Purpose [Reported by Her Eminence Tara del D’myn, Matriarch of Skarsia]:
“You’re going to have to choose sooner or later,” said Dermot, handing me the pile of cards.
“I’m fine as it is. I’m enjoying that I have a chance to get to know you.”
He linked his fingers through my hair, looking at me directly in the eye. “It’s all right,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to lie. I know you don’t love me.”
I took his hand. “Dermot…”
“It’s ironic. I’m named after a legendary figure who had a beauty spot which caused every woman to fall in love with him. But with you, all my beauty avails me nothing.”
“The mythical Diarmuid was killed by a giant boar, not unlike Adonis. I think it’s best to identify with that myth as little as possible.”
“It’s an interesting question, though, one which you yourself have pondered.” He let go of my hand, wandering over to the enormous picture window, and cast his gaze down the beach to Atlas. “Why do you fall in love with some of us, and not others? Why not Tommy or Mickey?”
“I can’t explain that,” I replied. “I don’t think anyone can.”
“Tarlach disagrees. He says that there has been extensive neurological research on the phenomenon.”
“There are drugs that mimic the sensation, but they wear off. They’re pretty dangerous for that reason,” I said. “Also, certain circumstances tend to encourage it – proximity, for example, and exposure to danger.”
“In your case, the circumstances seem to vary. There are some, like Daniel or Whirljack, when the emotion was instantaneous. In other cases, like Patrick or Aran, attraction grew into passion over time. You fell in love with a dream of Ailann and a memory of Sloane. And then there are those like Hurley, Lorcan and Wynne, when the emotion came upon you suddenly, taking all of us by surprise.”
“My feelings for all of them are different. How could they be the same when they’re such different men?” I laughed, realizing what I had said. “They’re all the same man. They’re all Ash. Fuck, my life is complicated.”
“I seriously questioned the release of Seth’s correspondence table, but I and I desired it strongly. He wanted to place the choice in your hands. I, on the other hand, worried that you might be overwhelmed.”
“Overwhelmed? Why would you think that? Maybe the names of men I’ve never met? Or maybe the numbers with a blank next to them?”
“My point,” said Dermot, sitting on the piano bench. He poked at one of the keys. “I wish I could play.”
“Why can’t you? Valentin taught himself in about five minutes.”
“Valentin has the talent innately. My talent seems to be challenging the natural order of things. Challenging God. Challenging you. It hasn’t exactly made my life easy.”
I sat on the bench next to him, putting my arm around him. “Can’t Evan teach you? He taught me a little. I’m not very good, though.”
“There’s no point at all in my not being very good at something,” Dermot said. “Best to leave things to the professionals.”
“I disagree. It’s human to be flawed. It’s human to fail. There’s something endearing about it.”
Dermot eyed me questioningly. “I’m going to have to think about that,” he said. “In the meantime, if you won’t choose the next emanation, why not go inside for the next experiment?”
“I’ve barely recovered from the last one. These experiments are exhausting.”
“They’re important, though.”
“I’ve figured that out. They start with a seemingly absurd premise, and then fast-forward through the impact of a dozen years of psychotherapy. Very important – and very exhausting.” I rose, stretching and yawning. “Oh well, where am I going this time?”
“The Gold Lounge,” said Dermot. “I’ll be on the verandah with Canopus when you get back.”
“The Gold Lounge? Where’s that?”
Participants: Whirljack Riordan, HRH Patrick Fitzroy, Rand del Shambhah’d
Materials: A military-grade flashlight, copious quantities of vodka and redberri.
Procedure [Reported by Patrick Fitzroy, Prince Consort of the Skarsian Matriarchy]:
Whirljack and I have gathered all the other members into the Gold Lounge. They’re looking at us expectantly, waiting for an explanation. I’m not certain how I feel about this experiment, to be honest. Perhaps it would be best to let Whirljack tell them.
« Tara would hate this, » I murmur.
« The experiment? » Whirljack asks.
