Only the Open Read online

  By the time Vasiht’h walked in, the apartment smelled of cinnamon and more-almond and sugared pecans and oranges, and the work was worth it for the glow that flooded the mindline, like sunrise. And this time… this time he could answer the happiness the way it deserved, and with no cost to himself. He went to a knee and opened his arms, and the Glaseah dove into them and buried his nose in Jahir’s shoulder. Pulsing between their bodies, Jahir could sense his partner’s glee and shock and curiosity, that they could touch so freely and spontaneously. He just smiled his welcome and listened to the racing of Vasiht’h’s heart through his skin.

  “I missed you!” Vasiht’h said at last, leaning back enough to look at him.

  “I missed you too,” Jahir said.

  Vasiht’h snorted. “Are you sure? I would have thought your cousin would keep you too busy for that.”

  “You should know better,” Jahir said, finger-combing his friend’s forelock out of his eyes.

  “I guess I do.” Vasiht’h sighed. “Oh, I want all your news, and I have so much of my own! But there was no food on that flight and you’ve made feast bread….”

  “And kerinne to go with it,” Jahir said.

  “A man after my own heart,” Vasiht’h said. “I’ll get the cups if you get the plates.”

  The bread steamed when they broke it apart with their hands because the feast bread should never be handled with a knife. The topping dripped sugared nuts and candied orange peel, and the aroma was divine. Jahir poured the kerinne for Vasiht’h and took his coffee black and bitter to offset the glaze. They ate, and renewed their commitment there over the table.

  Perhaps that was why Vasiht’h began the conversation by saying, “Sehvi and Kovihs would like to household with us.”

  “Your sister and her family? That sounds delightful.”

  “That’s all?” Vasiht’h asked, his bemusement puckering the mindline like the juice of a lemon. “I was expecting… I don’t know. A more cautious response?”

  “Lemon does not go well with this bread,” Jahir said sternly.

  Vasiht’h laughed and the sensation tamped. “Sorry. But I am serious. I know we’ve been thinking about… our next step. And you were fine with me having children. But this is more than my children now. This is the imposition of two more adults and their children.”

  “It would be easier, I imagine, to raise multiple children with more than one adult? At least, I’m imagining so.” Jahir tilted his head. “Did you think I would object? We are giving ourselves to this new phase of our lives, arii. It will require rearrangement.”

  “There’s rearrangement, and then there’s upheaval!”

  Jahir chuckled. “I think you are more concerned about that than I am.”

  Vasiht’h eyed him. “Apparently. Is there anything you’re concerned about? To make up for my apparent overabundance of concern?”

  What wasn’t he concerned about… Jahir managed a rueful smile. “Beyond getting to the other end of this war… I think I wonder where we will live next. Your sister and her husband will need work. And so will we, though perhaps we might consider other avenues for our talents.”

  “Such as?” Vasiht’h picked up his mug.

  “I thought… perhaps we could go to the Eldritch homeworld. To stay. And teach my people how to use their abilities, rather than be used by them.”

  Vasiht’h choked on his sip of kerinne, and the mindline happily told him it wasn’t serious because it meant he could enjoy, just the tiniest bit, having surprised one of the people who knew him best.

  “Stop that,” Vasiht’h said, eyes watering. “You’re gloating!”

  “I do not gloat,” Jahir said, prim.

  Vasiht’h started laughing. “Maybe not. But that glee is unholy and it feels like carbonation and that doesn’t go with the bread either.” He shook his head. “Are you serious? You want me—and my sister and husband and nephews—and my kids!—to relocate to the Eldritch homeworld? Would they even let us?”

  “Oh, I think they will.” Gentler, Jahir said, “You have always known that I would go back. And when you came with me for the wedding… you knew you would return as well. That you had work of your own there.”

  “I guess that’s true,” the Glaseah murmured. And then, with a crooked smile, “Though I didn’t think I’d be back so quickly.”

  “Nor did I,” Jahir said. “But it is a beautiful world, and one where there is work for us to do. And I believe by the time we arrive it will be ready for alien residents.”

