”

  Cursed insanity. “Of course. Tell the police I’m on my way. Is he badly injured?”

  “A knife wound. The doctor has been and tended to it. But he’s in a terrible state.”

  “Poor kid. I’ll be there in ten.”

  Quicker for me to call a taxi to my location than go back to the house for my auto. While I waited for my ride, I checked out the news channel. Reports of the incident, which had happened outside the concert venue, were headlining every minute. Details were few, but I learned Tushar had been attacked by a masked man wielding a knife, who’d lunged at him on the street, before running off when Ursemin came to Tushar’s aid. This was the kind of escalation I’d been afraid of.

  I called Shardul. “Have you heard?”

  “Yes. It’s all around the community. You think it’s your stalker?”

  “Possibly. It could be racially motivated anyway.”

  “True. You’ll assist the police?”

  “I’m on my way to Ursemin’s house right now. The kid’s shaken up.”

  “I’m sure. But, Javen, he’s twenty-two. Not actually a kid.”

  “Yeah, I know. He just seems so young.”

  “Not necessarily an endearing trait in an adult. Good luck in finding this attacker.”

  Now what did he mean by that? Tushar was hardly childish. Innocent, more like. Probably because he was new to the city. He’d lived a pretty isolated life before Ursemin had discovered him. Anyway, how he acted was irrelevant to the fact some bastard was running around this city attacking innocent people. Time was when I’d have been one of the cops chasing this down. Now I could only give them what I had.

  Three police vehicles and at least ten officers had closed off Ursemin’s house. Of course now they took the threat seriously, when someone had been hurt. I showed my investigator’s ID to the cop acting as gatekeeper. “Javen Ythen for Lalitchandra Ursemin. I’m expected.”

  He called it in on his communicator. “Go on in, sir. Uh, are you carrying a weapon?”

  “Yes. Licensed gun. I’m reaching for it now.” I pulled it out slowly and showed him, and my license. “Okay?”

  “That’s fine. I’ll let the lieutenant know.”

  The house was one of the older ones in the city, big without being distinguished, two storeys with a garden that Shardul would have a word or two to say about its lack of use. Another cop stood at the door, but let me in without delay.

  I found Tushar and Ursemin in the living room, with two police officers who regarded me suspiciously. “Javen Ythen, officers. Formerly Sergeant Ythen of the Hegal force.”

  The lieutenant relaxed. “Nice to meet you, sergeant. Lieutenant Mahre, and this is Constable Eadi.”

  I nodded to the constable, then came forward. “Tushar, I’m sorry to hear about this. How bad is it?” He was shirtless with a dressing over one side, half-lying, half-sitting on the couch. The way he moved and winced indicated he was in some pain.

  “It hurts. I’ve never been attacked before.” His pale complexion was bloodless, his blue eyes huge in his shocked expression. “Please sit. Here, by me.”

  I did so, and took his icy hand. “How bad is the cut?”

  “The doctor stitched it. I couldn’t look.” He shivered. “There was blood everywhere.”

  I looked up at Ursemin. “A blanket would be a good idea.”

  The big man, radiating guilt and worry, jumped to my request. “I’ll fetch it.”

  While he tended to that, I turned to Mahre. “You wanted to speak to me?”

  “Yes, about this Phanindra Benay you identified as a possible stalker. Do you have anything to add to the report you gave Sri Ursemin?”

  “No. We put everything in. You think it’s him?”

  “Lalit went to speak to him,” Tushar murmured. “The man went crazy when Lalit mentioned my name. We’re sure he’s the one sending the messages.”

  Damn it, I’d told them to keep away from Benay. “Oh. Was he angry at you?”

  Tushar nodded. “He said he’d kill Lalit if he came around again. Lalit said he was terrifyingly angry.”

  I looked at Mahre, who cleared his throat. “We’ve sent a patrol around there. There’s not necessarily a connection. Unfortunately we don’t have a description of the attacker, and so far Forensics—” His phone interrupted him. “Excuse me,” he said, holding his finger up to us. “Mahre here. Right. Okay, pick him up. I’ll come down to question him myself.”

