Mind Over Psyche (6 page)

“Yes, sir. And I can read
Curious George
all b
y myself.”

“Good.” He pulled his cheek long and flat, making his words slur. “Your color ain't never gonna be a hindrance, and don't you ever use it as an excuse. Un
derstan'?”

“No.”

His grandfather glanced at him, shrugged. “You will. You better, if you want to be a man. You get old enough, I'll teach you to shave li
ke a man.”

That time had come far sooner than either had expected. Joshua was only eight years old when the disease that baffled physicians had stolen his grandfather's strength, and he insisted Joshua shave him. He'd been letting Joshua play for months, scraping the fluffy mint-scented shaving cream off his face, first with a covered blade, then with the blunt side, and he had flatly announced to Joshua's mother that the boy was the only one he'd trust with his spec
ial blade.

“I'm not using one of those pretty disposables like you ladies use on your legs. I had my first shave with this razor and by God, I'll have my last by this razor. Now you get on out of here, little girl, so's he can take care of me right,” he ordered, and Joshua's mother, who had always been the ultimate authority in her home, lowered her eyes
and left.

“All right now, Joshua,” he said as the door closed behind her. He settled back in his chair and closed
his eyes.

Joshua stared at the door. “She didn't ev
en argue!”

“'Course not. I'm her pa. Besides, we both know I'm right. Now go to
it, boy.”

So Joshua had shaved him, and nearly dropped the blade the first time he nicked the old man's skin. “I'msorryI'msorrryI'msorry,” he whispered as he brought a clean towel up to his grandfather's chin. He was so sure his mother would come in, see what he'd done, and take the razor away, never mind what her pa wanted, but his grandfather just pressed the back of one hand against the nick and said calmly, “Ain't nothing I haven't done. You're doing fine. Just trust
yourself.”

Afterward, he'd looked himself over in the mirror Joshua held up for him, his too-thin and trembling hands running over each cheek. “Not bad, boy. I'm going to expect you to do this for me every couple of days or so, but that blade's yours now. You've earned it. You take care of it like I taught you and you use it. Remember what I told you. Trust yourself and don't be afraid of t
he nicks.”

He'd died not long after that, and the razor went on a shelf in Josh's room beside a photo of him and his grandfather. The day Joshua decided he was ready to shave, he'd pulled it down, cleaned it up and used it like he'd promised. For a few minutes, it was like his grandfather stood beside him, instructing him on how to angle it, telling him that was how a man shaved. He'd gone downstairs feeling like a man, despite the many band-aids plastered on
his face.

His parents had exchanged quick looks, and his mother shrunk behind the book she wa
s reading.

“With all due respect to your grandfather, there are less painful ways,” his father remarked blandly while his mother suppressed her
snickers.

He'd eventually gotten a “sissy high-technology” Shaver, but he kept in practice with his grandfather's old one. It was useful (and kind of impressive) on camping trips, and good for whenever he just wanted to feel close to his gr
andfather.

He stood by his grandfather's gravesite in Oklahoma, his car, packed to the gills, on the gravel road not too far off. He'd made the side trip on the way to Rhode Island from Colorado, and he brought the blade just to show his grandpa that he still had it. He'd played with it while he talked, feeling the weight, the smoothness of the wooden handle. He'd pulled it open, and ran his finger along the flat of the blade. He tested its sharpness. All the time he talked about his new adventure, his horrible last year, how he wished he'd been around t
o talk to.

The memory vanished. He blinked at the sudden brightness of the room. “Whoa,” he
whispered.

Deryl and Tasmae were looking at each other, conversing, he supposed. Everyone else had left. He took the opportunity to breathe in and out slowly, letting the emotions of the memories flow over and away.
So much for surface im
pressions.

Tasmae stood. “I'll see about the razor. It seems simple enough to fashion. The baths should not be busy for another couple
of hours.”

After she left, they picked at their food in silence. Finally, Joshua ventured, “I haven't remembered him that vividly in a l
ong time.”

“Yeah, sorry. I was kind of…helping. But I didn't direct your memory. I mean, you remembered what you wanted to—and I wasn't trying to eavesdrop. You've got strong memories. I sort of got caught in the
current.”

“Yeah, well…Thanks.” Joshua shifted position, then stabbed at his food lightly. “You know, I'd forgotten how much I worsh
iped him.”

Deryl toyed with his food. “You're lucky. He was cool. My grandfather—the one I know of, mother and Aunt Kate's father—he barely acknowledged I existed. The first time I met him was at my mother's funeral, and he told Aunt Kate to send me away. Said I was an aberration. That I never should have been allowed to
be born.”