  “You think? Because... I don’t think I’d want to live on a world where I was the only alien. Even if I brought some of my own family, it would be...”

  “Lonely,” Jahir finished. “Yes. I know just how you feel.”

  Vasiht’h’s blush was soft, burnished in the mindline with the acceptance of his own misstep. “I suppose you’ve been dealing with that a lot longer than I have.”

  “Perhaps not as much as I thought I had been.”

  “Ah?” Vasiht’h canted his head. “Why do I hear music when you say that?”

  “Because I bought a lute.” Jahir waited, contented with the saw of emotions through their link: the humor, the curiosity, and most of all the patience taught by years of such exchanges. What eventually swelled through those initial feelings, though, was happiness.

  “All right,” Vasiht’h said, shaking his head and grinning. “I admit, you caught me with that one. I have no idea how that relates to what you just said and it’s distracted me from puzzling it out because I never thought you’d do it. But… not a piano?”

  “I love the piano,” Jahir said. “I shall have one, in the fullness of time. But it has occurred to me that I packed a great deal of my life prior to arriving here into a box and put it away, good and bad. All of that was for shame, arii. Not just the shame that drove me from Sediryl, either… but the shame of having sprung from such a backwards people. The shame of leaving them and feeling relieved to have escaped. The shame of having the resources to do so when so many of my people don’t.” He smoothed his fingertips over the petite coffee cup, remembering how Amber had liked to fidget with cups as a youth. “Lisinthir might have pried open that box believing that only my romantic feelings were bound up in it. But I have concluded that my world entire was packed there. And if I am to be whole, I cannot leave it thus.” He smiled lopsidedly. “My life here has brought me a great deal of joy and taught me so very much. I don’t regret a moment of the time I’ve spent in the Alliance. But to go home, I have to admit to all those things.”

  “So you bought a lute,” Vasiht’h murmured.

  “And brought out the sword set,” Jahir said. “Which I handed over to a smith here to be aligned and sharpened.” He managed rue. “That was difficult, to give it over. But that is who I am. A man with Eldritch blades, and the responsibility to use them… who has access to Pelted weaponsmiths who can service such antiques better than the men who made them.”

  Vasiht’h was watching him, leaning back with his hands resting lightly on the edges of the table. Jahir let his friend study him, raised his eyes. The scrutiny through the mindline felt like a vacuum, pulling him out of himself… but he recognized that pressure now, and flowed into it. To this first and deepest friend, he owed that offering, and now he could make it without reservation.

  “You know,” Vasiht’h said at last, “when I left you behind to go on this trip, I thought you’d come back healthier. I didn’t think you’d come back like this.”

  “And this is?” Jahir asked. And added, meekly, “Better, I hope.”

  Vasiht’h laughed and reached over as if to swat him, the way the mindline revealed he would have done spontaneously to a sibling. Jahir ducked accordingly, and felt the sharpness of surprise like the slap he didn’t receive.

  “I wouldn’t have tried that before either,” Vasiht’h said, wide-eyed.

  “You know what you feel through the mindline,” Jahir said. “And you trust it. What else, then? I am different
, arii. I am no longer conflicted. And I can touch you without being whelmed by the strengthening of our communion.” He pushed his plate aside and threaded his fingers together. “Though I hope this will not inspire you to cuff me too much more often.”

  His partner chuckled. “No! Or at least, not too often.” His wonder suffused the mindline, gentle as mist. “It’s amazing from this side. I wish you could see it.”

  “I do, a little. In the reactions of those around me.” Jahir smiled. “I find it rewarding.”

  “Then I’m grateful Lisinthir leaned on you,” Vasiht’h said firmly. “I’ll have to hug him for it next time I see him. Which brings us to… what comes next.” The Glaseah’s clear brown eyes met his steadily, and his voice was quiet when he said, “Which is that the mind-mage Jahir goes to war. Isn’t it.”

  “Yes,” Jahir said.

