by Caro Soles
“Ten years?”
“I’ll be married then, living in my husband’s home, practicing his ceremonials and watching my children grow. What about you. Will you be married in ten years?”
He laughed, spilling wine on his bare chest. “We usually don’t get married till we’re around forty in your years and I don’t think I want any children. I certainly don’t want to have one myself. I think it’s messy and inconvenient and you lose your figure. Besides, you have to take time off from dancing.”
She looked at him, perplexed. “I don’t understand. Do you mean you can have babies?”
“Of course,” said Cham, casually. “Triani has a child, you know. Actually, he paid this other dancer to have it with him about three years ago, but he doesn’t like to talk about that part. I shouldn’t really be telling you, I suppose. Anyway, I don’t have time for all that. I’m going to be famous some day, touring everywhere. I just hope I have the time to do this sort of thing and know someone like you to do it with.” His eyes looked into hers for a moment, then slid away. “No matter how you meant the invitation, I want you to know I appreciate it. So I made you a present. I like to make jewelry.” He reached for his bag and dug out a pendant on a crystal chain. It was a silver disk with a design worked into it in tiny colored stones.
“It’s lovely! Put it on for me?” She held up her heavy hair with both hands and bent her head.
Cham fastened the chain around her neck, taking his time as he breathed in the sweet, spicy girl scent of her warm body. He was surprised at the effect she was having on his senses. She was so different from Triani, from any Merculian, for that matter. He gazed in fascination at her right ear with the three green rings fitted into it and ran a small finger over the edge and around the earlobe.
“I’d love to have external ears like you,” he said wistfully. “Then I could wear earrings, too.”
She twisted her head around to look at him. “You don’t have ears?”
“Oh, yes. But they don’t stick out.” He pushed back his hair to show her the thin membrane covering the sensitive inner ear. He could feel the heat from her body as she leaned close to look.
“Do you want to go for a walk? I think I hear water somewhere.” She jumped to her feet and they wandered together through the tall grass onto the stony ground higher up the slope. The sound of water was louder here, tumbling over boulders, rushing headlong between narrow, rocky walls. Hand in hand, they ran to the edge of the river.
It was Quana who saw it first. “Look! Somebody’s watchdog!” she exclaimed. “Poor thing. It must have gotten lost in the storm yesterday and drowned.”
The animal seemed to hang suspended just under the sparkling surface of the water, its long, thin tail streaming out behind it, waving lazily with the current. Somehow its huge paws had become cruelly wedged between the stones at the bottom. Its large head hung down in defeat, the tip of its narrow, black tongue showing between its teeth.
Cham let go of Quana’s hand and bent down to examine the creature more closely. The leathery coat was slippery and cold to the touch. Two glassy eyes stared sightlessly at the bottom of the stream. But the third eye blazed like a jewel an inch from the forehead, bobbing about with every movement of the water. It was held there by one thin, silver wire.
Cham knelt and touched the glowing orb and its tiny wires. It came away in his hand. “It’s some sort of video transmitter,” he whispered, dazed.
“How do you know?”
“It’s obvious. We used to make them in school.” He took a deep breath. “These dogs are nothing but walking video spies!”
“I don’t understand.” Quana was staring from the eye to Cham’s face and back again. It was obvious that she knew nothing about it.
Cham felt cold horror sweeping over him. He remembered last night, the big dog so much at home in the bedroom that they had forgotten about it. But all the time it was watching as he and Triani made love for hours on that marvelous bed. He felt the heat in his face.
“What kind of people are you?” he cried, turning on Quana. “You give us a gift and then use it against us!”
“What are you talking about! They’re guardians, meant to help people. Why are you so upset?”
“We’re not used to being spied on! How can we trust you people after this?”
Quana drew herself up to her full height. “Perhaps you are the ones who are not worthy of trust,” she said. “You’re just a dancer and yet you think you’re smarter than we are. You’re angry because you’ve found out you’re not.”