  He closed the call. “Things have moved on. We found a knife at Benay’s house with blood on it, and when he arrived home, he became aggressive. That’s enough to arrest him.”

  “Will that mean I’m safe now?” Tushar asked.

  Ursemin, coming back into the room, stood behind his client’s chair, the blanket in his hand, waiting for Mahre’s answer. I took the blanket from him and draped it over Tushar, winning a grateful smile. “I think it’s a little early to say the police have caught the man who did this, right, lieutenant?”

  “Yes, agreed. So until we charge this man or we find a better suspect, you will have to take precautions, Sri Omanand.”

  “My name is Tushar, lieutenant.” An unexpected flash of steel behind his usually smiling features. I guessed the pain had worn away the patience to be tactful.

  Mahre looked as surprised as if a flower had bitten him on the nose. “My apologies, Sri Tushar,” he said, bowing a little. “I need to get down to the station to interview this man. I’ll leave the officers on guard here overnight. We’ll review the situation in the morning.”

  “I’ll show you out,” Ursemin said.

  As they left, Tushar pulled the blanket more tightly around himself. “I’m so cold, and I can’t stop shaking.”

  “Shock, fright. It’s normal. Do you drink alcohol? Is there anything in the house?”

  “No, only chai.”

  “Would you like some?”

  “Yes, but I don’t want you to move. I feel safer with you being here.”

  How did he manage to sound like distilled sex while simultaneously being genuinely frightened and shaken up? “I think it’s important you have someone in the house tonight. Sri Ursemin lives here, right?”

  “Yes, but I have an apartment at the back. This was his parents’ house and they built an extension for his grandmother. Normally it’s nice to have my own space but....” He tucked himself down into the blanket. “How could someone try to kill me? I’ve never hurt anyone.”

  “It’s nothing to do with you. Just what you represent in the attacker’s mind. It’s not your fault.”

  He nodded distractedly, then winced as his injury caught. “It happened so fast. The police kept asking me about it, but I couldn’t tell them anything. Just someone big, masked, then this really fiery pain in my side. He knocked me down and all I could think about was not being hurt worse. I didn’t look at the man’s face. The police probably thought I was lying.”

  “No, they won’t. What you’ve described is normal, and they know it. I know you have a low opinion of them, and I don’t blame you, but they’ll do their job.”

  “Even for one of us?”

  “Even for one of your people.” No point in pretending what he’d seen with his own eyes wasn’t real.

  “I hope this man is the right one. I
don’t want to keep jumping at shadows.”

  “Tushar—” But then I thought better of it. The time to talk about other threats was when the kid had a chance to calm down. “Chai would make you feel better.”

  “Don’t care. You’re warm.” He cuddled up next to me, and I put my arm around him. Well, what else could I do? I’d have done the same for anyone who was hurt and afraid.

  Ursemin returned and blinked at the way we were sitting. “Could I trouble you for some chai?” I asked. “Sweetened, preferably. For him.”

  “Of course. It’s very kind of you to come over, Javen. How long can you stay?”

  Tushar looked up at me with liquid, pain-filled eyes. “All night?” he whispered. “It’s a lot to ask...but please?”

  “Uh...okay.” To Ursemin, I said, “As long as you need. I really am sorry about this.”

  “No, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have confronted that man. All I said was ‘Do you know Tushar?’ and he exploded. Never seen anything like it.”

  That explained the guilt then. “Then you didn’t cause it. No point in speculating either. If Benay’s the perpetrator, then we’ll know more soon enough. If not, then it’s not anything you did or didn’t do.”

  He grunted. “True. I’ll fetch the chai. I think there are some sweets in the kitchen. Tushar, do you feel hungry?”

  “No, but...Spirit, the show! Lalit, I completely forgot! I should be at the theatre.” He tried to sit up but cried out in pain.

