“Here I am. An outsider—”
“Not really, or you could never have passed the Veil. You have guessed that we don’t like having non-telepaths around; that’s why we have no human servants, and why Mesyr stays and keeps house for us even though she’s past working in the screens. You passed the Veil, which means you have Comyn blood. And I feel at ease with you. That’s a good sign.”
Kerwin felt his eyebrows lift. Kennard might feel at ease with him, but it sure as hell wasn’t mutual, not yet. He was inclined to like the older man, but that was a good long way from feeling at home with him.
“He’s wishing he felt the same way about you,” said Taniquel, popping her head into the room. “You will, Jeff. You’ve just lived among barbarians too long.”
“Don’t tease, chiya,” Kennard said, in indulgent reproof. “He’s not used to you either, which doesn’t necessarily mean he’s a barbarian. Get us a drink and stop making mischief, why don’t you? We’re going to have trouble enough.”
“No drinks yet,” said Rannirl, pausing beneath the arch into the room. “Elorie will be down in a minute. We’ll wait.”
“That means she’s going to test him,” Taniquel said. She came over to the cushions and dropped gracefully, catlike, her head leaning against Kennard’s knee. She flung out her arms, one of them striking Kerwin; she yawned, crooked her arm carelessly round his foot, giving it a little, absent-minded pat with her hand. She let her hand rest on his ankle, her eyes glinting up at him in a mischievous smile. He was uncomfortably conscious of the touch. He had always disliked being touched, and he felt Taniquel knew it.
Neyrissa and Corus drifted into the room, found places on the cushions; they shifted, making room for Kennard’s lame leg, and Taniquel moved restlessly until she was between Kerwin and Kennard, snuggled into the cushions like a kitten, an arm across the lap of each. Kennard patted her curly head affectionately, but Kerwin drew uneasily away. Damn it, was the girl just an outrageous tease? Or was she simply naive, relaxing, childlike, among men she found as neutral as if they were brothers or close relatives? Certainly she treated Kennard—and he, her— as if he were a favorite uncle, and there was nothing provocative in the way she touched him, but somehow it was subtly different with Kerwin, and he was conscious of the difference, and wondered if she was. Was he just imagining things? Once again, as when Elorie had walked unannounced into his room before he had finished dressing, Kerwin felt troubled. Damn it, the etiquette of a telepath group was still a mystery to him.
Elorie, Mesyr and Auster came together into the room. Auster’s glare instantly sought out Kerwin, and Taniquel straightened herself and drew just a little away from Kerwin. Corus went to a cabinet, evidently from long habit. “What will you drink? Your usual, Kennard, Mesyr? Neyrissa, what will you have? Elorie, I know you never drink anything stronger than shallan …”
“She will tonight,” Kennard said. “We’ll have kirian.”
Corus turned, startled, for confirmation. Elorie nodded. Taniquel rose and went to help Corus, filling low goblets from a curiously shaped flask. She brought a glass to Kerwin, not asking if he wanted it.
The liquid in the glass was pale and aromatic; Kerwin glanced at it and felt that they were all watching him. Damn it, he was getting tired of that performance! He set the goblet, untasted, on the floor.
Kennard laughed. Auster said something Kerwin didn’t catch, and Rannirl frowned, murmuring a reproving reply. Elorie watched them, smiling faintly, raising her own goblet to her lips and barely tasting the liquid within. Taniquel giggled, and Kennard exploded:
“Zandru’s hells! This is too serious for a joke! I know you like your fun, Tani, but just the same—” He accepted the glass Corus brought him, staring into it with a frown. “I seem to be cast in the role of schoolmaster too much of the time!” He sighed, lifted the goblet and said to Kerwin, “This stuff—it isn’t pure kirian, in case you know what that is, but kirian liqueur—it’s not exactly a drug or a stimulant, but it does lower the threshold of resistance against telepathic reception. You don’t have to drink it unless you want it, but it helps. Which is why we’re all sharing it.” He sipped his own briefly and went on: “Now that you’re here, and you’ve had a chance to rest a bit, it’s fairly important that we test you for laran, find out how much of a telepath you are, what donas you may be carrying, how much training you’ll need before you can work with the rest of us—or the other way round. We’re going to test you half a dozen ways; it’s more efficient in a group. Hence—” he drank another sip—“kirian.”
