Choices (6 page)

I had never felt more alone than at this
moment. I had found people like me, had begun to have hope—that
there was a place for me in the universe, that I could be accepted.
Instead, everyone had just now rejected me. And Dominic, the one
person who had given me the comfort of mind and body I had always
desired, had apparently betrayed me. Edwige was telling me to
repudiate him, but I could no more do that than I could gouge out
my eyes—the source of all my trouble, the windows into my brain
that activated my curse of a “gift.”

Not until I learn the truth
, I
thought.
If she is right, then I will do as she says. If she is
right, it won’t matter anyway, because I will die. With my newfound
love destroyed, with nothing to live for, I will simply
die
.

Edwige opened her mouth to speak, lost her
train of thought as she took in my misery, and stood in front of
me, looking comical. If I hadn’t been so close to despair, I would
have laughed. Edwige could not comprehend that my delayed
adolescence was a natural consequence of being among my own kind
for the first time. Her only strategy was to persuade me that my
lover was not the paragon of virtue she thought I believed him to
be.

“Listen to me, Amalie,” she said at last.
“Dominic Aranyi is
vir
. Do you know what that means?” When
I said nothing, having not really heard her, she took my silence
for ignorance. “It means he loves men—or boys.” She shrugged. “Not
that it matters, except that he doesn’t confine himself to willing
partners. He picks on boys who don’t want him, forces them—cadets
at the ‘Graven Military Academy, boys under his protection.”

I returned from my own painful thoughts to
what Edwige was trying to tell me. When she saw I was focusing on
her words, Edwige gave me what she was convinced would be the coup
de grâce. “A few years ago, Margrave Aranyi tried to coerce a
first-year cadet, Tariq Sureddin. But he got caught that time.”
Edwige’s satisfaction was plain in her face and her voice. “That
time Dominic Aranyi had to pay for what he did. That’s why he
adopted Tariq as his son and heir. That’s why—”

But I had at last heard her, not just her
words but the meaning behind them. And somewhere there was still
spirit in me, because I reacted with fury to her attempt to
discredit Dominic.

“I know that!” I shouted. I was sure that
everyone could hear this, with or without
crypta
, but I
didn’t care. There was nothing worse that could happen, and I was
angry—angry on Dominic’s behalf, which made me more ready to fight
than for myself. I jumped up with resurgent energy. “You mean,
nasty bitch! I know all that! I know about Tariq, and I know about
Augustin Vazquez before him, and I know more than you ever will.”
My voice had gone up an octave with the shrieking. I was pacing
back and forth, wanting to kick the furniture, ready to hit Edwige
if she got in my way, although that was a contest I was sure to
lose, since she outweighed me by fifty pounds at least.

Edwige was nonplused. It had never occurred
to her that I might truly be so intimate with Dominic that his
thoughts and desires were as clear to me as my own—clearer,
probably. I had been more surprised by his love for me than by any
of the facts she had told me about him, all things he had told me
himself, or that I had learned by sharing his memories. The
incident with Tariq had been the reason for Dominic’s troubled
thoughts that I had sensed earlier, inspiring only my sympathy for
his distress.

But Edwige was a sibyl, used to dealing with
the unexpected, and she had a logical rejoinder. “If you know
this,” she said, “then you know Margrave Aranyi was merely doing
with you what he does with boys.” She challenged me, stepping in
front of me to interrupt my pacing, forcing me to stop or go around
her. I stopped. “If you know this,” she repeated, “then what is all
the fuss about? Block him out next time. If you need help—”

The fight went out of me as quickly as it had
come. I shook my head, speechless but no longer hostile.

Dominic hadn’t been doing the same thing with
me. There was a crucial difference. Dominic had deliberately chosen
Tariq and the others because they were unwilling. He had enjoyed
their pain or discomfort, mental and physical; it had been an
important part of the pleasure for him. But I had been very
willing. Dominic had known that, as apparently everyone at La
Sapienza had known, yet it had not spoiled his enjoyment, or in any
way disappointed him that I could tell. In fact, his sole concern
seemed to have been my pleasure, as his question afterwards had
shown. I had wondered then if he had been able to derive much
pleasure of his own from the experience, as I had not known how to
reciprocate, with only
crypta
, over a distance.

