In Arcadia (Touchstone Book 5) Read online

  He sent her a link. Laura read through the details, and thought it a good option for a distraction. Diving into a virtual world would spare her several hours of waiting hopefully for Gidds to show up.

  "Another thing I like about the game is it has this weird accent modulator thing depending on which island you start on, which is good for hiding mine," Julian said, collecting plates. "Most games I just don't talk, since I can't speak Muinan well enough. You know, there's actually people who pretend to be me, and put on bad Aussie accents?"

  "Cass said there are several people playing Home who have completely convinced a large number of players that they're her—or Kaoren, or one of the other Setari."

  "It's so stupid. The accent modulator is good, though—I even joined a band. That's what they call player teams or guilds in the game. I started on Zylat—message me if you need anything. My character's called 'Space Ninja'."

  "You think a name in English is a good way to hide your identity?"

  "Everyone's doing it. Cass' translation app got sort-of hacked."

  That sent Laura off for a brief tour of current news, and the reflection that she'd best not assume she wouldn't be understood having a conversation in English. Then she plunged into character creation, discovering that all the people of Red Exchange's world were different shades of blue, and had one less finger on each hand, and that the island of Zylat was wonderfully fantastical.

  Thoroughly engrossed, Laura had in fact almost forgotten Gidds altogether when he messaged her with a brief "On my way," and she had to hurriedly redirect her thoughts.

  Laura: Are you forbidden alcohol, like Kaoren?

  Gidds: No. That ban operates only for those with elemental talents, and the higher Telekinesis ratings. But I avoid anything that confuses my senses.

  Laura: Name a favourite drink, then.

  He named several, showing a preference for light, energising flavours, and Laura settled on bennen, a gingery infusion. Since she'd remembered to turn on the proximity alarm, the interface warned her of Gidds' approach, and it amused her to meet him at the door, cups in hands, and pass him one.

  A flicker of a smile showed he recognised the symmetry, but instead of drinking he took her cup as well, set them both on the nearest flat surface, and slid his arms around her waist. For a moment he simply studied her, and she considered him gravely in return: clearly fresh from a shower, with his hair still damp. Then he kissed her very thoroughly, and only after a good five minutes let her go so he could retrieve the cups and give one back to her.

  Entertained, Laura accepted her bennen, and headed for one of the lounges: "Do they always overwork you, or just on special occasions?"

  "This week has been excessive. There are meetings where I can usefully contribute, but too often I am being used to shift responsibility. If I—if my Sights—raise no objection to a proposal, then arguments against it are weakened. It is not a good use of my time, or particularly sensible. Sight Sight triggers too unpredictably to ever be considered a guarantee."

  "Is that what happened tonight?"

  "No, the Ormon of Nent accused the Southern Ancipars of attempting to undermine his rule. They have Place and Sight Sight talents with them, but have taken to using me as a neutral third party during disputes." He grimaced. "A lie detector. Not a role I enjoy, although I was at least able to defuse this particular crisis."

  He'd stopped the two major political regions of Kolar from...what? Squabbling? Going to war? After a week without any time for a break. No wonder he looked hollowed out, more than tired. But he was also incredibly focused, watching her unwaveringly as he drank. The gravitational effect seemed to double, triple, with every moment that passed.

  The man could make it hard to breathe. To think. Laura set aside other considerations, and did what she'd been planning ever since he'd vanished into the mist. This time, she took his gloves off last. It was an act he clearly found highly erotic, and Laura began to hunt for other things that would make him catch his breath that way. She wanted to leave him stunned.

  A suitable interlude ensued, and Laura thought that she'd at least partially achieved her goal. She was learning this man.

  "Do you have another dawn start tomorrow?"

  "Mid-morning." His eyes were heavy-lidded, barely open.

  "Good," she said, firmly, and he smiled, then promptly fell asleep. Very tired indeed.

  Laura took her thoughts to the shower.

