Steven Brust - Agyar

My temper began to rise, and I had an almost overpowering urge to take Susan right then, whatever her desires; almost overpowering, not quite. I don’t know what it was that held me back, but for a moment things hung in the balance, and in that time I think Susan saw a side of me I had not intended to show her. At any rate, she took a step backward and watched me the way one might watch a dog whose disposition has not been ascertained.

But this time, the dog only bristled a little. I regained composure, and Susan regained her puzzled look, and she seemed to shake herself as if she weren’t quite certain what it was that she almost saw.

I said, “I can hardly be responsible for her delirium. Have you consulted a doctor?”

She frowned. “No. Do you think I should?”

“Does she seem sick?”

“Look at her.”

“Well, then perhaps calling a doctor would be more productive than accusing me of I know not what crimes against your roommate.”

She took a couple of deep breaths, then nodded. “I’m sorry I snapped at you,” she said. “I’m worried about Jill.”

“Yes. As far as I can tell, you have reason to be.”

“Then should I-?”

“Yes. If she’s still like this tomorrow, I’d call a doctor.”

“Tomorrow?”

“You could do it now, if you’re worried, but I should give it another day.”

She nodded, and I think what had really been bothering her was that she hadn’t quite known what to do with a roommate as sick as Jill apparently was, nor had she had anyone to ask. “Wait another day, you think?” she said again, as if for more reassurance.

“That’s what I’d do, unless she seems to be getting worse.”

“Okay,” she said, relaxing as the decision was made. “That’s what I’ll do.”

Now I frowned. “You look a little pale yourself. Have you eaten today?”

She blinked, as if it were a question that would never have occurred to her. “You know, I don’t believe I have. Are you hungry?”

“No, but I can keep you company. Where shall we go?”

She smiled, and she was the Susan I knew again. “Out,” she said, swinging her arms.

“Shhhh. Don’t wake patient.”

She lowered her voice, but said, “I doubt that I could.”

I led the way. As we locked the front door behind us, she said, “How do you keep getting in without my knowing it? Did Jill give you a key without mentioning it to me?”

“Trade secret,” I said.

“What trade is that? Cat burglar?”

“Yes, although I prefer the technical term.”

“What’s that?”

“Music promoter.”

She laughed. “You aren’t really a promoter, are you?”

“No, I’m afraid not. If I were, I’d give you a contract.”

“I don’t doubt that a bit,” she said.

The wind was fierce, so I sheltered her with my body. It’s funny, but there is a kind of intimacy that vanishes along with one’s clothes, and that can sometimes become stronger as more layers are added. Walking beneath the new moon, huddling against the wind and the occasional streetlights, I almost felt as if we were a single person, intertwining our emotions with our hair, her breath steaming around our heads.

She said, “There’s something fey about you, you know.”

“Fey?” I laughed. “I’ve never been called fey before.”

“You haven’t? I’m surprised.”

“I must say I prefer it to some of the things I have been called.”

She chuckled into the collar of my coat. “Don’t tell me,” she said, her voice muffled. The top of her head looked very charming that way.

“I shan’t.”

We found a restaurant called the Nawlins, which was a storefront with too many tables and not enough waiters for the space, and I bought her some shrimp Creole and a beer, which she seemed to thoroughly enjoy. After the beer she switched to coffee, and I joined her with my usual half-cup. She seemed to think that was funny.

She asked about my love life, which threw me for a bit, but I ended up telling her about Kellem, although in general terms and not by name. Susan thinks Kellem is very frightened, and wants a man to make her feel secure, but is afraid to trust anyone enough to make a difference. I almost laughed at this, and then I began wondering if there wasn’t some truth in it. I still wonder.

We drifted onto other subjects, and I cannot for the life of me remember what we talked about, but we suddenly noticed that everyone else had left and the busboy, a college-aged kid who’d gone to the Art Garfunkel school of hair fashion, was giving us significant looks. I left an extra tip for his trouble and helped Susan with her coat.

“Back home?” I said. “Or is there somewhere else worth going?”

“I wish it were summer so we could walk along the lakeshore.”

“We can anyway. Stand on the rocks and watch the waves crash while the wind-”

“Freezes our cute little behinds off. No thanks.”

“You have no trace of romance in you,” I said.

She smiled at me. “Wanna bet?”

“Right. Home then.”

We made it in spite of the powdered snow that the wind threw into our faces, though my hands were thoroughly chilled. When we got inside, I said, “You’re going to have to warm me up.”

“Let’s check on Jill, first,” she said.

“All right.”

So we did, and decided that she seemed to be breathing a little easier, though she still didn’t wake up. Then I took Susan’s hand and led her into the bedroom.

All right, yeah, she did have some romance in her, after all.

I had finished typing up the tale of yesterday and was preparing for sleep when Jim came up and told me that Kellem had been over looking for me. I cursed under my breath and said, “Did she say what she wanted?”

“No,” said Jim. “She didn’t seem upset that you weren’t here.”

“Did you invite her in?”

He nodded. “She insisted.”

“What did she do?”

“Looked around a little, complimented me on the woodwork and the fixtures.”

“That’s all?”

“Yes.”

Jim didn’t seem happy about it, but, come to that, he has been very moody since the visit of the police; I don’t know if he is worried on my behalf, or upset about having his home invaded. Perhaps some of each. I would like to go down and make a fire, but I don’t dare; the smoke might be seen. Instead, I will spend some more time going over the newspaper articles, useless as I now think that will be.

I wish I could find a way to learn or deduce what Kellem has done that worries her so. If I could find a means of protecting her that would not cost my life, I could perhaps convince her to accept it, in spite of what happened the last time I tried to speak to her.

And why shouldn’t she be willing to grant me my life, if she can do so at no cost or danger to herself? It isn’t as if she has never cared for me. Years ago, we used to spend a great deal of time together-more than she would have had to. But I was utterly taken with her, and I think she enjoyed being worshiped as intensely as I worshiped her.

We would spend hour after hour just walking and talking, me eagerly asking questions about her life and the ways of her world, and she would take me to the theater and hold forth on philosophy or tell me stories of people she had known. Her decision to leave London, and, in fact, the British Isles, came a few weeks before the battle of Atbara, and she helped me through that first horrible winter crossing of the Channel.