Kerwin shrugged and picked up the glass. The liquid had a sting and a curious volatile smell; it seemed to evaporate on his tongue even before he could taste it. It wasn’t his idea of a good way to get drunk. It was more like inhaling perfume than drinking anything. The flavor was vaguely lemony. Four or five sips finished the glass, but you had to take it slowly; the fumes were simply too strong to drink it like an ordinary drink. He noticed that Corus made a face over his, as if he violently disliked the taste. The others were apparently accustomed to it; Neyrissa swirled it in her glass and inhaled the fumes as if it were a fragrant brandy. Kerwin decided the stuff was very much of an acquired taste.
He finished the goblet and set it down.
“Now what happens?” To his surprise, the words, on his tongue, sounded curiously thick; he had some trouble framing them, and when he had finished speaking, he was not sure what language he had been speaking. Rannirl turned toward him and with a grin that Kerwin knew was meant to reassure him said, “Nothing to worry about.”
“I don’t know why this is necessary,” Taniquel said. “He’s already been tested for laran. They saved us that much trouble with the monitor screens.” As she spoke, a picture flickered, unbidden, in Kerwin’s mind, the brother and sister who had studied his matrix, arrogantly told him he was not welcome in their house or on their world.
“They had the damned insolence! ” Corus said angrily. “I didn’t know that!”
Taniquel said, “As for the rest—”
Kerwin looked down at the girl curled up close to his knee, her face upturned to him, her eyes, meeting his, bright and sympathetic. She was very close to him. Kerwin could have bent down and kissed her.
He did.
Taniquel leaned against him, smiling, her cheek resting against his. She said, “Mark him positive for empathy, Kennard.”
Kerwin started, startled, at his own arms around Taniquel; then laughed and relaxed, suddenly not worrying about it. If the girl intended to object, she would have done it already; but he sensed that she was pleased, nestling within his arm as if she was quite content to be there. Auster exploded into a mouthful of unintelligible syllables, and Neyrissa shook her head reprovingly at Taniquel.
“Chiya, this is a serious matter!”
“And I was perfectly serious,” said Taniquel, smiling, “even if my methods strike you as unorthodox.” She laid her cheek against Kerwin’s; suddenly, surprisingly, Kerwin felt a lump in his throat, and for the first time in years he felt tears gathering and blurring his eyes. Taniquel was not smiling now; she moved away from Kerwin a little, but left her hand cradling his cheek, like a promise.
She said softly, “Can you think of a better test for an empath? If he didn’t belong, no harm would be done, for he wouldn’t receive from me; and if he did —then he deserves it.” Kerwin felt her soft lips touch his hand, and felt an almost overwhelming emotion.
The gentleness and intimacy of that small gesture was somehow more meaningful to him than anything any woman had ever done in his whole life. He felt that it had been an absolute acceptance of him, as a man and as a human being, that somehow, here before them all, Taniquel and he had suddenly become more intimate than lovers.
The others had suddenly ceased to exist. His arm was round her; he drew her head to his shoulder, and she leaned against him, tenderly, comfortingly, a gesture of reassurance and warmth unlike anything he had ever felt. He raised blurred eyes
, and blinked, embarrassed at this display of emotion; but he saw only understanding and kindliness.
Kennard’s grim face looked a little less craggy than usual. “Taniquel’s the expert on empathy. We could have expected that—he has Ridenow blood. Though it’s damned unusual for a man to have it to this degree.”
Taniquel said, still clinging to Kerwin, “How lonely you must have been.” The words were barely audible.
All my life. Not belonging, never belonging anywhere.