  She had wanted the man back in her bed, and that's where she had him, but she knew perfectly well she didn't have the temperament for an ongoing, purely sexual relationship—and she would be surprised if Gidds did either. They were finding their ground with each other, feeling their way toward whether they wanted more, and Laura was discovering a streak of coward in herself whenever she started to frame that answer.

  It was not simply that he was so overwhelming, this precisely correct Event Horizon. Nor that he spent his days doing things she suspected she'd need a higher security classification for him to fully share. Laura had never been easily awed by people with political or social power. It was more that she still could not readily name things they had in common. When the edge had been taken off their mutual attraction, what would they talk about?

  And, despite herself, when she imagined conversations, she kept positioning the things that were central to her life—stories and her own creative response to them—as trivial in comparison to the Serious Business of Gidds' packed schedule. She had no patience for the dismissal of Art as a valuable facet of life, but she also saw little evidence that Gidds spared any time for it. No doubt he would demonstrate a polite interest in whatever she was doing, and…

  Annoyed at herself, Laura abandoned her overlong shower, and went back to the bedroom. They'd kept the lights on dim, so she could see him, curled a little in his sleep. On the far side of the room, the door to her workroom stood firmly closed, and she thought about the symbolism of that, and wondered again whether his Place Sight would plaster the door with big 'keep out' signs, and how that would make him feel.

  Sue would say there was no need to kick-start an angst generator—the important thing was to enjoy the moment. But Gidds made Laura want to think about her future, and his place in it—and she knew there was a tediously simple reason why she kept reacting with an instinct to back away.

  She'd opened her life once, to someone she'd thought was exactly the right person for her. She'd been mistaken. On paper, Gidds was a far worse match, and perhaps it was foolish to get close to someone so utterly different from what she thought she wanted. But she'd do the man the courtesy of giving him time to prove her wrong.

  She owed herself that much.

  oOo

  Gidds, with only occasional distracted pauses, was able to keep his job at bay during a relaxed morning in bed, and then made up for a need to respond to several messages by preparing breakfast while he did so.

  While he worked, Laura went out to the south patio and sat on the wide double rim surrounding the pool, appreciating autumn, and the fact that safety fencing in technological futures involved force fields that activated only at the approach of unaccompanied children. This allowed her to enjoy Maze's gift without obstruction. The trees had survived without notable transplant shock, and their reflections in the water were entirely beautiful, inviting daydreams. Laura drowsed.

  "What are you thinking about?"

  "Oh, the game I was playing yesterday," Laura said, interestedly inspecting the tray Gidds carried. "What are these called?"

  "Toshen." He set the tray down between them. "A favourite of my daughters."

  It resembled fried cornbread flecked with herbs and vegetables. Laura sampled a corner, and found it crumbly and delicious, with a zing of the radish-like Taren vegetable called vut.

  "Your daughters are at Pandora Shore now?"

  "Yes. They wish to continue on as Kalrani, but now that the Setari program has returned to a voluntary and less intense curriculum, I will be able to see more
of them."

  "More? But…if you were in charge of Setari training, wouldn't you have seen them often?"

  He shook his head, gaze focused on ripples on the pool. "No. It would have been unfair to allow myself more access than the families of other Setari in training. I had them for Sights sessions, which gave me more time than most parents of Kalrani. Otherwise, the holiday breaks, the same as everyone else. It will be very different now—I will have them every long rest."

  'Long rest' was the weekend of their eight day week: two days, the same as Earth, although Muina also had 'short rest' which was a half-day in the middle of the working week.

  "Presuming you're ever given rest days of your own."

  "That is a difficulty," he agreed. "But I expect it to be manageable—and to allow me to see more of you. I've added you to my schedule group, so you will be able to see how my time is blocked out."

  "I've added you to the house permissions," Laura said, with a faint laugh. "Perhaps we can try dinner again when you get back." She hesitated, then continued: "Or a rolling series of nightcaps. Whichever works."

