Mind Over Psyche (5 page)

The healer sat next to Joshua and handed him a drink. He didn't look much older than Deryl or himself. “Well, I can. Drink this. It's safe, and you need the nourishment. You must come back sometime. Perhaps we could teach ea
ch other.”

“That'd be cool, but I—Hey! When did you learn to speak
English?”

“I picked it up from you.
Es más f
ácil, eh
?”

“
Sí
—but that's Spanish! You picked up both languages from me? Just how long were you in
my head?”

“Not long, and I promise, my intention was only to cure your headache. The language is incidental. I did not know your world had two languages.
Que cómico
. You'll have to help me sort them out.” Suddenly, he looked up toward the healer who frowned at him from the other side of the room. “
Con permiso
, but I need to perform a c
leansing.”

“Wha
t's that?”

“I expel any parts of your memories or personality that I may have picked up during the healing. It's important especially when dealing with head injuries—or aliens.” He smiled. “But I will keep the language. It will be useful for us.
Muchas
gracias
.”

“No, thank
you.
I feel terrific.” As the healer walked away, Joshua stood and stretched. “What's next?” He as
ked Deryl.

“Let's go.” His friend scowled and left without checking to see if Joshua
followed.

“Hey, what's the matter with you?” Joshua asked as the door closed behind them and they were alone in the halls. It struck him as kind of eerie how empty the hall
ways were.

“How can you sense the power in that room?” Deryl
demanded.

“You got me. Why, jealous?” Deryl didn't answer, just upped his pace. Joshua grabbed him by the shoulder, making him stop and face him. “Listen, I'm not psychic. I can
't telep.”

“Telep?”

“Yeah. Speak telepathically? Telep? I made it up just now. The point is, you've got to tell me what's going on, okay? This place is even more bizarro to me than it is to you, and you're about the closest thing to normal I've got—and that's not saying much.” He hoped Deryl would take that as the joke he'd intended and felt relieved when his friend gave him a sardonic grin. Deryl had come a long way since the beginning of the summer, when he couldn't even say the word “crazy.” “You seemed pretty happy to be here until just a minute ago. So what
happened?”

“It's nothing,” he hedged, but Joshua pinned him with his stare until he added, “It's just… The healers didn't do anythin
g for me.”

“Oh? What about y
our hand?”

Deryl looked at his hand as if remembering it for the first time. Rather than a nasty, scabbed cut, a narrow, jagged scar cut across
his palm.

“Fine,” he acquiesced. “But what about the rest? I was out for almost a whole day thanks to Malachai's ‘cocktail,' and they never touched me. It's like they were scar
ed of me.”

Joshua crossed his arms, considering. “T
he drugs?”

“I asked Tasmae. They know how to expel
poisons.”

He shrugged. “Then maybe they were afraid. You are t
he Ydrel.”

“So?”

“So, up until a few weeks ago, our weeks, that is, the Ydrel was—as you put it—some kind of cross between an angel and a supercomputer, right? Now you suddenly appear on their world—acting very strangely, I might add. You kind of scared me back at SK-Mental even
before
you freaked out and took me
hostage.”

“Yeah. I'm sorry about that.” Deryl studied
the floor.

“Don't worry about it.” Joshua's stomach growled loudly. “Know where we can get s
ome food?”

Again, Deryl led them down a twist of halls that Joshua couldn't keep
track of.

“Is there any method to this architectural madness?” He finally c
omplained.

“There are direct routes, if you know how to find them, and if the ‘mandrake' as you call it, will let you in. I'm not sure I'm trusted, yet, so we're taking the common public ways everywhere. Certain areas, like the healers' den, are hard to get to on purpose, except when taking someone who's seriously injured there—then a direct path opens up. Some places are hard to get out of. You can lead the enemy in, trap them, and collapse part of the building
on them.”

Joshua stopped to examine the walls suspiciously. “Really? That's
vicious.”

Deryl shrugged. “It was Tasmae's idea, not mine. I did tell you that the invaders tried to kill her in the last war? Well, that was how she destroyed the Traitor's forces after they sneaked inside her city and killed her mentor and about half the people attending her installation ceremony. Let's go. I'm hungry, too.” He hurr
ied ahead.

