Vasiht’h felt Jahir’s fascination like a cup he could fill and fill and never be done, and he loved every moment of it, and found himself beseeching the Goddess to let the days go by more slowly. But they came home from their final excursion—this one a whirlwind tour of the temples of the capital—and the holiday was over. Vasiht’h made himself kerinne and Jahir coffee and brought their cups to the little table in the common room.
“That was a proper vacation,” Jahir said. “I feel glutted with it.”
He looked it too: eyes bright and prone to an excited distance when not engaged. Vasiht’h smiled and said, “And we didn’t even get to everything!”
“Ah?” Jahir said. “You cannot tell me you could have gone on like that!”
“It’s a big world, arii,” Vasiht’h said. “We didn’t even get out of the capital! The sea’s a big draw this time of year. And there are some amazing natural parks… there’s a place on the western continent where the wind has shaped rocks into these natural flutes. When you walk through them, you can hear music.”
Jahir laughed. “Enough, arii! Enough. There are only so many hours.”
“Mmm.” Vasiht’h sipped his kerinne.
“There will be time,” Jahir said. “But duty first.”
“Is this your duty, then?” Vasiht’h asked.
“To be useful?”
Vasiht’h glanced at his roommate, wondering at the gleam that had flashed between them, like the reflection off steel. “Is that what this is about?”
“Is that not every person’s purpose?” Jahir asked. “To be useful? What more is there?”
“I don’t know,” Vasiht’h said. “Is love useful?”
“I would think your goddess would have an opinion on that.”
Vasiht’h smiled and rubbed his thumb against the wall of his cup. “And what do you think She’d say, if you’re so sure?”
“That to make something, one must feel something,” Jahir said. “That there is no creation without a motive force. And that such forces should be positive, or the results become twisted and strange. Which would suggest that love creates the universe, or should.” He grinned and set his cup down, folding his hands together on his knee. “So? Did I guess well?”
Vasiht’h gestured with a flourish. “I hereby induct you into my religion. In an honorary sort of way.”
Jahir’s expression turned mischievous. “I will be sure to eat a cookie for her.”
“Do you really think we’ll be useful?” Vasiht’h asked more seriously. “When this is over.”
His roommate glanced at him, didn’t answer immediately. Then he looked away and said, “Do you think there’s some reason we might not?”
“I just wonder, that’s all,” Vasiht’h said, thinking about being a good teacher, a good mentor, a good role model to students. What kind of role model would he be? He couldn’t imagine what he’d have to teach them. Would his path grant him the wisdom he’d need to be a good example? Or would he fall prey to bitterness and exhaustion?
“Our textbooks would tell us it is natural to feel anxiety about the future,” Jahir said.
Vasiht’h snorted. “And does that make you feel any better about it?”
“No,” Jahir said. And glanced at him with a rueful little smile that felt like a gift because of the insight it granted Vasiht’h into the Eldritch’s vulnerabilities. “No, not at all. And then I just tell myself: one step, then another. Eventually, one reaches the destination.”
“And if it’s the wrong destination…”
“Then we re-orient and try a new path,” Jahir said. And sighed. “It sounds the worst sort of pablum, doesn’t it?”
Vasiht’h laughed. “Yes. Yes, it does. Why does it work?”
“I’m not sure it does!” Jahir said. “Save that, perhaps, we make truth out of the things we believe to be true. So it is well for us to listen only to good things.”
“To your path,” Vasiht’h said, and held out his cup.
There was a hesitation so slight Vasiht’h would have missed it had a mindtouch not hinted at Jahir’s surprise, that this custom was shared. Then the Eldritch tapped his cup against Vasiht’h’s and said, “And to yours. May they lead us where we belong.”
