Different Senses

by Ann Somerville

  “’Kay.” I closed my eyes, in too much pain to prod my uncertain memories, or to ask what in the name of reason was going on.

  I passed out again while Shardul and Sanjeev carried me clumsily, hands under my armpits and ankles. I woke again on a jolting, hard surface, Shardul clutching my hand. “Shhh, it’s a cart. Not long now,” he soothed.

  It felt like forever, but the painful jolting did stop, and more hands helped me out of the cart. Strangers’ voices spoke orders in Nihani, and Shardul dried me off before setting me, wrapped in a rough blanket, on a chair before a fire. I huddled there in misery, eyes closed against the fire’s glare, too dazed and in pain to care what was going on. Shardul was there, and while he was, I could let him take charge.

  A little while later, a woman spoke to him and then Shardul urged me to stand and get out of my wet things. He manhandled me into dry underwear the woman must have given him, and urged me with Sanjeev’s help into another room, where at last I could lie down on a real bed, under real covers.

  I felt I should do something, but honestly, I couldn’t make myself. My limbs were leaden, frozen, and my thoughts too fuzzy to make them work. All I could do was shiver. I heard Shardul speaking in Nihani with someone at the door of the room, then the quiet click of the door closing.

  “I have their medical kit. Let me check your injuries.”

  “Kn-know what you’re doing?” I mumbled, eyes still closed.

  “Enough, and do you really want them poking around your face? Your cheek is torn, perhaps fractured.” I lifted a hand to touch it, but he pushed it away. “Don’t. I can patch it up until we return to Hegal. I’m more concerned about your concussion, but unless we could call for air transport, there’s no way we can get you to a hospital tonight. And, er, I think it’s better that didn’t happen here.”

  “Where?”

  He started to gently clean the injuries. It hurt, but I could tell he was being as careful as possible, and like he said, better him than the strangers. “I don’t know. North, somewhere. I’m being as friendly and unthreatening as possible. Sanjeev told the family we’re lovers, so this is our room. I have clean, dry clothes for us, and Nadira is bringing a hot brick for you. We're safe here, I think. For tonight, at least.”

  “Why tonight?” I wanted to ask, but then I remembered. The people we were supposed to meet. How would we do that now? I decided to worry about that later.

  He put something cold which stung on my cheek. “Is it bad?”

  “Bad enough,” he admitted. “Your cheek is crushed, but I think it’s the implant, not your bone.”

  He shone the lamp in my eyes. I knocked his hand away. “Stop it.”

  “I have to check your pupils.”

  I muttered something rude about “Doctor Shardul” but let him do what he wanted.

  “They seem okay. If you do have a brain haemorrhage going, there’s nothing much I can do for you.”

  I screwed up my nose at him, which hurt. “Thanks.”

  “I don’t really think you’re dying.” He found that entirely too amusing, I thought.

  Having the cuts, bumps and abrasions cleaned and dressed took a long time, and I enjoyed none of it. But by the end, I was a little warmer, and with the stone the farmers had heated for me in their stove and wrapped in a towel, tucked against my side, I felt almost comfortable. Their herbal painkiller did nothing for the headache or the pain in my back and shoulder.

  Shardul pulled a pair of loose sleeping pants onto me, handling me as dispassionately as he would a mannequin, and dressed out of my sight in the same manner. He climbed into the bed beside me, and though in other circumstances this would be a dream come true, all I could think was how warm he was. “You’re like ice,” he murmured. “Still feel rotten?”

  “Mmmm. Better. Thanks.”

  “I’ll try and put them off tomorrow, give you time to recover. Should I try and cancel this meeting, get you back to the city?”

  “No. Not yet. Think tomorrow.”

  “Understood. Rest well.”