  “The mind-mage Jahir… seems to have made peace with his powers?” Vasiht’h asked. “I accept your lack of conflict… I can feel it myself. There’s nothing in the mindline that whispers to me of horror anymore. But it seems an extreme change, and a sudden one.”

  “It must seem so,” Jahir said. “And yet, it happened.” His smile was winsome and merry and sudden. “I believe Lisinthir beat it out of me.”

  The Glaseah hesitated, then chuckled. “I probably don’t want to know that you mean that literally.”

  “He said something about my obstinacy,” Jahir demurred.

  Vasiht’h grinned as he tore one of the remaining pieces of bread into two, setting them on opposite sides of his plate. “I bet he did. So. When…?”

  “Soon,” Jahir said. “He’ll send for me.”

  “And I guess you’ll know then what you’ll be doing.”

  Jahir nodded, said nothing. The mindline remained warm between them, even given the nervousness that made it shiver. His partner’s resignation was stronger than that anxiety, though, and twined through it was a silver rope of acquiescence to the Goddess’s will that glimmered like the memory of moonlight on a clear summer night. He could smell the perfume of tropical flowers, sweet and heavy.

  “And then, I guess, I’ll decide what I’m doing.” Vasiht’h was still tearing the bread into pieces. The mindline did not speak of anxiety, though. That nervousness was more that of an athlete before a contest than that of fear.

  Curiosity piqued, Jahir said, “You don’t know yet?”

  Vasiht’h grinned. “No. Is that all right?”

  Jahir laughed. “Of course it is. And perhaps you should cease with the tormenting of your bread?”

  The Glaseah looked down and shook his head. “For once, you ate your entire serving and I only went through half of mine!” He put his plate on Jahir’s empty one. “Granted, you had only one serving and I had two....”

  “I am trying to be better about eating!”

  “For you that’s positively amazing,” Vasiht’h said, amused, but approving too, as warmly as the embrace of a mother. “This was good for you, even if you have come back talking three times as courtly as usual.”

  “Only three times?”

  “And teasing!” Vasiht’h laughed. “Let’s do dishes and see what we can do about our cases. If we really are going to leave Veta—after how much trouble we took getting into it!—then we need to make some decisions about how to transition our practice into other hands.”

  “A reprise of the adventure that saw us settled here,” Jahir murmured. “That feels... apropos.”

  “It does, doesn’t it?” The Glaseah stood. “It feels right to me too. That’s usually a good sign.”

  “From your mouth to Her ear, arii.”

  “Maybe after that…” Vasiht’h tilted his head. “You could play for me?”

  “I could so do,” Jahir replied, rising already to collect the plates. “In fact, I could sing as well, if you wished it.”

  “Oh!” Vasiht’h exclaimed. “Yes.” And then laughed. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you to say something like that.”

  “Then you need wait no longer,” Jahir said.

  It was as close to an idyllic day as Jahir could remember their having. An afternoon spent over their schedule, discussing their clients; some quiet time apart while Vasiht’h showered off the travel dust and settled back in. Then, as promised, he brought out the lute and played, and that was an intimacy he couldn’t have imagined before he tried it with his partner. He’d wanted a smaller instrument because it imposed less of a distance between performer and listener, and in particular because while Lisinthir had been able to sit with him on the bench, Vasiht’h would have had far more trouble doing so.

  An instrument small enough to tuck under an arm, though… the Glaseah sat where he usually did, beside the couch and leaning on it. Jahir sat alongside him, and they leaned close, and he sang quietly. After a while, Vasiht’h hummed along, not because he was a musician himself and could improvise a harmony, but because he could borrow that knowledge through the mindline the way Lisinthir had borrowed his ability to sense other people’s feelings. The revelation that his talent could be used for such a potent sharing, and outside the intense and very unique relationship he had with his cousin…

  “I could do this forever,” he admitted when at last they quit.

  Vasiht’h had his head on his arm, eyes closed. His sigh had a sweetness of contentment that Jahir had not heard in a long time. “Me too. But I guess we should get to bed. Or at least, I should. It wasn’t a hard day, but it was a long one.”