CHAPTER 27
Jahir had thought he’d had no illusions about the difficulties of what he was undertaking; certainly he’d received warnings from so many quarters it was hard to imagine not being prepared. But knowing something was very different from living it, he thought the first day of class when his ethics professor gave him twice the amount of reading to do, and a journal to fill. The at-risk populations class, which came on its heels, was no less enthusiastic with assignments. Three days into the semester, he found himself again in a simulation hall with Lasareissa Kandara, the healer-assist instructor from spring term. She had one look at him, put up her brows and splayed her ears. “You back for more already? I thought you’d want a few months to recuperate.”
“I have not yet learned all that I must know,” he said, and couldn’t tell if this was an apology or an explanation.
She huffed and shook her head. “Your skin, not mine, alet.”
By the end of the week he was nose-deep in books. His intention had been to finish his work in time to help Vasiht’h put together something to bring to the quadmate gathering, the first of the new term.
He discovered he’d missed the gathering when he woke up on his data tablet and books. At his elbow was a note: “There is soup in stasis. Please eat. —V.”
“Not so sanguine about this now, are you,” KindlesFlame said when they met for lunch several days later.
“I am still grateful for the challenge,” Jahir said. “And I intend to meet it.”
“Mmm,” was all KindlesFlame would say, and pushed the menu to him.
Vasiht’h had no lectures in summer; both his classes were directed studies, to be spent working with his major professor on his research. With Palland’s help he adjusted his methods, and returned to the hospital determined to come out of it with a study he could use without discarding half its results.
At least, that was his plan.
“What do you mean there’s too many people in the room?” Palland asked, squinting. “I thought the nap rooms were designed for privacy.”
“They are if you tuck your body into them with your head in the alcove,” Vasiht’h said. “If you lie down in the opposite direction, your head is exposed. I asked; they do it that way so that if someone thinks they’re going to be needed they’re easier to spot from the door.” He sighed and rubbed his face. “In practice, though, no one does that, because the computer will alert you if someone’s looking for you. It’s a quiet little chime near the pillow, and a low light. So everyone sleeps facing in.”
“Except your subjects, who were sleeping with their heads hanging out,” Palland said.
“Not just hanging out, but pointing at one another,” Vasiht’h said. “There were people in there who shouldn’t have been in there, and they were all clustered together in a way that their heads were near one another.”
Palland rubbed a finger beneath his nose, looking at Vasiht’h. “So… you are drawing what conclusion from this?”
“I think they’re hoping to get a backwash off what I’m doing,” Vasiht’h said, trying not to be exasperated. It didn’t help that his professor’s ear was beginning to twitch. “It’s not funny, sir! I didn’t get consent forms from those extra people. What if I do accidentally affect them?”
“Could you?” Palland asked.
“I don’t know!”
“Then maybe you should get them those consent forms,” the Seersa said, and chuckled at Vasiht’h’s expression. “If they’re working so hard to get into the study—”
“—but they know what I’m trying to do! Isn’t that going to game the results?” Vasiht’h said.
“Not necessarily,” Palland said. “As long as they don’t tell the people who don’t know…”
Vasiht’h dropped to his
haunches and covered his eyes.
“We’ll work it out, alet,” Palland said. “But first you’ve got to breathe. You do that for me? Breathe in.”
“I am breathing in,” Vasiht’h said, hoping he didn’t sound petulant. “It’s not changing that I’m upset with them for messing with my research project. Which means I’ll have to redo it. Again!”
“It probably won’t be all that bad,” Palland said. “You might just have to move to a new location to do the testing.” He held up a hand at Vasiht’h’s protest. “Yes, I know, you’re already invested in repeating the study where you are. But if you really are that worried about having to throw out the results, then we should stop now and change venues.” He quirked a brow. “Your call, alet.”
“But I’ve already started it at the hospital,” Vasiht’h said, trying not to look as distressed as he felt at the notion of having to go through all the initial work of advertising for volunteers and sorting through consent forms again.
“It’s only been a week and a half,” Palland said. “That’s not bad. Particularly since you’re going to be carrying the project through into winter term.”