  I wanted to say the same, but exhaustion and brain fog tugged me under.

  ~~~~~~~~

  When I woke next, there was light through the windows, and the rain had stopped.

  I’d been knocked out—and about—before so I expected the next morning to be lousy, and I was right. But with Shardul a deceptively peaceful, warm presence next to me, all I wanted to do was curl around him and pretend I could wake up with him every morning. But he wasn’t Kirin or my lover at all, and this situation was the last thing I’d have engineered, so I had to keep my pleasure to myself, and not let it colour my reactions.

  Trying not to disturb him, I tested my body the way I’d learned to do after the shooting four years ago, stretching carefully, listening to the pings and pains. Nothing broken. All the aches concentrated on my head, neck and shoulders, and for the first time, I realised I’d had the most incredible escape. It had to have been a branch, not the trunk, that hit me or I’d be a soggy smear on that damn path.

  My head was the worst of it, throbbing madly, and when I finally stood, I knew I’d be nauseous. The longer I could rest, the better I’d be, but how long I’d be allowed depended on the people who wanted to meet me. Part of me wanted to accept Shardul’s suggestion and slink back to Hegal—but then we’d just have to go through this again, and soon.

  No, better to stick with the plan. At least any oddities on my part could be explained by the head injury.

  But right now, I didn’t want to move. Shardul’s handsome face in sleep was a picture of serenity. I would have happily lain there for hours, watching, relishing the illicit luxury of being close to him. It hurt, of course. I wanted him so much, and here he was, actually thigh to thigh with me. It was nothing but an illusion, I knew that, but the last few weeks had had precious few moments of pleasure, or of beauty—or peace—and I was weak enough to take what I could get, while I could.

  I dozed again, for how long, I didn’t know, and when I woke again, Shardul was up, sitting in a chair, a shawl over his bare shoulders, his braids as sleek and neat as always. He looked surprisingly neatly groomed, considering he’d been as wet and dirty as I had last night. “Ah, there you are. How do you feel?”

  “Like I had too many beers and landed face first on the pavement afterwards. How do I look?”

  “Like a man who had a fight with the ground and lost, indeed. But you’re coherent, at least.”

  “Don’t put too much faith in that. I need a leak, and where are my clothes? The boots, I need.”

  He raised an eyebrow at me. “Thank you, Shardul, for looking after me last night.”

  I made a disgusted sound. “Yeah, thanks. Sorry. My head’s killing me. Talking hurts. My teeth hurt.”

  “I’m sure. I’ll go ask about various things. Stay in bed.”

  I didn’t need to be told, and pulled the covers over my head until the door closed. I peeked out then to examine my surroundings. I’d stayed in a rural Nihani home exactly once, and this sturdy farmhouse bore little physical resemblance to that building on stilts belonging to Jyoti’s aunt and uncle in the Demultan Flats. But both had the same old-fashioned feel—no electrical lights, no gadgets, the furniture old and worn, the rug and bedclothes handmade and probably at least a generation old. Whose room was this? An aged parent’s, deceased not that long ago? Not the farmer couple’s own bedroom, I thought. It felt unused, kept clean and neat out of respect.

  Did this family know what their friends were up to? Were they involved? This room, the feeling of family and history, didn’t fit with my image of terrorists, or what had been done to Yashi and his home. Was there such a difference between these people and mine, that they couldn’t imagine the pain they had caused—or care?

  I was making my head ache . My job was to find out the ‘who’, and Captain Largosen could work out the ‘why’ later. Motives didn’t matter. Stopping the bad guys was all that counted.

  Shardul returned and caugh
t me dozing. “Javen,” he whispered.

  “Don’t,” I mumbled, twisting and wincing. “Not even here. Someone might be listening.”

  “All right. Everyone’s eating breakfast. Here.”

  He held a thing like a huge chai cup with a lid. “What the hell’s that?”

  “For now, your latrine. Sorry. Their outhouse is...well, out. We are in the middle of nowhere.”

  “I have to piss into a bucket? Shoot me.”

  “If I have to.” He found it too amusing, bastard. “Nadira washed our clothes, and dried them. Our shoes are dry too. She made us a tray so we can eat in here. They’re lovely people.”