« This place. The Gold Lounge. She’d say it was another way to establish a painful hierarchy of privilege, like the trading cards. »
« I don’t have a problem with it, » says Ari. « We earned our place here. »
« Did we? It’s not a rhetorical question. The very point of the experiment is to determine whether we can influence the circumstances such that a new member can be inducted into our society. »
« Why? » says Ari. « The fewer of us in here, the better. »
« Ari, my friend, » says Seth, « jealousy is a cross that we must bear. I, too, am jealous. However, in my investigations of love, I have discovered that the struggle to put aside jealousy for the good of the beloved is a path of spiritual accomplishment. One laden with thorns, no doubt, but one which we must endeavor to walk. »
« Seth also walks the path of the pompous asshole, » injects Lorcan, « which is a path slick with sewage. It makes it difficult to remain upright. But ultimately, I agree. I’m jealous as fuck, but that isn’t going to help Tara. »
« I don’t understand at all, » says Hurley. « Frankly, I’m glad I don’t. I think the idea that Tara would fall in love with somebody new is wonderful. As long as that somebody is one of us, of course. »
« That’s Hurley, not understanding jealousy, » says Cillian, laughing. « But I get it. From I and I’s perspective, it’s ridiculous to be jealous of yourself. From our perspective, the more of us she falls in love with, the more bliss clouds will descend. »
« I don’t know if the rest of you guys noticed this, » says Blackjack, « but Chase wasn’t shooting up during that last bliss cloud. »
« He never does. But why would he? Nothing is better than the bliss cloud. »
« We should measure the levels of nau’gshtamine in the apples produced during the bliss cloud, »suggests Cüinn. « And also those self-pollinated ones from that kinky shit the other day. »
« I’m not sure I approve, » says Ari. « The more the Mover is able to interact with Tara, the less need he has for us. »
« Whoa, that was a really fucked up statement, » says Cillian. « You’re jealous of the Big Guy? »
« He still can’t reproduce, » adds Cüinn. « We’re not really sure how the mothmen reproduce. They have to come from somewhere. »
« We’re getting way off track, » says Whirljack. « We need to focus on the experiment. »
« We don’t have an experiment. We’ve got a problem, and I don’t know where to begin to solve it. »
« We need a testable hypothesis, » said Cüinn. « A good place to start is by analyzing the preliminary data. What do we already know about Tara falling in love? What do we need to know before we can speculate? »
« That’s not how I’d start at all, » says Whirljack. « I’d sit down with my guitar and start to improvise. The process of creating music inspires me – I find that I’m working through my problems as I write. »
« I compiled a spreadsheet, » says Cüinn. « The problem is, as Dermot noted, Tara’s reactions are completely inconsistent. It’s difficult to determine trends. »
| Member | Method of Achieving Gold Status |
|---|---|
| Daniel | Through love at first sight. |
| Ailann | In a Gyre vision before he was even emanated. |
| Sloane | At the moment of his “death.” |
| Jack | Through love at first sight. |
| Patrick | Developed over time after they were married. |
| Cillian | Initial physical passion turned into romantic attachment in a matter of weeks. |
| Jamey | Developed over a period of years. |
| Cüinn | Initial infatuation was deferred due to circumstance. Romance resumed years later with reignited passion. |
| Lorcan | After a traumatic first encounter, developed a mutual affinity shortly after his second emanation. It was a moment of immediate realization. |
| Hurley | While visiting the Imperial Palace on Vuernaco. It was a moment’s inspiration which shocked both of them. |
| Ari | In a blue amrita dream before he was even emanated. |
| Aran | Developed a passionate attachment during a traumatic period. |
| Seth | Seth – and by extension I and I – was nearly killed by a nullet. It was the tipping point for a strong physical attraction. |
| Wynne | In a moment of inspiration while having kinky sex in the pleroma. |
« I think we can immediately eliminate love at first sight or in a vision even before that, since the point is to get her to fall in love with a current emanation. »
« How about death? » says Lorcan. « That seems to be a very effective tactic. »
« We need to think about that carefully, » says Cüinn. « Just because she fell in love with Sloane and Seth doesn’t mean that she’s fallen in love with every emanation who has ever died. »
« Let’s take a poll, » says Lorcan. « How many of us have died? »
« Actually, I did, » says Ari. « And Tara saw my death in her vision, so maybe it helped. »
« I did, » says Daniel, « but she was already in love with me. Actually, death was counterproductive. »
« I did too, » I remind them, « but again, Tara was already in love with me. But more than that, she knew that my death wasn’t final. She didn’t know that for Daniel or Sloane. That might explain, for example, why she didn’t fall in love with Constantine, even when he was so badly injured by General Panic. She knew he wasn’t actually in danger. And even though Seth didn’t die, she knew that he was – all of us were. »
« I think we’re growing bark up the wrong tree, » says Whirljack. « Maybe dying is a reliable way to start a romance, but it seems to be traumatic as all hell. Why don’t we focus on the happier occurrences? Like what happened to Hurley, or what just happened to Wynne? »
« Spoilsport, » says Lorcan.
