Chapter 20

For days after their return, Jahir went about their routine without question, because he was so accustomed to the rhythm of their days that falling into it was second nature. But he was also aware that when he came to rest, his eyes moved toward Vasiht’h. Even with the mindline’s evidence, he could not quite take for granted that the Glaseah was here and alive, and not a victim of the storm. Jahir had checked the news after their departure. He knew about those who’d died. Most of them had been on the ocean when the storm hit, the way his partner had been.

Jahir had accepted that he would lose the Glaseah too soon, but he’d assumed that death would be dealt by old age, not untimely tragedy. The closeness of that brush with a world without Vasiht’h had harrowed him in a way he found unnerving. There were so many ways the Alliance could bring him joy and comfort—the discovery that children could age into companions had been one—that the ways it could serve him sorrow cut the more deeply.

That was also the reason he had not looked too closely at his failure. He knew, intellectually, that he should reschedule, or possibly contest the exam’s results. But too much had attached to it for him to see it clearly. His guilt over having the opportunity, when so many didn’t; his shame that he was not planning on returning to the homeworld, when so many needed what he could learn; his ambivalence about the hospital setting, and his dismay over discovering how much he yearned for it anyway; his fears that he would find the Alliance’s technology so magical that when it failed, its failure would be unbearable…. and overwhelmingly, the feeling that he’d both failed Vasiht’h by not passing, and done the only possible thing in response to his partner’s danger….

Time would smooth out this tangle, as it did so many. But he was not ready yet.

He still wasn’t ready when he received a message on his way back from his daily swim. From KindlesFlame. Almost he didn’t open it, for explaining to his mentor why he wasn’t on the rolls of those who’d passed was beyond him, but he could not countenance avoiding the Tam-illee after all KindlesFlame had done on Jahir’s behalf. Spreading the message, he read the words, and re-read them for comprehension.

Meet me for coffee? Tell me where, I don’t know anything about this place.

Jahir stepped out of the middle of the throughway to stand beneath the awning of a café and reply. You’re on Veta?

A few moments later: For another day, yes. So, date?

Hastily, Jahir sent him the address for the café with the scones, and made his way there to procure a table.

Fifteen minutes later, KindlesFlame sauntered onto the patio, hands in his pockets and tail swinging lazily behind him. The sight of him on Starbase Veta was so out-of-context Jahir almost didn’t recognize him, seeing only a middle-aged Tam-illee, confident and easy in his own skin, and the revelation drew his breath from him: that he had begun thinking of Pelted of a certain age as ‘old’ because by his standards they were only a hair’s-breadth from dying. But they were not dying. Men and women like KindlesFlame were in the prime of their lives, and more wick in fact than many Eldritch ever were, trapped in ruts of their own making.

“So!” KindlesFlame said, pulling back a chair. “Do I see before me the newest provisionally licensed healer-assist in the Alliance, and possibly the only Eldritch who can make that claim?”

“In reverse order,” Jahir said, “I do not know, and… no.”

KindlesFlame’s brows rose. “Don’t tell me you failed.”

“I’m afraid it was nothing so simple,” Jahir said. “Will you sit? This café is famous for its scones, and I am eager to introduce them to someone who won’t quail at the sight of them.”

“Don’t think you can distract me with food.” The Tam-illee dropped into the chair opposite his. “Order me the scones, sure, but explain.”

Jahir called the waitress over and asked for coffee and a plate of both of the scone specials before facing his academic advisor. “Let me tell you then, about Tsera Nova.”

The telling took longer than he expected. Not because of the events, though those needed their fair share of the time. But because KindlesFlame quizzed him on the exam’s subjects, and they found themselves wandering through the subject matter, speculating or discussing current research. The scones arrived, one set of triple strawberry served with a side of cream whipped with honey, and another based on chives and yogurt that Jahir actually enjoyed, though he had to break his off in small pieces to eat it slowly enough to last the conversation.

“So are you going to go back and tell them you want to retake the final sections?” KindlesFlame asked, having rescued Jahir from the necessity of consuming the strawberry scones. He was licking his spoon of the remaining cream.

“Would they permit it?”

“Probably not,” KindlesFlame said. “But they might. You have a way of talking people around.” He lifted a brow. “I’m surprised you haven’t tried it already.”

“It would perhaps be easier simply to take the test again.”

“You could, yes, though it seems a waste of money and time.” KindlesFlame canted his head. “You haven’t scheduled it.”

Jahir looked at his mug. “No.”

“But you will, won’t you?”

To answer when he didn’t know the answer… would what he said be a lie? Or would it become a self-fulfilling prophecy?

KindlesFlame leaned forward. “Jahir.”

“I… had not thought so far ahead.”

