TAVYI: I’m still waiting for the big reveal about one of them being a shapeshifter.
SEHVI: You’re going to be waiting a lonnnnng time.
TAVYI: There’s not much left in the book?
SEHVI: There are sequels.
SEHVI: So many sequels.
NINEH: What
MANDARA: what
KAVILA: What??
TAVYI: YAY
KOVRAH: Wait, seriously? YAY?
TAVYI: Aww, you have to admit they’re kind of a cute couple. Plus, Eldritch babies with fox ears?
NINEH: If it’s not Eldritch on the right side and Tam-illee on the left, I am quitting this book.
MANDARA: You can never quit this book. This book will haunt you for the rest of your days.
Vasiht’h hit his forehead with the data tablet. Gently.
Chapter 12
Several days later, they arrived to their office to find a woman with a basket. Jahir had never seen a Pelted as fluffy as this Karaka’An, whose tawny fur had been shaved into decorative patterns on her arms like a rug with multiple height piles. The hair on her head, a lighter, buttery yellow, fell in a curtain of braids, all different thicknesses, tied off with bangles and beads in brass and steel and silver. She wore rings in similar hues on all her fingers, and on the toes she left unshod as was customary with the digitigrade Pelted.
Her brown eyes, studying them, were incisive and curious. But Jahir saw no malice in them.
“I hope you don’t have an appointment this early,” the woman said.
/Another client?/ Vasiht’h wondered, puzzled.
“You find us free, alet,” Jahir said. “What can we do for you?”
She grinned and shifted the basket onto her free arm so she could thrust out a palm. “You can tell me all about yourselves, because I am obviously so behind on the gossip. I’m Minette Dashenby. I practice over by the university. And you all are the new therapists!”
“You’re not here to tell us to get out of town, are you?” Vasiht’h asked.
She rolled her eyes. “No. That’s more Allen’s bailiwick.”
“Good.” Vasiht’h covered her palm. “I think one threat was enough.”
/Coming it a bit too strong, perhaps,/ Jahir murmured.
/It was a threat and I’m not going to soft-pedal it. You shouldn’t either./
The musical metaphor startled him, coming from a partner who’d never shown much interest in it.
“He can be a little overbearing. I wouldn’t let it bother you. Oh, here…” She offered the basket. “A little welcome gift. Did I ask your names yet? What are your names?”
The mindline was growing lighter now, like sun breaking through dissolving clouds. “Thank you. I’m Vasiht’h, this is my partner Jahir. Come on in, I don’t think we have anyone for another hour…?” Vasiht’h looked toward Jahir quizzically.
“An hour and a half,” he agreed, and opened the door for them both.
The woman stepped inside and clapped her hands. “Look at this! It’s so cozy! I didn’t think you’d be able to redeem the cold ‘tower of glass’ motif outside, but this is fantastic.” She fingered the quilt. “Very homey. Do you mind if I…”
“Please,” Jahir said.
She plopped onto the couch and looked around, grinning. “No wonder Allen was so incensed. Did he accuse you of running a massage parlor? Those have bad reputations on Terra.”
/I’m… getting the feeling we’ve fallen into the middle of something./
Jahir suppressed the urge to look at his friend and settled for sharing the feeling that would have inspired his wry smile.
/Right./ “So, alet,” Vasiht’h said. “You’re one of Veta’s xenotherapists?”
“That’s right. You’ve met the other two, so I figured I’d complete the set.”
“The other… two?” Vasiht’h asked.
“Sure. Allen, of course. And Helga? Who’s been sending you her clients? She wants to retire, you know.” Dashenby fluffed the pillow beside her arm and leaned on it. Seeing their expressions, her mouth creased into a grin and she pressed her hand to it. Her eyes were merry. “No, don’t even say it. She hasn’t told you.”
“No,” Vasiht’h said.
“But we are not surprised,” Jahir said.
