“What’s wrong with writing?” Vasiht’h asked, amused.
“Why do we have to learn it when we can just talk to computers and have them do what we tell them to?” Kayla asked. “I mean, reading, of course, everyone has to read. But how come with the writing? With pens?”
“You like doing this,” Jahir observed, picking up one of the coloring sheets.
“Coloring is fun,” Persy said.
“Writing can be fun,” Jahir said, borrowing one of the crayons. “Writing can even be art. Tell me how your name is spelled, Kayla-alet.”
She did so, blushing at the very grown-up title—children were inevitably called kara, the Seersan word for child, long before they earned the formal and informal words for friend, alet and arii. Jahir waited until she’d spelled the whole thing for him, then wrote it for her on the back of one of the coloring sheets. His penmanship in Universal was not quite as assured as it was in his own language, but unlike the Pelted, the Eldritch had little access to computers and were confined to paper if they wanted to trade messages or keep notes. Poor handwriting was not to be countenanced. “There, see?”
All of the girls crowded close to look, making appreciative sounds.
“You know calligraphy?” Vasiht’h asked him, ears splayed.
“No,” Jahir said. “I have merely had a great deal of practice writing.” With pens that needed dipping in ink wells, but he kept that part to himself.
After that, the girls were determined to learn, and there was nothing for it but to try to teach them the principles of penmanship. It kept them quiet and seated, though, and when Berquist opened the door he caught sight of the relief in her eyes, and the gratitude, before she schooled her face. That it was a gratitude not aimed at either him or Vasiht’h did not escape him, and affected him more than he’d anticipated. What must it be like to be warden to patients this young?
“All right, scamps,” the nurse said. “Time for your nap.”
“Do we have to?” Kuriel said, ears sagging.
“Yes, you have to,” Berquist said. “And these two need to go back to their own studies, I’m sure.”
Vasiht’h leaned toward them over the table and said in a stage-whisper, “He needs to work on his studying.”
“Maybe he needs to study it,” Kayla said with a giggle.
Jahir contrived his most long-suffering expression, which made all of them laugh, and then Berquist herded them away from the table. “Go on. When I come back in I want to see you all on your beds.”
“You’ll come back?” Amaranth asked as he and Vasiht’h rose.
“We’ll come back,” Jahir promised, because he could do nothing else when their faces turned toward him and his companion.
“Come back sooner!” Persy added from her bed.
“If he’s good and studies hard,” Vasiht’h said, and left them giggling.
Outside, Berquist handed Vasiht’h the hospital passes. “Here… clip these on yourselves somewhere when you come in. You’re already on the system’s pass list, which will get you through the doors in this area, but having the physical IDs will keep the staff and security people happy. They prefer to double-check the computer.”
“Thanks,” Vasiht’h said. “We’ll remember to wear them.”
“Is this time good?” Jahir added. “If so, we might make this our scheduled time.”
“Every month?” Berquist asked, her expression guarded.
“Every week,” Jahir said, and glanced at Vasiht’h. “Do I have that right? The weeks here are strange. Two weeks to a month?”
“That’s right,” Vasiht’h said.
Surprised, the nurse said, “You’d do that? You have the time?”
Vasiht’h said, “We can make the time.”
“All right,” she said, still taken aback. “I’ll keep a lookout for you.”
“Thank you,” Jahir said.
Once they were outside, Vasiht’h said, “Every week? You’re sure about that?”
“Absolutely,” Jahir said, and added, “I apologize if I spoke for you. I didn’t think—”
Vasiht’h held up his hands. “No, I’m fine with it. I’m surprised you are, that’s all.”
Jahir glanced down at him. “Because…?”
“Because… I don’t know. I didn’t expect you to be comfortable with children. Much less sick children.”
Jahir stopped walking. Was he angry? Conflicted? Distressed? Some combination of those things. Why did it matter what this alien thought of him? And yet the thought that he might be considered unmoved by the plight of the less fortunate, particularly children! It could not be supported.
