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“Man. Still waters.” Her gaze flickered, focusing behind me, the slightly guilty expression betraying that it was Dllenahkh approaching. I turned and smiled at him. “Councillor?”
“Would you like to live with us on the homestead?
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.
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
...more
Sadiri dogs. There
still adapted for a heavier gravity than ours.
“You are the most indirect man I have ever met,” I snapped.
“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.”
The only way I could get this kind of document is if you registered before me and put me down as your sole preference.
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?”
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 am relieved to hear,” he whispered under my ear, “that you are fond of me. It matters to me a great deal.”
But, Grace, what I am asking is this: Do you want a Cygnian marriage or a Sadiri marriage?”
“We have a need to form a meaningful telepathic bond with something or someone. There is a Sadiri saying: a man with a mindship is half immortal, but a man without a wife is half alive.
And yet … it wasn’t, was it? We’d already moved beyond the baseline Sadiri courting rituals identified by Freyda. I knew we had been heading toward a declaration of sorts. I suppose I thought that the declaration would be multistage,
“I’m hiding,” she confessed in a semiwhisper. “From Zhera.”
“She seems to be the head of them, and she’s terrifying.
“Are Sadiri suitors too subtle for us, do you think?” “I think it’s the lack of drama. Once they’ve got things figured out, they simply go forward without making a fuss.”
“You know most of them have marriages arranged for them when they’re fairly young, right?”
“She died in the disaster, like so many others. But even before that, they were separated.”
“That’s why it was such a big deal when the marriage and the bond were dissolved.”
Dllenahkh found out his wife was unfaithful to him. He beat the other man senseless.”
think he was trying to be completely honest with me so I could objectively assess the pros and cons of a close bond.”
withhold nothing,” Dllenahkh’s voice returned calmly. “I can only say that reliance on meditation alone is inadvisable.” “And yet you managed for decades. You succeeded. Why not another?”
Dllenahkh was trying to restrain rather than injure,
But what of Dllenahkh’s own loss of control, years and years before, in a sane and stable society where women were not a scarce commodity? It was appalling to contemplate.
That night, I dreamed of elephants stampeding. I woke up suddenly in the dark, disoriented at first, then feeling—knowing—that something wasn’t right.
knew he had some inkling of my nightmare.
“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.
“I could not change my life.
had to content myself with what I had, and yet I could not let go of what I had seen.
considered this an admirable endeavor. She took it as evidence that I was arranging my life to exclude her.
Reader, I married him.
About … oh, three times, I think.
The third time was a secret.
don’t want to say too much about that, sorry. Not secret but far too close to my heart, I think.
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).
No longer old but not yet young, Naraldi stepped out of the gentle surf, shaking salt water from his hair.
Dllenahkh felt a sensation of overwhelming, devastating déjà vu—another time, another beach, Naraldi rising up
out of the ocean to destroy the universe with a few words.
“Welcome, Naraldi!” she cried. “Welcome home!”
Bradbury, Ray. 1959. “Dark They Were, and Golden-Eyed,” in A Medicine for Melancholy. Garden City, NY: Doubleday.