“Just a dancer!” cried Cham, stung. He glared at Quana, then turned abruptly and started back the way they had come. She followed, easily keeping pace with him. Once in the long grass, he was forced to slow down until finally he stopped. After a moment of silence, Quana stepped in front of him and led the way back to the rock. Together they began to collect the remains of their picnic and stow everything away in the saddlebags.
“I’m sorry,” she said at last. She was braiding her hair. “I really don’t understand this.”
“I know,” he said. He stamped his feet down into his boots. “Let’s go.”
When they reached the amax, she adjusted the bright saddle blanket and then vaulted onto its back, using Cham’s clasped hands as a stirrup. Cham leapt up behind her. When he slipped his arms around her waist he was stunned by the turmoil of emotions he felt from her. It was almost a relief to find she was this upset, although he knew her reasons were different from his.
The whole incident had been a forceful reminder that he was the alien here. Nothing he had read in his orientation package had prepared him for this.
“What are you going to do about…this?” she said.
“Tell Triani, I guess.”
“Do you have to say I was with you? You could leave my name out of it, couldn’t you?”
“But Quana, you never said it was a secret! Look, you invited me here, in front of your friends, too. If it was wrong, I didn’t know!”
“You’re just like everyone else! Put the blame on the female!”
“I am not like everyone else! You’re—” He clamped his mouth shut. After a moment, he said, “Anyway, Triani knows I’m with you.”
“You told him?”
“Of course! He’s—” Once again, he stopped himself, suddenly aware there were possibilities for misunderstanding everywhere.
“They’ll kill me if they find out I was out alone with a boy!” she exclaimed.
“But that’s ridiculous! Besides, I’m not a boy.”
“Alone with an alien is probably even worse!”
“Thanks a lot!”
There was silence between them for a few moments. Cham gritted his teeth as the animal lurched along with its uneven gait. His head was spinning with the possible repercussions from this innocent afternoon. “Why did you really invite me to come here?” he asked at last.
“I wanted to get to know you. It cost me a fortune to get rid of my brother all afternoon, too.”
“But why shouldn’t you be alone with me? Isn’t there any trust between you people? Or has being under constant surveillance made it impossible for you to trust anyone?”
Quana didn’t answer but he could feel her indignation. “I’m just trying to understand,” he went on quickly. “I thought the whole idea behind joining the I.P.A. was to get to know alien cultures.”
“I get the feeling you people expect this to be all one way,” she said coolly. “Are you trying to understand?”
“I came, didn’t I?” And oh, how I wish I hadn’t, he thought, as they rode on in silence. He knew he would never be able to look at only the surfaces of things on Abulon again.
FIVE
The Festival Theater had been brought from Merculian and assembled in the middle of the Public Gardens near the palace of the Great Chief. The day it went up, a crowd gathered, chattering and laughing to see the Merculian crew patiently set out all the pieces of the building in the shape of a
huge circle, as if it were some kind of a gigantic puzzle. Their amusement turned to exclamations of wonder as the outer walls suddenly began to rise upwards, its supports snapping into place in sequence, controlled by one small box with a black lever. The huge dome curved inwards and fit together with a gentle click. The triangular struts gleamed silver against the deep blue and white of the rounded walls. As Cham arrived, workers thronged in and out under the wide arch of the entrance, putting the finishing touches to the theater. Inside was bright with the light coming in through the translucent panels. The seats were still being assembled in gently rising tiers. The stage lights were on. The crew was checking the light tower projectors and the company’s lighting designer was shouting directions as he waved his arms impatiently from the front of the stage.
Cham hurried down the side aisle. The rehearsal was called for four o’clock but he knew Triani would be here somewhere, going through his long warm-up routine, totally unaware of the chaos around him. There was plenty of time to tell him about the dog.
Cham slipped into the backstage area and saw Triani at once, poised in the glare of the working lights, colorful in purple tights and a yellow top. Cham stopped to watch. Triani’s face was absorbed, the black eyes opaque and inward-looking. He stood on one leg, holding the other foot casually at arm’s length above his head. He released the foot, bending the other knee as he did so. Leaping into the air, he resumed his original pose. His graceful movements were apparently effortless, totally controlled. Without warning, he fell forwards onto his hands, his legs moving slowly over his head as he arched his back, pointed his toes. Slowly, slowly his body bent until one toe touched the floor behind him. With a quick movement, he flipped over, sliding into the splits with smooth grace, his arms arched above his head. He stared at Cham. The light in his eyes changed.