“I’m sorry,” Vasiht’h said, wide-eyed. “It’s not that I didn’t think you’d care. It’s just… kits don’t often watch their bodies as well as adults do. They’re more likely to bump into people. I saw them earlier, they were touching you at the table. And when they’re sick, it’s worse. To have those feelings in your head. I know, all right? I have eleven siblings! I’ve lived through a lot of dragging people back to their beds when they’ve thrown up or collapsed or… Goddess, that one time with Hatti and her fever—agh!” He trailed off. “I’m rambling, aren’t I. I just… I’m trying to be considerate of your situation.”
“My situation is far less dire than theirs,” Jahir said slowly.
“That doesn’t mean yours isn’t important,” Vasiht’h said, voice firm.
“I know,” Jahir said. He drew in a deep breath, centering himself. “But they have so little time—”
“—they might survive,” Vasih’th protested.
“Even if they do, even if they live out their lifespans,” Jahir said, his voice low. “It’s so little time. For me not to find some to spare for them while they have it… they were so glad to see us.”
“I can’t imagine why,” Vasiht’h said, his smile a little on the forced side. “Alien princes doing calligraphy for them!”
Jahir snorted and resumed walking. “Thus speaks the alien comedian with the metronomic timing.”
Vasiht’h grinned, a more natural expression this time. “I did deliver some good lines, didn’t I.”
Jahir smiled at him.
Vasiht’h thought about that conversation much later, fluffing his pillows to prepare for bed. It was strange to realize he’d hurt his roommate’s feelings. Not that he didn’t think Jahir had them to be hurt, just… he’d thought the Eldritch sufficiently alien to not really be capable of any connection with his shorter-lived companions. Or even to want connections like that.
How long did Eldritch live, anyway? All he knew was that it was a long time. Measured in the centuries, when most of the Pelted died in their early hundreds, like their human makers. Medicine had come far, but attempts at engineering longevity had created a lot of the cancers and genetic errors, including many of the ones plaguing the kits they were visiting in the hospital. So far breeding for longer lifespans seemed a matter of luck, and no one knew quite how to do it without collateral damage.
No, Jahir was obviously capable of caring for the rest of them. Vasiht’h wondered uneasily if that wasn’t asking for trouble.
CHAPTER 8
“You’ve been decorating,” Vasiht’h said, coming to a halt just inside the door.
“I thought it would help,” Jahir mumbled from where he was slumped over the table.
Vasiht’h padded into the great room and squinted at the wall beside the fireplace. There were pages stuck there, and each page had a sketch of one of the first generation races of the Alliance, along with notes about their biochemistry, their hormonal balances, their origins and their closest biological ‘kin’ among the other Pelted. The sketches were endearing… cartoonish, but rendered in the flawless hand Vasiht’h had come to expect from Jahir’s writing, so that they looked far more serious than they were.
After studying them at length, he took one down and put it in a different place.
“What did I get wrong?” Jahir said, sounding plaintive.
“You’ve got the Hinichi hanging out in the middle,” Vasiht’h said. “But the Hinichi technically share a lot of DNA with the other dog-like races.”
“The dog-like races,” Jahir repeated, lifting his head. “You don’t mean the Tam-illee and the Seersa?”
“Exactly.”
Jahir narrowed his eyes. “I thought they were vulpine, not canine.”
“It’s all sort of doggish to me,” Vasiht’h said, and grinned. “Don’t tell them I said so, though.” He patted the papers. “There, now you’ve got it in the right order. Karaka’A, Asanii, Harat-Shar on one side… that’s Team Cat… and Seersa, Tam-illee, Hinichi on the other.”
“Team Dog,” Jahir said.
“Team Dog,” Vasiht’h agreed. “Why do you have the Platies over there with the Naysha?”
“They both swim,” Jahir said, and held up a hand. “I know, I know. The Platies are true-alien and the Naysha are engineered Pelted. But they both swim.” He rubbed his forehead. “The Alliance… is like an immensely complex family, is it not. What with the engineering, and the engineered folk engineering other folk, and everyone being somewhat related, except for the people who aren’t but who have married into the family.”