“You are not doing this.” Surprised at the heat in the Tam-illee’s voice, Jahir looked up and found his mentor glaring at him. “You’re not going to talk yourself out of this after all the effort everyone around you has put into supporting you into this decision. A decision, I’ll remind you, that you wanted to make anyway.”

“Alet—”

“Don’t,” KindlesFlame said. “Don’t put that barrier between us. Unless you’re willing to bow to my authority?” He lifted a brow. “Well?”

“I…”

“When we finish this conversation, you’re going to go home and discuss this with Vasiht’h,” KindlesFlame said. “And you’ll reschedule the damned exam. And take it. And become the first Eldritch healer-assist in the Alliance, because Iley curse it, it’s what you want, and it would be a damned waste of your talents not to go through with it. Especially after Tsera Nova. Do you understand me?”

“I… you are… reprimanding me?” Jahir said, surprised.

“I’m pulling you up by your neck and pointing you back in the right direction,” KindlesFlame said. “Because apparently your partner hasn’t yet. Which means…” He paused, then scowled. “You haven’t told him yet, have you!”

“It hasn’t come up?”

KindlesFlame pointed a finger at him. “That’s the first thing you’re going to do when you get back from this meal. Do you understand me? And in case you’re tempted to renege on that, you’re going to invite me to breakfast tomorrow before I get on the shuttle to go back to Seersana."

“You… feel very strongly about this.”

“I do, yes,” KindlesFlame said. “You didn’t come this far just to stop short of the goal.” He sighed. “Arii. Look at me, will you?”

Startled, Jahir met his eyes. They were gray—he had never noticed. Intelligent eyes, incisive and compassionate, and right now, far, far too intense. It made him flush.

“As an educator, you hope you’ll have students worth your time,” KindlesFlame said, each word taut. “And if you’re lucky, you’ll meet a few who are that perfect combination of smart, driven, and a pleasure to work with. It’s not just about them—it can’t be. It has to be about the interaction between them, and you. A spark that makes you look forward to coming to work in the morning. Reminds you that what you’re doing makes a difference. When you retire, those are the people you look back on and think ‘yes. That’s why I went into teaching.’”

“Alet,” Jahir whispered.

“You’re one of my sparks,” KindlesFlame said. “And if you think I’m going to sit back and watch that complicated head of yours sabotage you before you’re even started… you’re wrong. Because you really are barely started, Jahir. You’ve got centuries to learn everything you want to, and more importantly, to synthesize medical disciplines in a way most people can’t. Because you have the time to assimilate disparate principles and see how they interact.” He shook his head. “You have the potential to see things in a way none of us do, because most of us can’t specialize in more than one field. Can you imagine the kind of synergies you’ll see because you can develop the expertise across those boundaries?”

Jahir stared at him, stunned. “Oh, alet…”

“Yes?” KindlesFlame said. “Do you see?”

Did he! Oh, but he did. The idea was staggering. He had been so concerned with fitting into the Alliance’s mold, and the ways he couldn’t, that he’d completely failed to imagine the ways he might exceed it. “But… I am not ready!”

“No,” KindlesFlame agreed. “Not least because you keep tripping yourself this way. You’re going to need some time to stop second-guessing yourself. But Iley willing, you have that time too. You’ll be a therapist until being a therapist doesn’t teach you enough anymore. Then you’ll become a doctor, and everything you learned as a therapist, you’ll bring to that practice. And after that… research? Something else?” KindlesFlame tilted his head. “I don’t know how much of it I’ll be around to see. But I plan to be there for as much of it as I can.”

“I can’t… I don’t…” Jahir trailed off. “Alet.”

“Lafeyette.”

Jahir looked up sharply.

“Either I’m your mentor, and you’re going to do what I tell you to because I know better than you how to walk the path you’re walking,” the Tam-illee said. “Or I’m your friend, and you’re still going to do what I tell you because I can see the mistakes you’re making and I don’t want you to make them.”

“Sometimes one has to make mistakes to learn,” Jahir breathed.

“And sometimes, you can save yourself the grief because you already know the lesson.” KindlesFlame’s voice gentled. “Arii. You’ve bruised your brow on this particular wall enough times. Don’t you think?”

“It does seem familiar,” Jahir answered, voice low. He turned his coffee cup, thinking of his brother’s habit of fidgeting with silverware and surprising himself with how natural it was to mimic him.

“So. You’ll go home to Vasiht’h and have the talk you’ve been avoiding,” KindlesFlame said. “And over breakfast I’ll get to hear the triumphant and probably funny story of how he had to drag you to the tablet to re-register. Yes?”

How could his heart feel like breaking, and it be entirely because of love? “Yes.” He glanced at his mentor and said, “This seems a good time to segue into why you are on Veta.”