/We’re not?/
/Are you? Truly?/
The mindline grew empty with the anticipation of the answer as Vasiht’h thought about it. Then he said, /No… no, I guess I’m not either./
“She’s old,” Dashenby said, unconcerned. “A grandmother several times over… actually, a great-grandmother by now, I think. I’m not surprised she kept it to herself. She’s fond of teaching moments.” She grinned. “And when she finds out I’ve spoiled this one you can tell her it’s my fault.”
“We shall do so,” Jahir promised. “Was she then the owner of the property that stands vacant now?”
“The Healer’s Knot? You found it, did you?” She nodded. “She used to work there with her eldest daughter and son-in-law. A doctor and a physical therapist, respectively. It was great for patients, a real family business, and you felt like you were home, you know? But her daughter moved away, back to Hinichitii. After that, she rented out the extra space to a couple of other people, but it was never the same and eventually she let it go vacant. She’s been talking about retirement for a while now, but she hasn’t committed to it.” Her grin returned. “Looks like she’s changed her mind.”
“Should we even ask,” Vasiht’h said.
“It was always a question of where her clients should end up. There’s not that many of us, you know? And here you are. I bet if I looked at your client list, I’d find all her patients on it.”
“I thought they were Tiber’s,” Vasiht’h said.
“Oh, sure, they’re his for now, because where were they going to go on her reduced schedule?” Dashenby propped her cheek up in her palm, smiling at them both. “It was him or me, and I don’t like working long hours. I have a family; getting home in time to read my kits bedtime stories isn’t my idea of spending enough time with them. Allen’s divorced and has three times the energy of mortal men. If he wants to work until midnight, that’s his business, and I thank him for it. Keeps me from having to.”
/Great. So he really is crazy./
Jahir didn’t answer, tasting the reluctant compassion threaded through the acerbic observation. Tiber’s behavioral pattern was all too obvious to them both—and to Dashenby too, if he read her expression right. She spoke of Tiber with the complacency of long acquaintance, and without derision.
/You see it too,/ Vasiht’h thought with a sigh.
/Yes. Which begs the question… if Tiber can sustain a collegial relationship with other therapists, jealousy may not be the driver of his animosity toward us./
/I still say he was threatening./
/But discovering why is important./
Dashenby, unlike some of the other people they’d met, did not seem to notice them conversing in silence. She was too busy examining the particulars of their office, admiring the afghan, twisting to look at the walls. “You should put something on those. If you stay here.”
“We will hope to be able to do so,” Jahir said. “If our residency applications are approved.”
“Are you worried about that? With Helga retiring and starting to send you her clients?” Dashenby laughed. “I wouldn’t. Unless you mess things up. Which brings me to my next question… why is Allen so convinced you two are hacks? He told us both that you were dangerous and said something about…” She waved a hand. “Mind powers and vulnerable clients and not respecting the client/therapist boundaries.”
Vasiht’h strangled a noise.
When Dashenby looked toward him, startled, Jahir said, “Please pardon my partner. The accusations Tiber made against us are considered serious crimes on his homeworld, and slanderous.”
“Goodness.” The Karaka’An sat up straighter. “I’m sure he didn’t realize it. He’s usually very letter
-of-the-lawish. What… can I ask?”
“We are bonded espers,” Jahir said. “And we work primarily through observation of and action on dreams.”
Her eyes widened. “Goddess dancing. Well. Yes. I can see why that might have gotten him upset.” She cocked her head. “That’s… a real thing? Going into people’s minds? They train that somewhere?”
“We don’t do it without consent,” Vasiht’h said. “And where I come from, it’s real. If not formalized.”
/Is it?/ Jahir asked, startled.
/It must be,/ Vasiht’h answered. /Because no one thinks anything of it, and there are Glaseah therapists on Anseahla. We do half our communicating mind-to-mind! It’s not something we think of as… as special. Worthy of notice./
/If you can find evidence of it, that would help us with our naysayers./
/Then I will./
“We graduated from Seersana University’s medical program,” Jahir said. “And we are properly licensed.”