  “I understand. And I am tired also.”

  Vasiht’h raised his head and rubbed an eye. “So are you going to tell me about the new jewelry?”

  “Was it so obvious?” Jahir asked, curious.

  “Not at all,” Vasiht’h said. “I’m just lying at a weird angle, and you’re leaning forward and to one side, and it happened to let your collar gap open at just the right place. It’s remarkably discreet.”

  And he had never told his partner about the gift that had inspired Lisinthir’s. Jahir opened his collar enough to let the disc of ivory out and leaned toward the Glaseah so Vasiht’h could examine it. “When I was asked to procure the chest we were to send to the Empire to Lisinthir, I also arranged to send him a token we use as prayers for safety. You recall I mentioned something about it on the homeworld when we went?”

  “The bit about the medallion I had being some kind of pattern for a different thing?” Vasiht’h peered up at him. “I barely remember.”

  “Those different things are known as amulets rampant, and they are supposed to protect their wearers. They all involve the depiction of a unicorn rampant, thus the name: rampant rampants are brightly enameled in colors meant to attract attention. Secret rampants, though, are white, in order to do their work without being noticed. The one I gave Lisinthir with the jackal chest was destroyed in a fight that almost—but did not quite—kill him. I suppose he remembered it fondly, since he had one made in the Alliance for me.”

  “It’s amazing,” Vasiht’h murmured. “Can I…?”

  “Yes.”

  The invisible string pulled against the back of Jahir’s neck as Vasiht’h gently moved the talisman closer. “This one has a dragon on it, thou—oh, right. Of course it does.” He chuckled. “You Eldritch. You baptize your babies in symbols and drench yourselves in them for the rest of your lives.”

  “One must go with one’s strengths,” Jahir murmured, to the Glaseah’s burbling amusement.

  “The workmanship on it is amazing,” Vasiht’h said. “I have no idea how they made the ivory that translucent without chipping into the back more. There’s only one place it seems to have been thinned out at all.”

  “It’s more comfortable to wear thus, I imagine,” Jahir said. “Too much deviation on the side facing the skin might chafe.”

  Vasiht’h shook his head and tucked it back into Jahir’s collar. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised he’s got every Eldritch’s highly developed aesthetic sense.”

  “I have
a highly developed aesthetic sense,” Jahir said, amused, setting the lute aside. “Lisinthir has style.”

  Vasiht’h snorted and rose, stretching. “I don’t know. I happen to think my particular Eldritch has plenty of style on his own.” He canted his head. “Am I allowed to ask now?”

  “About?”

  “Sediryl?”

  Sediryl. Jahir inhaled. “Now that you’re here… tomorrow, I’ll call.” He managed a smile. “It would be deeply satisfying to simply arrive on her doorstep and sweep her off her feet, but Starbase Ana lies on the other side of the Alliance from where I need to go. It would be ridiculous to show myself only to discover her away.”

  Vasiht’h chuckled. “I suppose there’s that.” Quieter: “I’m glad you’re not waiting.”

  “I could not,” Jahir said. “Not anymore.”

  That seemed to satisfy his partner, which was well… Jahir himself didn’t think there was more to add.

  They were preparing for bed when the chirp distracted them both. Jahir finished pulling his pajama shirt on and found Vasiht’h sitting up on the nest of pillows, wings half-spread.

  “That’s him, isn’t it,” the Glaseah said.

  “He is one of the few people on the emergency list, yes,” Jahir said.

  “I hope it’s him,” Vasiht’h said, flopping back onto the cushions. “Because if it’s the Queen again I’ll have to ask her whether she times things on purpose to catch us asleep.”

  Jahir chuckled and left their dim bedroom. His data tablet was on the kitchen table; he eschewed the wallscreen in favor of the more intimate interaction and sat there to spread the message. Not a real-time request, for the chime would have been more urgent then. A flat file, which was suggestive of... what? Danger, perhaps? The need for security?