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Mahit Dzmare searched his face for a flicker of compromise, a scintilla of uncertainty that might signify a shift in his stance, revealing an opening that she might occupy and thereafter exploit. A breathing space in negotiations that, thus far, had suffocated her with their complexity.
And she found nothing. Resolute in his stony impassiveness, no quarter given or expected. As formidable an opponent as she had ever faced when fencing with words and employing all their nuance, allusion and directness, in the past.
She turned her attention away from the baristizl to the intricacies of the tableau before her yet again:
Espresso
Ristretto
Doppio
Lungo
Americano
Cortado
Espresso macchiato
Affogato
Romano
-
Cappuccino
Flat White
Latte
Latte Macchiato
-
Mocha
Caramel Latte Macchiato
…
Thereafter it descended into the arcane esoterica of variously flavoured espressos, exotic methods of extraction and even, blessed stars above, frappuccinos. Mahit made a quick tabulation and estimated that there were at least 62 different options.
<Any of the frappuccinos, thanks.> Yskander, a sweet sensation at the back of her tongue.
I thought we’d reached an understanding: my body, my choice.
The baristizl - “Hi, I’m Fourteen Terrines” proclaimed the name tag, proudly pinned to his immaculate brown and green uniform - exhaled and rolled his eyes. Mahit glanced around the cafe, its minimal, clean lines decorated in shades of cream with gold highlights that reflected the low, early morning sun. Could she make her excuses and retreat? The eatery was attached to one of the skyport’s many concourses and had been too tempting to resist, but now she was caught. The Teixcalaanlitzlim immediately behind her in the queue that snaked back to the entrance, released an exaggerated sigh.
Why did her life appear to be doomed to find itself entwined in interactions of such complexity? The considerations in this choice were dizzying, paralyzing. How could she avoid the disgrace that would be heaped upon her by selecting an option of such vulgarity that it could only be made by a hopeless rube, a bumpkin from some gods-forsaken place teetering on the edge of the Empire for whom coffee had hitherto been restricted to a brown, earthy-musky-tasting powder to be mixed with hot water and drunk quickly to kick start tired synapses. Would she, yet again, put the bald fact of her barbarity on display for all to see?
<Come on. Frappuccino. You know you want to.>
I really don’t. I’m looking for the more correct, more civilized option.
Mahit’s feet had barely disembarked from her skiff and touched the ground of The Jewel of the World an hour previously and already she was embroiled in a situation . It was clear to her now that she had been foolish to attempt a task so delicate unaided. But Three Seagrass was already providing the food for their picnic. To procure her own coffee had seemed like a necessary statement of independence.
She needed a strategy to navigate this situation before it escalated into outright conflict; the debacle of the Froyo Incident during her previous visit was still fresh in her mind. She would assume that some of the options on display were offered merely to ensnare the ignorant and weak-willed, those that were uninterested in the actual flavour of the coffee. To select these would be to mark her out as someone unworthy of the attentions and expertise of the baristizl before her.
“Well,” Mahit began, “The Death By Candy Floss Frappuccino is a bit too sweet for me.” Let him know that she was not entirely lacking in understanding.
“Ok,” he deadpanned in reply.
<Killjoy.> Yskander, retreating to become a sensation like a shadow of an ache, in the back of her mind, no place.
“It is a very comprehensive menu,” she declared. Put him on the defensive. It was ridiculous; how was a person meant to evaluate every possible selection in seconds?
“Just our standard,” Fourteen Terrines shrugged, countering effortlessly.
Damn it, she’d left herself open to that one. If only Reed were here, she would be able to lead her by the hand through the vagaries of life in the Jewel of the World. Reed’s hand - Mahit was diverted into pleasant memories of fingers intertwined, fingertips stroking-
Someone behind her coughed in a manner that made it obvious they were in perfect health, but that their patience was running desperately thin.
“Umm. What would you recommend?” she asked. Grant him the opportunity to demonstrate his expertise in coffee and perceptiveness of his clientele.
“You look like a Cappuccino girl to me,” he replied, raising one eyebrow.