“And we only do this with consent,” Vasiht’h continued, the fur on his back starting to bristle. “To do otherwise would be wrong.”
“Huh.” The Karaka’An frowned a little. “I don’t know anything about esper law, or etiquette or… well, I don’t know anything. Ordinarily, I’d be leaning more toward Allen’s side of the debate. Not because I think you all are evil people, but… what we do with people, it requires trust. And I can’t imagine trusting anyone to go directly into my head that way.”
Before Vasiht’h could explode, Jahir said, “And yet…?”
“But Helga trusts you. And from what I’ve heard, you not only have repeat clients, you have referrals.” The Karaka’An played with one of the rings at the end of her braids. “That could mean something sinister, I guess. But Helga’s a lot harder to fool than I am.” She grinned again. “And after ten years in practice, I’ve gotten pretty hard to fool. I’ve seen charmers swan into my office and make promises and confess to their sins and not mean a word of it.” Her scrutiny then was not at all frivolous, and Jahir wondered at the experience in her eyes—how many of those glib liars had come through her hands and scarred her. “You two don’t have the polish of the sociopaths I’ve known.”
“Thanks?” Vasiht’h folded his arms.
She burst out laughing. “Sorry, that sounded awful. But you have to look at it from our point of view! What do non-espers know about what it’s like to be you? All I think of is ‘mind control’ and ‘brainwashing’. I’m sure you think something different. You must.”
/It is not her intention to insult,/ Jahir said to the seething he sensed through the mindline.
/I know. That’s what makes it harder to listen to./
/Perhaps this is the form that the discrimination against humans takes, in Ametia’s experience./
/Self-justified ignorance?/
“Rest assured,” Jahir said, “we have nothing but our clients’ well-being in mind when we engage with them. And if you or Doctor Tiber, at any time, would like to experience our techniques yourselves, you are welcome to try them.”
/Really??/
/There is only one path out of ignorance, arii./
“Oh!” Dashenby sat up again. “That’s quite an offer.”
“Unless you think we’re brainwashers,” Vasiht’h said. “Then it’s a threat. Until we’re done with you, and you agree that we’re the best thing since red velvet cake.”
She’d been looking steadily more flustered until the end of the sentence, at which point she laughed. “Red velvet cake! Oh my, have you had the red velvet scones yet? You’ve found the scone place, right?”
“We have,” Jahir said.
She grinned. “Wait until they have the red velvet scones. You will die for joy.” She patted her hands together, then let them drop to her knees. “I really am sorry. I can tell I’ve offended you, and it wasn’t my intention at all.”
“We understand. What we do is… unusual.”
“I’ll say.” She stood, straightening her tunic and tossing her braids over her shoulders. “I’ve taken up a lot of your time, though. I won’t keep you any longer.”
“You’ll consider our offer?” Jahir asked. “And tell Doctor Tiber?”
“I will.” She grinned. “I wouldn’t miss the chance, just to see the look on his face.” She paused, ears sagging. “Ah… that’s probably not very flattering, is it. When you’ve known Allen as long as I have, you’ll understand.”
“We hope to have the opportunity.”
Jahir shut the door behind her and turned to face his partner. And waited.
“For a therapist,” Vasiht’h said finally, “she’s not very good with people.”
“That assumes she came here to befriend us,” Jahir said. That caused the Glaseah to lift his head and meet his eyes, and the mindline felt thick with tension, like the air before rain. Purposefully casual, he walked to the basket and set it on the desk, starting on the ribbon. “That felt more like a reconnaissance. Would you not say so?”
The storm pressure eased. Sitting up to watch, Vasiht’h said, “You think she’s more Tiber’s friend than Helga’s?”
“I think she thinks of them both as peers, and that her relationship with Tiber is not antagonistic. If she did not value his professional opinion, she would not have come here to…”
“Feel us out.” Vasiht’h blew out a breath gustily. “That does make sense. She already had misgivings, but she wanted to see for herself.”
“And give us a chance,” Jahir said, pushing the tissue paper down. “She did not seem evil to me, arii.”