« You didn’t have to die, » Sloane points out. « Something happened between you and Tara, and you bonded. Maybe you can explain why that happened? »
Lorcan looks suddenly downcast. « Damned if I know, » he says. « It’s not like I deserve it. »
« Are you questioning Tara’s judgment? » says Whirljack sharply.
Lorcan says nothing, but nods briefly, and I know that Whirljack’s rebuke did more good than any words of consolation I might have given.
« You’re not alone, » says Hurley. « It took me by surprise, too, and I didn’t do anything special. But I feel like we’re trying to analyze the ineffable here. I’m not sure there’s an answer. »
« Luck, » says Wynne. « I just got lucky. »
« You’re selling yourself short, » says Whirljack. « I think Hurley is closer. We might as well ask why she had visions of Ailann and Ari. Fate? Her destiny? But then we end up back at square one. »
« We can’t really think about this in a vacuum. I mean, we’re not androids, we’re emanations. It isn’t so much a question of how to get Tara to fall in love, but how to get her to fall in love with a specific one of us. He’s part of the equation, too. »
« Rand, » says Whirljack. « He’s listed as our partner in the experiment, so he must be the one. »
« Rand is an excellent choice. We couldn’t have managed that mess on Shambhala without him, and his devotion to Tara is unquestionable. »
« The embodiment of n’aashet n’aaverti, » says Ailann. « Even Ari shouldn’t object to that. »
« I’ll admit that he’s worthy, » says Ari, « but I’m still not happy about this. »
« I don’t get why she didn’t fall for him right away, » says Cillian.
« There was an awful lot going on at the time, » says Daniel. « Maybe she got distracted. »
« Maybe we should just ask Tara, » says Blackjack.
« I thought of that, » Whirljack replies, « but if part of it is the element of surprise, then that would ruin it. »
« Throughout history, humans have pondered all of these selfsame questions, » says Seth. « While there are no definitive answers, there are certain parameters that have been deemed conducive to romance. Perhaps we should construct a romantic scenario and contrive to place her and Rand within it. »
« Set ‘em up on a candlelight dinner? » asks Cillian. « He could give her flowers and candy and read poetry to her. »
« He should write the poems himself, » says Lorcan. « Failing that, he could read some of mine. »
« No, » says Whirljack.
« Absolutely not, » I concur.
« Or mine, » suggests Cillian. « How about ‘Ode to a Tri-phasal Warhead?’ »
« At least my poems are actually about Tara, » says Lorcan. « I’m working on one that begins ‘I am the nail in your boot/the tetanus strain that howls through your veins and bubbles/in the drool of your clenched lips, your death’s head grin.’ »
« I’m sure she’ll swoon into Rand’s arms right after he reads that, » says Aran.
« Somehow it works for Lorcan, » Ailann points out.