“And who are now perplexed by the behavior of their in-laws?” Vasiht’h said and chuckled. “The analogy works. You, though, have been at this too long. You need a break.”
“What sort of break?” Jahir asked wearily.
“Have you ever had ice cream?”
“Ice cream,” Jahir repeated. “It sounds… cold?”
“Oh, it’s very cold,” Vasiht’h said.
“Is it not cold outside?” Jahir said, sounding so confused Vasiht’h couldn’t help but laugh.
“Come on, alet. Get your coat. It’s never too cold for ice cream.”
“I confess I find myself skeptical, but—”
“But you need the break, and you know it,” Vasiht’h said. “Let’s go.”
It was in fact cool outside—Vasiht’h wouldn’t have called it cold, but he had fur, and throwing a scarf around his neck was sufficient. Autumn still had a month and a half of life in it yet, but winter came early to this part of the continent. The trees were losing their leaves, but the wind was too damp for them to rustle much; they walked together on pavement scattered with wet leaves in lurid reds and oranges, bright against the pale gray.
“It’s usually a long walk,” Vasiht’h said. “The gelato place is next to the arts college. I don’t mind the exercise, but we’re going to cheat on account of your issues with the gravity.”
“And cheating entails?” Jahir asked, looking up at the wan gray sky.
“A Pad station,” Vasiht’h said, turning them down the path toward it. At Jahir’s expression, he said, “What? Surprised there are Pads on campus?”
“A touch, yes,” Jahir said. “I would have thought their use discouraged.”
“They are,” Vasiht’h said. “Most people prefer the walking.” He grinned. “There’s a significant fee to use them, so you don’t see a lot of students going through them unless they have classes on opposite sides of the university. But they’re useful for emergencies. That’s how the response team got to our apartment so quickly.”
“A fee,” Jahir said. “Very clever.”
“Isn’t it?” Vasiht’h said. “Psychology again—oh, Goddess. Do you have money? I never thought to ask…”
“I’m fine,” Jahir said. “Unless the fee is exorbitant!”
“It’s not that bad, as long as you’re not doing it often,” Vasiht’h said, and led him into the station, a beautiful, small structure much decorated with windows and climbing vines, now all wet brown thorns. They exited into a building standing shoulder to shoulder with others along a lane filled with people streaming past in the dim autumn afternoon. The smell of bread and pastries and crumpled leaves… Vasiht’h inhaled it and then held up a hand. “Hang on, there’s a crowd. I’ll tell you when there’s a space big enough for us.”
“Of course,” Jahir said, looking over his shoulder. “It is like… a street fair?”
“It’s next to the arts complex,” Vasiht’h said with a laugh. “Of course it is. Come on.”
Four doors down, they found the gelateria, which smelled of espresso and sugar. Vasiht’h watched his companion surreptitiously and hid his glee at the puzzled expression on the Eldritch’s face. He stepped up next to him. “Most of the flavors are nut or fruit-based. You can ask for samples before deciding which you want.”
“And this is ice cream,” Jahir said.
“This is the best ice cream on campus!” the Asanii behind the counter said, leaning over it to grin at them from her mouth up to the bright brown eyes set in a calico-patched face. “Gelato is a human thing, but we Asanii made it even better.”
“I can’t argue with her,” Vasiht’h said sagely, shaking his head.
“I have no notion what flavor I would like,” Jahir said, sounding bemused.
Vasiht’h said to the Asanii, “He’s never had ice cream.”
“Never had…” she said, stunned, eyes widening. Then she straightened her shoulders. “Well then! You’ll have to try all of them!”
And that, to Vasiht’h’s delight, was exactly what they proceeded to do; the Asanii insisted. The first sample spoon she passed to Jahir was vanilla, and he eyed it skeptically before trying it… and then stopped at the taste. And closed his eyes. Vasiht’h thought he’d never seen a look of sensual bliss so acute on anyone’s face; that it was so understated mattered very little, because Jahir’s face was usually so composed that even the smallest expressions were magnified.
The Asanii saw it too. She actually bounced on her feet and clapped her hands in glee. “You like it!”