  “Hmmm.” I climbed awkwardly out of bed, and clung to the bedpost as the room whirled around me and my stomach roiled. He started towards me to help, but I held my hand up to stop him, signalled for him to turn around, and then used the horrible bucket cup thing to relieve my aching bladder. I shoved it under the bed, hoping I wouldn’t need it again. “Please tell me we can get out of here today?”

  “The road’s still cut, but the rain has stopped and the forecast is for fair weather the rest of the weekend. Sanjeev contacted his friends. They’re on their way.”

  “Damn. I’m not exactly at my best.”

  He turned, his expression telling me he’d understood what I’d really meant to say. “Drink some chai, go back to bed. I’ll take care of things.”

  Meaning he’d run interference with the Nihani family and Sanjeev. It felt so good to have him at my back again. Almost like nothing had changed.

  The sweetened chai helped a little but not as much as lying down again. My cheek throbbed as bad as my head did, and worried me more. Had the electronics been damaged? Was the bone underneath the implant crushed? For the first time in my very privileged life, I was nowhere near excellent medical care, and it scared me. One of the props I’d taken for granted in my existence was gone. Had I been more seriously hurt last night, the lack of quick attention could have been fatal. This was what it was like for Ekanga’s people, for many Nihani—even for Jyoti’s cousins in the Demultan Flats. It was so primitive. Why did anyone have to live like this these days? Maybe this was the true breeding ground of terrorism—not the cities and the thousand daily insults to the minority, but here, where outdoor toilets, lousy healthcare and limited electricity were the norm.

  I didn’t have the data or the brain power right now to figure it out. I needed to rest so my head would be clear enough to deal with Sanjeev’s friends. I’d have given a kidney for an effective painkiller or even an icepack. The best I could do was lie still with the covers over my face to cut out as much light through my eyelids as possible, and hope I would sleep again.

  I got my wish, because the next thing I knew, Shardul was shaking me gently by the shoulder. “Wake up, they’re here.”

  “Who?” I tried to lift myself up, and fell back with a groan as all the aches and pains in my upper body made nuisances of themselves again.

  He helped me sit. “Sanjeev’s friends. Can you face it?”

  I swung my legs out of the bed and grimaced. “Yeah, if I take it slow.”

  “There’s fresh chai to have. I made it clear to everyone that you’re really not well, and I don’t think they expect much. I’ve spoken to them, been cooperative and friendly—if you can show your face, answer a couple of questions, that should be enough.”

  “Fine. And then we can get out of here?”

  “Tomorrow morning. The road’s clear, but Sanjeev doesn’t want to drive tonight.”

  When I asked, he told me it was nearly nightfall. I’d slept right through the day. I felt a little better, but far from normal.

  “Help me dress? Wait, I need a piss.”

  I used the horrible bucket again, and then he helped me into my salwar, expression studiedly neutral. His feelings felt...absent “Why can’t I sense you any more? You’re doing something to my talent.”

  “Yes. Now’s not the time—”

  I held his wrist, and forced him to look at me. “You can’t hide behind that forever, Shardul. I want the truth.”

  “You shall have it, I swear by the Spirit.” His eyes usually gave so much away of his real thoughts, but even they were silent, opaque to me. “But not now. Here’s your shirt.”

  He produced a borrowed brush for my hair, and a basin and jug on the side held water for me to splash my face. I still felt like reheated shit, but maybe my pathetic appearance would count in my favour. Shardul took my arm and supported me a little more than I needed, but I recognised what he was doing, and let him.

  The room he led me into was dimly lit, dull dusk coming through the windows, with only a single lamp on a table throwing the faces of four men into shadow. Sanjeev, and three strangers. “Dandak, this is Gafur Kawildin. Gafur, this is Chakshu and Ojas.”

  I pressed my hands together in greeting. “Jiagan fulti.”

  “Please sit,” Dandak said, and Shardul helped me to a chair. “We were sorry to hear of your accident. How do you feel?” Words of concern, but his main emotion was wariness. He was assessing me, and his acceptance was far from assured.

  “Rough,” I said, giving him a smile. “Could have been worse.”

  “Yes, indeed. Chai?”

  “Please.” Sanjeev stood to pour, Dandak watching me carefully. “So, you wanted to meet me. Tell me what you want to know.”