« That’s exactly what I’ve been saying. What works for Lorcan will not work for Rand. We need to figure out what will work for Rand. »
« Isn’t that up to Rand? » says Daniel. « I’m not too sure this experiment is the best idea. I don’t know if something like this should be forced. »
« It’s about the right thing to do, what’s fair, » says Blackjack. « Why should Tara be in love with a loser like me, and not a great guy like Rand? »
« You aren’t a loser, » Whirljack objects, kissing his brother’s forehead.
« I see Blackjack’s point, though, » I reply. « It’s not fair to those of us who aren’t here in the Gold Lounge. We owe it to them to find out if we can help. »
Procedure [Reported by Her Eminence Tara del D’myn, Matriarch of Skarsia]:
No sooner than I speak, I find myself inside the pleroma, on the lobby level of Atlas. I am perpendicular to the main entrance, directly across from the walkway leading to Yggdrasil. There is a doorway which hadn’t previously been present. At least, I had never noticed it before. There is a sign over the door, which says, predictably enough, “The Gold Lounge.”
Rand is standing outside of the door, dressed much more formally than usual, holding a bunch of flowers.
« Why are you standing in the hall? » I ask.
« I can’t go in, » he says. « I’m supposed to be in the experiment, but I can’t get into the room without a Gold Card. »
« That’s terrible. Do you guys lie awake at night dreaming up new ways to establish a painful hierarchy of privilege? »
« Well, we do lie awake at night, » says Rand, except for Chase. « But we’re usually either watching you sleep or reliving our memories of you. »
He’s so sweet, it’s impossible to stay angry.
« Oh, » he says, handing me the flowers. « These are for you. They’re from my branch. »
Rand’s flowers are lovely. They hardly seem like they’re from the same tree as Balin’s, which are enormous and strongly scented, or Harsh’s, which are a bit gaudy, yet intoxicating. But Rand’s have a certain freshness in the scent, a purity in the color.
« I don’t much feel like standing around. Why don’t we go over to your place while we wait for the experiment to begin? We could have a nice sail on the swan boat. »
Rand shakes his head. « Ellery is hiding, » he replies. « Again. »
« What is up with that boy? »
« I wish we knew. Look, we can still go to the palace. There’s a tunnel. We just have to go down a level, to the Goliath lobby. It goes out the back and under the ocean. »
« Let’s go, » I say, linking arms with him. « Lead the way. »
We enter the tunnel.
« It’s dark. Is it always this dark? »
« Pretty much, » says Rand. « We are underground. But there aren’t any sudden turns or slippery places or spiders. We’re safe as long as we keep moving straight ahead. »
After walking a bit in what seemed to be complete blackness, I notice that my eyes are starting to adjust. There’s a little bit of light.
« I don’t see anything, » Rand says.
« Yes. It’s coming from…it’s coming from…»
It is coming from his eyes, that ever-so-faint glow of nul-energy which gives the emanations that distinctive color of blue. I halt in my tracks and stare at the opalescent flicker: Ash’s eyes, so kind and so alien.
I feel my knees go weak, and I clutch onto Rand’s arm. He’s warm next to me. I look into the warm glow of his eyes.
The next thing I know, I’m feeling the warm touch of his lips. It’s nice, in the dark, but I wish I could see him better. Rand is so handsome, shaped for love in a careless sort of way, as if Venus herself mussed his hair with her fine-boned fingers.
« Tara, » he says. He says it in the way the emanations sometimes do, like a catch-phrase that implies the existence of the universe. It humbles me, makes me feel as though I need to become more than I am.
Fuck the experiment. I just want to go back to his suite and make out with him.
Suddenly there is a brilliant light behind us. Both of us wince, our eyes adjusting to the light.
