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It always feels so quiet out here after mealtimes in there,” Genaro chuckled, as they stepped out into the harsh midday sun. “To say nothing of bright.”

Be glad you aren't alasir-blood. There's a reason even the ones who can tolerate a variable schedule in the North stay out of the sun this far south. So what did you want to talk about?”

You're tired. That talk this morning as a bad one, wasn't it?” He started walking; since it was roughly the right direction, she fell into step beside him.

Yes. After so long hiding, I don't think I'm ever going to be really comfortable deliberately making myself the centre of attention for large groups, even for the best possible cause. Just part of my collection of old scars and conditioned reflexes and borderline phobias.”

I know. But this was worse.”

Most people, she would have deflected, shrugging it off as trivial. Genaro wouldn't be fooled for an instant. So she told him the truth. “The new students are usually unsure of themselves. They may be sure they know it all, but they're here to learn and most are at least somewhat receptive to new ideas. Most stay quiet because they don't want to look bad in front of peers. The sorcerers who come back for testing, they've been independent and working for seven, fourteen, or whatever number of years. A lot of them aren’t happy that they have to take educational classes at all as a requirement before they can test for their next level, and they tend to resent being forced to listen to a controller telling them that they've been wrong all this time. And there always seems to be a couple who feel that courtesy is for other people. That makes those sessions exhausting.”

What did they say?”

Nothing new. That it's ridiculous to expect them to waste their valuable time listening when I'm just a single freak demanding special treatment that I'm only getting because of who I married or because I'm apparently having sex with the Speaker.”

Who is siren-blood, like you, and wouldn't consider that a reason for favouritism anyway?”

The illogic of that depends on them understanding that sirens cannot make ourselves perceive sex and romance as equivalent.”

Good point.”

Etanynne's wonderful but intimidating, I'm not sure I would want to. When I point out that I am not unique, then we magically become a few individuals with a freakish gift trying to bully everyone into giving us special status.”

How is it special status to want the same education as other telepaths and to not be murdered?”

If you ever work that one out, let me know. Someone always tries to act all patient and open-minded and invariably that one ends up implying or saying outright that we might mean well but no one can have our gift without eventually giving in to the temptation to use it selfishly.”

Maybe they would.”

Someone always starts muttering that I'm downplaying our abilities to lull them into a sense of false security, because after all, every single story ever told has said we can do much more and every single documented controller in the past has eventually gone on a rampage.”

Those are stories. They also claim that all lifewitches lack any empathy and see living things as toys to experiment and play with. I can think of a few unflattering accounts of sorcerers in those stories. Including some of the so-called heroes with more brawn, brass, bluff, and balls than brains or benevolence.”

Oh, and even if I'm telling the truth about myself, there's far too few of us to give us a clear picture of what's really normal for controllers, which is fair enough I suppose but we have to start somewhere. So why are they being forced to listen to me?”

The controller Alina fought was using a unique—I hope unique—crystal that enhanced her gifts so much she started to see herself as a goddess, right? No reason to think she was innately any stronger than you or I. There's no verifiable evidence of anyone stronger. It's possible, I suppose, but if that happens, we'll deal with it then.”

Clearly, they would prefer to just not deal with it at all.” She heaved a sigh. “I've been hearing the same, over and over, all along. I'm really not expecting it to change anytime soon. Usually the worst that happens with the orientation classes is someone protesting that their grandmother assured them that the stories are true, or someone asking why they should believe me. Olisai generally points out that the Assembly and their staff, among others, have been looking into the whole thing in great depth and are convinced by the evidence, and that they'll have to complete classes regarding verifiable accounts versus entertainment and how to assess and process information.”

Apparently your sorcerers don't do well in that class.”

That made Kisea chuckle. “Apparently.”

No wonder you look so tired.”

Oh, today did have one that was different. A Southerner.”

This should be good.”

He asked me outright how long it takes to use memory changes and siren manipulation to convince someone to have sex with me, because obviously no sane man would voluntarily have sex with a woman who has a gift like mine. That caught me completely off balance, I had no idea what to say. Olisai, all smiles, pointed out that as long as a woman is having sex with you willingly, it shouldn't matter whether she can get into your head, or make your genitals shrivel up and stop functioning permanently, or attack you with a knife, and if she isn't willing, you deserve anything you get.” Lifewitches, who always had a high degree of siren blood, tended to have very direct means of protecting themselves from would-be rapists who considered all siren-blood fair game.