Edwige’s words had produced the opposite
effect from what she had intended. She had wanted me to think about
last night, to examine Dominic’s motives, assuming that once I did
I would discover the ugly reality of Dominic’s abusive behavior
behind the protective veneer of romance my mind was supplying.
Instead, the more I thought, the more reassured I felt. Whatever
Dominic had known about our audience, I was certain that there had
been nothing but love and benign desire in his purpose last night.
And I would not block him out, at least not until he had had a
chance to explain.

Edwige studied me internally. Try as I might
I could keep nothing from her. She was appalled that I knew more
about Dominic than her worst stories could supply, and loved him
still, that all this dreadful information meant nothing to me.

“This is very serious, Amalie,” she said.
“Sit down and be quiet, because I have something important to say
to you.” I obeyed her without demur; her voice and her manner left
no room for discussion.

“What you are experiencing is a consequence
of
crypta
,” Edwige said. “It arises sometimes between
unrelated telepaths with compatible gifts.”

I smiled, relaxing. Edwige was only stating
what I had suspected. Everything that had happened between Dominic
and me so far merely confirmed the obvious: that our love was a
natural outgrowth of our telepathic abilities, the basic
psychological harmony that two gifted people must have in order for
love to develop between them. Now that Edwige recognized it, I
would not have to waste any more energy and emotion defending
Dominic from her prejudice and hatred.

But this was not exactly what Edwige meant.
“This connection you have with Margrave Aranyi is rare,” she said.
“It is not fully understood, because it occurs infrequently.”

I was surprised, maybe a little smug. I had
thought that what Dominic and I felt was a natural development for
telepaths, that I was merely experiencing first love twenty years
later than usual because of my recent arrival on Eclipsis. If what
we shared was extraordinary, maybe I had no reason to be ashamed
over last night’s unfortunate scene. Maybe the others were merely
envious…

Edwige shook her head at my stupidity.
“Amalie,” she said, anxiety making her diffident, “what I am trying
to tell you is that I don’t know exactly what is involved in this
kind of connection. You are new here, were not brought up in our
ways. And your—” She grimaced, not liking to refer to Dominic in
such terms. “—your lover, Margrave Aranyi, is not a kind man, or
gentle, however he appeared to you last night.”

“You don’t really know him.” I tried one more
argument in Dominic’s defense, then decided it didn’t matter.
Edwige had admitted that for once she did not have all the answers,
that here was something to do with
crypta
beyond her vast
knowledge. It gave me a sense of security at last.
I can ask
Dominic
, I thought. It was that simple. It had all come down
to what I wanted but had not dared hope for. It was between him and
me. I still trusted him, but to make sure, I would ask him.
Tonight, before things went any further.

“Yes,” Edwige said. “Ask him.” I glared at
one more invasion of my mind. “But be aware,” she continued,
oblivious, “that whatever his answer, the choice is yours.”

“I know that,” I said again, calmly this
time. “I just want to hear what he has to say for himself.”

Edwige destroyed my new confidence without
even trying. “No,” she said, “the choice is more than that. This is
a seminary; its seclusion must be absolute. What Margrave Aranyi
did is against all the rules, a fact he’s well aware of. He was in
a seminary himself. Whether he visited you out of love or out of
malice is immaterial. It is not allowed, not even merely to talk.
Training requires full concentration, total commitment to our
purpose, and dedication to the sibyl and the other scholars. Even
talking with an outsider distracts your attention, diverts energy
you will need to learn and do your work.” Edwige had anticipated,
and answered, my next objection.

As depression again began to overtake me,
Edwige was firm. “If you wish to continue your training, to make
the most of the gift you have, then you may not receive Margrave
Aranyi’s visits. I will permit one more, tonight, so that you can
ask your questions, but from then on, if you want to talk to him,
or make love with him, or whatever you do, you must leave La
Sapienza.”