« There you are, » says Cillian, pointing a military-grade flashlight in our faces. « We’ve been looking for you. Holy compost, aren’t there any emergency lights down here? What the fuck would we do if we had to evacuate quickly? »
« Cillian, » I say squinting, « we’re inside of Ash’s mind. Under what circumstances would we have to evacuate? »
« It doesn’t hurt to be prepared, baby, » he replies. « Let’s go back up to the lounge. »
I open the door. Inside are Daniel, Sloane, Patrick, Cüinn, Jamey, Ailann, Cillian, Lorcan, Hurley, Ari, Aran, Seth, Whirljack, Blackjack and Wynne. The Gold Lounge – of course.
« So they were in the tunnel, » says Whirljack as we arrive.
« I knew it was there, » says Patrick, « although I’ve never used it. I’ve never been to Ashvattha, actually. It looks like quite a walk. »
« Not as bad as you might think, » says Rand.
« It’s probably a wormhole, » says Cüinn.
« We’re inside of a mental construct, » Hurley injects. « We don’t need a wormhole. All we need is a sense of absurdity. »
« Would you like a drink? » asks Aran. « The bar is rather well-stocked. It has anything you could imagine – quite literally. »
I take a long swig of my vodka and redberri before addressing them: « You know, I’m tempted to forego this experiment entirely and just enjoy my harem. »
« I’m down with that, » says Wynne.
« What was the experiment, anyway? »
The emanations look awkwardly at each other.
« We were trying to figure out how to get you to fall in love with Rand, » Whirljack admits.
« Too late, » I tell them.
A look of amazement dawns on Rand’s face. « I’m in, » he says.
« We let you in, » says Aran.
« Yeah, but when I was standing outside the door, I couldn’t physically get by the threshold. It wasn’t like the door was locked, more like Ashtara wouldn’t let me. »
« That’s all? » Cillian says incredulously. « All we have to do is take her for a walk in the dark? »
I shake my head. « It won’t happen that way twice. It was the element of surprise that did it. »
« What happened? » Cüinn asks excitedly. « What did he do? Tara, this is a great moment for science! »
Hypothesis:
« Look, if I think about it, all of those moments were times I recognized Ash. It may sound silly and overly-romanticized, but I sincerely believe that Ash is my soul-mate, even as different as we are from each other. It’s just hard for me to communicate with him in his natural form. But sometimes I see him in one of you – I mean, I know in my head that all of you are part of him, but sometimes, it just hits me, like it did with Lorcan or Wynne. And sometimes, I see it immediately, like I did with Daniel, or for that matter, Ari and Ailann – I just saw it in a dream. Patrick and Aran, it was a slow realization of the same thing. »
Results:
Suddenly, the room begins to glow a gentle blue, and I feel as if I am being swept into the air by a warm wind of pure happiness.
« The cloud of bliss, » gasps Cüinn.
« The Mover being your soul-mate is not silly, » says Seth. « It’s holy. I’m going to write it into the liturgy. »
I suppose that makes sense. It’s the closest thing to an article of faith I’ll ever have.
« Then what this experiment has proved is that there’s hope for all of us, » concludes Patrick. « We just have to work hard and be clever and creative. »
« It’s our life’s work, » agrees Whirljack. « We have to get Tara to recognize every one of us as a manifestation of I and I. »
« That’s a wonderful ideal. Now can we get back to enjoying my harem? »
Debriefing:
Tara: That was really sudden. I’m trying to get a handle on it.
Whirljack: The experiment proved what we knew all along: romance is not something that can be analyzed by scientific means. Still, I’m glad we tried the experiment. It certainly worked out well for Rand, and for me as well since I wrote a song about the whole experience. It was especially opportune since my brother and I intend to go back into the studio soon to do a follow up of The Burning Bush. Of course that album was at the top of the media push, but the critical response was lukewarm. They accused us of being propagandists, and there might be a grain of truth in that. This next work will be different; songs from the heart. I’ve reached a new level of collaboration with my creative partner, and I truly believe the next release could be our masterpiece.