“Go to my dressing room!” he hissed, springing to his feet.
Shaken, Cham turned away. The dressing rooms were formed by brightly colored slabs of soundproofed material which fitted into upright metal poles attached to floor and ceiling. Triani’s was yellow; Eulio’s, beside it, blue. Cham opened the door and walked in, glancing around at the recliner Triani always insisted on, the gleaming make-up table, its large mirror framed in light, the small, old-fashioned armchairs. There was a bar along one end of the room where costumes were hanging. A bottle of Crushed Emeralds stood on a small table.
Triani slammed the door behind him. It made no noise, only a soft hiss. “Where the hell have you been, you asshole? Don’t you know what time it is?”
Cham stepped back, hurt in his eyes. “But you know where I’ve been. I told you all about it. And it’s not even four o’clock yet.”
Triani glared at him, hands on hips. “From now on you get your ass over here one hour before rehearsal and warm up, do you hear?”
Cham nodded, backing away. He thought Triani was going to hit him.
“And one more thing, while we’re at it. This is the real world, sweetie. You are just a member of the chorus; the youngest, least experienced, humblest member. Got it? You will not come to my dressing room again or even speak to me, unless I speak to you first. You will act like a professional. Always!”
Cham’s lower lip trembled. “You don’t have to yell at me! I know how to behave backstage.” He swallowed. “I’ll get my things.”
“They’re here. I brought them.” Triani tossed him the rainbow striped bag that held Cham’s rehearsal clothes. “Get changed.”
“Here?”
“Just this once.”
Triani flung himself into a chair, one leg over the arm. His yellow top was damp with sweat. He pulled it over his head and rubbed his chest as he watched Cham turn away and begin to undress.
“You’ve got a great little body,” he remarked.
Cham didn’t answer. He was deeply hurt by Triani’s scalding anger. He always found it difficult to adjust to these drastic swings in mood. As he reached for his bag, strong arms embraced him from behind. “Got a smile for me, baby?” Triani’s fingers traced the outline of his lips and ran caressingly over his smooth chest. Cham stood still and felt a sudden stab of resentment. A sob caught in his throat. How can you do this to me? he wanted to say. But he knew he wouldn’t. He knew he would yield unreservedly to Triani’s driving need, as he always did. The sob escaped in a whimper. Then, his body singing from Triani’s touch, he turned around and lifted his face for a kiss. He could feel Triani’s desire all through the body pressed against him.
“Oh, love me, Chami,” murmured Triani as he sank to the floor with Cham in his arms. Their smooth, naked bodies tangled together for a few moments before Triani pushed Cham onto his back, the long curls spilling out on the floor. He knelt above him, stroking the soft inside of his thighs until Cham’s whole body quivered with longing. Silvery moisture dampened his pubic hair as his desire for union exploded and he reached out with a cry.
Suddenly, urgently, Triani slammed into him. Cham clung tightly, his eyes closed, tears caught on his lashes as the assault went on. When Triani lay still, Cham opened his eyes again and smiled. He felt Triani’s long, shuddering breaths all through him, felt the withdrawal of his sex, the softening of his nipples, the thumping of his heart. Cham let his own sex emerge at last, seeking union with his lover.
Triani ignored the signal. “Look what I have to do to get a smile out of you,” he said.
“Rough, isn’t it?” Cham pulled his face closer and kissed the side of his mouth.
Triani ran his long fingers through the pale, gold hair. “Come on, baby. We can’t lie around on the floor all day. Time for work.”
“But love…” Cham’s voice trailed off. Triani was already heading for the little bathroom. Swallowing his hurt and sexual frustration, Cham got to his feet and followed, resignedly.
