The Best of All Possible Worlds (35 page)

“I have a suggestion for you,” he began. “Your residence in Tlaxce City is no longer
appropriately sited for the work you will be doing. My own career changes have rendered
the location of my previous lodgings less than optimal. I have, however, been recommended
for ownership of a homestead close to transport links to both Tlaxce City and the
Local Council Hall. Of course, it is too much for me to handle by myself, but I have
in mind an arrangement which may serve as a model for other homesteads in the future.
Dr. Mar and Lanuri plan to marry next month. I believe you already know that Nasiha
and Tarik will stay on Cygnus Beta for a period of time. Two of my colleagues from
the Council offices, Istevel and Kamir, have asked to transfer from government work
to homesteading until they are assigned partners
by the Ministry, and Joral has requested the same. Would you care to join us?”

“Pardon?” I had been so busy cataloging the names and the news that the invitation,
tacked on like an afterthought, at first made no sense.

“Would you like to live with us on the homestead? This would greatly facilitate your
consultancy work with Commander Nasiha.”

I spurred my whirling mind to stop for a moment and think clearly. “This homestead,
it sounds pretty sizable to be able to support so many people.”

“It is.”

I pondered. Nasiha, Joral, Tarik, Freyda—quite a lot of my favorite people in one
place. It sounded pretty cool, especially if the homestead were big enough for a balance
of independence and interdependence. I shook my head, laughing inwardly at myself.
Working with Sadiri, living with Sadiri, speaking Sadiri more often than not—it seemed
that in my own life the Sadiri had won the culture wars quite handily. And then, of
course, there was Dllenahkh himself. I freely confessed to myself in that moment that
he was someone I didn’t want to say good-bye to, not ever.

“It seems to be an efficient arrangement,” I decided, looking up at him with a smile.
“Yes. Thank you, Dllenahkh.”

Even after I said
yes to Dllenahkh’s offer to live on his homestead, I had plenty of opportunity to
ponder the decision anew. Some days later, as Gilda helped me pack up the last bits
of my City life, she filled me in on what people were saying. Some felt Dllenahkh
was besotted with me even though I was quite clearly
not
taSadiri and therefore completely unsuitable as a spouse; others believed I was besotted
with him and therefore so desperate to
stay near him that I was willing to molder away on a homestead. Some thought he was
using me to project the image of a proper Sadiri family man, homesteader, and government
representative; others were convinced I was using him to further my own private-sector
career and gradually rehabilitate myself in the government and the scientific community.
Finally, one rumor all but accused us of conducting an elaborate xenofetish experiment
that would only end in tears.

To the general concerns, I could have added several more. Was he attached to me because
of the mission experience? Did that mental connection that I couldn’t speak about
and my helping him with his nightmares constitute some kind of undue influence? If
so, would the influence fade as soon as he was once more in a full Sadiri community
with all the telepathic support that entailed?

“Oh, shut up, Gilda,” I said irritably. “You’d think I was going to marry the man,
with all that talk.”

She looked hurt, but before she could complain, there was a chime at the front door,
and I gladly went to answer it.

“Excuse me. Ms. Grace Delarua?”

It was a government courier with one of those buff envelopes that had so often been
the bane of my life. They tended to represent upheaval at the best and misery at the
worst. I felt a pang of fear.

“What’s this?” I said, taking it unwillingly.

“Ministry of Family Planning and Maintenance. Sign here, please.”

I signed for it and closed the door, relieved but confused.

“Family Planning?” said Gilda with an arched brow.

“I registered. It was a whim,” I said. I had indeed registered, about three months
back when we were in a fairly well-connected town. Nasiha had complimented my meditation
progress that
day, and Dllenahkh had also made some very favorable remarks concerning a report I’d
produced in both Sadiri and Standard. For some reason, the resulting heady rush of
pride had led me to do all manner of things to prove to myself that I was definitely
one hundred percent fine in all areas of my life.

“Then why don’t they just contact you via comm or handheld? Open it!” she demanded.