Patrick: I’m also glad we tried. I feel that it’s imperative we do everything possible to help our fellow emanations. At the same time, I’m a little ashamed to admit that I’m glad we failed. It’s not because I want to keep anyone out of the Gold Lounge, but I think there’s a certain mystery to love, and I don’t want to lose that. If a cologne, or a suit, or a box of chocolates could make Tara fall in love with one of us, it would lose the magic.
Rand: I’m not sure that we did fail. I certainly don’t feel like it was a failure! On the other hand, I don’t think we can call it scientific. A hallmark of science is reproducible results. Tara said specifically that the results weren’t reproducible – by definition they aren’t reproducible. Falling in love seems to have more in common with religion than science. It’s a miracle, really.
Conclusion [Reported by Patrick Fitzroy, Prince Consort of the Skarsian Matriarchy]:
Whirljack and Blackjack join hands – and suddenly where there were two, one man stands.
Jack places a firm hand on Rand’s shoulder. « She wants to enjoy her harem, Golden Boy, » he says. Why are you still dressed?
Rand’s eyes have been fixed on Tara, but now he looks briefly at Jack and grins. There’s a frisson between them, a perfect mutual affinity: the emanation who was created to be the embodiment of n’aashet n’aaverti, and the emanation who has spent his life dedicated to its realization.
Then Jack looks at me. « It’s our experiment, » he says. « Why are you standing around? »
For a moment, I’m stunned. Then my skin flashes hot, and I’m lightheaded. I’ve had a massive crush on Jack for years – he has to know that. The idea of a foursome with him and with Tara makes my heart thud wildly in my chest. And Rand is an added bonus.
My tongue feels thick in my mouth, but I manage to say, « There’s a bed in the back room. »
There’s also a hot tub in the bathroom. The Gold Lounge was designed with just this sort of occasion in mind.
The bed is enormous, quite large enough to hold four without difficulty. The perimeter of the room is lined with deep-cushioned couches. As the other emanations settle in, Sloane and Aran bring in a few bottles of champagne and some flutes. Aran pours for Tara; the others pass the bottles around.
At first the three of us focus on Tara, stroking, kissing her smooth skin. But then Jack whispers into her ear, « I know what you’d like. You’d like a show. »
Tara grins at him. « Wicked boy, » she says, leaning back against Rand.
Rand wraps his arms around her, kissing her neck. Before I realize what is happening, Jack has pushed me down. He positions himself between my knees, saying, I want everyone to see your face.
Jack is going to fuck me.
Jack is going to fuck me in front of Tara.
Jack bends over me, the silk of his long, Irish red hair sweeping my heaving chest. « Is that all right? » he asks.
« Yes, » I reply quietly. I’m amazed at the sound of my own voice, amazed that I managed not to blurt out nownowtakemenowyesyesyes.
I know what to expect next – I’ve played back the memories in Blackjack’s branch enough. Jack is a considerate lover, and he warms me up with one, then two fingers. I know what to expect, but I don’t know what to expect, because Blackjack’s body is different than mine, and this feels different to me. It feels so fucking good, and my cock is like ironwood.
And then Tara reaches over, caressing my cock, just as Jack grabs my buttocks and lifts me slightly, sliding me into an angle where he can take me. There’s a slight scratching at the back of my mind. It’s the feel of someone poking around in my branch. No, not someone – everyone. It’s the branches outside the Gold Lounge, riding along with me on a microsecond delay. Everybody, everybody knows exactly what I am feeling. I hadn’t thought this could get any hotter, but I like to be watched, I like to be everybody’s bitch. I want to give myself up to their pleasure.
Jack thrusts into me, and I feel like the world is going to explode behind my eyes. Tara is stroking me hard now, and I’m so hot, my skin feels like it will start to sizzle. The pleasure is like lightning in my spine.
But it’s all pleasure building, pleasure without a climax. Wave after wave of it, dizzying, intoxicating. A part of me wants to scream for release, but a part of me wants it to never stop.
It goes on forever, but forever isn’t long enough, and Cillian is shaking Tara lightly by the shoulder. « Time to go, » he says.
