Part 17 (1/2)

”You're seeing my death, aren't you?”

She blinked, as if surprised by his bluntness, but her answer was equally frank. ”Yes, I always do. Or I see my own.”

”I'm a hev'rae, so I've seen my share of dying.”

”This is different,” she said evenly.

”Of course.” He flushed. ”Forgive me, I just meant to say that I don't know how you can do it. I mean, how can you talk to people, knowing the exact second that they will cease to be?”

”It can be a difficult thing.” She gazed away, out over the water.

He thought about what it would be like to care about someone, maybe even love someone, knowing that. He suddenly found himself wondering what rhyena'v'raien did about that. Did they have lovers? Families?

Another thought occurred to him. ”Tell me,” he asked, ”Can you act as rhyena'v'rae for a Terran?”

”Perhaps. Are you asking for yourself, Hev'rae?”

He hesitated. ”No. Not at this time.” He watched her face carefully; he didn't want to offend her.

But she only nodded. ”There is a time for everything, Hev'rae. Now is not always the right one.”

”Leave the autoclave to its own devices for one night, Mateo, m'boy. You and I are going out tonight to celebrate.”

Matthew straightened up from the pile of instruments he was sterilizing and peered at Gremekke through clouds of steam. ”Celebrate? Celebrate what?”

”Why, your anniversary, you dolt. Tonight marks the start of your third year on Calypso!”

Matthew glanced at the wall calender, made of strips of cloth with colored beads attached representing the days and months, and he did some mental calculations. ”I'm still thinking in terms of Earth time; I didn't even realize it.” He banged down the lid of the autoclave and stripped off his greens. ”You're on.”

They closed up the dispensary and headed up the street which led over a hill to the public houses on Tanners Row. Gremekke stumped along, wheezing, with Matthew's tactful hand on his arm to guide him around the puddles he normally would have splashed right through. ”Fine night!” he exclaimed. ”Wonderful night! Smell that sea breeze! That's why I'd never move to one of the inland cities.”

Matthew could smell little but the fumes of the leatherworkers' lye, mixed with the smell of dung, but he allowed that the air certainly cleared one's head quickly.

”Absolutely. You certainly picked the right place to come to be a healer. Now, I'll admit that I've wanted to visit Earth sometimes, but I wouldn't trade my practice on Calypso for anything-plenty of opportunity for roll-up-the-sleeves hands-on experience.”

”I did do my residency in the ER at Los Angeles County General,” Matthew said wryly.

Gremekke abruptly came to a stop at the crest of the hill, panting, and Matthew almost plowed right into him.

”This is where I wanted to take you.” Gremekke indicated a nondescript door with an expansive wave of his arm. A wooden placard swinging above it read The River's Edge. From the bottom of the placard hung a copper bell, the symbol of drinking establishments. ”A good place for carousing. Let's go in and buy a barrel of ale and two straws.”

Despite this recommendation, The River's Edge proved to be no more than a friendly, somewhat sleepy neighborhood public house, with a few customers talking quietly among themselves. The room looked big enough to seat thirty people or so, although it held only about half that number at the moment. Bluish smoke from a few pipes drifted, coiling, below the low ceiling, dimming the light. The sweetish smell of the smokeweed mingled pleasantly with the odor of hops, frying onions, and fresh-cut reeds.

Gremekke led the way to a rush mat by the fireplace where they seated themselves on flat floor cus.h.i.+ons and ordered the first pitcher of ale. ”It's your third year here, now,” he said, ”and how long did you say you had practiced on Earth before signing on with the Peace Corps?”

”Five years, in Earth reckoning. I got a late start in the Corps.”

”Me, now, I've been practicing for forty-two years. Forty-two years! Think of it!” He took a deep swallow. ”It's downright terrifying.”

Matthew laughed.

”That's better,” said Gremekke judiciously. ”That's the ticket! Tonight's a night for loosening up.”

”And you think I need that?” asked Matthew, amused.

Gremekke snorted and s.h.i.+fted on his pillow, making the reeds crackle underneath him. ”When you stepped off that s.h.i.+p, I don't mind telling you that for the first day or two, I wondered if it would work out between you and me. Now, you may have been a hev'rae for a while at the time, but I thought you were as bad as the green ones fresh out of training.” He shook his head in mock consternation. ”You were positively grim!”

Matthew grinned into his cup.

”Maybe it was just being in a new place and all. You seem to have gotten over it. Mind you, like I say, all hev'raien start out that way. I started out that way! I tell you, I was-” He broke off and looked over Matthew's shoulder. ”Look, there's Teah.”

Matthew glanced over toward the doorway. Teah stood there, her eyes searching the room. Some of the patrons seated near the door saw her and stirred uneasily. The house owner saw her and scowled before disappearing again into the back kitchen.

”Teah!” Gremekke gestured her over with his cup, slopping a little over his fingers. ”Come and join us, won't you?”

She wove her way toward them through the mats, and Gremekke s.h.i.+fted his pillow over to make room for her. As she seated herself, Matthew reached for the ale pitcher, accidentally brus.h.i.+ng her arm with his fingers. She recoiled, looking at him with such surprise that he mumbled, ”Sorry,” wondering what social taboo he had unwittingly violated this time.

”Oh no, Mateo, I'm not offended,” she hastened to a.s.sure him. ”I was only, well, startled. Most people avoid touching rhyena'v'raien.”

”Everybody sweats when a rhyena'v'rae walks through the door,” Gremekke observed, grinning.

”Except for you, old friend,” she smiled. ”You've never been afraid of me.”

Gremekke chuckled and signaled for another pitcher of ale. ”I usually see you walking everywhere around the city at all kinds of hours, la.s.s, but I haven't seen much of you lately.”

”A hev'rae is usually thankful for that,” she replied drily.

Gremekke, caught in the middle of a swallow, choked on his ale and then laughed again. ”Too true. But Mateo and I are glad to see a friend tonight. We're toasting the start of his third year on Calypso.”

”Congratulations, Mateo.” She filled the ale mug the server brought and took one swallow, then left it untouched. ”You've been lucky to have a sponsor like Gremekke. He's the best hev'rae in the city.”

Gremekke coughed and rumbled, ”Well, now...” but Matthew could see that he was pleased.

”Haven't I always told the truth?” Teah asked. ”I should know. I haven't been practicing as long as you, Gremekke, but I've been around awhile.”

”Gremekke was just telling me about when he started out,” Matthew said.

”Did he tell you about the time he delivered twins upside down?”

Matthew frowned, unsure that he had understood her syntax. ”You mean a double breech delivery?”

”No.” A smile curled at the corner of her mouth. ”I mean Gremekke was upside down, while doing the delivery.

”What?”

”That was about oh, nineteen, twenty years ago, I think. A pregnant woman fell through some rotted flooring in one of the warehouses on Sailmaker Street. The fall started her labor, and by the time someone heard her screams, she was so near her time that they didn't even have a chance to dig her out. Someone got Gremekke, and they lowered him headfirst through the hole and held on to his legs while he delivered the babies. Two of them.”