Vasiht’h folded his arms to keep from fidgeting. He didn’t want to change venues. And part of it, he realized, was because he didn’t want to leave the healers-assist at the children’s hospital in the middle of the treatment course. They’d been so eager to help him, and to feel better… could he really just pull out to serve his own purposes, and leave them hanging that way?
“I guess I’ll just see how it goes,” he said with a sigh.
The children took one look at him and said to Vasiht’h accusingly, “You aren’t taking care of him!”
“Gently, gently, ariisen,” Jahir said, lifting his hands. “It’s not Vasiht’h’s fault that I refuse his aid.”
“You do?” Kuriel asked, ears splaying. “Why?”
“Because he’s stubborn,” Vasiht’h said, settling on the floor in the story corner.
Jahir said, “I’m afraid he has the right of it.”
“What’s he being stubborn about?” Kayla wanted to know.
“He’s taking five classes in summer, and the summer term is much shorter than winter and spring, so it’s far more work in less time,” Vasiht’h said.
“How come you won’t let him take care of you?” Amaranth asked him with an imperiousness that would have impressed the Queen herself. “He likes doing it, and you need it.”
“I fear I sometimes forget everything around me when I am deeply absorbed in something,” Jahir said, thinking of music. “So, I work, and forget to rest.”
“Or eat,” Vasiht’h muttered.
“Or eat,” Jahir said. “But mostly rest.”
“Then, you will rest now,” Amaranth declared. She pointed at her bed. “I’m not using it today. You go lie down.”
“Ah… arii…”
“Would you rather have mine?” Persy asked. “I guess they’re all the same length, though. Which probably isn’t quite long enough, but you should be okay.”
“Ladies—”
“Should I give him my pillow?” Persy said to Amaranth.
“No, he should use mine. His family has special ties to unicorns, remember?”
“We should sing him to sleep!” Meekie exclaimed.
“And maybe Vasiht’h-alet can help by suggesting him some dreams the way he does for us,” Kayla agreed.
Jahir looked at their faces, saw their absolute adamantine resolve on the subject. When he glanced at Vasiht’h his roommate’s expression was studiously neutral… but a mindtouch whispered to him of sour worry. He suppressed his sigh and said, “Very well. And I do think Amaranth is correct: I shall do better with a unicorn pillow than with a dragon. However! One condition.” He held up a finger and waited until he had their attention. “I do not intend to sleep. I will lie there quietly as so many of you have had to during our visits, and listen and partake. But rest.”
“I guess that’s fine,” Amaranth said, and the girls murmured agreement.
They chivvied him to Amaranth’s bed, and he dutifully stretched out on it. It was shorter than he was tall, but not by much; if his feet were hanging over the edge, it was not uncomfortable, and surely wouldn’t matter for the short time he’d be lying down. It gave them such pleasure to tuck him in that he couldn’t gainsay them, anyway. They brought him blankets, arranged his pillow, fussed over the position of his ankles… until at last they were satisfied.
“Shall we draw pictures?” Vasiht’h said, and lured them back to the table. Over their heads, Jahir shared a lopsided smile with his roommate, and wondered at the amusement he felt in return, not quite mischief, and not quite smug, but something like that. As if Vasiht’h knew something he didn’t.
…which, it seemed, proved true, for he fell asleep on Amaranth’s bed and did not wake until it was time for them to leave.
On the way back to the apartment, Jahir said, “Perhaps I am over-extended.”
“I don’t think there’s any perhaps about it,” Vasiht’h said.
“No…” Jahir said. “No, maybe not.” He closed his eyes, aware of the heat on his shoulders and head, of the ache in his joints from too long bent over a tablet. “But, Vasiht’h… the learning, that part is glory.”
Vasiht’h glanced up at him.
“I love it,” Jahir said, and was surprised to say it, and in saying it, to feel how deep that love ran. “And I’m glad to be here.”
“Maybe you can be a little more here now,” Vasiht’h said. “And eat with me more often.”
“Yes,” Jahir murmured. “Yes, I have been remiss. You are good to me, arii, and I am neglectful. Will you forgive me?”