Perspective shifts suddenly, the way it always does when emanations switch. I’m not Dermot anymore; I’m Rand, and I and I didn’t even bother to put clothes on him. I can see Tara, naked in her enormous bed, flushed with desire and desperate for consummation. Rand doesn’t waste a moment.
Everybody’s on board with Rand now; they all want to fuck Tara. Jack is too, and I don’t blame him. Jack is moaning and sighing Tara’s name.
Jack is synchronizing his thrusts with Rand, but he’s still inside my body. Then I realize that I’m being used as a pollination aid, a sex toy he barely notices.
That’s hot, so hot. Jack fucking me now is technically illegal, since Tara is gone, but I know damn well what she’d think about it. I’ll tell her the next time I emanate, as a bedtime story.
Rand and Tara don’t need long since they’ve been building to this all evening. Then Jack’s coming, I’m coming, everyone is coming at once, and though it feels like hot semen spurting from our cocks, if I close my eyes and quiet my mind, I can feel what’s really happening: the warm gust of air blowing free the sticky pollen which has been building on the tips of our anthers.
Poor Rand; it’s such a shame he’s on a tree that’s so far away. I’m sure everyone would love to pollinate him, but only Harsh and Balin will have the opportunity.
But Jack has been emanating a lot lately, and there are still a few unpollinated flowers in a very hard-to-reach spot. Jack’s branch is central whereas my branch is hanging over the cliff, but that means that the gentle sea breeze is on my side, blowing my pollen back towards the tree. I can’t rely on nature alone, though. Too much of my pollen is going to get trapped in the leaves of non-receptive branches between me and Jack, and those flowers are quite high up.
But I’m good, very good at subtle alchemical manipulations. I sense the wind, sense the currents set in motion by the tiny jets of hot air blowing pollen from the other branches. I manipulate the heat, the molecular composition of the air, changing a few stray atoms to helium to give me a boost.
My biggest rival is Ailann. His massive branch towers over the rest of the tree, and is located right next to Whirljack. He has two powerful allies, gravity and pseudogravity, which he can rely upon to simply pull his pollen-cloud downward. But two factors work against him. The first is the wind, which will tend to push the pollen-cloud from his exposed branch up into the cliff wall. The second is himself: Ailann is a lazy pollinator. He just shoots his wad and doesn’t care where it lands.
It’s tricky, but I can feel my pollen moving in the right direction, up, up towards Jack’s tender flowers. Jack is coming to himself now, disentangling himself from between my legs, when suddenly he looks up at me, realizing what I’m doing. « Fuck, » he says, « you’re good! »
And then he gasps and shudders as the first grains of pollen shower the opening of his stigma. He lies next to me, resting his head on my chest, his gorgeous hair splayed on my skin. He’s moaning softly, lost in the pollination haze. I kiss his forehead. « You’re my bitch now, » I murmur.
Future Investigation [Reported by Her Eminence Tara del D’myn, Matriarch of Skarsia]:
I felt a bit guilty, falling in love again so quickly after Wynne. And then I realized that I wasn’t being unfaithful at all; far from it, I was being absolutely faithful – to Ashtara.
This is what he wanted: for me to recognize him. And this, and the color space, the correspondence chart, the weird experience with the redesign of his body, all of this was intended to communicate with me. He was making every effort that he could; now I had to make the effort too.
But how?
I went over to the stasisstorer and pulled out a bottle of Rand’s juice. “I can’t overdose on this, can I?”
“It’s impossible,” he confirmed.
I had the juice – and the blue amrita, and the ability to go inside of the pleroma. Ash wasn’t only trying to communicate to me in my world; he had given me the key to his.
To my chagrin, it occurred to me that I was a scientist, a xenopharmacologist, and more, the galaxy’s expert on the Cu’endhari Nau’gsh. What effort could I make? As Davy might say, it was obvious.
I have to put all my effort into understanding and increasing nau’gshtamine production.