Curiosity overcame prudence, and I opened it in her presence, laying the official
document flat on the dining table. We stared at it. She swore softly, then laughed
out loud. I said nothing.

“Well?” she pressed.

I put it back in the envelope. “Come on, let’s finish packing. I need to get down
to the homestead as soon as possible.”

Even with nav and
autopilot, the groundcar made it down to the homestead within about two hours, which
was not long enough for my blood to cool. After the car passed the main gates but
well before it reached the residences, I saw something in a field that made me put
on the brakes.

It was the first time I’d seen them, but it was easy to guess what they were: Sadiri
dogs. There were three of them, slightly bigger and thicker-bodied than the wild savanna
dog, still adapted for a heavier gravity than ours. It was evident in the way they
leaped and raced, testing their new strength and speed. Three men were with them,
at times running alongside them, at times standing still and observing closely. I
thought they were playing with them, and then I realized they were
training
them—without leash, whip, or biscuit. There was also a small group of horses fenced
off in a paddock at one end of the field.

As I watched them, one of the men put his dog to stay and walked toward the paddock.
The horses moved skittishly away,
but one of them paused and sidled to the fence, quite possibly coaxed by some silent
encouragement. The man gently put a hand to the horse’s shoulder and began stroking
its nose reassuringly. The horse was calm and content, but suddenly the dog came trotting
forward, making the horse startle, throw up its head, and scamper off. Unfortunately,
the would-be horse whisperer was too close and got a faceful of hard horse skull that
rocked him off his feet and onto his backside. The dog nuzzled him solicitously while
his two colleagues unhelpfully burst out in loud laughter.

“Good day. You are Ms. Grace Delarua?” A young man peered into the passenger window
of the car, leaning forward with a diffident curiosity that reminded me of Joral.
He was dressed for rough, dusty work in trousers and shirt made of thick cotton twill.
A canvas bag rode over his shoulder, clinking occasionally as he moved.

I turned off the humming engine of the groundcar, surprised that I had not heard anyone
approaching. “Yes, I am. Good day.”

He bowed politely in greeting. “I am Kamir. I see you have noticed the animal trainers
at work. Those are our new dogs, a small stock that we will eventually crossbreed
with the local savanna dogs.” There was both pride and excitement in his voice.

“I thought they were restricted to New Sadira,” I said.

“Policies have changed. Hybridization is popular now.” His words sounded slightly
teasing to my sensitive ears.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Where is Dllenahkh?”

He straightened and pointed down the road. “Approximately five hundred meters farther
along the road, working at the smithy with Istevel.”

“Thank you,” I said, making an effort at courtesy as I restarted the car. “Enjoy the
rest of your day.”

The smithy was easy to find, a long, low building with the distinctive dish-shaped
structure of a solar forge looming over it. Broad double doors stood half open to
the breeze, showing two figures within. One man was holding something in a pair of
tongs, moving it slowly back and forth under a beam of concentrated sunlight. Another
man stood nearby, seemingly content to merely examine his colleague’s technique. Their
reflective face shields reminded me of Sayr’s helmet, but everything else was low-impact,
easy-maintenance technology that emphasized self-sufficiency.

I hesitated. There’s something very poetic and pastoral about men working at a forge—albeit
a solar forge—and on another day I would have appreciated the scene, but I reminded
myself that there were more important matters to be dealt with. I turned off the car,
grabbed the envelope, and made for the two smiths. I nodded to the working smith first,
then focused my attention on the other.

“You are the most indirect man I have ever met,” I snapped.

Dllenahkh pushed up the visor of his face shield and squinted at me. “I do not understand.”

I impatiently waved the official document at him.

“Ah.” He nodded to Istevel, stripped off his fireproof gloves, took off his face shield,
and approached me cautiously. “Perhaps we should go elsewhere to discuss this.”

We walked about a hundred meters away to where the ground sloped under the shade of
a few small trees. I sat down, carefully looking straight ahead. There was a faint
rustle of leaf and dried grass as Dllenahkh seated himself beside me.

