The Best of All Possible Worlds (37 page)

“Why are you still up?” I asked him.

His eyes softened; he blinked, and some of the tension left his face. Still, he did
not look at me but kept his gaze on the stars. “I did not want to disturb you,” he
answered.

I knew he had some inkling of my nightmare. I knew he had sensed fear and tension
and all manner of things that I had never associated with him before. But this was
Dllenahkh. He would never push me for explanations, only wait with patience and openness
until I was ready to come to him.

I decided to be blunt. “What I saw today scared me. You see, someone told me—quite
by accident—about your first marriage.”

There was silence for a while. Then he began to speak slowly, choosing his words with
care.

“I believe I was at fault. I took our mental bond for granted and was often not physically
present. In addition to my career, I was very much focused on my studies of the mind,
an interest that my wife did not share. One day, during a meditation session, I attained—no—
glimpsed
the state that our mindship pilots regularly experience. Before that day, I had viewed
their vocation as a lofty but lonely endeavor. Afterward, I understood why they are
called half immortal. It … I cannot describe it, what it felt like,
how it changed me. I was a man struck by lightning—a benign, sentient lightning. I
wrote poetry. I laughed. I told every pilot I met, and they smiled indulgently and
said what a pity it was that I was not free to be bonded to my own mindship.

“I could not change my life. Becoming a pilot would have meant making a different
decision when I came of age, and there had been no mindship pilots in my line to inspire
me to choose that path. I had to content myself with what I had, and yet I could not
let go of what I had seen. I studied further and became advanced in meditation theory
and practice. I considered this an admirable endeavor.
She
took it as evidence that I was arranging my life to exclude her.

“She could have told me that she wished to marry another. I would not have welcomed
it, but I would never have stood in her way. Instead, she purposely hid it from me,
arranged for me to discover them together, and stepped back to view the result.”

“Oh,” I breathed. “Oh,
cruel
.”

“Yes, as cruel as she believed I had been to her. In the years after our separation,
I immersed myself in even deeper study of the disciplines, looking for ways to ensure
that such a thing could never happen to me again. In spite of all that had occurred,
I still yearned for a bond with another human mind, but if it had not been for the
destruction of Sadira, I might have easily persuaded myself to become a pilot.”

“Why didn’t you tell me all this, Dllenahkh?” I said faintly.

His mouth tensed. “I should have. I would have in time.” There was a small pause,
and then he admitted, “I feared losing you.”

“Well, I’m here now,” I pointed out.

He turned his head to look at me then. “You are. I do not understand why.”

“Think, Dllenahkh,” I chided him. “Clearly something about you convinces me that you
are the best possible choice.”

“And what is that?” he asked very softly.

I sighed. “So many things, but the first on my list right now is that I do believe
you love me. I know you are capable of living without that emotion, but you choose
not to.”

“I would not classify love as an emotion, Grace.”

That startled me. “Really?”

“Certainly it comes attended by various physical reactions which manifest as emotions,
but it is one of the drives.”

“Oh,” I said. “Like hunger, or wanting to procreate, or the desire to protect one’s
offspring.”

“Yes. I have identified you as the most appropriate mate, probably through an unconscious
assessment of pheromones, mental capacity, and, of course, social compatibility.”

“So, you’re saying you like how I smell, you like how I think, and you like to hang
out with me?” I was amused but genuinely warmed at such a unique declaration of love.

He sat up suddenly and turned to face me, swinging his feet down to the floor so quickly
that I was half afraid he’d go over the edge. “What is love to you, Grace?”

There was an intensity to his gaze that made the blood rush to my face. I began to
stammer something, then fell silent. Breathing quickly, I took hold of his hand, bringing
it to my cheek. “You tell me,” I whispered.

He drew me into his arms and into his mind. He saw how I valued his selflessness and
trusted his integrity even when he exasperated me by being inflexible. I showed him
my admiration for his physical strength, intelligence, and psionic abilities and the
gentleness that complemented all those qualities. I even allowed him to see that I
had found him physically attractive from the moment we first met.