“Madam,” Jahir said, grave. “I love it.”
“All the flavors!” the Asanii crowed. “Next, almond!”
There were twenty-four flavors, and Jahir tried them all, and by the time they were done he was shivering a little.
“You’re cold,” Vasiht’h said, surprised.
“I did say,” Jahir said.
“Get him an espresso, please?” Vasiht’h said. “And whatever ice cream he wants. What flavor do you want, anyway?”
“I like them all,” Jahir said, meek.
Vasiht’h laughed. “Well, choose one and we’ll come back another day for the others.”
“Vanilla, then,” he said. “I am charmed by a flavor made from the fruit of a rare orchid.”
Vasiht’h had a cup of the roasted chestnut, and the two of them took a table on the patio. “If you’re sure, being outside,” Vasiht’h said. “We’d probably be safer from people bumping into us in the store?”
“Outside is fine,” Jahir said, setting his saucer on the table. “This coffee is new to me.”
“It’s strong,” Vasiht’h said as the Eldritch lifted it to his lips. “Most people sweeten it—”
Jahir paused, mid-sip, and sighed. “Wonderful.”
Watching him, Vasiht’h thought they had to do this more often. A lot more often.
“You like him!” Sehvi said.
Vasiht’h rubbed his face. “Ugh, Sehvi.”
“I mean that,” she said, leaning forward so that her nose seemed to be poking him through the display. “You do!”
“He’s a good roommate,” Vasiht’h said. “By that I mean he’s a roommate in the real sense of the word. He lives here with me, rather than just using his bedroom to sleep in. The roommates I had before… it’s like they were trying to keep out of my way. They would come in, say hello if I was in front of them, and scamper into their rooms and close the door. You know that hall has a little windowseat? And a space for books? They would study there. Well, Cadia used to study there. Juliesh… I only knew she was living here because her bed was rumpled. She was out all the time.”
“And your Eldritch doesn’t do that,” she said, putting her cheek in her palm. The merry glint in her eye exasperated him, b
ut he continued anyway.
“No. He studies in the great room. He asks me about my day and listens to the answer. He brings me his questions when he gets stuck on something. And he tries to help me keep house. Cleaning, tidying… he does my laundry!”
“You don’t wear clothes most of the time,” Sehvi said, perplexed. “What does he wash?”
“My blankets,” Vasiht’h said, ears sagging. He laughed. “He even tries to cook.”
“Tries?” Sehvi repeated, brows lifting.
“It’s like he’s never seen a stove before,” Vasiht’h said. “And I don’t mean that in the typical Pelted ‘we don’t know how to cook because we get our food from genies or restaurants’ way. I mean that in a ‘doesn’t even have the first notion how food is prepared’ way. I caught him trying to slice bread with a meat knife.”
Sehvi giggled. “Poor thing. Maybe Eldritch princes have servants or something.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Vasiht’h said. “But you know, I give him another month or so and he’ll be as capable as I am. He’s really focused on learning how to live here. He’ll go hunting recipes in the u-banks and pull them up in the kitchen, and follow the viseo instructions step-by-step until he gets them. He even comes with me to the market and lets the vendors there teach him how to pick produce. Says since he wakes up earlier than I do, it only makes sense for him to do the shopping.”
“Ah… no wonder you like him,” Sehvi says. “He tries.”
“He really does.” Vasiht’h fluffed up a pillow and leaned forward on it, resting. “More than a lot of the other students here.”
“Maybe being an Eldritch means he takes fewer things for granted,” Sehvi said.
“Maybe? But I expected him to be a lot more distant,” Vasiht’h said. “And he’s very formal in mannerism, but… in every other way, he’s committed to being here, fully, right now. More than anyone I’ve met. I guess it just took me off guard. I would have thought someone who lived longer than the rest of us would have less of that… in-the-momentness. Care less about the passing of time.”
Sehvi studied him, and her voice was softer this time. “You really do like him.” When he lifted his head to frown at her, she shook her head. “No, don’t give me any mouth about it, big brother. You make friends easily, but you’ve never had a really good friend.”
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