  I pushed him back. “You’re going nowhere, right, Sri Ursemin?”

  “Absolutely not. I cancelled the show hours ago, Tushar. Your audience will understand.”

  “But they’ve paid. I hate letting people down.”

  “So you’ll do another show at the end of the run. It’s not something for you to worry about. That’s my job.”

  Tushar sighed and closed his eyes, and Ursemin left the room.

  I took Tushar’s hand again. “You can’t help this and if you were sick, the show would need to be cancelled anyway. Once the cuts have had a chance to heal, the doctor can put a synthaskin coating over them and you should be able to perform...though maybe not dance. Not for a little while.”

  “You know a lot about it.”

  “Well, you know, being a cop, I picked up the odd injury. Did the doctor give you any painkillers?”

  “Um, maybe. Lalit will know. The doctor made the skin numb around the cut but it’s wearing off. It hurts every time I breathe.”

  Rib cuts were like that, and added to the shock of being attacked out of the blue, were as unpleasant a minor injury as I could think of. “Lean into them. Don’t put any stress. Here.” I manoeuvred him carefully so I supported his injured side and he could lay his head on my shoulder. “Perhaps you’d be better off in bed.”

  “Only if you’re there,” he said with a stubborn set to his mouth. “I don’t want to be alone. I keep seeing the knife coming at me, over and over.”

  “That’s normal too. It wears off.” Only not very fast. Not the time to mention that either. People reacted differently and time would tell if he’d need help to overcome the memories.

  I felt terrible for enjoying this. I hadn’t been this close to an attractive man in years—not unless I counted dancing with Shardul months ago, which I didn’t dare. That Tushar seemed to be attracted to me and trusted me, was all the encouragement my neglected and entirely self-centred libido needed. I sternly told myself that Tushar was a client and injured—two reasons to keep it in my pants. He was also more than ten years younger than me, which was a third excellent disincentive. He might be no kid, but I was a lot older, more cynical, and worldly than him. Also, I was Kelon. I needed to be sensible.

  But sanity, he was lovely. Extraordinary cheekbones, brilliant red hair, and eyes like a newborn dirno, all big and long-lashed. Even the stress lines of pain couldn’t mar his looks. Prachi had talked of little else since she met him. I’d have done the same if I hadn’t had a reputation for gruff manliness to maintain.

  He became heavy against me, and I was careful not to disturb him, though he roused when his manager returned with a tray. “I thought he would want the pills the doctor left,” Ursemin whispered.

  “Good idea. Tushar, you should have some chai and the painkillers.”

  “I’m falling asleep.”

  “Yes, but you’ll sleep a lot better for this. Come on.”

  He groused a little but took the mug and pills. “Not much fun for you,” he muttered. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. It’s fine.”

  “Here, Javen, have one of these,” Ursemin said, offering me a plate of sweets. “If you’re staying, I should arrange dinner for you.”

  “I’ll be fine.” I planned to wait until Tushar went to bed and fell asleep, and then go home to avoid temptation I was by no means selfless enough to resist.

  “Will your lover mind? You being here, I mean,” Tushar asked after he took the pills. The chai brought a little colour to his cheeks.

  “I don’t have a lover, which I’m sure you knew.”

  “I didn’t. You’re so handsome, I was sure you’d have someone.”

  “I did. Now I don’t. I could say the same thing about you.”

  He lowered his eyes. “I had a lover...back in the village. He wasn’t happy when I said I wanted to take up Lalit’s offer. We had a huge fight. Haven’t spoken to him since.”

  “Perhaps he’ll change his mind?”

  “Even if he does, I don’t want him back. I don’t want someone controlling me like that.”

  “Fair enough.” I glanced at Ursemin to see what he thought of this intimate conversation going on in front of him. He was lost in thought, and my empathy could detect nothing to show he was paying attention to what we were saying.