“Remind me not to get on Tasmae's bad side,” Joshua muttered as he hastened to catch up. He shuddered against the feeling that the walls were going to come down on him out of sh
eer spite.

Soon, the hallways became a little wider and straighter. Just before a turn, Deryl stopped Joshua with his arm and paused with his ey
es closed.

“Checking your shields?” Josh asked. Deryl nodded. One of the first things Joshua had helped him learn to do at SK-Mental was to develop multiple layers of shields against the psychic impressions that bombarded his senses. Joshua wondered if he had a tougher time protecting himself here, where everyone had psychic abilities, or on Earth, where no one did but where uncontrolled thoughts projected themselves to Deryl. He filed the question away to ask when they had privacy, like maybe when they got
back home.

They crossed the hall and went through a larger than usual door which opened into a cafeteria. Like all the rooms they'd seen so far, this one lacked familiar angles and flat surfaces. Everyone ate sitting on cushions at low tables. Otherwise, it looked like a typical cafeteria. About a dozen large round tables dotted the area, half of them full of diners, most of whom wore red uniforms. Servers flowed in and out through a door in the back, bringing plates of steaming dishes or platters of exotic fruit, which they set in the middle of the tables. Now that he'd had some reassurance that he could safely eat, Joshua's stomach grow
led again.

One of the servers noticed them and stopped in her tracks. Everyone turned toward them. Caught under the stare of forty-odd warriors, Joshua wondered if he shouldn't have remained in his cell,
after all.

Deryl set his face
in a neutral, almost haughty, expression, but he held himself as tightly as a guitar string about to snap. His pupils contracted and twitched in a way that worried Joshua. Their appearance had apparently caused some kind of psychic ruckus, and Deryl was caught in the midst of it.

“You okay?” Joshua didn't want to think what would have happened had Deryl not checked his shields beforehand. He'd seen the young psychic react with everything from hysteria to self-induced coma, and he could not afford to lose his only friend, ally, and, for that matter, interpreter. “We could come ba
ck later.”

Then, from further down the room, Tasmae stood and made her way to them. As she did, others rose in their places. Today, she wore a sleeveless black tunic that tied kimono-like on the sides over loose black pants. Her slippered feet made a swishing noise as she moved smoothly toward them. Deryl turned his focus on her, and his expression gentled. She stopped in front of him, and, including Joshua with a glance from her obsidian-black eyes, brought her fist first to her heart, then to her forehead. Around the room, others repeated th
e gesture.

Deryl returned the salute, Joshua a half step behind. With a nod and a smile to them, Tasmae led them to
her table.

“Want to tell me what that was all about?” Joshua muttered to Deryl through the side of his mouth. People still stared at them, most without the veiled hostility of before, but with enough with suspicion to make hi
m nervous.

Deryl he kept his aloof smile firmly in place. “Tell you later. Don't worry. Tasmae's got it under
control.”

Tasmae, who once dropped a building on her enemies' hea
ds. Great.

Nonetheless, once they sat down at her table, Joshua's extreme hunger overcame his milder suspicions, and he concentrated on filling his plate and his stomach. The table held fruits and vegetables cooked in several ways, plus breads, but no meat. They hadn't given him any meat earlier, either, but he'd thought that was because he was a prisoner.
What I wouldn't do for a steak. Are the Kanaans vegetarians or h
erbivores?

“Vegan,” D
eryl said.

Joshua gave a start—had he been thinking that loudly?—but devoted his attention to his meal. He couldn't do much else, really. The telepathic conversation excluded him more effectively than that of Rique's relatives before he'd learned Spanish. At least then, he had the chance of picking up a word or two. Here, he heard some laughter—apparently, some things were universal, literally—and he might be able to guess at the emotions playing across people's faces, but he didn't know who was speaking when. He concentrated on his delicious, if unfamil
iar, food.

When Tasmae spoke to him, he almost jumped again.
“Pardon?”

“I asked if you are all right.” She spoke English with a New England accent, which made sense, since she would have picked it up from Deryl. She seemed to be asking about his well-being in general, so he replie
d in kind.

“Yeah, I'm fine. Be better if I knew I was going back home to Earth soon
, though.”

She nodded seriously, her head tilting first one way, then the other. “The ways of God are not always kno
wn to us.”

Joshua snorted. “Tell me
about it.”