Mahit strained to recall any recent poetry, shows or popular songs in which there was mention of cappuccinos and girls, but the cultural nuance of what she felt sure was a slight of some sort remained opaque to her. “Cappuccino then,” she declared confidently and, clamping her lips firmly together, beamed in the Teixcalaan style.
“Great,” the baristizl looked relieved as he gestured to another section of the signage: “What kind of milk?” he asked.
Mahit read the options: Full fat, skim, soy, almond, rice, coconut, m-optima, ultra-lact, zero-point, nanocream, dolphin. She had some knowledge of rice, but the rest were entirely alien to her.
But she was the alien, and the Jewel of the World was constructed such that there were an endless myriad of ways it could remind her of her otherness. The Teixcalaanlitzlim that congregated here understood perfectly the difference between almond and m-optima, and-
Someone behind her cursed under their breath. Another groaned loudly.
“Dolphin?” she ventured.
She heard a gasp from somewhere in the queue. Fourteen Terrines’ eyebrows made a mad dash for his hairline and he gave her a minute shake of the head.
“Soy,” she corrected quickly.
“Very good madam,” he exhaled in relief. “Name?”
“Mahit,” this one, at least, was simple.
The baristizl prodded his console which beeped, eliciting a frown.
“I need a number and a word,” he shrugged, “Or it says ‘invalid input’.”
Somewhere behind her was a cry of surprise, and voices raised in alarm. She turned to see that an elderly citizen in the queue had collapsed, and was being assisted by other patrons. It was quite stuffy in here, and they had all been standing for some time, she reflected. Blessed stars, why did such episodes follow her wherever she went?
Mahit spun back to Fourteen Terrines, “Three Mahit,” she urged.
He entered it rapidly, requested the requisite amount of currency from the stationer’s credit chip, and the transaction was mercifully concluded. Mahit attempted to become as inconspicuous as possible while waiting for the beverage to be delivered, casually watching travellers from all corners of the Empire stream past the cafe windows, but feeling the pressure of a dozen disapproving glares upon her.
After an interminable wait, the drink arrived in its colorful, fibrous container, “Three Machine” printed on the side. Close enough, she sighed, and took a sip. And was pleasantly surprised; stars, it had been so long since she’d had a decent coffee. Irida was in many ways the perfect world to have settled after exile from Lsel, but the dominant traditional hot drink there was brewed from the needle-like leaves of a hardy bush native to the cool climate. An acquired taste, it was safe to say, and one she was yet to pick up. Coffee was a niche specialty. Maybe she could start a cafe of her own, she mused; her finances were looking good, working her way up the corporate ladder as she was.
<Not bad. Bit more sugar?>
Compromise. We’ll have a small one.
Dash of sugar added and stirred, she exited the cafe to emerge into the bustle of the skyport with purpose in her stride. Despite the delay, she was still on schedule. Excellent; she was sure that Three Seagrass would be on time, and didn’t want to keep her waiting. It had been too long since their previous meeting.
<Two months, ten days.>
Exactly .
---
Towering edifices of glass and polished metal reflected the low sun into blinding flares, dazzling Mahit intermittently as the moving walkway whisked her into the heart of the City, causing her to shield her eyes as she watched the place awaken and start its day. The crisp morning air became positively chilly at these speeds, and the combination of the coffee and the rush of cool wind on her cheeks, ruffling her hair, made her feel twice awakened.
Mahit watched the people, the architecture, the activity of The Jewel of the World slide by and found it as confusing an assault on the spirit and senses as her first time here. Full of scenes and places that had a nagging familiarity inherited from the absorbed images of hundreds of holos and books, yet were also entirely alien to her. Objects and details, the minutiae of everyday life, that were unrecognizable, but summoned a memory, a response, a feeling from the depths of another contained within her, a sea of experiences still uncharted. She reflected again on how little time she had actually spent here, her previous few visits adding up to a handful of days, many of them lost in a blur of drama and danger.