“Does apologizing mean you’re already thinking you’re going to break that promise?” his roommate asked, eyeing him.
“I will do my best to try. Remind me, please.”
“All right,” Vasiht’h said, and Jahir could taste his resignation like ashes.
CHAPTER 28
The summer went too quickly. Vasiht’h spent half his time overseeing the sleep patterns of hospital staff and the other half trying not to hover over his roommate. Jahir’s exhaustion was palpable, but so was his elation: more often now the mindtouch brought him snatches of it, the two sensations intertwined like the artificial helices of the Pelted they were both studying. As promised, Jahir ate more often, and with Vasiht’h. And they still saw the children every week—on that count, Jahir was immovable. But everything else fell away: the concerts, the outings, the lazy days beneath perfect trees. The Eldritch made an effort to attend the quadmate gatherings, but more often than not he slept through them, or begged off to study.
Vasiht’h found it maddening, that he could be losing the camaraderie of their friendship at the same time the mindtouches made it feel like they had more of an intimacy than they did. He could imagine what it would have been like to let the mindline ripen with the friendship. He didn’t want to, but he could. If it hadn’t been for his work at the hospital, he would have despaired.
“You mean you’re liking the research now?” Sehvi asked, wary. “What’s changed?”
“Maybe nothing,” Vasiht’h said, sighed. “Maybe everything. I don’t know, ariishir. But I go there to help people, and… I need to know that I’m helping someone.”
“I thought you were helping your roommate?”
“In the sense that I’m keeping him from starving, maybe,” Vasiht’h said. His shoulders slumped. “But he doesn’t really need me.”
Sehvi’s eyes narrowed. “You’re sure of that?”
Vasiht’h shook his head. “You don’t feel what I feel in him, when the mindtouches come. He’s… he’s in love. With the Alliance, with learning, with the challenges.”
“That sounds like the sort of infatuation that burns itself out,” Sehvi said.
“I don’t think so.” Vasiht’h looked away. “I think he could give himself to this and be happy. And it might even be safer for him. If
he falls in love with science, and with abstractions, then he can’t be hurt when people die around him. He said it once to Luci, even: ‘Distance makes most things bearable.’ “
“That sounds more like avoidance than love to me,” Sehvi said.
“Maybe,” Vasiht’h said. “But I can’t change his mind, ariishir. What else can I do but sit back and watch?”
“So speaks the nascent researcher,” Sehvi said. “But there’s more than one approach for the psychologist, yes? You could be affecting.”
Vasiht’h said, “He’s not my client.”
“No, he’s not,” Sehvi said. “No one is. My question is, how do you feel about the role of the observer?”
“I won’t take the bait this time, Sehvi,” Vasiht’h said. He shook his head. “No matter how I feel about the matter, he’s not my client, and even if he was it’s not my right to shake sense into him. What if I’m wrong? What if this is what he really needs?”
“What if you’re right? What if what he really needs is a good friend?”
“If he did, why would he be so excited right now?”
Sehvi made a face. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this to you, who’s supposed to be the one who observes these things. But… passion is a funny thing, ariihir. A person can be over the moon about something and not be happy. Not in a healthy, sustainable sort of way. Don’t you live next door to a Harat-Shar? Haven’t you noticed them plunging off emotional cliffs all the time? They’re exhilarated mid-flight, but then they smash into the ground.”
Vasiht’h reflected that Sehvi probably had not met a Luci yet. “I can see that,” he said. “But I don’t know that you’re right about Jahir. Everything else pales next to the fact that he’s going to outlive us all. It’s probably safer for him not to have intimate friends.”
“I don’t care how old you get,” Sehvi said. “It’s never safer to have no friends.”
While it was not a requirement for summer classes to give midterm examinations, all of Jahir’s classes did. Somehow, he passed them all… even Kandara’s madcap simulation of a bad night at an urgent care clinic. When he staggered out of it, she eyed him and said, “You know, you’re a lot tougher than you look.”
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