Vasiht’h said, wide-eyed, “You know him well, don’t you.”
“We’ve been friends for a while.” She sipped the tea. “This is good, but it needs cookies.”
“If I had a kitchen,” Vasiht’h muttered.
/Would it be bread or some confection?/
/Definitely bread,/ Vasiht’h answered, sourly. /Bread needs to be pounded, and I could use an excuse./
“I’m going to tell him he’s being ridiculous,” Lennea was saying. “Sometimes if I say it often enough, he believes me.”
“It’s fine if he does not,” Jahir said. “We would prefer our clients come to us of their own volition. Therapy requires the consent of its participants.”
“It’s not fine, because you were helping him!” Her face fell and she finished, glum, “I want to help someone if I can’t help myself.”
“A nap maybe?” Vasiht’h suggested. “You look tired. After you tell us about it, if you want to.”
“I do,” she said. “But I want the nap too, so I’m going to keep it quick.”
Lennea’s complaints were repetitions of the previous week’s and she was noticeably more agitated… but she slept for them easily enough, and the relief on her face when unconsciousness claimed her struck Vasiht’h painfully. /I really hope they find someone who wants this job soon./
/As do I. Shall we look?/
They did and found nothing expected. Vasiht’h soothed the spastic energy twitching through her subconscious landscape, bringing an evening breeze moist with summer rain and sprinkling it with stars and the smell of tropical flowers. They watched her limbs cease their twitching; her restlessness eased. Backing out of her dreams, Vasiht’h said, /I guess that’s all we can do for now./
/For now,/ Jahir agreed, with that busy weighty feeling Vasiht’h associated with him working through a puzzle. /Arii… /
/If you’re going to tell me not to be angry about Joyner, don’t,/ Vasiht’h said, sitting on his dull anger. /It’s still unfair./ He glanced at Jahir. /Have you seen this announcement in the newsstream?/
/I may have looked. It was as fairly worded as it could have been, given what he believes about us. No personal attacks, only a warning about our methods./
Vasiht’h flattened his ears.
/If he truly believes what he says, arii, he would have no choice but to act on it in just the way he is doing now./
/I can still blame him for willful ignorance./
Jahir sighed softly and picked up the kettle. /No scones today./
/What?/ Vasiht’h asked, distracted by the non sequitur.
/We will find you ingredients for bread. You may take out your pique on it./
/But why should I have to just accept this?/ Vasiht’h watched his friend begin brewing a fresh pot of water. /He’s wrong. It’s not fair!/
/How do you propose we stop it?/
That question arrested him. If he charged Tiber with slander… but would that work? He’d never done anything with the legal system before… he didn’t even know what bringing an action against someone entailed. Other than it would probably be expensive and newsworthy. Getting in a fight with an established member of the community might make them look like troublemakers when they were trying to present themselves in the best possible light. Worse, he’d be the one getting all the negative attention as the person making the accusation, and he was the one who needed the permit to live here. Jahir wouldn’t be a party to it, he was sure. Or he would, but passively, because he obviously didn’t approve.
/You know he’s wrong./
Jahir dropped teabags into their mugs. /Yes./
/And you know it’s unfair./
/Yes./
/Then why don’t you want to do something about it?/
/Because I see no way to bring about the outcome we desire. Forcing Tiber to recant will not help us, arii. It will only prejudice him against us. We would win his silence, but lose forever any chance at a true rapprochement./
/Like that’s even possible!/
/But if it is, we will end that potential if we attack him. Arii… you are thinking with your heart instead of your head./
/I…/ Vasiht’h sputtered mentally. He wasn’t used to thinking of himself as the irrational one, but he found his partner watching him over their mugs the way they did with clients who were working through something and he colored. /We don’t have time to let him come around the normal way. It’s only a couple of months until our deadline. What if he convinces the authorities we shouldn’t stay?/
/We will ask Helga’s opinion./ Jahir pushed a mug over to him. /Perhaps she will have useful advice./
/I hope,/ Vasiht’h said with a sigh.