Genaro shook his head. “Only a Southerner. To say that, I mean. Some Northerners might think it, but they wouldn't say it like that. I like Olisai's response, though. I bet his were trying to crawl up inside him for protection after she said that.”

He certainly went quiet. I've had occasional accusations, usually from Southerners, that it's selfish and unethical to use controlling to defend myself from mere rape, which after all wouldn't do me any real harm and I'm half siren anyway so by definition I'm already a slut, so how can I justify possibly doing actual damage to a man who just made a mistake? Which falls right in line with what we're fighting in Jordan, at least, although I'm not always sure how far we're getting as far as hammering it into people's heads. Female or male, enjoying sex with multiple partners doesn't mean that we aren't entitled to choose those partners for ourselves. Somehow, that seems to be really difficult for a lot of people to grasp.”

Well, it keeps mindhealers employed,” Genaro said regretfully.

Sorry. I'm ranting a bit. You don't need to hear this.”

Like it's a surprise? I'm half siren. Do you really think I have any illusions left about what that means? Being male maybe reduces the odds some, but we get it too.” He shrugged. “Maybe if there are more lifewitches and controllers spread all over Caalden, people will start to think twice before attacking sirens, since they might have teeth. Or maybe Jordan's good example will spread. Or some combination. Anyway. Let me help. I know Olisai's always there with you, but two controllers are better than one. Being the centre of attention doesn't scare me, and I have a slightly different perspective, and you'll have another friend there for support and to help answer questions and deal with the rude ones.”

Kisea hesitated. She'd been hoping that in a few years she could start handing over some of her work around the College, though she hadn't expected it yet and she didn't want anything to happen before they felt ready. She wanted Genaro able to concentrate on becoming the greatest mindhealer ever—he was already better than she was by virtually any scale except the kind of last-ditch extreme direct intervention she’d developed in desperation, and he was catching up on that one. His compassion and intuition seemed as bottomless as his cheerfulness, and she had firm faith that he was going to make a huge difference in many, many lives.

*Kisea. Stop trying to protect me. I don't need it. You know I don't.* His thoughts whispered in her mind, more intimate than speech.

He had a point. While he'd never been through experiences like hers, he was neither sheltered nor naive. He was, in fact, older than she'd been when she'd run away to face a sometimes-hostile world entirely alone.

*I think I'll take you up on that. We can talk about details after break, before the next round of orientation classes start. As long as it doesn't interfere with your lessons.* The orientation classes, at least. She wasn't sure she wanted him exposed to the nastiness of the sorcerers.

*I'll make sure my teachers and supervisors know in advance so we can work around it. It's only a few days each semester. I'm worried about you. Dillon and I figured out that you're spending nearly three months every year back and forth on the road between Jordan and the College alone, in order to be here for the beginning and end of each semester. You stay here as long as you need to deal with the Assembly and bureaucratic hassles, curious researchers with yet more questions, lifewitches and mindhealers requesting your help, orientation and ongoing education classes, teaching us what you've learned about controlling, generally mentoring us on just about every level, and I don't even know what all else. When you aren't here, you're fighting an uphill battle in Jordan against multiple kinds of prejudice and injustice, or you're being mindhealer anywhere you go, Jordan or the mixed villages. I'm really worried about how long you can sustain that kind of pace. We need you intact. And you've already been through a lot, you should have some time in there to enjoy life and relax. There's a lot there that's never healed and I don't think it's going to as long as you keep distracting yourself from it.*

*You might be right,* Kisea admitted, after a brief pause to reflect. *I'm too used to just doing whatever needs doing, regardless of how much I want to just curl up and sleep. That travel time is actually pretty restful. Even when Matt can come, I don't let him shorten the trip unless there's a really urgent reason. And sometimes it's just Kian and I, and that's about as peaceful as it gets. I think those times are helping me keep going for the moment. Everything I'm doing is important, there's nothing I can just stop.*