  He reached across the tray and brushed the fingers of his partially gloved hand over the back of hers. Not, she thought, to check how she was feeling, but simply to show pleasure.

  "Tell me about the game you were playing," he said then.

  Laura resisted the temptation to ask why, and described Red Exchange.

  "I haven't progressed very far," she said. "I'm supposed to be finding out what the spirit—the teszen—I'm trying to make my first contract with most desires, but have spent most of my time wandering about looking at things. A very pretty world."

  "You enjoy the exploration?"

  "Yes, although the plot and collection aspects seem interesting as well, and I generally enjoy puzzles. It's like a combination…" Laura stopped, because Pokémon, Final Fantasy and Myst were all going to be meaningless for him. "Like a combination of a few Earth games I liked, but with all the amazing aspects of a virtual interface environment as well."

  "I would enjoy playing that with you."

  Laura didn't quite hide a moment's surprise.

  "Free time would still be a difficulty, of course," he said. "But it is something we could share when I am in a remote location. And, if it is suitable for Sights, perhaps Allidi and Haelin will appreciate it."

  "Well, schedule a time," Laura said, not sure whether he was doing exactly what she'd feared, but acknowledging that he had never said he didn't enjoy games. "Starting island Zylat. My character name is Angharad."

  He tilted his head. "Does the name have a meaning for you?"

  Laura wondered whether the ghostly ferns that surrounded her had unfurled into new patterns, or if he was just guessing. "It's the name of a favourite character in a favourite book."

  He asked her to describe the book, so Laura talked him through the plot of The Blue Sword, and they ended up in a side discussion of whether the ability that triggered the plot had any resemblance to Sight Sight, and the difference between magic, 'powers', and talents.

  The man, she reflected after he had departed, would discuss almost anything with the same focused attention. Collecting information about Earth, satisfying his Sight Sight need to know, and…learning Laura Devlin.

  Restlessly, she did some minor tidying, reviewed Julian's school progress, and promised herself that she'd do some more of her own lessons, since he'd passed her again. Then she broke out nearly the last of her hoarded share of the coffee supplies and made two mugs.

  These she carried out of the house, down the path, and around the side of Sue's house, to where a rounded room looked west to complement Laura's eastern view. Since Sue and Laura had freely given each other a full set of security permissions, there was no problem triggering the external door—and then changing the glass polarisation so that the light could get in.

  Sue lay sprawled with her usual abandon, as if unconsciously trying to take up the maximum surface area of the bed. The Pikachu onesie was a new development, however, and made Laura smile as she set the mugs on a bedside table. Then she fit herself Tetris-like into one of the gaps left by her sister, and waited.

  It didn't take long. The smell of coffee had long ago carved a direct route into Sue's synaptic depths, and very soon there was a groan, and an elbow in Laura's shin.

  "I don't know how I'm going to get you up once I've run out of your chemical alarm clock."

  Sue groaned again, and rolled onto her side. "They promised me they'd prioritise growing the seeds you brought."

  "Unless the techs have some sort of time-accelerator, that's still going to be three or so years."

  "Urgh. Well, they've found all sorts of Earth plants here—if Cass is right about this place being an actual idealised copy of Earth, then there's got to be coffee plants somewhere. Ooh, and Bet will definitely have a care package next time the portal to Earth opens. Coffee and Tim Tams and copies of all the stuff we've missed. So, did you break out my lifeblood to celebrate something, or is this just more wibbling about whether the hottie is a good idea?"

  "Wibbling. Or...not wibbling. I keep thinking over the reason why Mike and I divorced."

  Sue sat up, Pikachu hood sagging over her eyes as she frowned at Laura. "Somehow I can't see Serious Soldier screwing around with snazzily-dressed lawyers. What haven't you been telling me?"

  Laura sighed. Things that hurt her were things she didn't talk about, even with Sue. But she needed her sister's common sense.

