Contact Imminent (40 page)

“Who is that youngish, nìa?” Tsecha leaned forward so he could look around Jani, but not so far that he couldn't pretend he looked somewhere else in case someone caught him.

Jani glanced back toward the enclave road, saw the familiar figure sitting atop a nearby rock, and hid a smile. “You did meet him, inshah. Torin Clase—he's the historian.”

“Ah.” Tsecha nodded as he drew up straight. “He appears most as different when he writes.”

“He does get a rather pointed look, yes.”

“He is
everywhere
, nìa.”

“He believes that recording the history of Thalassa is his born duty. He believes it must be done at the time things happen so that the facts don't get muddled.”

“So.” Tsecha sniffed. “Can he hear us if we whisper?”

“No.”
Jani fought to stifle a laugh. “But then he'll try to get you to commit to once-a-week interviews.”

“He has done such already, nìa—everywhere I turn—” Tsecha shook his head. “The price I must pay, I most suppose, for this blessed sun.”

Jani closed her eyes and felt the heat on her face. Winter was almost upon them, and she could still walk about without a coat in the afternoons. Yet still, at times, she thought
about what had been. “I am sorry that Chicago didn't work out. I know how much it meant to you.” She hesitated. “It meant a lot to me as well.”

“The gods did not mean for me to die in such a cold place.” Tsecha bared his teeth. “They meant for us to labor where we were wanted in the first place, where we did not have to spend so much energy asserting our right to
be
.” He glanced at Jani, then away. “I speak as one of you. I am not, however—this I know and truly. I do not presume.”

Since when?
“If you wanted to hybridize, all you'd have to do is go to John and say the word.”

“He would enjoy it too much, I believe.”

“There would be something rather circular about it, yes.” Jani watched a sailracer's rainbow-hued craft swoop in the distance. “It is a good place.”

“It is.” Tsecha nodded. “It is
warm
, which is a wonder. I did not believe that I would ever enjoy such again.” He started down the beach. “Come, nìa. We must speak of ná Gisa again. I fear and truly that she will drive me most as mad.”

“In a minute, inshah.” Jani stretched her arms over her head, as though she could reach the few wisps of cloud that coursed the sky if she tried hard enough. After a few moments she let them fall to her sides. Rocked back and forth, heel to toe to heel, inhaling the sea air and listening to the birds screech. Then…

…she reached into her pocket and removed a stone, one of the banded triangles that are so numerous here. She looked out over the water, as she has done so often since her return. Bending low, she tossed the stone atop the curved mass of them that had washed up over the years past. Then she started down the beach after ní Tsecha, running until she caught up to him, and they talked until sunset
.