KindlesFlame grinned and refreshed his cup. “It does, doesn’t it? You’ll laugh. I was here for a job interview.”

Jahir straightened. “Do not say it!”

“Your general hospital needed a new Chief of Staff,” KindlesFlame said. “But I turned it down. It’s not the right fit, not right now anyway. I can see myself being in charge of a hospital, but I’m not prepared to settle down. I’d like to travel a bit, do the conference circuit first.” He grinned. “Then I can ask for more money, anyway.”

“You were almost Veta’s Chief Physician,” Jahir said, unable to believe it.

“I did say I was following up on some leads.”

“But not this one!” Jahir shook his head. “Oh, but it would have been good to work with you, arii.”

“No reason why we can’t in the future,” KindlesFlame said. “Eventually I’ll want to stay in one place, if only because you can’t go deep while you’re going wide. Sinking into a good challenge… I can see myself needing that in the future. But later.” He chuckled. “I admit it was hard to say no, knowing you’d be here.”

“Perhaps, then… another time?” Jahir said.

“I don’t see why not. And in the meantime, I’ll badger you in mail, the way I have been.” KindlesFlame looked at their empty plates. “That was an excellent appetizer. Are their entrees any good?”

“God and Lady!” Jahir exclaimed. “You could eat more!”

KindlesFlame grinned. “Well, you did eat one of my scones. What do you expect?” He waved to one of the waitstaff. “Now, back to that thorny hypothetical they posed in the health administration segment…”

From there, Jahir went home. What else, with such a vow riding him? And the mindline told him that his partner was waiting there; there would be no putting the discussion off, thus. As he walked, he wondered how he would begin it. Sought and discarded any number of openings, found none of them adequate. He was here, confused, grateful, full of regret and joy both. Was that not what it was to be alive?

In the end, he entered their apartment and set his bag on the stand by the door, and said to the Glaseah sitting at the breakfast table, “It was a New Year’s world, but there was no new beginning. I did not pass the test.”

Vasiht’h looked up at him. “I figured.”

So much fretting for nothing. Of course the Glaseah knew. “How did you divine…”

“You would have said something,” Vasiht’h said. “Even though you hate them, you know I like fusses. When you didn’t bring up the need for a party, or even celebratory ice cream, I knew something went wrong.” He touched his breastbone with a thumb. “In my heart. But I was avoiding looking at it for my own reasons.” He smiled a little, and the mindline softened with resignation and love both. The image that carried was of a much-adored plush rabbit with its stuffing showing from a broken limb.

“Was that…”

“Not mine,” Vasiht’h said. “My sister’s. But don’t tell her I told you about it, she might kill me.” He nodded. “We started this whole business with a talk at this table, we might as well finish it here. Though I don’t have any fancy muffins this time.”

“Bread, though,” Jahir observed, drawing a chair back for himself.

“Just plain sourdough with butter,” Vasiht’h agreed. “Toasted. Sometimes you want something simple.”

“And…” Jahir glanced at the mug. “Kerinne?”

“Café au lait, actually. In keeping with the theme. I was in this amazing bakery and they talked me into all sorts of things you’re going to groan at the sight of.”

“I do not groan,” Jahir said, but he was smiling now too.

“Want some?”

“I have just had scones. The thought of more food is distressing.”

Vasiht’h huffed a laugh. “Yes, I bet it is. So… you failed. How is that even possible?”

“It was forfeited when I quit the premises to seek you.”

Vasiht’h’s hand halted on the way to his mug. “You threw the test to rush after me.”

“I saw the storm,” Jahir answered, his own anxiety tightening into a knot. “There was news… it was dire… I could not but go?”

Vasiht’h’s head hung, but the mindline had grown dense with emotions, like blooming flowers, bright and fresh and perfumed with happiness. “You really ran after me like a hero in a romance novel.”

“I ran after you like someone whose beloved was parted from him, and in mortal danger,” Jahir answered firmly. “There was little romance involved, I assure you.”

Vasiht’h was laughing now. “Oh, that’s not what Sehvi would say. She’s going to die when she hears this.”

Jahir considered. “Best tell her about this first, so that you might be spared your own death when she hears about your indiscretion with the stuffed rabbit toy.”

“And you made a joke too!” Vasiht’h shook his head. “Oh, arii. So, you failed. But you haven’t talked about it at all. Why? Were you just going to… soldier on without sharing it? Let me guess. You didn’t want to upset me by telling me about it, so you haven’t even figured out how to salvage the situation.”