<It’s refreshing to see it through your gaze, renewed once more.>
Commuters paced familiar routes to their place of work, moving with a shared purpose. Children chatted on their way to classes. The citizens of The World were a dizzying array of uniforms, garments and colors, each of which signified a role in maintaining the vast machine of Teixcalaan, keeping it smooth and polished to a brilliant brightness. Everyone had their part to play. To be here felt to be in the heart of things, for your actions to matter, to be a player, even if a minor one, in the center of the magnificent saga that was the Empire.
It was intoxicating, and little wonder that Three Seagrass couldn’t bear to be parted from the place. Mahit had tried, but never quite succeeded in making her see how a life someplace other than The Jewel wasn’t lesser , just other and other, as she should understand all too well, could be inspiring and desirable. But Reed’s career was on a trajectory towards the stars, and Mahit understood her unwavering conviction that this was where she needed to be. Understood, yes, but at the same time was unable to rid herself of a disquiet that nagged and chipped away at her on long, cold Iridan nights. A fear that these long weekends were all they would ever own. Reed’s attempts to secure her a job in the City had been well meaning, but employment options for barbarians were limited, and some of her selections had been… quirky.
<And subject to some very personal preferences, I suspect.>
I never asked, thank you.
Mahit shuddered and hoped no more of those were coming her way today.
-----
Chocolate banana muffins. On the picnic blanket, or in the basket?
The arrangement of tidbits laid out on the white and violet gingham linen before Three Seagrass was complete in its delectableness and meticulously aligned arrangement. She adjusted the spacing between the glasses, frittatas (freshly made, the reason for the very early start) and the insulated carafe of chilled, freshly squeezed orange juice. At least, it had been chilled an hour ago when she left her apartment, laden with hamper, cooler, blanket and assorted other containers. How much would its temperature have risen since then? She’d not thought to bring any ice. Stars above.
If she moved the glasses any further to the left, they’d be uncomfortably close to the fruit salad, which paired perfectly with the granola and yoghurt on their matching earthenware bowls. Muffins in the basket then. A surprise for later.
She smoothed the (already immaculately smoothed) picnic blanket, checked the time - 08:00 exactly - and exhaled, making a conscious effort to not check behind her for Mahit, who would approach from West Garden terminus. She needed a moment of peace to compose herself. That had been close. Picking up the croissants and cinnamon bread had taken 5 minutes longer than expected, coupled with the 2 minute delay in buying the muffins and strenuousness of carrying all of it to the top of this particular hill, and she had barely made the rendezvous in time. But it had to be done; Mahit had effused about that cinnamon bread last time they’d dropped into the bakery, and Three Seagrass’s cherry tomato frittatas had been a favorite since first bite.
And the climb had been worth it. She reclined on one of the two, carefully positioned, floral patterned cushions and took in the perfect green lawns undulating before her, dotted with rust colored trees, a smattering of citizens in brightly colored leisurewear taking their morning exercise on paths that snaked through the landscape, maneuvering around students ambling to the first lecture of the day. Beyond the park, sparkles of morning sun shimmered on the surface of West Lake, on the opposite shore of which stood the walls of the central palace complex that guarded the towers of crystal and alabaster piercing the clear blue sky.
The perfect spot for Mahit to rest and unwind; she was sure to be tired from her travels. A familiar pang of guilt tugged at Three Seagrass’ heart; it was always Mahit that made the journey and though she’d never complained, it was another point of imbalance in their relationship. Not for much longer though. Stars, she’d barely been able to contain herself in their correspondence, keeping the news back for the big surprise this morning. Three Seagrass hoped she was doing the right thing; it was a major step for both of them, and she had made it unilaterally. Did that defeat the purpose when she intended it to bridge the power gap and bring them closer together? Her elevated station meant she was much better positioned to solve their distance problem, and an opportunity had presented itself, so she had taken it.
She had intended to run it past Mahit, she really had, but had become paralyzed with a fear that her Ambassador might be displeased that her girlfriend (of... what, not even two years?) had done this without consulting her, would think it too presumptive or intrusive, or be less than enthusiastic for some reason that she hardly dared think about but honestly couldn’t be shocked by if her suspicions turned out to be correct. Mahit wasn’t unattractive, she was bright and had something special, a magnetism that charmed and drew people to her, and there were light years between them. Oh gods and stars above, had she assumed too much? Had she taken an impulsive leap of faith only to discover that she was throwing herself into a cold, dark void?