“People aren’t evil,” Vasiht’h said. “Their personalities just interact badly with other people’s.”
Jahir glanced at him. It did not seem the time to profess to belief in true evil. If the time came that they needs must confront it… perhaps then. But he doubted Vasiht’h, raised in the cradle of civilization, could truly believe what he had never seen. Not really. He studied the contents of the basket. “She is at least generous.”
“Shavings for hot chocolate,” Vasiht’h said, going through it now with him. “Brandied peaches? That sounds deadly. Oh, look, it’s a loaf of that bread from that baker at our market.”
“The one you thought too precious to eat?”
Vasiht’h chuffed a laugh. “Yes.” And then he was laughing in earnest, and Jahir grinned back at him.
“Do you feel better now?”
Wiping his eyes, Vasiht’h said, “A little.” Looking up at Jahir, he added, “You knew about Helga.”
“No,” Jahir said, but the pattern was beautiful and it had been coalescing for some time. You are a novel thing in the world, alet, and a novel thing in mine, which is even more astonishing. He smiled at the memory. “But I suspected.”
“I’m guessing you know where this office of hers is, then.”
“I do, yes.” Jahir glanced at him. “Shall I take you to it?”
“Yes,” Vasiht’h said. “But after our clients. Ametia’s about due.”
Following their work day, thus, Jahir led his partner through the commons to the location of Helga’s former practice.
For a long time, Vasiht’h stood beside him, fur ruffling in the breeze and sun glossing his coat. The mindline felt strange between them: taut, but empty. Calm. Jahir couldn’t read it, wondered if he would learn to interpret his friend’s moods better in the years before them.
“It’s a good location,” Vasiht’h said at last. “I wonder if she’ll rent it to us?”
“Somehow I doubt we will be allowed before our trial is complete.”
That inspired the Glaseah to look up at him sharply.
“There is no better explanation for her behavior,” Jahir said. “She is testing us, and this will be our prize if we please her.”
Vasiht’h blew out a breath. “Great. Another Ravanelle.”
“Ravanelle did not know how to judge us,” Jahir said. “I am certain Helga already knows the standards she will use to assess our suit
ability to take up her mantle.”
The Glaseah folded his arms, considering the property. “I guess that’s her right.”
“She has to believe she is leaving her clients in good hands.” Jahir began walking up the street. “No doubt discovering that we are being tested is part of the test.”
Vasiht’h chuckled, trotted after him until he was walking abreast of the Eldritch. “I guess that means next time we see her, we’ll have to tell her we know. Or… would that be too Pelted an assumption?” Cocking his head, he peered up at Jahir. “Would you ordinarily leave her in the dark?”
Would he? Did he need to ask? Where he’d come from, knowledge was power. One did not casually divulge the extent of it. “I would perhaps ask myself what there was to be gained by either course. Silence or confession.”
“Logical.” Vasiht’h shook his head. “I can’t decide whether I’m amused or exasperated. I thought we’d given up tests when we graduated.”
Jahir smiled a little. “You should know better.”
“Should I?” A surge of curiosity, stinging the mindline like nettles.
The secrecy of his people was based in their belief that knowledge was power. And yet, how much was there to be gained by sharing? With this one particular person? And in the end, this was less about his upbringing and more a personal belief. So he said, “Life is a neverending series of tests, arii. By our successes and failures, we know ourselves.”
“That sounds exhausting,” Vasiht’h said. “Don’t you already know who you are without having to prove it over and over?”
“Are you the same person today you were a year ago?”
“I… yes. Mostly.” Vasiht’h grimaced. “I mean, I hope I’ve matured a little. But who I am at heart… that doesn’t change. I’ll always be… me.”
“And you know yourself entirely?”
They walked all the way back to the center of the commons before Vasiht’h answered that one. “I know the important parts. I hope. Do you want ice cream?”
“I always want ice cream,” Jahir said gravely. “But perhaps I should have a real meal first.”
Dreamhearth Page 14