Joshua nearly dropped his fork. “You're kidding. That's whacked! How could anybody—” He stopped as he noticed Deryl's shocked expression. “Listen, I'm sorry to dis your family, but that's really
heinous.”

“No, it's not that,” Deryl stammered. “It's just—it's in my file. First thing, practically. Edith seemed to find it was particularly enli
ghtening.”

Joshua stifled a groan. “I never read your file. Edith wanted me to treat you like a friend. Do you go reading dossiers on your
friends?”

Suddenly, Deryl shoved his plate of food away. He thumped his elbows in its place and dug the heels of his hands into
his eyes.

“
You okay?”

“Don't be nice to me!” Deryl snapped. “You've tried to be nice to me from the very beginning, gave me your trust, tried to take me for who I am and not who everyone said I am. Look how I've repaid you! No, I don't read dossiers on my friends. I just read their
minds
. You ought to be agreeing with my gra
ndfather.”

“Well, you're not easy to love,” Joshua agreed with a twist of irony in his voice, and Deryl dropped his hands away from his eyes to gape at him. “Not everybody is. That doesn't mean you shouldn't have been born, or that we aren't friends. Besides, I've kind of enjoyed being around you. I've learned a lot, about myself. About the universe.” Again, his voice took on an ironic twist, and he turned his head to take in the alien cafeteria, making Deryl laugh. “Hey, how many friends take their buddy road-tripping to another planet? How phat
is that?”

“‘Fat'?” As Joshua had intended, the word distr
acted him.

“Phat, with a P-H. Means cool, but it's kind of old now. When we get back to Earth, you've got some slang to catch up on. Listen, I'll make you a deal.” Joshua glanced at the date feature on his watch. “I've got ten days until Chipotle auditions in New York. I miss that, my music career ends before it's begun. Figure on two days to handle the fallout of our disappearance. Get us home in a week and things are cool between us. And if you can time-tesser, get us home the day we left, and things are totally ph
at. Deal?”

“Deal.” They shook on it. “You ready to go find t
he baths?”

Joshua rose. “Oh, yeah. We're both prett
y skanky.”

“
‘Skanky?'”

“Hey, that's an old one. My mom uses it all
the time.”

Tasmae left the two
brooding over the last of their meals. Leinad would not have approved, but he did not know Deryl like she did. She trusted Deryl, as the Miscria had always trusted the Ydrel. Still, it bothered her that Deryl refused to answer her questions until he'd taken care of his friend. In truth, he seemed as confused about his arrival as they were. Perhaps Leinad was right that the answers could only be found in the Remembrance.

She reached out with her senses, determined where Salgoud and Leinad stood conversing, and headed in that direction. The earthquake had stilled under her care, and she thought she had a few days' respite. If Deryl could advise Salgoud directly on the strategies she had tried to adapt, she could take time to experience the Remembrance. Not that she had a choice, but she would do it on
her terms.

She found them, as expected, leaning against a wall in the outer courtyard where many of the warriors busied themselves with sword practice. Salgoud's eyes were on his troops, taking in flaws of step or swing, noting improvements, but even so, he kept his attention on what Leinad was telling him—about the Ydrel and probably her, no doubt. She did not interrupt. She would know what she needed to know so
on enough.

Leinad pinned her with his stare. She felt his urgency, the call of the Re
membrance—

And I shall,
she agreed.
But that is not my only duty now, and I cannot allow it to monopolize me.
She shared with him a hint of the obligations pulling on her: the preparations for war, the increased needs of Kanaan, neither of which she could tend to while under the influence of the Remembrance. Add the sudden, mysterious arrival of
the Ydrel—

That is why the Remembrance Calls!
he
protested.

Salgoud, whom they'd included in their conversation, added that Ocapo and his everyn, Spot, understood their roles well enough that they could do without her for much of the training.
For whatever reason, the Ydrel is here. Let him teach us directly
, Salg
oud added.

She projected warmth—how often they thought alike. She told Leinad that she would take time to make the arrangements with Deryl, and then—if Kanaan were still—she would give herself to the memories of Gardianju. She felt his sullen assent, tur
ned to go.

Salgoud pushed her into the middle of a sparring circle. She managed to duck and roll to avoid getting smacked by a practice blade. She came up in a crouch, her short sword out of the scabbard she wore and a dagger from her hairpiece in her other hand. The two sparring warriors hesitated only a moment before turning on her. She ducked below the swing of one, scored on the side of the other, barreled between them, and spun toward Leinad and Salgoud. She swung her sword toward the unarmed Leinad, forcing Salgoud to defend him, while with her other hand, she jabbed her dagger toward the warrior's gut. He anticipated the move, blocked it, and the three stood, weapons locked, until neither could stand it and both broke into
snickers.