Three Seagrass’ stomach twisted into a roiling mess, and she wondered if she should have packed that sparkling wine after all, instead of leaving it for the evening...
-----
Mahit paused for a moment on the grassy slope and took a breath. A high gravity day.
The hill hadn’t looked like much, but the pull of The World was fractionally stronger than she had grown up in or was becoming accustomed to on Irida, and the climb had been tougher than expected; she needed to pace herself.
A minute later, the summit reached. And no sign of Three Seagrass. Mahit was sure she had followed the instructions correctly. A cloudhook would make the task of meeting up simple, but they were for citizens only, and this floundering, breathless search was yet another reminder-
And there she was.
Atop the next gently rolling summit. Facing away, sat on a picnic cloth, long dark hair untied and free, spilling down the back of a crisp white shirt, legs stretched out before her in loose white pants, shoes removed to reveal ankles and feet that flexed in the crisp air, their tan deep against the bright fabric, burnished in the morning sun. Mahit’s gaze followed the line of her neck as it curved into her shoulders, arms braced and hands splayed to support her as she watched the city she loved, her home. On first sight, after an absence, Mahit was always struck at how small and delicate Three Seagrass looked, such a contrast to the indomitable spirit that occupied her thoughts and colored her memories while they were apart.
Some instinct caused her to turn her head, catch sight of Mahit and smile, teeth showing in an unconscious reflection, because, Mahit realised, she was smiling also, unreservedly, uncaring of customs for once, her thoughts and fears of otherness suddenly dispelled, consigned to someplace too many light years distant to be any trouble at all. After becoming lost in seconds stretched long by reverie, Mahit became aware that she had stopped walking, and resumed with a new energy in her step.
-----
Three Seagrass knew she was grinning like a barbarian idiot and really, honestly didn’t care. She never grew tired of watching Mahit move, absurdly long limbs ambling across the lawn, gorgeously awkward but possessing an elegance all her own. Three Seagrass found herself overcome by the need to be tangled up in those legs, their skin smooth against hers, for those arms to wrap her up, hold her so tight that she barely knew where she ended and the other began. Later, later, after dinner and that sparkling wine. If she could contain herself that long. Fuck.
Mahit arrived at the picnic and looked it over appreciatively, “Quite a spread.”
“Oh, I just threw it together this morning,” Three Segrass dismissed it with a wave of the hand, “Hope it’s to your liking. It is to mine.”
“Well, that’s the main thing,” Mahit sat, reclining on one elbow, then surrendered to fatigue and impulse to stretch out flat on the blanket and release a long, luxurious groan. That done, she sat back up to survey the food arranged before her, considered the number of bags and containers and the height of the hill she had just climbed. “You brought all this up yourself?”
“I did. I’m really regretting skipping fitclass.”
“Now I feel guilty,” Mahit frowned, “I only brought a coffee.”
“And yourself, so I’ll let you off,” Three Seagrass smiled.
Mahit indicated the to-go cup in question and the name printed on its side, “Just call me ‘Three Machine’.”
“This takes your love for our culture into an entirely new realm,” Three Seagrass nodded her approval, “Your assimilation is complete.”
“Knew I’d get there some day,” Mahit looked out across the shimmering lake and the palace beyond. “Fabulous spot. Well worth the climb.”
“It is when you’re only carrying a cup of coffee. It was a favorite of Twelve Azalea and I,” she sighed, as Mahit met her eye with a pitying look. “Let’s eat. You must be starving. I know I am.”
“Please. Liner food never agrees with me. I’ve been salivating all the way from the skyport in anticipation.”
“Strangely enough, I also have been salivating in anticipation,” Three Seagrass arched one eyebrow and lowered her voice, “But not for the food.”
Mahit arched one straight back, “Though I can only speculate as to what you are so eagerly awaiting, Ms Seagrass, I dare predict that it will surpass your wildest expectations.”