Her terms, like her voice, were final. I
could not take it in at first. I stared at her like the idiot she
had called me earlier, my mind truly blank, devoid of all
activity.

“Please, Amalie,” Edwige said, forcing her
thoughts into my head along with her words, “it’s essential that
you grasp this. You and Margrave Aranyi may be joined in an
unbreakable bond of
crypta
. I don’t know. But you have a
gift. It’s no surprise ‘Graven Assembly accepted you; they need
you. And if you want to truly use your gift, maybe even become a
sibyl, then you must train, not just for six months, but
longer—years. At your age you cannot afford to postpone the
training. You must do it now, while your gift is still strong.”

I was slowly absorbing the real meaning of
what Edwige was telling me. But she was taking no chances that I
might miss it. She reached for my hands. “Form communion,” she
said. “Let me know you understand.”

The link was frightening, her force
overwhelming. There was none of the caress in Dominic’s touch, no
gentle, gradual accommodation to having another mind in mine.
You see, Amalie
, she said directly into the speech
receptors of my brain, like lights exploding behind my eyes,
you must choose between your gift and your lover. I cannot make
that choice for you, and I do not know which is the right choice. I
do not know how difficult it will be. But you will have to make
that choice, and soon
.

E
dwige saw that I
had heard and understood, and she let go of my hands, breaking the
communion. I dropped into the chair, too exhausted to move. She
sent for my aide and he helped me to my room, undressing me and
putting me back into my bed, so recently the scene of such strange
delight. I was excused from all lessons for the day. My thoughts
would be engaged with the decision I must make, and the others
could concentrate better on their work without my distracting
presence.

I lay quietly for a while, my mind at rest.
It was good to have this time with nothing else to occupy me. The
demanding schedule of La Sapienza had used up my strength, mental
and physical, over the past week. What little I had left had been
spent on Dominic’s visits. My consciousness wandered freely in and
out of a half sleep.
Answers will come
, I thought,
if
I let my mind drift and don’t push
.

In the peace of my room, I reflected on
Edwige’s allegations about Dominic more calmly, with less anger and
defensiveness. It was impossible, I admitted, for me to view
Dominic objectively. All I could do was weigh what I knew of
Eclipsian customs and Dominic’s own nature against Edwige’s desire
to protect me, like any novice, from damaging interference.

Dominic was
vir
, had been all his
life. He was what the Greeks had called
pederast
, which
has taken on an ugly meaning on Terra, but was then considered to
be a natural expression of male sexuality. He understood boys,
sympathized with their problems, and enjoyed guiding them on the
way to manhood. Eclipsis, much like that ancient Greek world, is a
warlike society, valuing what are thought of as masculine virtues
of military prowess and aggressiveness. Dominic’s martial skills,
his aristocratic pride and his leadership qualities were all that
young men most wish to emulate, and there would be many
opportunities for friendship to develop between Dominic and an
attractive cadet. For Dominic, as for the Greeks, a sexual
relationship between the older man, the teacher and mentor, and the
younger man, the student and follower, was simply a natural
extension of this intimacy.

On Terra this is taboo, criminal, an adult
preying on a minor. On Eclipsis the view is quite different. Boys
are legally adults at sixteen, and it is assumed, in the all-male
barracks of the Royal Guards, that sexual relationships will
develop, even between officer and cadet on occasion. So long as no
overt favoritism is shown, and the other cadets’ education is not
compromised, no one would see anything objectionable in it.

I had known most of this before I had known
Dominic’s name or what he looked like, the communion revealing
fundamental emotions and desires, and Dominic’s own view of
himself, as readily as simple facts. Yet even at our first meeting
there had been a physical, sexual component to our communion, that
electric buzz we had felt when we touched. Dominic was
predominantly, but not exclusively, same-sex in his tastes. I knew
he had fathered at least two children, deliberately, to produce an
heir for Aranyi, and that he had not found the process
disagreeable. On Eclipsis, choices of sexual partners are
influenced more by social position, rank and station in life than
by ideals of romantic love. But for all that, Dominic was not, on
the whole, interested in women.