“KindlesFlame did say you would say something of the sort,” Jahir admitted, wishing now he’d requested something to eat or drink if only to have an excuse to look at the table. He folded his hands together on it instead, ignoring the blatant reminder of the responsibilities his House ring represented. Hiding from the sight of such things did not make them go away. He should have known better by now. And yet: “I love our life.”

“I do too,” Vasiht’h said. “And I have no leg to stand on here, getting upset about your mental gyrations when I was going through my own ridiculous contortions. Trying to reconcile the fact that I didn’t want a ‘new year’ of my own because I liked what we had. But so afraid to admit to it because it might not look like enough to anyone else, and then I’d have to feel ashamed of being happy in my ‘rut’.”

Jahir looked up, startled. “Oh, arii. No!”

“Yes.” Vasiht’h shook his head. “Like I said. Not my finest moment either.” He sighed and smiled. “So where do we go from here? Other than you taking the test again? And no, this time I’m not going with you, so pick whatever place you want as long as it’s soon. I don’t want you wiggling out of it again.”

“I don’t want…”

“A different life,” Vasiht’h finished. “Me neither. But that’s all right.” He inhaled and said, “I think… we’re both operating under the fallacy that just because you can do something, you have to. You can get licensed as a healer-assist, but that doesn’t mean you have to change jobs. It can be just a thing that you are, and maybe sometimes keep your hand in, but that’s it. I can be…” He laughed. “I can be anything besides a therapist in a committed mindbonding with an alien, but just because I could, doesn’t mean I have to. Because I’m happy with where I am.”

“Are you truly?” Jahir asked carefully, knowing the answer was almost always more complicated than ‘yes.’

But Vasiht’h did say, “Yes.” And then chuckled. “That doesn’t mean I won’t fret over things. All the things! But yes, I am happy. I want to keep doing this until we’re both tired of it. And if we never get tired of it, and we’re still doing good with our lives… why do we have to do anything else?”

Jahir exhaled. “Then… I shall take the test. And we shall continue as we are. Until we must not.” Which, he reflected, was perhaps too odd and therefore revealing a comment, but Vasiht’h answered.

“Yes.” The Glaseah lifted his eyes. “Funny how we can be so lucky in so many ways and still have so many struggles.”

“To live is to strive,” Jahir said. “Even in the most idyllic of contexts, there is friction.”

“And I guess it’s a sign that we’re growing.” Vasiht’h tore off a piece of his toast and pushed it over. “If we were complacent, we’d be all right all the time. Wouldn’t we? But we’re not. We’re asking questions.”

“One must be satisfied with the answers, if the answers are in fact satisfactory,” Jahir said, accepting the bread.

“We both have that problem,” Vasiht’h said. “But that’s fine. It just means we can figure it out together.”

Jahir said, quiet, “We are well?”

“We are, yes. Both of us.” Vasiht’h nodded. “Maybe not perfect, but… we’re well. As long as you actually take the test and I get to have that party!”

“I promise,” Jahir said.

“And what’s this about KindlesFlame putting words in my mouth? You told him about this before you told me!”

“He ambushed me,” Jahir said ruefully. “In the flesh. I took him to the scone café.”

“He’s here?”

“Interviewing for a position at the hospital he turned down.”

Vasiht’h’s eyes widened. “Wouldn’t that have been something. Huh. I’m almost tempted to go tell him to take it just so we can double-team you when you’re being unnecessarily self-sacrificing.”

Jahir sighed. “He is well and again capable of doing so across the sector, I pledge it.”

Vasiht’h chuckled. “I bet. So are we feeding him?”

“Breakfast tomorrow. At which time I am to report I have already registered for the next exam.”

“Good. Oh. Mm. Speaking of which.” Vasiht’h tapped his fingertips on the walls of his mug. “I… would like to send my brother to school on our money, if his scholarship doesn’t cover it.”

“Ah?” Jahir looked up, surprised. “You wish to spend our money?”

“You don’t mind, do you? He needed a quick jab in the rear to get his head straightened out.” The mindline darkened with exasperation, like a short and grumpy rainstorm. “He’s good in the kitchen, so I sponsored him into a culinary competition that leads to a scholarship opportunity.”

“You think he has a chance?”

“I don’t know,” Vasiht’h admitted. “But I really hope so. And if he does…”

“Your family’s welfare is ours to caretake,” Jahir said gently, extending his sincerity through the mindline like a vow on the tongue. “I would never begrudge the funds.”

Vasiht’h sighed out. “I knew you wouldn’t.” Tilting his head, he added, “Does that make your family’s welfare ours to caretake, too?”

Jahir thought of the worlds and time between himself and duty. “Not yet.” When he looked up from the bread, he found Vasiht’h’s eyes waiting. He said again, more definitely, “Not yet.”

The Glaseah was willing to leave it at that, and he was glad.