“A brave prediction, Ms Dzmare.”
“But it’s not going to come true without the most important meal of the day. Let’s start.”
---
Ten minutes later, the bowls that had contained fruit, yoghurt and granola were neatly stacked to one side and it was the turn of the cinnamon twists to be nibbled.
“Reed,” Mahit sipped her juice.
“Mmm hmm?” Three Seagrass mumbled through a mouthful of twist.
“I have to ask.”
“Yes?”
“Are these guys here for you or for me?” she nodded behind Three Seagrass, who turned to see a row of five Sunlit a distance away, faces shielded in reflective gold but plainly all focused on the two girls. Their shocksticks were at the ready, and she could see a sixth walking across the park to join them.
“I thought this might happen,” Three Seagrass turned back to Mahit and swallowed the pastry.
“Am I in trouble already?” Mahit asked, exasperated, “I usually get a day or two of relative peace before various parties try to assassinate or kidnap me.”
“No. I believe they are here as a precaution, a preventative measure,” Three Seagrass explained, “We are both flagged by the City AI as disruptive persons. Extremely disruptive. When the two of us are in the same location, this creates a critical mass of disruptive awfulness,”
“Or awesomeness, I would argue.”
“Awfulness, as far as the AI is concerned. Emperors die, insurrections rise and fall, the safety of the Empire is threatened by alien civilizations. I imagine when we met here, this triggered all manner of alarms and the AI had a fit, hence-” she waved in the direction of the cluster of Sunlit.
Mahit tutted. “So they’re going to follow us around all weekend?”
“Probably,” Three Seagrass sighed, “In which case I consider it my sworn duty to make you forget they even exist. I have a full schedule planned, and they are not invited.”
“So,” Mahit considered, “Simply the fact of us being in roughly the same location, can cause dangerous, disruptive events to occur.”
“Apparently.”
Mahit moved a plate and glass out of the way and shuffled across the blanket to Three Seagrass where they both reclined, facing each other.
“What about now?”
“Blessed stars,” Three Seagrass dark eyes were fixed on hers, “The Empire could fall at any moment.”
Mahit moved a little closer. They were almost touching, her face hovering a breath away.
“Now?”
“I think,” Three Seagrass whispered, “There is a danger of the galaxy burning down.”
She reached up, and touched Mahit’s shoulder, holding her there. “Mahit, I have news. Employment news.”
“Oh stars,” the stationer withdrew a little, “This had better not be another exotic dancer audition. I’m really not cut out for it.”
“Well,” The asekreta frowned and continued defensively, “I maintain that it wasn’t an entirely terrible idea. Dominant barbarian women are an increasingly popular trend these days, and,” her eyes flicked up and down the stationer lying beside her, “you have the figure for it.”
“I almost put the poor man’s eye out with that whip.”
“They had omitted to inform me about the props,” Three Seagrass protested, “My preparation was spot on otherwise, and that leather bikini cost a fortune.”
“Hmm,” Mahit hmmed, and left it there. She had never been sure how much of that traumatically embarrassing episode was a reflection of Three Seagrass’ own preferences.
“No, this is not about another audition, though we can but hope.”
<Ah, ha.>
As close an admission as we’ll ever get that my gainful employment wasn’t the only consideration.
“This is about my employment,” Three Seagrass continued, “A new station.”
“You’re a better dancer than me but that bikini will never fit.”
“I think I could make it work. No; meet the new Ambassador to Irida,” she said, and took a sip of juice, leaving it there to watch her companion’s reaction.
Mahit’s mouth fell open a little before she collected herself, “You can’t be serious.”
“I am. I start in three months,” Three Seagrass announced, matter-of-factly, “The current one resigned unexpectedly, I knew they were searching for options and I pulled a few strings.”
“Reed, you can’t,” Mahit sat up in alarm, astonishment giving way to concern, “Your entire life is here.”
“That’s debatable. Anyway, I can. It’s done.”
“That means leaving The City.”
“Well, yes, obviously.”
“But why would you even consider that?”