She apparently understood the idiom—or the sarcasm. “It is so for your people, too? I do not know why God has chosen to bring the Ydrel to us now, nor why you have been sent as well.” She glanced quickly across the table at a scowling man in russet robes, and Joshua sensed that Tasmae may not have things under as much control as Deryl wanted to believe.
Oh, yeah. Rea
lly great.

“Your people don't believe in dumb luck?” He ask
ed Tasmae.

She looked at him uncompre
hendingly.

Even better.
“Really? So what are you saying? That you're going to keep us here until you figure out what God wants
with us?”

Tasmae frowned, and for a moment Joshua worried that he'd stuck his foot in his mouth. She didn't seem upset, however; rather, she looked more like she was searching for the ri
ght words.

Deryl jumped in. “What she's trying to say is that it's not really in her control so much
as God's.”

“Yes. We will not purposely detain you.” Again, she glanced at the man in brown. “But it may not be possible for you to leave until your purpose on our world has been f
ulfilled.”

“Really? Ooo-kay. Well, I know what to
pray for.”

“As do we all,” Tasmae concluded. “Until then, once you have finished eating, you will want to bathe.” It was as much an order as a
question.

“That's a great idea. I'd like to shave, too, if you can get me a razor.” Seeing how both Deryl and Tasmae hesitated, he added, “I don't need anything fancy. I can even use one of those old-fashioned blade razors. But I'd really like to get rid of this fuzz. It's not like I'm going to run amok with so many armed guard
s around.”

Some silent consultation, then Deryl turned back to Joshua. “Here's the deal. They don't have razors. They don't n
eed them.”

Joshua stole a look at the faces of the men around him. All of them were clean-shaven, but he'd thought it was just the fashion or military regulation. Deryl, he realized, always bore a baby-smooth face, and he'd never seen him shave nor seen a razor in his bathroom. Deryl had once told him he thought his father was an alien. Could he be right? Would expl
ain a lot.

He could not believe he was even thinking that. Nonetheless, the geek part of him wanted to squeal with e
xcitement.

Deryl was saying the metalsmith wasn't very busy. “So it'll only take a couple of hours, but it'd have to be simple.” He hesitated, then added, “You'd have to let me into your mind so I can des
cribe it.”

“I thought you didn't like to do that. Made you dizzy or something.” For that matter, he didn't like the idea muc
h himself.

“It does. But you want to shave, don't you? And before you ask, drawing a picture isn't going to work unless you know the right dimensions or want to keep cutting yourself on prototypes until you get it right. This isn't going to be like that healer picking up English, either. To get that specific, someone's going to have to get into your personal memory. Tasmae's people won't do it. Humans have too much…contamination, she says. Like emotional baggage. But if I do it, I can telep Tasmae just the information she n
eeds. So?”

Joshua sighed and scratched his chin thoughtfully. Maybe he shouldn't shave; after all, he was supposed to be a kidnap victim. How would he explain it to the authorities if he showed up clean-shaven and unaffected by the e
xperience?

Deryl misread his hesitation and huffed. “Fine. Be scruffy, or try shaving with a dagger for all I care. But I don't know what you're so uptight about. It's not like you ever really noticed the other times I'd read y
our mind.”

“It's not that. I was just thinking how it'd look if I—What do you mean, ‘the othe
r times?'”

“Well, you know,” Deryl hedged. “When we first met, and I was trying to prove to you I was
psychic…”

With everyone at the table watching them, Deryl maintained a steady, guiltless gaze, but Joshua could see that he'd said more than he'd intended. It occurred to him that they probably shouldn't discuss this now, but he couldn't bring himself to let Deryl off the hook. “You said times
. Plural.”

“Fine. It was that same evening. We'd just met, and I was mad and suspicious because you were gawking at
Sachiko.”

“Was not!”

Deryl just rolled his eyes. “She was the closest thing to a friend I had. Did you think I was going to trust you after a few minutes' conversation? I just sort of let you daydream about her for an hour or so while I probed your mind and found out what kind of a person you are. Oh, and I drank all that Scotch my uncle smuggled in for my birthday,” he added, turning his smile to Tasmae. “Remember
that day?”

Joshua watched Tasmae frown and guessed that that must have been when she and Deryl had met face-to-face for the first time in the Netherworld.
Which started the chain of events that led to us being here now. Bet she can't decide whether to be happy or annoyed
about it.