When Lennea woke half an hour later, she sat up and yawned.
“Good sleep?” Vasiht’h asked, hesitant. What if his agitation about Tiber had poisoned his work in her dreams?
“Wonderful!” Lennea rubbed her eyes and reached down to start putting her sandals back on. “I felt like… I was being cradled in this hammock, drowsing on a warm summer night, and I could just hear the world? People unhappy or upset and talking. But it was so far away, and it was like it couldn’t touch me! I was cocooned in my little shelter.” She paused to beam at them. “That was so good. I wish the world actually worked that way. Maybe I could pretend through the day that all the things that are upsetting me are far away from me, and I’m safe in my little warm bubble no one can touch.”
“That sounds like a useful strategy,” Jahir said, no doubt covering for Vasiht’h’s momentary speechlessness. “Will you tell us how it serves you next week?”
“Oh, absolutely.” She scowled. “And I’m going to wring Joyner’s giant ear one more time. I can’t believe he’d give this up just because of someone else’s fears!” She paused. “No, wait. I really can believe that.” She blew a breath up, ruffling her hair over her brow. “Such a great guy and so frustrating sometimes.”
“We know how that goes,” Vasiht’h said, rueful.
After she’d left, the Glaseah said, “I’m… glad… I didn’t accidentally mess that up.”
“There is an essential benevolence in our relationship that carries through the disagreements,” Jahir said.
You hope, Vasiht’h thought to himself. Now was definitely not the time to bring up his concerns about money, and independence. They were all wrapped up in whether they’d be able to stay, anyway. Because it was his test, wasn’t it? Not Jahir’s—Jahir had already been accepted, could stay if he wanted. It was Vasiht’h who had to prove he could add value to a community, as an adult, in his chosen profession. No wonder I’m so worked up. Aloud, he said, “I think pounding bread is a good idea.”
“By all means, then. Let us find groceries.”
Chapter 16
“Allen?” Helga dipped her churro in the chocolate-bourbon sauce. “Oh yes. Nice young man. Why?”
Jahir ignored the incredulity that surged through the mindline. “Ought we to be concerned over his attempts to discredit us?”
“Is that what he’s doing?” She chewed on the confection, her brows lifting.
“Isn’t it?” Vasiht’h asked.
Helga chuckled, dipping again. “Such a good sauce. You are an amazing cook, alet.”
“I try,” Vasiht’h said. “About Tiber?”
/Gently,/ Jahir sent.
/I want to know!/
/As do I, but one does not push a woman given to mischief./
/Or a woman who’s holding our fate in her hands?/
Jahir suppressed the urge to eye his partner, instead refilling his coffee. /We are in possession of our fates, arii. The moment we surrender that responsibility, we lose any hope of affecting it for ourselves./
Vasiht’h sighed.
“You’re troubled by it, I see,” Helga said. “You shouldn’t be. If Allen was really trying to discredit you, you wouldn’t still be in business. My broad influence notwithstanding.” She grinned at them. “He’s concerned. But his conscience will keep him from out
right driving you out of town until he knows for certain that you’re a danger to the community.”
“You think highly of him,” Jahir guessed.
“Oh, I like him quite a bit,” the woman said. She licked one of her fingers clean of the chocolate sauce and resumed eating. Between bites, she said, “They’re both good people, really. Minette and him both. They have their quirks, but who doesn’t?”
“You wouldn’t know anything about quirky people, would you,” Vasiht’h said, grinning finally.
“I’m old, I’m allowed to be eccentric.” She leaned back. “If you had another serving of those, I would eat them…”
“But fortunately I don’t?”
“Fortunately,” she said, glancing at the ceiling. “Or unfortunately. I can’t decide.” Lifting her mug, she said, “Don’t let him bother you. Once you’ve established yourselves, he’ll come around.”
“Will he?” Jahir asked.
“Oh, I think so. He’s not a bad man. Or a stupid one. The opposite, really. A good man, and devoted to his oath. If he didn’t take it so seriously, he wouldn’t be on your case so much.”