“Stars above, Mahit, why do you think?” a little exasperated now. This reaction, while not entirely unexpected, wasn’t what she had hoped for. In her fantasies, arms had been flung around her neck, gratitudes whispered breathlessly in her ear. Had she been too rash, too impulsive?
“Your career. You’d said you were on track to make Inszelin at the Ministry.”
“And I still can. Two or three years on Irida won’t change that.”
“I won’t even start on the fact that you’re a little young to be an Ambassador, tempting as that is.”
“Good. Best not go there.”
“Won’t you miss all this?” Mahit turned to gesture at the lake and palace beyond.
“Who’s to say what I’ll find to love on Irida. And anyway,” she held Mahit’s gaze as it returned to her, “My life is already too full of yearning for things I miss. That’s the point of this relocation.”
“I can’t ask this of you.” Mahit knew she should be grateful, and should be displaying her gratitude, and the fact that she wasn’t, that she was holding back, twisted her heart. But it felt like too much; she loved Three Seagrass’ impetuousness like unexpected sunshine on a cloudy day, but had she gone too far?
“You never did. It’s mine to give,” she reached out and took Mahit’s hand, fingers weaving together, her thumb stroking a fingernail, ”These meetings, they’re not enough are they? We both know that. We’ve been trying to find a solution, and I’m in a privileged position. I can afford to be mobile.”
“I think that career-wise, it’s a diversion, true, but not a derailment. It may illuminate some new possibilities. And I think it’ll be good in other ways. There’s always been this imbalance between us. You the fish out of water, I the navigator. Let’s meet on a more equal footing.”
“Well, you’ll still be the grand Ambassador,” Mahit looked at her dubiously.
“True,” Three Seagrass conceded, “but we’ll both be fish.”
“I don’t know what to say.” Mahit ran fingers through her hair. Three Seagrass was taking a risk, despite her reassurances. What if this all went wrong? What if her career was wrecked and that vainglorious ambition thwarted. How much of it would be on her?
“You do want this don’t you?” Three Seagrass studied Mahit’s face for answers she was unsure she wanted, becoming submerged under a wave of anxiety.
Mahit looked into wide, dark eyes and saw in them a fear that could only be quelled by one answer. She leaned over and their lips met, gently at first, then more insistently as she reached behind, fingertips on the cool skin of Three Seagrass neck, to pull her into a kiss that tasted of cinnamon and citrus, a sweetness too delicious to let go.
She closed her eyes to let the world fly far away, suspended in a kiss where she wasn’t a barbarian, an alien, a disruption, or a traitor, just a girl to be loved and that could love in return. Lost in a touch on her lips and a closeness, wrapped up in one that wanted her and needed her so much that it became a danger, divine and enticing.
Three Seagrass closed her eyes to swim in a kiss that tasted like a promise. A vow without words that they would be undaunted in the face of a universe that had assailed them with obstacles that had seemed impossibly huge, but they had overcome to be here and now, with a strength greater than they had ever suspected, ready to continue to fight to be together, and win.
She ran her fingers through dark curls, traced the lines of gloriously sharp cheekbones and the world and its distractions fell away, leaving her only with the truth of where she was and the knowledge that this was where she was meant to be. A place that wasn’t a park, the City, or The Jewel of the World. Locations were irrelevant. She belonged right here, with her, and as long as she could find her way here, everything would be wonderful, just right.
Three Seagrass broke away into a long sigh. “That feels like a ‘yes’, Ms Dzmare.”
“That’s a ‘fuck yes’, you crazy fool,” Mahit breathed, and glanced over Three Seagrass’ shoulder at the growing mob of Sunlit that continued to watch, unmoving and impassive.
“Let’s give them something to really worry about,” she said, and pulled the girl of delicate stature and tenacious spirit, the poet of vainglorious ambition and impulsive desires, closer.
So they did. And the AI that was the heart of the City at the center of the Empire calculated ripples in probability that were positively alarming, expanding outward from an epicenter of growing intensity, spawning new potentials that required a recalculation of the day and those that followed, and for a moment, the World revolved around two girls that cared not a bit for it, spirited far away on a kiss that felt like home.