Leinad, still flat against the wall, gave them the full brunt of his di
spleasure.

You know what happens when you bring a Remembrance into a ‘war' zone; besides, we need to work on your reflexes
, she chided lightly as she backed more carefully away from her general and left the practic
e grounds.

The Ydrel and his friend had had enough privacy, she'd decided. It was time they spoke
with her.

She shivered with excitement. Only a few Miscria were ever blessed with the ability to contact the Ydrel. Her mentor hadn't been one of them. Her talent had focused on Kanaan—detecting the changing weather patterns, the unrest caused as the Season of War approached and the planet Barin shone too bright and too large in their sky. No one understood why their world suffered as the other neared. Perhaps Deryl knew; she would ask now that she'd thought of it. Nonetheless, her mentor had been especially adept at regulating the tides, calming the earthquakes, and redirecting Kanaan's life blood so that when the pressures were too high and it sought release through the violent bloodletting of burning stone, it was done in areas where damage to life was minimal. At least she had taught Tasmae that much before she was killed by the traitor the Barins now called Alugiac th
e Prophet.

Prophet,
Tasmae thought, her anger washing away her excitement. The only prophecy he'd brought was one of doom. He had once been Kanaan, a brilliant warrior healer—and her parents' best friend. He had assisted with Tasmae's birth and had tended her along with the other warriors in their group. She remembered him and her father trading amused glances when she would run up to him to demand a healing of some cut or bruise she'd gotten in practice, only to run back to the practice ground to get injured again. Once a lapse in attention had made her drop her guard and receive a blow that had knocked her senseless. Her mother had scolded her, but Alugiac had come to Tasmae's defense, reminding her mother of the time he had healed her of a concussion. However, he'd also recognized there was more to Tasmae's “lapse” than carelessness; not long afterward, her Miscria talent overwhelmed her. He had taken her to the elderly Miscri
a himself.

At least they didn't live to see him change
, she consoled herself. Alugiac had last been seen in the thick of the battle that had killed her parents, healing friend and foe alike. Then he was gone. The Season of War ended, and they scoured the battlefield yet never found him. The next Season of War, he reappeared, leading a Barin army on a sneak attack. Their target: to destroy the Miscria and thus do
om Kanaan.

Tasmae frowned. A group of warriors passing her in the hall picked up the grim nature of her reverie and gave her a wide berth, but lost in her memory, she didn't notice. The Barins had killed her mentor, but they hadn't killed her, and they'd paid dearly for their error. Tasmae's talent had come upon her later than it did for most children, and she'd spent the bulk of her childhood learning from her warrior parents. She had a great deal of skill and a natural ability to see beyond what her senses told her, and to use her talents in un
ique ways.

Seven of her friends had died trying to protect her that day as they fought their way out of the city. When the last Kanaan had dashed out, the door closing on the enemy's fingers and toes, Tasmae had pressed her hands against the building, drawn on the power of her world, and sent a command. The building trembled and collapsed in on itself, crushing everyone inside, burying her dead friends and de
ar mentor.

She would protect Kanaan and her people against any threat, even if that threat was Deryl and h
is friend.

*

“These are the baths. Hope you don't have privacy issues,” D
eryl said.

“Nah. I'm fine,” Joshua replied as he surveyed the room. It resembled a locker room—if one grew out of a humongous plant. Josh eyed the walls of hexagonal shelves as he sat on a long, flat mushroom and pulled off his shoes. “Those are kind of weird. Like the honeycomb in a
beehive.”

“What's the matter? Scared the laundry bees will get you?” Deryl teased as he pulled a towel from a shelf and replaced it with his shirt. He brought the towel to his face. It felt soft as a flower petal, but thick and sturdy. He expected it to smell like lilac, but instead it had a basic non-scent of clea
n clothes.

“Laundry bees? You're kiddin
g, right?”

Deryl laughed at the trepidation in his friend's voice. “I'm sure they're too busy to bother
with you.”

Joshua paused, his shirt dangling in one hand. “Did you
just pun?”

“I don't pun.” Deryl said with complete seriousness then murmured, “I'm stung by the ac
cusation.”

He felt Josh's surprise, quickly replaced by amusement. “Arrgh! Who are you, and what have you done with my friend?” He finished undressing, and wrapped a towel around his middle. “Wish I had a change of clothes. So, where are the
showers?”

“No showers. Communal baths. Like ancient Rome or something. Hope that's not too weird
for you.”

“Just as long as we don't run into any laundry bees,” Joshua quipped as they headed across the room and through the
next door.

