by R. Cooper
Markita didn’t move. Rodian, who had to be as shaken as Lin because he had been in the thick of the chaos and the struggle to get the ambassador out, picked up the long gun and started to check it or disassemble it or whatever people did with those sorts of weapons when they weren’t in use. Maybe he needed something to do.
Tsomyal had their eyes closed. Lin was a solid, silently furious presence behind Mos.
Taji looked up at Trenne. “You told me you were going to leave. I should clean up but I’m just going to sit here, for a while.” He wasn’t sure he could get up now. “You should rest too, though I know you won’t.”
“Taji.” Trenne watched him. That odd bright quality to his eyes was back.
“I vomited,” Taji told him, not sure why he was sharing every embarrassing detail of his panic, except that later he would be less numb and he might never speak of it. “I’m not much good at running, even for my life.”
“Taji,” Trenne said again, unamused.
“I’m sorry I’m such a weight. There was enough going on that you didn’t need to think about me or let me hold you up. I’m replaceable, right? That’s why I tried so hard to get here, but I…Laviias is so big, and it’s all stairs, and I—”
“Taji. Please.”
Taji gave Trenne the smallest, confused frown. “Whatever you want. You have to know that by now.”
Mos was strained. “This is not for us to witness.”
Lin made a noise that might have been a rough laugh. “You are going to have to learn about humans and Taji shehzha. This is nothing.”
Trenne didn’t look away from Taji. “Allow me to see to you, shehzha. Please.”
It wasn’t resting, but it wasn’t sitting still with his thoughts either, so Taji nodded. “You have better things to worry about,” he insisted, but didn’t stifle his sigh when Trenne scooped him up. He should object. Too many people were lifting him today. But Taji could complain about it tomorrow, when Trenne’s hold on him wasn’t too tight and Nev had her business face on again.
He thought Trenne would take him to another seat, somewhere farther from the others, but Trenne carried him to the lavatory.
The flier was Shavian construction, probably an out-of-style luxury vehicle that some noble family had sold to IPTC. The lav was big, but still not meant for two.
Taji raised his head from Trenne’s chest when Trenne carefully put him down on a small shelf. The room had lots of shelves at various heights, no mirror, and a tiny fountain that was the equivalent of a sink. It also held a shower space and a toilet. Perhaps because the user was not on safe, level ground, there was actually a bit of a platform for seating over the toilet.
Also, perhaps because of Shavian ears and the lack of distance in the flier, this lav had a secure door. Trenne took a hand from Taji to close it. He didn’t move otherwise, not that he had any place to go.
Taji’s feet dangled above the floor. Trenne could easily step between his legs, and Taji whimpered, tired in his bones and not in the mood, but not entirely certain he would say no if asked. But Trenne didn’t say anything. He delicately wrapped one hand around Taji’s wrist and brought Taji’s hand up for inspection.
Taji was startled by the layer of soot and white dust, and the thin scratches, some pink with blood. Trenne then lifted Taji’s other hand, gently pushing away the bracelets to study the smeared, drying blood along Taji’s forearm.
Taji could only imagine what his face looked like. “Did I scare you a little?” he asked in a whisper. “I could take a shower? Though I don’t think we have towels. And I won’t be able to stand for long.” He wasn’t sure what nonsense was coming out of his mouth.
Trenne released his wrist and put both hands to Taji’s soria. He untied the belt at Taji’s waist, undoing a knot Taji had assumed was ornamental but which apparently held the garment in shape. Blood-stained, painted fabric fell loosely across his body. Taji barely caught his data device before it dropped to the floor. Taji looked down as he did and realized he was sticky with Mos’s blood.
Trenne pulled the soria from him, let it drop, set the data device aside, then leaned over to start the small fountain.
Someone knocked on the door. Taji flinched and covered himself, but then Trenne was in front of him, warm and shielding as he opened the door to Lin.
Gaze averted, Lin handed Trenne something that looked like one of Nev’s portable medkits, a metallic skin of a protein drink, and then large, black pieces of cloth before she closed the door again. Trenne set everything down near Taji except the skin, which he handed to Taji.
Taji was not hungry, but he had thrown up everything he had managed to eat, and was going to get even shakier if he didn’t replace it, so he popped the cap and had several swallows of thick, bittersweet protein drink before his stomach turned and he put the skin down.
Evidently satisfied with that for now, Trenne reached into the medkit and took out some antibac cream before setting it aside for later.
“Do you and Lin communicate with your ears like the Imperial Guards do? Is it a whole language?” Taji wondered, mostly to provide words for Trenne. “Or does she just know you really well?”
“Out of all of IPTC, two people from the same country. We would be friends or enemies.” Trenne took off his coat, and then his shirt. Taji dropped forward, his forehead on the armor over Trenne’s chest. He heard splashing, and then Trenne picked up Taji’s hand again and began to wipe it clean.
Taji closed his mouth and watched Trenne ruin his shirt. Trenne rinsed some of the blood from it when he was done, before moving on to Taji’s other hand, and then the patches of purple along his side. Taji had to lean back.