“So,” he said lightly, and I knew he was teasing me because he was somewhat shaken.
“You believe that I possess certain characteristics that you would like to be passed
on, via genetic transfer and mentoring, to your children.”

I began to laugh.

“I am surprised at the strength of your appreciation for my shoulders,” he continued,
still teasing, still holding me close, fitting me neatly between his knees.

“They’re nice and broad,” I said, running my hands over them to emphasize my point.

“Nor was I previously aware that you had any special regard for my eyes.”

“Deep, dark, and intense. They make you look almost Ntshune,” I murmured, cuddling
closer as his hands stroked my back.

“I apologize for not being honest with you earlier,” he said, his voice low and soft
so I could feel it rumbling in his chest.

“And I’m sorry for even dreaming that you’d ever hurt me. I won’t abandon you, Dllenahkh.
Invincible or vulnerable, whatever state you’re in, you’re stuck with me.”

He tightened his arms around me. “A fact that gives me great satisfaction.” He sighed
as he slowly brushed his nose up the side of my neck and breathed heat under my ear.

“There’s just … one thing,” I said hoarsely, trying not to become completely distracted.
“You mentioned pheromones. There’s another way to assess chemistry. Taste and smell
are, as you know, closely linked.”

He pulled back slightly and gave me a wary look. “I believe you are trying to entice
me to attempt kissing.”

“Maybe,” I said casually. “Just one? Please?”

He gave a gentle, tolerant smile and closed his eyes. “I am in your hands.”

I didn’t want to shock him or put him off, so I started with small, chaste kisses
pressed firmly to his jaw. Then I quickly, lightly touched my lips to his mouth, very
much a drive-by kiss, and paused to assess his reaction. His hands twitched on my
back, but he did not pull away.

“Again,” he said softly. “I am beginning to see the value of the practice.”

I obeyed, this time allowing a tiny bit of tingling gold to breathe from my lips to
his, just as he had taught me to do from palm to palm. He leaned in to capture it
with an appreciative murmur, added a little more of his own, and kissed it back to
me. The physical mechanics were still inexpert, but his energy curled in boldly and
unraveled right down to my toes, making me gasp at the sensation.

“I am not averse to including this option in our repertoire,” he mused. “But I clearly
require more practice. Again, please.”

Reader, I married him.
About … oh, three times, I think. First there was the signing of the Ministry document,
which we did on our homestead with Qeturah as witness and a few close friends around.
Then my semilapsed Baha’i mother insisted on a Baha’i wedding ceremony. I warned her
that I was well past the age laid down by the Ministry for mandatory parental permission,
but to my surprise and secret pleasure, Dllenahkh was quite taken with the idea. We
held it on the banks of Tlaxce Lake, with more of our City friends in attendance and
even a few from the other provinces. Dllenahkh presented my mother with the nonobligatory
bride price of a quantity of pure gold, which he’d had fashioned into the shape of
a hummingbird.

She loved it. She told me, “Of course I’m leaving it to you in
my will, but it’s such a nice gesture. It shows he really
treasures
you.”

The third time was a secret. We went to the forest uplands, to a certain temple, and
there we were bonded by law, by religion, and by mind in a silent ceremony with a
few physically attending and hundreds more mentally present. I don’t want to say too
much about that, sorry. Not secret but far too close to my heart, I think. I get a
bit teary just remembering it. Deep breath! Moving on!

We did have one dramatic event, something rather akin to a “speak now or forever hold
your peace” moment. I should have guessed that in time, what with all the bride interviews,
the infamous Zhera would have come across a woman from the temple and extracted her
secrets using nothing but the sheer force of her presence. Or, to speak more charitably,
they had likely recognized her worth and extended an invitation to her. Whatever the
reason, she showed up at the end of our wedding ceremony, richly robed and closely
attended by two young nuns as if she already owned the place. Her glare called to
mind the evil fairy who gets vexed at being left out of the royal christening and
decides to lay down a curse that will afflict not only the poor innocent babe but
the entire kingdom as well.