“So it’s not concern that we might be poaching,” Vasiht’h said.
Helga laughed. “God Almighty. No. He doesn’t want for clients. In fact, he’s got a third again the clients I do, or Minette, as a byproduct of his decision to overwork himself after his divorce. He’s only just now starting to think about shedding some of those people, maybe taking on a saner schedule. And before you ask, because I see you want to,” she eyed Vasiht’h, “it was a necessary divorce, and it wasn’t his fault. He and his wife had decided before marrying that they wanted a family, but she changed her mind.”
“Not a matter upon which there can be compromise,” Jahir said, quiet.
“None,” Helga agreed, stirring cream into her coffee. “He was in a bad way for a while. I’m glad he had that dog of his, because I swear Trusty helped him get through it more than any of the rest of us. I sometimes think we might be missing something as a culture, no longer having pets.”
“Would you?” Jahir asked, curious. “Have a pet?”
She laughed. “Oh, I’m old and set in my ways—”
Vasiht’h snorted.
“Not buying that one, are you.” The Hinichi snickered. “Maybe it was a little on the unbelievable side. I suppose I’d try it, maybe. Hector’s said he used to keep dogs before he married his wife; she was frightened of them, so he gave them away.”
“Hector said?” Vasiht’h asked, innocent.
“He did.” Her eyes sparkled. “And don’t give me that look, young man. I know what you’re hoping to hear.”
“So am I going to hear it?”
/You are enjoying this,/ Jahir observed.
/There’s a little bit of a matchmaker in most Glaseah. We like big families, and settled people./
“We’ve gone out for coffee,” Helga said. “Very stimulating conversation.”
“So, a dog?” Jahir said. “Not… a different animal.”
“Definitely a dog,” Helga agreed, setting her now empty mug down and patting her mouth dry with her napkin. “On the assumption that a dog will smell me and defer to me as the enormous, bipedal pack matron. I might not be too old for new experiences, but I am too old to put up with cheek. At least, from an animal.” She sighed. “As always, a wonderful meal.”
“You’ll tell us how it goes with Hector?” Vasiht’h asked mischievously.
“Wouldn’t you like to know!” She grinned, tail swishing. “On the whole I think it’s better for you not to have all the answers, wouldn’t you say?”
“No,” Vasiht’h said. “But I’m totally unsurprised that you would.”
“Hah! You two are keepers. I’m going to miss you when I go on my retirement gallivants. Keep yourselves well, ariisen.”
They returned from seeing her off and began the familiar chore of cleaning. Jahir brought the plates and cups to the counter and Vasiht’h handled their washing. As they worked, Jahir said, “I have a sense that the pack matron may decide to gallivant in company.”
“Her and Hector?” Vasiht’h stacked the plates, the mindline brisk with interest. “That would be good for him. He’s stayed too long alone. Not that sewing quilts and selling them isn’t bad… he’s not suffering. But why be content with ‘not suffering’ when you could also be having adventures with a witty and elegant companion your age?”
“They certainly seem agreeable to the arrangement,” Jahir said, amused. “You are satisfied with your part in it?”
“I like making people’s lives better. And we’re better in company. Most of us anyway.”
“Yes,” Jahir agreed, thinking of Tiber and his barren marriage.
Vasiht’h looked up sharply. “That’s an awfully cold wind.”
“Hector does not seem to have grandchildren? Or near ones. Perhaps he might enjoy Helga’s.” Jahir folded the tablecloth and set it aside for cleaning. “Children are important.”
“You’re thinking about Tiber.”
“From one potential marriage, to one of blighted potentials… not a stretch?”
“No,” Vasiht’h said slowly. He put away the mugs, handling them one by one. “I wonder if Tiber let it leak. So that he would seem... more approachable. You know, ‘I’ve suffered too, so I know what you’re going through.’”
“I highly doubt it.”
Vasiht’h’s surprise felt like the prickle of a limb waking from nervelessness. “Really?”
