The Best of All Possible Worlds (17 page)

“Why don’t you tell me I’m beautiful?” she said randomly one day.

“It would be appropriate if you were to comment on the aesthetics of my person,” I
communicated to Dllenahkh.

His eyebrows rose the merest fraction. “The fact that you are an extremely attractive
woman is sufficiently obvious that it does not require my repeating it.”

“Need I tell you what so many others have told you before?” I replied to her.

She laughed lightly. I bit my lip in frustration.

“Any progress with that translator?” I asked Tarik moodily as he worked on his handheld,
comfortably seated on edge of the
t’bren
with his legs dangling over high green infinity.

He gave me a steady look. “It will not be ready before the end of our sojourn here.”

“Blast,” I muttered. “I’m so tired of this.”

On the last day of our stay, the Queen seemed in a reflective mood. She took Dllenahkh
and me up to the highest
t’bren
, whose view extended beyond the trees, across the valley, and to the gray-shadowed
horizon with its high, distant mountains. A small group of attendants followed as
usual, and her minstrel played his cithara in the background, singing in some variant
of Cymraeg that was unfamiliar to me. The business of the Elven–Sadiri exchange had
long been concluded, with the result that the only talk remaining between them was
small talk. Dllenahkh noted in grave Sadiri fashion that the music was pleasingly
harmonious.

“It is a love song,” she said to him, but her eyes were on me, her smile mocking though
not yet cruel. “Shall I translate it for you?”

She signaled to the minstrel with a languid movement of her hand, and he began again,
singing softly to the complex melody while she translated in perfect Standard:

And why had it amused her to have me tagging along as an imperfect interpreter when
she could easily have spoken for herself in Standard? I would never understand what
passed for humor among the Elves.

That was a nice little turn of phrase there. The echo of a smile—that reminded me
of the subtlety of Sadiri facial expressions.

 … the hell? She couldn’t possibly mean …

And yet my spine stiffened as the lilt of her voice and the sly slant of her looks
suffused each word with a far too personal significance.

I was too embarrassed to look at Dllenahkh and too curious not to, so I settled for
a furtive glance that only told me that he appeared to be perfectly still and controlled.

She concluded the verses with a gentle flourish of her wrist and fingers. “I have
so much time and so many to choose from,” she said to me with a beautifully condescending
smile. “I can afford to be generous.”

Then she gracefully inclined her head, gathered up her entourage with the casual command
of a glance, and withdrew, leaving us alone on the lookout with the minstrel still
quietly playing nearby.

My ears were burning. It was impossible to pretend that I did not understand who the
song was referring to, and what she had just hinted.

Dllenahkh cleared his throat. “I have recently received some new projections concerning
the planned infrastructural improvements for the Tlaxce homesteadings. Would you care
to go over them with me? I believe there are some points that may be of interest to
you.”

“Yes, let’s. That sounds fascinating,” I quickly agreed, and we made our way back
to our
t’bren
with no further incident.

That afternoon, we said
our farewells and flew on toward our next assignment, stopping overnight at another
Forestry outpost. I was curious to know what the Sadiri had thought of the Elven solution
to taSadiri strife, so I approached them as they sat outdoors at twilight, talking
among themselves in Sadiri.

“I know we’ve already had our formal debriefing,” I said with careful politeness,
“but I was wondering what you thought of the Elves of the Seelie Court and what recommendations
you might make concerning them to the Sadiri settlement.”

“It was an interesting encounter, but I do not aspire to become a member of a harem,”
Dllenahkh said. As far as I could tell, he was teasing me, but I was too mortified
to appreciate the effort at light-heartedness, especially since Joral, Nasiha, and
Tarik were wearing various expressions of suppressed amusement, which was, for them,
the equivalent of a belly laugh.

“Yeah, about that,” I muttered, examining my boots. “I’m
sorry she got the wrong impression about us. I swear, I translated as best I could,
but—”

“You are distressed,” he said in genuine surprise. “But surely you cannot think that
this is the first time people have speculated on the nature of our relationship?”

I was finally able to look up, my jaw slack with amazement. “What?”

“It is true,” Joral confirmed. “It was one of the first things Tonio asked me when
he was attached to the team.”

“Tarik and I have discussed the possibility more than once,” Nasiha admitted.

They looked at Dllenahkh, who grudgingly confessed, “Lanuri continues to exact a most
un-Sadiri revenge for what he terms my ‘well-meaning meddling’ in his personal life.
He has been affixing advice to the end of every piece of official correspondence he
sends to me. He is of the opinion that my apparent ‘slow progress’ with you is an
indication that I need help.”

I laughed out loud, not least because I detected more than a touch of Freyda Mar in
that statement.

Then Tarik spoke up. “As more people learn about the mission’s work, there is a growing
sense that it would be fitting if one or both of the single Sadiri on the team were
to find wives by the end of the year as a sort of symbol of success for the broader
undertaking.”

My features struggled to find the right response to this news and settled on pained
incredulity. “That’s ridiculous. For what Dllenahkh and Joral are doing, those people
should have Sadiri princesses lined up for them when they get back rather than speculating
about every ragtag and bobtail they happen to work with.”

Dllenahkh’s eyebrows went up, as expected. “I am not familiar
with that phrase, but if the tone is any indication, I would have to say that you
are hardly in that category.”

“Most kind,” I scoffed. “Look, you guys feel free to keep searching, but I’ve got
some contacts at the Ministry of Family Planning, and once you’re both registered,
we can draw up a list of candidates of a certain caliber.”

“Most kind,” Dllenahkh said blandly, but for a moment I felt a strange flash of something
electric, almost as if he were angry.