“May I?” he asked, and took the document from my hand.

I sneaked a look at him. Taking off the face shield had ruffled his hair into a slightly
untidy tumble of sun-lightened brown locks.
His skin had darkened after the year’s break from office work. With a start, I realized
that he now looked far more Cygnian than Sadiri.

He examined the document. “The Ministry is informing you that my application to be
registered as your life partner has been approved. Our signatures and the signature
of a witness are all that is needed to complete the process.”

“I know that.” I sounded a little frantic, so I made myself repeat the words calmly.
“I know that. But how is this possible? The only way I could get this kind of document
is if you registered before me and put me down as your sole preference. And at the
very least I should have received some prior notification …”

My voice faded. I remembered a time when any government correspondence appearing on
my handheld had been rapidly consigned to the bin after a cursory look. I’d received
a lot of irrelevant notices in the days when the left hand of Central Government was
still processing my resignation and hadn’t bothered to inform the right hand.

Dllenahkh merely blinked once as he watched my face change, but the amount of amusement
he managed to convey was astonishing. “I am only surprised that they took so long.
I understand that the testing is highly intensive, consisting of genetic profiling,
psychiatric assessments, and financial auditing. However, due to the nature of our
work, all of the data was readily available.”

“You … booked me in advance?” I was stunned.

He looked at my expression, parted his lips to speak, and paused.

“Go on,” I said resignedly. “You can tell me anything; you know that.”

“I have certain responsibilities,” he began tentatively, a man feeling his way on
unexpectedly treacherous ground. “Not only
as a councillor of the settlement but also as a Sadiri, one of few remaining.”

I turned toward him slightly, listening.

“Thus, it is extremely important that my actions are beneficial not only to myself
but to the Sadiri people as a whole.”

“Understood,” I replied.

He looked at me closely. “I have tried to set an example. Careful and deliberate choice
of a spouse, with objective assessment by a qualified, neutral third party, is precisely
what the young Sadiri of this community need to see.”

“Well … congratulations,” I said awkwardly. It was difficult to be angry at him yet
impossible to be pleased about the situation.

He sighed. “I do not know how to do this. I know I have displeased you in some way,
but I am unable to ascertain how.”

I spoke honestly if impulsively. “I suppose it’s no secret that I’m fond of you, Dllenahkh,
but whether that matters to you at all, I just—ngh!”

In a swift move that shocked me speechless, he set his hand behind my head and put
his face into the side of my neck. He left the imprint of his teeth there, then soothed
the skin with the tip of his tongue. It was a fraction more than a kiss and a little
short of a marking. His hair brushed the lashes at the corner of my eye; there was
the slight abrasion of his shadowed jaw against my cheek. He was tender and brutal,
and I had no defense against him.

“Mmm,” I said, completely incoherent.

“I am relieved to hear,” he whispered under my ear, “that you are fond of me. It matters
to me a great deal.”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t know it,” I said shakily.

He rested his forehead against mine and spoke temptingly
near my mouth. “It would not have been right to tell you before you told yourself.”

“I
might
have listened,” I protested weakly, focusing with difficulty on his lips and wondering
if he could be slowly trained to find mouth-to-mouth kissing acceptable—enjoyable,
even.

He drew back and gazed at me. “You know I will not give you emotional protestations,”
he said, and his eyes seemed troubled.

“Then tell me what you will give me,” I said.

“Trust. Companionship.” His eyelids lowered, and his voice grew husky. “Children,
if you wish.
Will
you consent to be my wife? I cannot imagine being better suited to any other person.”

“Me?” I laughed softly. “Undisciplined, emotional me? I’d rather not do without you,
but I won’t be a burden to you, and I can’t change my nature.”

“Nor I,” he replied, “but if the past two years are any indication, we have had some
success at meeting each other halfway.”

“Then … yes.”

His gaze grew tender. “I believe the arrangement will be mutually—”