But you belong here now.
All the looks were not benevolent. Auster met Kerwin’s eyes, and Kerwin had the definite feeling that if looks could burn, he would be lying in a sizzled cinder on the floor. Auster said, “Much as I dislike to interrupt this touching display…”
Taniquel, with a resigned shrug, dropped Kerwin’s hand. Auster was still speaking, but he had dropped back into that language Kerwin did not understand. Kerwin said, “I’m sorry, I don’t understand you,” and Auster repeated it, but in the same language Kerwin didn’t know. Auster turned to Kennard and said something, raising his eyebrows with a sardonic grin.
Kennard said, “Aren’t you getting it at all, Jeff?”
“No, and it’s damned funny, because I understand you and Taniquel just fine.”
Rannirl said, “Jeff, you’ve understood most of what I said, haven’t you?”
Kerwin nodded. “All but a few words now and then.”
“And Mesyr?”
“Yes, perfectly.”
“You should understand Auster,” Rannirl said. “He has Ridenow blood and is the closest kinsman you have here, except perhaps—” He frowned. “Jeff, answer me quickly. What language am I speaking?”
Kerwin started to say, the language I learned as a child, the Thendara dialect, then stopped, confused. He didn’t know. Kennard nodded, slowly. “That’s right,” he said. “That’s what I noticed about you first of all. I’ve spoken to you in three different languages tonight and you never hesitated about answering me in any of them. Taniquel spoke a fourth. Yet Auster tried you in two languages that you had understood when Rannirl and I spoke, and you didn’t understand a word. But even when Auster is speaking Cahuenga, you only understand him part of the time. You’re a telepath, all right. Haven’t you always been an exceptionally good linguist?” He nodded, not waiting for Kerwin’s answer. “I thought so. You catch the thought without waiting for the words. But you and Auster simply don’t resonate enough to one another for you to pick up what he says.”
“It may come in time,” Elorie said diffidently, “as they know one another better. Don’t jump to conclusions too quickly, Uncle.” She used the word that was slightly more intimate than, simply, kinsman; it was a catch-all term for any close relative of a father’s generation. “So we have verified that he has basic laran, telepathy, and a high degree of empathy; Ridenow gift, full measure. He’s probably carrying an assortment of minor talents—we’ll have to sort them out one by one, perhaps in rapport. Jeff— ” She seemed somehow to turn to him, even though she was looking off into the distance and, though he tried to catch her eye, she did not glance in his direction. “You have a matrix. Do you know how to use it?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea.”
She said, “Rannirl. You’re the technician.”
Rannirl said, “Jeff, can you let me see your matrix?”
Kerwin said, “Of course,” and pulled it out, slipped the chain over his head and handed it to Rannirl. Shielding his hand with a silk kerchief, the tall man took it from him; but to his surprise, as the man took it between his fingers, Kerwin felt a vague, crawling discomfort. Automatically, without conscious thought, he reached out and snatched it back into his own hands. The discomfort faded. He stared, amazed, at his own hands.
“I thought so.” Rannirl nodded. “He’s managed to key himself to it, roughly.”
Kerwin said, “That never happened before!” He was still staring at the matrix within his hands, shocked at the way he had acted without thought to protect himself against the touch.
“Probably it happened while we were guiding you to us,” Elorie said. “You were in rapport with the crystal for a long time; it’s how we reached you.” She extended her slender fingers and said, “Give it to me, if you can.”
Bracing himself, Kerwin let Elorie take the crystal. He felt the touch as if her delicate hands were actually touching his nerves; it was not acutely painful, but he was excruciatingly aware of it, as if the indefinable touch might become agony at a moment’s notice… or unendurable pleasure.
“I’m a Keeper,” she said. “One of the skills I must have is to handle matrixes that are not keyed to me. Taniquel?”
Kerwin felt the hypersensitive awareness ebb away as Taniquel took the matrix from Elorie; she smiled and said, “That’s no fair test; Jeff and I are close in rapport just now. It feels as if you were handling it yourself, doesn’t it?”