“Well, it’s the least I can do for unwittingly blocking your prospects,” I said lightly,
hiding my bewilderment at his reaction.

“I think it is an excellent idea,” Joral said. “You could register too.”

“I …” I faltered, trying to find a good excuse. Qeturah was already convinced I needed
therapy, and I wanted to keep the Sadiri on my side. “I don’t see why not. Set a good
example and all that. But let’s be sensible about this. You’ve got more choices now.
Women are coming to you and inviting you to visit them. You could even return to the
Seelie Court, maybe convince a few to become fully Sadiri. It might take a little
time, but …”

Nasiha looked amused, whether at my backpedaling or at the idea of Joral as Sadiri
missionary to Elven women, I wasn’t sure. “Well, Joral, what do you think of this
option?” she asked.

Joral pondered for a while, then snapped out, “Unacceptable.”

I was not the only one startled at the sharpness of his tone. Everyone seemed to straighten
slightly as he went on with increasing intensity.

“I want a wife, and children, and a family of my blood. I want sons and daughters
who will look like my brothers and sisters who are gone, who will speak Sadiri and
learn of Sadira and practice the mental disciplines. I want to see them married and
grow old enough to see my grandchildren and great-grandchildren. I am the last of
my line, the sole survivor of my family, like so many others on the homesteadings.
The Councillor is right; why should any of us seek to be a member of a harem? Why
should we desire frivolous things? I want—”

“Joral—”

“Leave him be.” Shockingly, the fierce words that cut off Dllenahkh’s attempt to bring
Joral back to proper Sadiri behavior came from Nasiha. She knelt before Joral and
spoke passionately. “We desire these things too. These are good things to desire,
right and appropriate things. We shall see these things come to pass for you and for
others. Your line will not die out.”

I backed away, a lump in my throat. Collective grief is one thing, but the Sadiri
are very scary when they get intense. I turned to see Lian watching wide-eyed from
a distance and gladly found my excuse to leave.

“Lian, you’re not going to help out Joral any time soon, are you?” I murmured.

Lian answered with a head shake, still staring past me, awed at the sight of overwrought
Sadiri.

“Well, if you have a sister or a friend to recommend to Joral instead, that would
be a nice gesture.”

“I’ll look into it,” Lian said absently. “I keep forgetting how important this is
to them, you know?”

“I’m just as bad,” I said morosely. “Teasing you about Joral. Treating him like a
boy and not a man. Treating Dllenahkh like …”

Lian eyed me with great interest. “Like?”

I frowned, trying to think. “I dunno. As if he’ll always be around to be my sidekick.
Like I’ll never have to share him with a wife and children and—hah, from all they’re
saying, grandchildren too. Don’t laugh at me, Lian, but I was jealous of that
woman monopolizing his time and attention. I’ve never felt like that before.”

“Hmm,” said Lian. “Well, I won’t laugh at you.”

We walked away and gave them some privacy, but later on I caught Nasiha alone just
as she was coming out of her quarters.

“So,” I began cautiously, “is it too early to congratulate you?”

Nasiha struggled, keeping her face neutral and her chin aggressively up, but then
she exhaled and glared at me with a kind of proud defeat. “It is remarkable how you
are able to be so perceptive in some areas and so obtuse in others. Yes, it is too
early. It will be too early until, as Joral said, I can see my great-grandchildren.
Then you may congratulate me.”

“I won’t be alive then,” I said cheekily. “I’ll leave you a congratulations message
that you can open whenever it seems right to you.”

Nasiha gave me a determined look. “I believe young parents will become a new Sadiri
tradition. You may yet be alive to see the fourth generation, perhaps even the fifth.”

I nodded, imagining it and finding it good. “I’d stick around just for that. Maybe
even tweak a gene to be sure.”

She completely shocked me in the next moment. She put a hand on my shoulder not at
all affectionately but more as if she were bracing me for something. “It would be
advantageous for us to seek the assistance of suitable non-Sadiri for the education
and care of our child. Tarik and I have agreed that given your experience and knowledge
of the Sadiri language and culture, you would be the natural choice.”

“Ah,” I said, panicked and wide-eyed under the strong grip of her hand. “This is an
important duty. What does it entail?”

“You would function as an elder member of the family. A godparent, if you will.”

“Then … I would be honored,” I replied in wonderment.

Nasiha seemed to calm down at this assurance. She released my shoulder, tilted her
head, and considered me. “You were not fooling us earlier. Something about marriage
frightens you.”

I opened my mouth to remonstrate, and she raised a silencing hand. “Do not try to
lie to me. Remember, I have documented your empathic and telepathic data, and I know
a little about your ex-fiancé. I understand your difficulty.”

“You do?” I said. Nasiha in the role of supportive confidante was boggling my mind.

“Yes. You have concerns that you may influence your spouse without intending to or
that you may again be influenced without your knowledge. These are rational concerns,
but your inability to deal with them properly is turning them into irrational fears.”

“What do you suggest I do?” I said almost meekly.

“You must learn how to shield your emotions and thoughts. You must learn how to protect
yourself and others. There are aspects of the Sadiri disciplines that can help you
achieve this. It is a practical solution.”

“It is,” I agreed. My sense of relief at her blunt but insightful summary was so great
that I felt myself grow an extra centimeter, as if a burden had literally been lifted
from my back. I wondered, not for the first time, if the Sadiri had any concept of
therapy in the gentle, lengthy Cygnian sense. I doubted it. It might just have been
Nasiha, but there was an attitude of going straight in with a sharp blade instead
of beating around the bush.

“Excellent,” she barked out. “We will start tomorrow.”