  Sooner than I expected, Tushar grew heavy again, and there was no rousing him. I looked over at Ursemin, and nodded at my charge. He grunted. “Doctor prescribed a sedative as well. I think he needed it.”

  “I agree, but now he needs to rest in his own bed.”

  “I’ll carry him. I’ve done it before.”

  That raised my mental eyebrows, but the way the man carefully handled Tushar, dwarfed by Ursemin’s huge size, proved the truth of his claim. I followed them down some short stairs into a small apartment attached to the rear of the house. All was neat, if rather bare except for Tushar’s instruments and some clothes strewn on the sofa.

  Ursemin laid Tushar on the bed and covered him up. “I should go,” I whispered.

  “You said you’d stay.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “You promised. If he wakes and you’re not here, it’ll upset him. He places a good deal of trust in you, Javen.”

  “He barely knows me.”

  Ursemin shrugged. “He’s like that. Intense likes and dislikes, and when he likes someone, he gives everything. I think it would be good if you could stay...if it won’t cause you a problem. I can’t tell you how much this has distressed him.”

  “I’ve got a pretty good idea. Okay, I’ll stay. Just need to make a call. Um...I don’t have—”

  He held up his hand. “I have some spare toiletries and a sleeping shirt you can use. Thank you,” he said with a little bow. “This means a good deal to us.”

  “No problem.” The relationship between these two was definitely weird—more parental than anything else. Still, couldn’t fault a man for having a younger, injured person’s welfare at heart.

  I called Yashi from the living room. “The attack’s all over the news,” he said. “But I didn’t realise you were caught up in it.”

  “Only peripherally, and the police may already know who did it. I’ll be back tomorrow. Didn’t want you to worry.”

  “Thanks. I hope Tushar will be all right. What a horrible thing.”

  “Yeah, nasty. See you soon.”

  Curious, I selected one of the larger media channels on my reader to see what they were saying. The arrest of a suspect had been leaked
—no surprise for a story this big. But I was surprised to see a recording of a statement by Lalit Ursemin, apparently made outside the house. It was short, and thanked people for their concern, saying Tushar would make up any cancelled concerts and that he’d soon be back good as new. Standard stuff, I guessed, but when the hell had Ursemin had time and composure to make it?

  Part of a manager’s job, I supposed, having to think about this crap even when Tushar was bleeding all over the sofa. The publicity would be good for future ticket sales—but it would also encourage those of Benay’s bent. The more famous Tushar became, the bigger the risk. I didn’t think he or his manager had really grasped that yet.

  Time for that later. Ursemin returned with the shirt and a small bag of toiletries. “Would you like supper? I was going to order something. I’m sorry, I haven’t really had a chance to think about such things.”

  “No, I’m okay. I had a late lunch and I’m not really hungry. I can raid your cooler later if I’m desperate.”

  “Of course. If you need anything, anything at all, just ask.”

  I stripped and put the sleeping shirt on. I had no intention of trying to sleep—it was hours and hours before my usual bedtime—but I had reading I could do, and still keep an eye on Tushar at the same time. He should sleep through to morning, but it was hard to predict. If I’d had my preference, I’d have been at the station where Benay was being held, listening to the interrogation. The best I could hope for was that Lieutenant Mahre would keep me in the loop out of professional courtesy.

  I climbed onto the bed and made myself comfortable. Tushar’s face was screwed up a little with pain, but he was solidly out. I made sure not to be in a position to bump his bad side, and opened up my reader.

  Tushar didn’t move for the next four hours, and neither did I, except to command the reader to change pages. By then, I felt hungry, tired enough to try sleeping, and in need of a piss. I’d heard nothing from the main house for a while, so I figured Ursemin had gone to bed himself. I used the toilet, then wandered out into the darkened kitchen of the house. I found a couple of cold samosas which I ate without reheating, and returned to Tushar’s bedroom. He was mumbling in Nihani, and sounded distressed. I climbed back onto the bed and touched him gently on the shoulder. “Shhh. You’re safe, at home.”