When they were dressed, Cham sat at Triani’s make-up table brushing his hair and watching his lover in the mirror. His heart felt painfully full of tenderness in spite of what had just happened. He wondered if he would ever understand Triani. The story of the drowned dog would have to wait now. He dropped the brush in his bag and stood up. Triani was right behind him. His hand caught the back of Cham’s neck, his fingers in the long hair.
“It’s not going to be easy in there, baby,” he said. “Don’t let me down. And don’t ever let them see you cry.” He brushed the soft cheek with a kiss. “Knock ’em dead, sweetie. You can do it!”
Cham felt his heart turn over. At that moment he would happily have died for Triani. He reached for his hand, raised it to his lips, gently sucked the tips of the fingers, one by one. His eyes never left the loved face.
“Shit. You’re one sexy kid.”
Cham kissed the inside of Triani’s wrist, turned without a word and went out the door.
* * *
Cham was the first one back at their apartment. He was trembling with the effort at self-control. He poured himself a tall glass of Merculian mint wine and stood by the window, his forehead resting against the cool glass. Every few sips he would close his eyes and take several deep breaths. If only Triani would come home. To keep busy, he washed in the small pool that was constantly filling with warm water, dressed in a pale blue robe and put on the gold collar Triani had given him for his sixteenth birthday. He laid out some of the Merculian delicacies they had brought from home on the long, low table and placed silver candles down the middle. He put two furry cushions on the floor, side by side. He shut the dog in the bedroom. With everything done, he knelt in a corner of the huge sofa that nearly filled one wall, both small hands clamped tightly around the riot of fruit carved along the back.
Today was the first time he had danced with the company. He was physically and mentally exhausted. It wasn’t the dancing that had done it, but the constant emotional drain of feeling hostile eyes on him, knowing they were just waiting for him to make a mistake; ready to pounce if the star’s little darling made one slip. No one said a word but their resentment and jealousy were heavy on the air
. Triani had warned him. “You’re not going to be popular, baby.” But Cham hadn’t expected hatred. It wasn’t just because of his relationship with Triani, although that was a big part of it; but because of his extreme youth and great talent. But now Cham wondered if he could take this kind of constant pressure.
No one had befriended him. The only bright spot had come during a break, from an unexpected source. Cham knelt alone in the wings, adjusting a slipper when a comforting arm was draped over his shoulder. Surprised, he looked up into the wide, blue eyes of Eulio Chazin Adelantis.
“Remember, you’re on that stage because the director of this company thinks you’re good enough.”
“But Triani asked him, chai.”
“Triani got you an audition. You got yourself the rest of the way. Remember that, Chamion.”
Cham smiled for the first time. “Now I know why Chai Benvolini loves you so,” he said shyly.
Eulio flushed slightly and got to his feet. “Don’t get cheeky with me, child. And don’t let them get you down.” After the rehearsal, when Cham went to the dressing room he shared with three others, they all stopped talking. They made him so nervous he didn’t want to change in front of them. He pulled his red pants over the tights, got into his boots and shrugged into the lacy shirt. He wanted to scream at them, to make them acknowledge him but he was afraid he would cry if he said anything at all. He picked up his bag and left. As the door closed, he heard one of them say loudly; “They share a bed, why can’t they share a dressing-room, for god’s sake! Why crowd us?”
Cham stared at the carvings of the alien fruit. Why do they want to hurt me? he wondered. When he felt the touch of Triani’s long fingers on the back of his neck, he let out his breath in a sigh.
“It was rough, baby. I know.” Triani sat down close behind him. “I couldn’t get away any sooner. I’m sorry.” He caressed the pale flaxen curls. “You’ve got to let it out. Don’t let them chew you up inside. Come on.” His hand moved soothingly over Cham’s back.
Cham gulped and with a sudden twist of his body, buried his face in Triani’s neck. All during that awful rehearsal he had longed for these arms around him, for the comforting strength of Triani’s body against his. Finally he let the tears come. Triani rocked him gently in his arms. “The bastards,” he muttered and kissed the top of his head. “I’m proud of you, Chami. You didn’t make one mistake.”