Jahir considered his impressions of Tiber by the pool. “It does not seem in keeping with his personality. I would guess instead that he was mortified at his lapse in both judgment and strength. If he considers himself a bulwark for his clients, faltering in a way that made him unavailable… more likely he thought of it as a failure.”
Vasiht’h winced. “All right. Now that you put it that way… that’s more believable than him manipulating the situation to get something good out of it.”
“That seems...” Jahir tried to find a word that would not disturb his friend.
“You’re trying to say it sounds bad? But I don’t think it is.” Vasiht’h took up the tablecloth and dropped it in the hamper. “If bad things happen to you, why shouldn’t you find something good in it? Make it a way you can strengthen your ties to the community? Ask for help and get it? People don’t connect with people who never ask for help.”
“Why do you suppose that is?” Jahir asked, hesitant.
“You’re worried this is about you, but it’s not.” Vasiht’h came around the counter and sat, facing him. “You did ask for help. From me. From other people too. KindlesFlame. Helga, even. That’s good, because it made you seem less like an impregnable fortress. You can’t get into someone unless they let you in, and if you never get in, then…” He shrugged. “Then you’re not really in. I mean, obviously. You see, though, don’t you?”
“Does that require weakness?” Jahir wondered. “Do we only ever trust one another, seeing one another weak?”
“It’s not weakness,” Vasiht’h said firmly. “It’s vulnerability.” A hesitation. The mindline softened with the smell of rain on warm earth and lilacs, and the sound of that rain drumming, and a gentleness. “My great-grandmother… I saw her die. She was old of course, so we weren’t surprised, but she was in a lot of pain. We don’t get a lot of weird diseases, but.” He paused, ears flicking back. “That part’s not important. The relevant part is she was dying and yet she wasn’t weak. She had a dignity of spirit, leaving the world, that made her strong despite her circumstances.”
Jahir pulled a chair back and sat in it, leaning forward and clasping his hands. He watched his friend react to his focused attention: a straightening of the shoulders, and a relaxation of the spine, the mantled wings. The tenderness in the mindline was directed at him now, and it made his cheeks tint, to be the target of such affection. But he kept his eyes level on Vasiht’h’s.
“So it’s not the same thing,” V
asiht’h said. “Weakness and being open to other people. You can be open to them and let them in—to help you and love you—without being weak. But you have to show them you’re not perfect, too, because otherwise, it’s just too hard. Loving a perfect person… most people aren’t strong enough to do that.”
Something about that statement made the Glaseah think of words on a page. Jahir wondered at it, but didn’t ask. “Fortunately,” he said, “none of us are perfect.”
“No,” Vasiht’h said.
“Even Doctor Tiber.”
Vasiht’h’s ears flattened. He folded his arms. “Back to that.”
“The lesson seemed relevant?”
Vasiht’h snorted. “You would say that.” He rested his arms on the table. “More importantly, how do you feel about kits?”
“Children?” Jahir said, surprised. “Are we not too newly established to be so concerned?”
“Not if we’re in this for the long, long run,” Vasiht’h said. “Eventually we’re going to want families. Right?”
Jahir thought of the housing authority’s comment: Glaseah don’t reproduce quickly. But when they start, they have big families. The idea made him smile; easier to imagine his partner being climbed by Glaseahn children than to imagine his own prospects, and the unlikeliness of his joy in the duty given the choice his heart had made, so precipitously, so young. “I should think so, yes.”
“You’re all right with that?” Vasiht’h asked, hesitant.
“More than well with it. I should like to see it.”
The Glaseah blew out a breath. “Good. Not that I’m leaning that way anytime soon, but… I wouldn’t want to get to that point and suddenly discover it was a problem.”
“We have a slight advantage over the Tibers in that regard,” Jahir said. “As we need not rely on one another to obtain our progeny.”
Vasiht’h snorted, and again that sense of words on a page, this time overlaid with… pepper? Spearmint? Something that suggested humor. “No. That we definitely don’t.”
Dreamhearth Page 18