  "When Mike finally told me why—which was a week after he walked out, mind you—he started out blaming himself, calling himself an idiot, undeserving. You know that self-deprecating Hugh Grant impression of his. But he couldn't keep it up, and started running on the way he does when he's nervous, and ended up telling me what he really thought."

  Her hand still clenched whenever she thought back to it: holding the phone receiver in a grip she could not ease, listening to someone she knew so well, and so little, talking on and on.

  "He was bored. I was boring. The things I cared about meaningless, embarrassing, childish." Laura lifted a hand at Sue's outraged inhalation. "Don't worry—I never spent more than...well, a few of the harder days thinking it was about me. But it recast everything, the whole of the time I'd known him, into a different light. Mike met me at uni, and I was part of the roleplaying club, and he took up roleplaying. And he read Asimov and Lem, and also the books that I loved. And he went to WorldCon and DragonCon with us, before the kids came along. Because those were the things that I liked."

  "Are you saying Mike was, like, a fake geek guy?"

  "Not exactly. It's more...you remember Pete Filson? After he met Amy?"

  "And became 500% evangelical?"

  "Yeah. He wasn't putting it on. But I guess you could say that Pete was drawn to the things Amy cared about. Mike fell for me, and so he was naturally more interested in the things I cared about. Just like you used to be very into beat poetry."

  "I am still into beat poetry, thank you very much—or at least appreciate some of it. Jean-Yves simply introduced me to it."

  "And I introduced Mike to fandom, and he enjoyed himself a lot, really and truly, but then he met Margaret, and she was very much not into swords, sorcery or spaceships. The more he wanted her, the less he liked the things that she disdained."

  Laura paused, watching her sister collect one of the mugs of coffee, and drink deeply.

  "So, unconsciously a fake geek guy?"

  "Cass did something similar to me a few years later, you know. Found a 'cooler' Mum and suddenly stopped liking the things I liked. But she deep-down enjoys SF, and eventually recovered."

  Sue drained her mug of coffee and swapped it for Laura's. "So, if I'm understanding you right, you're worried that Serious Soldier is suddenly going to buy a bunch of miniatures and start painting them? Borrow all your ten-sided dice? In order to impress you? Oh, gods, if he starts roleplaying, can I be game master? I will pay you. I'd even let you have the rest of my
coffee stash."

  "Somehow, I suspect Gidds' idea of roleplaying would involve being exactly himself in any given situation. No, I don't expect him to go quite so overboard, but he's following the same pattern: he's attracted to me, so he's 'showing an interest' in the things that interest me. He even wants to meet up in the latest game I'm playing."

  Sue made several faces, shook her head, climbed to her feet, and then ceremoniously bonked Laura on the forehead with her mug.

  "You find the oddest things to get worried about. Look, do you want me to argue you into this, or out of this? No, don't answer that. It's no fun for me if you give up at the start. But do you remember back when Bet and I finally convinced you to let us set you up on a couple of dates, and you told us what kind of guy you'd consider?"

  "Someone who likes the things I do," Laura said. "Someone who gets me. And someone who is honest enough not to have affairs."

  "Yeah, it sounded so simple, but I think going and scaling a few mountains looking for the teeth of the Phoenix would have been easier. At least Serious Soldier strikes me as hitting point number three. Terminally upright. As for the rest…well, first, I don't think he's doing the same thing as the putz, and unless he starts pretending he's been a tru-fan all along, finding something you can enjoy together is a good and logical thing to do—and you totally need to tell me exactly which game, and when you're meeting, so I can stalk you."

  "Only occasionally collapsing into helpless laughter? I'll pass. If that's first, what's second?"

  "You're never going to find anyone here who really has all that much in common with you. You had a hard enough time on Earth. Sure, you could find yourself a creative Muinan who likes gardening and reading, but even if they learned English, or we translated everything we'd ever read or watched or meme'd, they'd never form quite the same cultural touchstones—not even Cass, who is literally a touchstone, but no-one here will see her as we do—or have their sex lives sabotaged by her in quite the same way, for that matter."