Two steps out of the doorway, they stopped. Joshua let out an appreciative whistle as they scanned th
e “baths.”

They had passed out of the plant part of the keep and into the part within the mountain. The large cave was illuminated by some kind of phosphorescent moss on the walls, covering everything in a shimmering shade of near-twilight blue. Wide, flat-topped stalagmites served as stools or tables around a deep pool more suited for a gym than a bath. Above it, stalactites hung, condensation dripping off them and into the pool. The sound and the ripples caused by the drops were both peaceful and entrancing. Despite the size of the cavern, it was pleasantly warm and just a litt
le steamy.

“Whoa,” Joshua
breathed.

“Like their idea of a tub?” Deryl smirked at h
is friend.

“What? That? It's bigger than the swimming pool at SK-Mental. Where's
the soap?”

“Don't need any. There's some kind of microbes or something that eat the dirt
and oils.”

“Really? Are you sure i
t's safe?”

Deryl rolled his eyes at him. “Only one way to find out!” He threw off his towel an
d dove in.

It felt like swimming in Perrier. The bubbles tickled him so that he came up laughing. He took a huge breath and ducked under, rubbing and fluffing his hair with his fingers to get the water all over his scalp, ridding it of the sweat and dirt of the past couple of days. Then he surfaced for a breath, and ducked under again, letting the water drag his hair back. When he surfaced, he saw Joshua staring doubtfully at the frothy water around him. “Come on!” He laughed. “It's not acid. It's…effervescent!” He swept his arm, splashing his wa
ry friend.

Joshua didn't flinch, but he didn't jump in, either. He stood at the edge and dragged a foot through the water. “How de
ep is it?”

“I don't know,” Deryl replied as he treaded water. He'd rather carelessly dived in head first, but hadn't touched the bottom. One stroke had pulled him to the top, but he hadn't tried to dive any deeper. “Eight, ten feet. Maybe m
ore. Why?”

“There a sha
llow end?”

Deryl started to ask him why it would matter, when it occurred to him. “Oh, right. Boy genius ca
n't swim.”

Tasmae walked in, her bare feet silent against the mossy floor. Like Joshua and him, she was unclothed, but unlike them, she carried her towel loosely in one hand. Not even her long hair covered up her figure; her rich dark tresses were pulled up in an elaborate bun held together by the unusual
hairpiece.

The words he intended to tease Joshua with caught in his throat. His awareness narrowed to
just her.

He heard Joshua's yelp and a lar
ge splash.

“Josh!” Deryl moved to rescue his friend, but Joshua had already clawed his way to the surface and was struggling to the edge. Tasmae leaned down to offer her hand, but he waved them
both off.

“I'm fine!” He sputtered, as he hooked one arm over the edge. He coughed and hacked water and kept his fac
e averted.

Tasmae squatted beside him. “So you
can swim?”

“Yes! No. Sort of. Not well. I sink like a stone.” He paused to cough again, but nonetheless refused to look her way. “My throat is burning! What kind of stupid baths a
re these?”

Deryl felt Tasmae's confusion—what other kind of baths are there?—but to Joshua, she said, “It's not meant to be drunk. Did you swal
low much?”

“No.”

“Then I'll get you something to soothe your throat, and meet you in the shallow end. Or there are smaller baths if you s
o prefer.”

She stood to go. Deryl, too, did his best not to watch and instead concentrated on his still hacking friend. “
You okay?”

“You could have told me the baths were co-ed,” h
e snarled.

“I didn't know. She said they were empty for awhile. I thought it'd be just us. Besides, what's it matter? You're in love with
Sachiko.”

Joshua gaped at him as if he'd said something incredibly clueless. “All the more reason for me to get out of this tub—and considering the suspicion people have for us right now, you should, too. To wash my hair—I just du
ck under?”

“Yeah. Shouldn't take long, with your hair
so short.”

Still holding the edge, Joshua took a breath and
submerged.

Deryl's arms had tired of treading water. He hung onto the side and waited until Joshua surfaced. “You know, they don't think like that here,” he said. “I mean, a body i
s a body.”

“Yeah, well, we're not from here, remember? I'm pretty certain that guy in brown at our table isn't going to forget that.
Have you?”

Deryl started to protest, then thought about Leinad's glares—and his own reaction to seeing Tasmae. “I'd better get your towel,
” he said.

“Good. ‘Cause I'm usi
ng yours.”

*

Joshua waited until Deryl had dived under, then checked to room to see if Tasmae was around, trying to keep his eyes at floor level. She'd apparently gone off to fetch him something for his throat. He didn't know where he could go without an escort, but he did not want to be in the same room with a naked woman. He had enough to confess
as it was.