He nodded.
“Corus?” Taniquel handed it on.
Kerwin flinched uncontrollably at the rough prickling sensation all over his body as Corus touched the matrix; Corus shuddered as if the touch hurt him, and quickly handed the crystal to Kennard.
Kennard’s touch was not acutely painful, although Kerwin was extremely conscious of it, unpleasantly so. The discomfort lessened somewhat, as Kennard held the crystal in his hand, to a sense of not-unpleasant warmth; but it was still intrusive, an unwelcome intimacy, and Kerwin was relieved when Kennard passed it on to Neyrissa.
Again the excruciatingly close, almost painful sensitivity that lessened, somewhat, as Neyrissa held it; he could feel her warm breath on the crystal, which made no sense because she was halfway across the room from him. She said quietly, “I’m accustomed to monitor work; I can do what Tani does, resonate to your body’s magnetic field, although not so well because we’re not so closely in rapport. So far, so good. That leaves only Auster.”
Auster gasped and dropped the matrix as if it were a live coal. Kerwin felt the pain like a shock all along his nerves, felt Taniquel shiver under his hand as if she, too, felt the pain. Neyrissa glanced at the dropped crystal without venturing to touch it and said, “Tani? Will you—”
The pain stopped as Taniquel cradled the matrix in her hand; Kerwin drew a deep, shaking breath. Auster, too, was white and shaking.
“Zandru’s hells!” His look at Kerwin was not so much malevolence, now, as fear. He spoke Cahuenga —Kerwin got the feeling that he wanted to be clearly understood, this time. “I’m sorry, Kerwin, I swear I didn’t do that deliberately.”
“He knows that, he knows that,” Taniquel soothed; she dropped Jeff’s hand and went to Auster, laying an arm around his waist, gently caressing his hand. Kerwin watched, in surprise and sudden, jealous amazement. How could she pull out of such close, emotional contact with him, and go straight to that— that so-and-so, Auster—and start making a fuss over him? Jealously intent, he watched Taniquel draw Auster down, watched the lines in Auster’s lean face smoothing out and calming.
Elorie met Kerwin’s eyes as he tucked away the matrix. She said, “It’s evidently been keyed to you. First lesson in proper handling of a matrix—even under kirian, like this, never again let anyone handle it except in your own circle, and only when you are very sure they are in rapport with you. We were all trying for maximum attunement, even Auster; and it seems, except for him, to have worked well enough. But from an outsider, you could have had a really painful shock.”
Kerwin wondered what a really painful shock would be like, if Elorie didn’t think that one from Auster was very important. He glowered at Taniquel and Auster, feeling wrathful and deserted.
Rannirl grinned his lean sardonic grin and said, “All that, just to find out what we could have guessed this morning when we saw Kerwin with blood on his face; they aren’t sympathetic and they can’t attune.”
“They’ll have to,” Elorie said tensely. “We need them both, and we can’t have that kind of friction here!”
/> Auster said, his eyes closed, “I said I would abide by the majority decision. You know my feelings in the matter, but I promised, and I said I would do my best. I meant it.”
“That’s all anyone could expect of you,” Taniquel soothed, and Kennard said, “Fair enough. What next?”
Rannirl said, “He can key into the circle when we help him; but can he use his matrix? Try a pattern test.”
Kerwin grew suddenly apprehensive again; for Kennard looked tense and drawn, and Taniquel came and held his hand again. She said, “If he managed to key his own matrix, maybe he can get the pattern spontaneously.”
“Maybe pigs can fly,” Kennard said shortly.
“We’ll test for the possibility, but I think it would be forcing our luck to take it for granted. Let me have your goblet, Tani.” He up-ended the glass on a low table. “Jeff, take the crystal—no, don’t give it to me,” he said, as Kerwin would have handed it over. “Just a test.” He pointed at the goblet. “Crystallize it.”