“How can they…” Faces Sunward trailed off, unable to finish.
Another voice completed Faces Sunward’s thought. “It seems like a very cruel ecosystem. Why was the planet not abandoned?”
“That has been debated, naturally, Robert. But we do not abandon planets lightly. There are many souls for whom Fire World is home. They will not be uprooted against their will.” I looked away, back at my notes, in an attempt to end the side discussion.
“But it’s barbaric!”
Robert was physically younger than most of the other students—closer to my age, in fact, than any other. And truly a child in a more important way. Earth was his first world—the Mother in this case had actually been an Earth-dweller, too, before she’d given herself—and he didn’t seem to have as much perspective as older, better-traveled souls. I wondered what it would be like to be born into the overwhelming sensation and emotion of these hosts with no prior experience for balance. It would be difficult to find objectivity. I tried to remember that and be especially patient as I answered him.
“Every world is a unique experience. Unless one has lived on that world, it’s impossible to truly understand the —”
“But you never lived on Fire World,” he interrupted me. “You must have felt the same way.… Unless you had some other reason for skipping that planet? You’ve been almost everywhere else.”
“Choosing a planet is a very personal and private decision, Robert, as you may someday experience.” My tone closed the subject absolutely.
Why not tell them? You do think it’s barbaric—and cruel and wrong. Which is pretty ironic if you ask me—not that you ever do. What’s the problem? Are you ashamed that you agree with Robert? Because he’s more human than the others?
Melanie, having found her voice, was becoming downright unbearable. How was I supposed to concentrate on my work with her opinions sounding off in my head all the time?
In the seat behind Robert, a dark shadow moved.
The Seeker, clad in her usual black, leaned forward, intent for the first time on the subject of discussion.
I resisted the urge to scowl at her. I didn’t want Robert, already looking embarrassed, to mistake the expression as meant for him. Melanie grumbled. She wished I wouldn’t resist. Having the Seeker stalk our every footstep had been educational for Melanie; she used to think she couldn’t hate anything or anyone more than she hated me.
“Our time is almost up,” I announced with relief. “I’m pleased to inform you that we will have a guest speaker next Tuesday who will be able to make up for my ignorance on this topic. Flame Tender, a recent addition to our planet, will be here to give us a more personal account of the settling of Fire World. I know that you will give him all the courtesy you accord me, and be respectful of the very young age of his host. Thank you for your time.”
The class filed out slowly, many of the students taking a minute to chat with one another as they gathered their things. What Kathy had said about friendships ran through my head, but I felt no desire to join any of them. They were strangers.
Was that the way I felt? Or the way Melanie felt? It was hard to tell. Maybe I was naturally antisocial. My personal history supported that theory, I supposed. I’d never formed an attachment strong enough to keep me on any planet for more than one life.
I noticed Robert and Faces Sunward lingering at the classroom door, locked in a discussion that seemed intense. I could guess the subject.
“Fire World stories ruffle feathers.”
I started slightly.
The Seeker was standing at my elbow. The woman usually announced her approach with the quick tap of her hard shoes. I looked down now to see that she was wearing sneakers for once—black, of course. She was even tinier without the extra inches.
“It’s not my favorite subject,” I said in a bland voice. “I prefer to have firsthand experience to share.”
“Strong reactions from the class.”
“Yes.”
She looked at me expectantly, as if waiting for more. I gathered my notes and turned to put them in my bag.
“You seemed to react as well.”
I placed my papers in the bag carefully, not turning.
“I wondered why you didn’t answer the question.”
There was a pause while she waited for me to respond. I didn’t.
“So… why didn’t you answer the question?”
I turned around, not concealing the impatience on my face. “Because it wasn’t pertinent to the lesson, because Robert needs to learn some manners, and because it’s no one else’s business.”
I swung my bag to my shoulder and headed for the door. She stayed right beside me, rushing to keep up with my longer legs. We walked down the hallway in silence. It wasn’t until we were outside, where the afternoon sun lit the dust motes in the salty air, that she spoke again.
“Do you think you’ll ever settle, Wanderer? On this planet, maybe? You seem to have an affinity for their… feelings.”
I bridled at the implied insult in her tone. I wasn’t even sure how she meant to insult me, but it was clear that she did. Melanie stirred resentfully.
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Tell me something, Wanderer. Do you pity them?”
“Who?” I asked blankly. “The Walking Flowers?”
“No, the humans.”
I stopped walking, and she skidded to a halt beside me. We were only a few blocks from my apartment, and I’d been hurrying in hopes of getting away from her, though likely as not, she’d invite herself in. But her question caught me off guard.
“The humans?”
“Yes. Do you pity them?”
“Don’t you?”
“No. They were quite the brutal race. They were lucky to survive each other as long as they did.”
“Not every one of them was bad.”
“It was a predilection of their genetics. Brutality was part of their species. But you pity them, it seems.”
“It’s a lot to lose, don’t you think?” I gestured around us. We stood in a parklike space between two ivy-covered dormitories. The deep green of the ivy was pleasing to the eye, especially in contrast to the faded red of the old bricks. The air was golden and soft, and the smell of the ocean gave a briny edge to the honey sweet fragrance of the flowers in the bushes. The breeze caressed the bare skin of my arms. “In your other lives, you can’t have felt anything so vivid. Wouldn’t you pity anyone who had this taken from them?” Her expression stayed flat, unmoved. I made an attempt to draw her in, to make her consider another viewpoint. “Which other worlds have you lived on?”
She hesitated, then squared her shoulders. “None. I’ve only lived on Earth.”
That surprised me. She was as much a child as Robert. “Only one planet? And you chose to be a Seeker in your first life?”
She nodded once, her chin set.
“Well. Well, that’s your business.” I started walking again. Maybe if I respected her privacy, she would return the favor.
“I spoke to your Comforter.”
And maybe not, Melanie thought sourly.
“What?” I gasped.
“I gather you’ve been having more trouble than just accessing the information I need. Have you considered trying another, more pliable host? She suggested that, did she not?”
“Kathy wouldn’t tell you anything!”
The Seeker’s face was smug. “She didn’t have to answer. I’m very good at reading human expressions. I could tell when my questions struck a nerve.”
“How dare you? The relationship between a soul and her Comforter —”
“Is sacrosanct, yes; I know the theory. But the acceptable means of investigation don’t seem to be working with your case. I have to get creative.”
“You think I’m keeping something from you?” I demanded, too angry to control the disgust in my voice. “You think I confided that to my Comforter?”
My anger didn’t faze her. Perhaps, given her strange personality, she was used to such reactions.
“No. I think you’re telling me what you know.… But I don’t think you’re looking as hard as you could. I’ve seen it before. You’re growing sympathetic to your host. You’re letting her memories unconsciously direct your own desires. It’s probably too late at this point. I think you’d be more comfortable moving on, and maybe someone else will have better luck with her.”
“Hah!” I shouted. “Melanie would eat them alive!”
Her expression froze in place.
She’d had no idea, no matter what she thought she’d discerned from Kathy. She’d thought Melanie’s influence was from memories, that it was unconscious.
“I find it very interesting that you speak of her in the present tense.”
I ignored that, trying to pretend I hadn’t made a slip. “If you think someone else would have better luck breaking into her secrets, you’re wrong.”
“Only one way to find out.”