Joshua, however, had no doubts concerning how he felt about Deryl's invasion into his private thoughts. “How many times?” He demande
d quietly.

“That fully? Just that evening, promise. Any other time was very surface and not really intentional—kind of reflex. Like how you sometimes change the way you talk to match the person you're talking to. Joshua, I was desperate. I, I had to make sure you wouldn't do anything to hurt Sachiko. Or me. I really did need a friend. I had to know I could trust
you, too.”

“Yeah, all right.” With a long breath, Joshua released his anger. He rubbed his face with his hands. As he brushed over the growth on his cheeks, he remembered why he'd objected in the first place. “I'm still not sure it's a good idea that I shave, though. I probably should look like I've been a hostage for a few days. Otherwise, what do I tell
the cops?”

“I was ‘teleping' with Tasmae about that,” Deryl smiled. “Time is both relative and ir
relevant—”

“
Wrinkle
in Time
?”

Deryl nodded. “My mom's favorite. Anyway, I'm pretty sure it's true as far as teleportation goes. I think once I've figured out what I did and we can leave, I can get you home within a couple of hours after w
e'd left.”

“Really? I'd better shave, then. So what
do I do?”

*

Tasmae watched, fascinated, as Joshua calmed and Deryl instructed him to think about the curious blade. Only a few Kanaan had the talent of reaching into alien minds on purpose. Was there anything the Ydrel cou
ld not do?

They're dangerous
. Leinad's assertion slipped into
her mind.

Tasmae brushed it off as if an irritating insect. He was
the Ydrel.

The Ydrel is dangerous. You are not meant to interact with him like this. No one is. The Remembrance was qu
ite clear—

Tasmae cut off his assertion with a mental snort. When had a Remembrance ever been clear about
anything?

All the more reason to experience the Remembrance, learn the fullness of its warning
, Leinad pressed.
Ydrel or not, they should both be i
mprisoned.

The compound knows where they are allowed and where not. Besides, do you truly think two unarmed aliens are a danger to us here?
She shared her thoughts—and her amusement—wit
h Salgoud.

The general projected his confidence that, with a thousand soldiers in the Maze and here, they could handl
e the two.

Tasmae teased him with the memory of her dashing in just in time to keep him from “handling” the aliens by lopping their heads off. Her mirth cut short when she felt a stirring in her gut that had nothing to do with digestio
n or fear.

I did not know it was the Ydrel
, he shrugged laconically, a hint of a smile showing on his scarred face. He rose
and left.

If he is the Ydrel,
Leinad
persisted.

His comment barely registered. Her own talent had alerted her to a disturbance in the earth. She had to find it, contain it if necessary before the earthquake grew to harm others. She pulled deep into herself, sought the shifti
ng plates…

She hardly registered Leinad rising to follo
w Salgoud.

*

Deryl and Josh had not noticed the discussion going on around them. Deryl said, “Relax and just remember the razor. It has to be a memory, not imagining, though. I can get the details from there. I promise I won't go searching about for deep dark
secrets.”

“Better not,” Josh warned as he shut his eyes. He rested his chin on one hand and thought about his grandfathe
r's razor.

It was definitely simple: a straight, long blade that folded out of the handle. For a moment, he saw it, shining and suspended against a black backdrop, then the scene filled in, and it was held in the strong hand of his grandfather, and Joshua was six years old, sitting on the edge of the counter, watching in fascination as his grandfather brought the sharp blade up to his neck and scraped off the hair and shaving cream with deft strokes. It had been one of the happiest days in his life when Grandpa moved in
with them.

“This is how real men shave,” he said. “Not with that sissy thing your dad uses.” He rinsed the blade under the steaming tap and pointed it at his dad's electric razor before bringing the blade to his face again. Joshua snickered at the thought of his dad having a sissy anything. “Told me he has to buy one every couple of years. Throwing good money away on a fancy piece of technology when this is all you need. Now, my pa gave me this blade back in...” He paused to scrape his lip and never did tell Joshua the exact year. He hadn't known it then, but his grandfather's memory was starting to go, the first symptom of the disease that would take his life. “I was going to war. Lied about my age. Had to—hard enough for a Black to get into the army those days. Not like it is now. You learning your c
iphering?”