  Dandak leaned forward, and lowered his voice. The farmer couple weren’t there, and he didn’t want them knowing his business. Maybe the farmers were innocent bystanders after all. It made me feel a little better about the situation, and a little worse, for dragging them into the mess.

  “You’ve passed on some warnings which have helped honest Nihan to escape the unjust Kelon police, Gafur. Are you happy to continue to do so?”

  “Yes. I have to be careful, but so long as I am, I can do this for our people.”

  “Good. But...what if we wanted something which might require more direct action?”

  I pretended to be a little nervous. “People know my face. I can’t...well, set devices. Not that I’m accusing you of that.”

  “We wouldn’t ask that of you, but let’s be blunt here. A few Kelons might have to be hurt to achieve what must be achieved. People who have won their comfortable lives from the backs of our kind. Parasites, like the Ythen family.”

  “For what he did to the man I love, I would kill Javen Ythen myself,” I said.

  “Don’t blame you,” Dandak said, sounding pleased. “No, the direct action would be in the nature of misinformation. Planting files in their systems, giving false data. Perhaps deleting or altering files on our people. Could you do that?”

  “I think so.”

  “And if we asked for, say, the itinerary of certain events or transport routes to meetings, you could get that?”

  “The chief gets just about everything the governor does,” I lied. “And if he gets it, I can give it to you.”

  “Wonderful. You would be doing the cause of freedom a great service, Gafur. Our people will honour you.”

  And that was all he wanted, apparently. People relaxed, and I risked a smile at Shardul, who returned it in a strained manner. Sanjeev was positively jovial, grinning at Dandak who indulged him, though his real feelings weren’t as comfortable as he wanted them to appear. Dandak trusted Sanjeev, I suspected, but didn’t rate him highly. He saw Sanjeev as a means to an end, not a friend. Useful information? Maybe, maybe not. Finding out Dandak’s real identity would be much more useful.

  “Perhaps we could get some more chai, and something to eat,” Sanjeev said. “Gafur, you must be hungry.”

  “A little, but I don’t want to put anyone out.”

  “You aren’t. Nadira said she could bring refreshments in as soon as we were finished. We are, aren’t we? Excellent.” He went off, I presumed, in search of Nadira and food.

  Pure relief drove his good mood. Now he could stop worrying about things going wrong, the way he had since we’d met a
t the service stop. What exactly worried him, I wondered? What did he have at stake, that Dandak could threaten? Until this ill-fated trip, Sanjeev had come off as an alpha male type, but Dandak was the real top dog. It was his trust I needed to win. I’d made a good start, I felt, but I’d need to do more. I had to feed him the information he wanted, in quality and quantity.

  Shardul wanted out of here, I could tell, and I didn’t blame him. Dandak gave me the creeps and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what he planned to do with the information he wanted. I couldn’t be sure whether Dandak had asked for what he really wanted, or what he thought would test my commitment. Fortunately it wasn’t up to me or my aching head to figure it out. All I had to do was pass what I’d heard and learned over to Captain Largosen and he and his clever guys could analyse it to their little hearts’ content, while I got medical attention back in civilisation.

  I blamed the head injury for what happened next, but I should have been on alert. Sanjeev returned bearing the chai pot, and behind him, a tiny Nihani woman who was surely older than my grandfather, carrying a tray of sweets. Nadira, I assumed. She set the tray before me, smiling nervously, but then her smile grew brighter just as I felt the tell-tale tingle at the back of my head.

  Oh shit.

  My face froze in shock, but even if I’d been able to fake it, no way could I fool her talent. Her smile slipped and she straightened up, confused at my reaction. Dandak snapped at her in Nihani, and she answered.

  I felt Shardul’s anxiety spike, his hand on my arm gripping me, but we had no chance to get out of here even if I wasn’t sluggish and stupid. Chakshu grabbed Shardul and pulled him back from me. Dandak pulled out a small but entirely lethal Mahul automatic, and pointed it at my head. Sanjeev jumped in fright, babbling in Nihani. I didn’t need to speak his language to know he was saying “what the fucking fuck, and by the way I had nothing to do with it!”

  I put my hands up. “Now, calm down, guys. What’s the problem?” I hoped against hope he hadn’t figured out, but Dandak was as smart as I feared.

  “You’re matos. You can’t have been a cop.” He took the safety off. “Who are you?”