“So, Dllenahkh, thou hast bonded again.”

She spoke a very old and stylized form of Sadiri that hinted at too many hours spent
reciting rituals with subordinates and too few minutes engaged in normal conversation
with peers.

“I have, Zhera,” he replied courteously but briefly.

“Thy choice of spouse seems … unwise.”

I seethed quietly but said nothing. She might think herself qualified to sit in judgment
over the young ones of the settlement, but as a grown woman I wasn’t going to put
up with any nonsense.

While I struggled to keep my cool, Dllenahkh calmly defended himself. “I would not
call it unwise to marry a woman who is capable of strong euphoric projection.”

Still striving for control but now for an entirely different reason, I wondered how
he managed to sound so bland and yet so
insinuating
. Zhera, to my continuing astonishment, did not frown or show any kind of disapproval.
Her stern look gentled to one of mild amusement, and the straight line of her mouth
relaxed.

“Irreverent youth! I did not think to live to see thee considered an elder of our
people, but thou hast done well. Child!”

That last was addressed to me. I tried not to flinch. “Ma’am?”

“He is a good man, a dependable man, but when he tends to frivolity,” and she glared
at Dllenahkh, “as he has in the past, thou must not encourage him.”

“Yes, ma’am. I mean, no, ma’am. Whatever you say, ma’am,” I gasped, not so much overwhelmed
by her command as utterly flabbergasted at the sudden realization that
he
had baited
her
and
she
was teasing
him
.

When she swept out again, I turned to him, eyebrows raised in amazement. “Friend of
yours?”

He smiled slightly. “It is difficult to ascertain what that word means to Zhera. To
me, she is a teacher of note from whom I learned much about the philosophy and science
of the mind. To her, I am still the young acolyte who was sufficiently foolhardy to
answer back once. She has never allowed me to forget it.”

“Why did you tell her about the euphoric projection?” I complained. “That was embarrassing.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Was the statement inaccurate?”

“Well, strictly speaking, no, but you certainly gave the impression that you had already
experienced such a thing … 
conjugally
.”

He pondered for a while. “I see. Perhaps not an untruth but certainly a misleading
statement. I believe there is only one remedy.”

I looked at him in trepidation, wondering if he was going to speak up and make another
public announcement about my alleged abilities.

“We must investigate thoroughly the potential truth of this statement.”

“Um,” I said, because although the words were quite innocently delivered, the look
he was giving me was making my knees weak. “Yes. That would be entirely appropriate.”

“Might I recommend that we retire to our assigned chamber? The shielding built into
the walls will ensure that no acoustic or mental noise will get in … or out.”

I was quite sure at this point that my bosom was heaving in maidenly confusion. “Um,
that sounds lovely.”

He looked at me curiously and rested a finger lightly against the throbbing pulse
in my throat. “You are agitated,” he said with grave interest.

“You are
amused
at my agitation,” I countered.

He inclined his head, acknowledging the touché. “I
am
experiencing a measure of excitement combined with increasing pleasure, which is
perhaps manifesting as an expression of amusement.”

It was the first time he had ever used the scales to describe his emotions. “I love
it when you talk dirty,” I whispered, and sealed the moment with a kiss.

Now

It was well before dawn, and Delarua was scrambling around in semidarkness, wrestling
with her clothes and tripping over her own boots. Already dressed, Dllenahkh observed
her from his seat at the one clear corner of the bed.

Hurry. We’ll be late
.

As usual, she caught the meaning rather than the syntax. “In a minute!”

As usual, he listened to the undertone of apology rather than the tone of frustration.
He glanced away to signal his patience and saw her handheld in the middle of the bed.
He did not intend to read it, but his attention was caught by the title:
The Homestead Years. Being the second volume of the draft memoirs of Grace Delarua
(not famous yet though not through lack of trying, but hey, there’s still time)
.