*That's something, at least, and I'm glad you have that. But please let us help more. You saved us, you've taught us, you're always there for us, and you're still fighting for us. You think we don't love you, and hate watching you constantly on the run from one responsibility to the next? Knowing what some of it costs you? We'll look after Rioshai, and each other, and there's no reason I can't talk to any new ones who turn up. Researchers can come to Elaia and I. Let me do some of the mindhealing, at least, and help with the classes, and once Elaia graduates she can help more too. You know her communication skills, whether she's writing or speaking, are amazing. She's planning on using her diary and every other source she can find to put together a comprehensive book about us, did you know that?*

*She mentioned it in passing a while ago, I didn't know she still wants to.* Elaia's mother was a strong relay telepath, one of the key anchors in Eyrie, the second-founded and second-largest of the mixed-race communities; her father, a purely average telepath, oversaw all record-keeping, bookkeeping, and other clerical duties for the relay office. Elaia learned to read at an extremely young age, and had taken to it like an otter to water. Kisea had met her parents; they were concerned about the additional difficulties their daughter was going to face, but had made their love and support abundantly clear. Their gratitude to Kisea as well, since if things had gone otherwise, their bright and clever child would have been quietly murdered.

*She's very determined. She can handle a lot of the bureaucratic nonsense, once she gets the chance. You can't do everything alone. Please don't try. I'm hoping you'll eventually let me see if I can help with some of those bad dreams and the borderline phobias. I don't want to have to try instead to put you back together after a total collapse.*

*I'll do my best,* Kisea promised. *I'll try to remember to ask for help more. But only in ways that don't interfere with studying. I can survive this way for quite a while yet. I'm tougher than I look.*

*You're tougher than... I can't even think of a comparison. Tougher than anyone I know. But we aren't so fragile either.*

Kisea looked up. “Why are we at your dorm?” she asked aloud.

Because you need to work off a bit of tension before that class. Matt and Kian are somewhere in Jordan, so they're rather out of reach. Olisai is either sensibly getting something to eat or less-sensibly at the infirmary checking that no one needs her. I'm right here, our room's right here, and I can make sure you're in better condition before you face more sorcerers.”

She looked sideways at him. “And where are you supposed to be after mealtime?”

Let me worry about that,” Genaro said firmly. “I'm quite able to take care of my own life and responsibilities, thank you.” He pushed open the outer door of a dorm set aside for students who had graduated but stayed to pursue specialized studies, and waved her in. “Come on, it's too hot out there and we're going to get sunburned.”

Just inside, there was a small area with several benches and chairs; beyond, a corridor led to utility rooms and a few ground-floor apartments mostly reserved for those with mobility restrictions. Two flights of stairs climbed upwards, one to each side, angled towards the side wings of the building, which was three sides of a hollow square.

She'd been to Genaro and Dillon's room any number of times: double bed that was usually rumpled, a couple of lightly-padded armed chairs in front of a rectangular table that doubled as a desk, an armoire for clothes, wall-mounted shelves where they would fit. A single window, curtained in plain off-white, admitted diffuse light. These rooms were no more intended as long-term homes than the regular dorm rooms, though there at least was the option of a double bed instead of two narrow ones.

Rob had purchased a plot of land from the College on the edge of the campus proper and built a modest but very comfortable house on it, having negotiated with the College that the usual housekeeping services and meals would be provided, but the Jordans—which mostly meant Kisea and whoever accompanied her—would have an option other than the guest quarters. It had been completed so recently that this was the first time Kisea had been able to stay there; Rob had suggested that she invite Genaro and Dillon take over one of the rooms in it, all things considered, and they were leaning in that direction but had yet to decide. She’d given Genaro a copy of the magical key Matt had made for the door anyway, so they could use it even if they chose not to relocate entirely. It would be a more pleasant place to live than a dorm room.

Genaro closed the door and leaned against it, smiling. Only until she took a step towards him; then he met her eagerly halfway for a fervent kiss.

*That's better,* he said in her mind, with laughter in it. *I know you're tired, but that kind of response, or lack of it, is enough to make me start wondering whether you've lost interest.*

*Sorry.* She slid both hands up under his shirt. *That is definitely not it at all.*

Both Matt and Dillon would see this for exactly what it was: a highly effective way for a friend to bring her stress level crashing back down to a more tolerable range. Both understood.

And she could certainly return the favour, even if this did need to be quick rather than leisurely.

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