The water was cold but he didn’t complain. “I don’t believe cleaning me up is an official eshe responsibility,” he commented as lightly as he was able. “I don’t mind,” he added so Trenne wouldn’t get the wrong idea, “but I wish…you should also take care of yourself. Rest, and…and everything.”
Trenne bent down to grasp one of Taji’s ankles, holding him still while he wiped dirt from the sole of Taji’s foot. Taji shivered.
“It is very human to think of those around you as worth dying for.” Trenne spoke quietly. “It does not seem to matter what planet they are from. All humans attach themselves to others in this way. You say it is a joke to many, but I do not understand why.” He looked up. “He chose. I did not ask. I do not know if he doubted our abilities or if the need to save us was greater. We might have gotten here without his actions. He might have distracted the Guard without angering them, and we might have approached Larin for his release. Nadir took that choice away and I can do nothing. Did you find him?”
“Right before—” Taji’s throat filled with rocks. That was all he could get out, except, “Fucking IPTC. Fucking Larin.” He breathed harshly in and out for several moments. “You should rest, Trenne.”
Trenne turned his attention to Taji’s other foot, gently wiping away grit and sand, then abruptly stopping. He took a breath. “I do not want to be still yet.”
“Okay,” Taji answered softly and reached out to pull Trenne back to him. “Okay,” he said again, while Trenne watched him and Trenne’s ears twitched in all directions. Trenne was listening to the others, and wired from the events in Laviias, even though he seemed calm. Taji took the damp, dirty shirt and tossed it with his discarded soria. He slid his hands up Trenne’s chest to his shoulders before tugging him down.
For several moments, Trenne’s breathing was ragged.
Taji held him too tightly, probably bruising him, but Trenne allowed it, only making a sound when Taji kissed a spot beneath his ear.
“I’m going to kiss you, okay?” Taji whispered into that ear. Trenne was focused on him now, not the lurking danger and everyone else’s grief. “Because you’re alive and I’m glad you’re alive. He’d be glad, too.”
“Taji.”
“Trenne.” Taji couldn’t say Trenne’s name with the inherent Shavian softness of Trenne’s voi
ce, but he could try, and then kiss him again. He brushed his lips over Trenne’s cheek and then at the corner of his mouth. Humans were the emotional, loyal sluts of the universe. They fought, and they died, and they kissed.
He curled a hand at the back of Trenne’s neck and kissed him with his mouth open, breathing a little too hard. Trenne’s lips were soft, uncertain, but he put his hands around Taji’s waist and pulled him closer. Taji kissed him again for it, aching at the first gentle push back, the hesitant swipe of Trenne’s tongue across his bottom lip.
Taji inched away, caught his breath, then tipped his head up to kiss Trenne again. Trenne shuddered under his hands and turned his head. “Humans give too much,” he sighed against Taji’s neck before coming up to submit to Taji’s mouth again.
Taji kissed him, sweetly and fiercely and slowly, until neither of them was trembling anymore.
A CONSIDERABLE TIME later, Taji emerged, still barefoot, smelling faintly of antibac cream and wearing a black IPTC shirt that almost went to his knees. He fell into the seat next to Nev and watched Trenne walk down to talk to Tsomyal.
No one else seemed to have moved, although Markita was either asleep or resting his eyes. Rodian’s back was to Taji, but he was probably keeping an eye on their prisoner. Lin was seated near Tsomyal. Her gaze flicked to Taji, then returned to Mos.
Mos didn’t turn to look at him, but her ears moved.
Taji looked at Trenne for another moment, pleased to see him with not a hair out of place, then he sat back. It was closer to a collapse, which was partly the sedative kicking in and partly his need for more than one protein drink.
He stayed where he was, glancing at Nev every so often.
“Nothing to say, Mouth?” Nev didn’t turn. “Nothing at all for this?”
Taji did not doubt that every single person in the flier except Ledo was listening. He kept his attention on Nev. He shook his head even though she couldn’t see it. “No. Except that it’s bullshit.”
“Not his choice,” Rodian disagreed quietly, “but the rest of it.”
Taji glanced over, then back to Nev. He thought all of it was bullshit, but he wasn’t a soldier or a hero.
Nev pushed out a noisy breath, then nodded.
She still didn’t speak, but she didn’t push Taji off his seat either. After a while, Taji closed his eyes.
WHEN HE woke up, he was in Trenne’s lap, in a new seat entirely. Trenne’s breathing was slow. He might have been asleep, or only resting. Taji looked around the flier at exhausted and sleeping faces, at Lin’s quiet determination, and paused in surprise to find himself under Mos’s scrutiny. He’d thought she’d think something like this was obscene and look away.
He shut his eyes again without acknowledging her.
Chapter Thirteen
HE WOKE to Ledo’s announcement that they were approaching the capital. Ledo, who rarely spoke in Taji’s hearing, was shouting from the pilot’s seat.
“It’s hardly a bustling hub, but I’m not seeing anyone around. Nothing through any channels from anyone in charge.”
Taji rubbed his eyes and sat up. He’d been moved again and hadn’t stirred. Trenne’s coat was draped over him. Taji spent half a second debating returning it before he slipped it on.
“Is there anything on the feeds?” he asked, drawing everyone’s attention. They were all awake and possibly had been for a while but apparently no one had an answer. “The feeds are mostly state propaganda and misinformation, but that’s the point. We should know what they are talking about.”
He sighed noisily when no one answered and pulled out his data device. He normally didn’t watch the feeds but they weren’t difficult to find. The conversation slowly resumed around him while he read about the weather and listened to a somewhat confusing report about !san, a group of islands off the southern coast under the control of the Sool, a noble family who had also never had an emperor.
He found nothing about air traffic to or from the capital, although, since nobles and members of trading or artisan classes made up most air travel, Taji supposed the traffic would be light anyway. No nobles who had been at Laviias and escaped or been permitted to leave would be heading for the capital unless Larin wanted them to. Taji suspected most noble families would return to their districts to lick their wounds and consider their futures.
He had—or rather, Ambassador Tsomyal had—several messages from traders in different parts of the country, but none seemed urgent. If Larin’s actions had repercussions among the noble class, it might take a while for the traders to notice. The traders would have to continue being careful, but they already knew that.
Everyone was going to be lying low for a while, business operators and nobles alike. Taji predicated any appointments Tsomyal had in the future were going to be cancelled, and most communications would cease. The traders under IPTC’s umbrella might report in using code, but some might not even take that chance.
He looked up, struck with an idea. “Hey, Mos?” he began and several people turned toward him again. “The older style tech everyone who doesn’t have IPTC stuff uses—do people use it to spread gossip and information in a way that can be disguised? It’s been around for a while. Everyday Shavians use it. They might even have built systems of their own, if not to grow dissent, then to talk. If they do, does the Civil Guard monitor that, or just whichever noble family is curious?”
He couldn’t believe he hadn’t considered this before. All the conversations he could have been having. “I bet they do. Which means regular people would have developed code words and phrases in response to that. Possibly even whole languages.”
Mos took a very long time to answer. “Not the Civil Guard. And if a noble family does, they would not ever say so.”
From which Taji assumed several noble families might. “Not the Civil Guard? You mean the Imperial Guard does? Or could?”
“They make decisions without the emperor?” This was something Tsomyal hadn’t known either. “I thought they followed his orders.”
“Not on how to do their job.” Mos had her hair neatly braided and over one shoulder. Her bracelets were in place, and she appeared at ease in someone’s borrowed pants and black IPTC shirt. Her knife was still in Lin’s belt. That would probably end well.
“So they monitor communications—what?” Taji finally looked at Trenne, which he had been avoiding since he was likely to embarrass himself.
Trenne was armed, of course, with light armor visible beneath his shirt. His hair was neat and there was a mark on his neck, faint, but clearly a bruise, and Taji went a little hot. Everyone would have seen that by now. Only having had one-off sexual encounters before meant Taji had never had to deal with a situation like this. He had to drag his gaze back up to Trenne’s face.
Trenne continued with whatever he had been discussing with the others, though he kept his eyes on Taji. “I do not think we should be searched or stopped if we can avoid it. We do not know what they might take.”
Taji’s protest died in his throat. Whatever he meant to say got lost when no one disagreed with Trenne. Trenne crossed his arms. His stance was resolute, solid as stone. He was always like that, except for a few moments when Taji’s fingertips had grazed his ear and Taji’s mouth had been on his skin. Then his voice had been soft.
“What about Inri Mos?” Lin demanded, jarring Taji from the thoughts that had probably been all over his face. He put his hands over his cheeks and stared back down at his DD. “Where do we leave her?”
“Taking her with us might be construed as support for the Inri. Or we might be accused of conspiring with her.” Tsomyal was rested and had some energy, although they didn’t look to have moved from their seat while Taji had been sleeping.
“What have I conspired?” Mos asked calmly, which was rich, coming from a spy.
“You exploded every or almost every flier at Laviias,” Taji pointed out.
“I did not think I should be taken by the Guard,” Mos asserted. She had apparently reg
ained her equilibrium with a change of clothes. She gave no sign of pain either. “The others likely also did not deserve Larin’s charges. Not even Koel Gia, who loves midye too much. But I am not certain the Guard will care about me now. Being Inri at Laviias at that time was a danger. But being Inri in the capital will be different.”
“Sweeping people up during a panic isn’t like seeking them out afterward,” Rodian observed. “A lot more effort might not be worth it for them. Especially since, from the sounds of it, it was never really about any actual guilt.”
“Fucking politics,” Markita muttered.
Taji focused on Mos. “Do the Inri have a home in the Garden District?”
“No.” Mos seemed almost amused. “We might tie with them, but they do not like to acknowledge the age of our family and we prefer to keep our distance. Some of us have homes in the Fires, though most stay in our part of the country and do not come here.”
