“You spied on her?”
“On him, your grace. On him. He was in my custody then, may I remind you. It was correct for me to ascertain the nature of his activities. I observed him. She was there. It wasn’t kick-wrestling that they were doing, your grace. Not when he had his hands on her—”
“Enough.”
“I can assure you—”
Husathirn Mueri held up his hand. “By Nakhaba, enough, man! I don’t want to hear the sordid details.” He struggled to calm himself. “I’ll take it on faith,” he said coldly, “that your report is accurate. Close your spy-hole and don’t drill any new ones. Come to me daily with accounts of the ambassador’s preachings among the young.”
“And if I see him with Nialli Apuilana, your grace? In the street, I mean. Or in some public dining-hall. Or anywhere else, however innocent. Shall I tell you about that too?”
“Yes,” said Husathirn Mueri. “Tell me about that too.”
“I want to go into the Nest with you,” Nialli Apuilana said. “To feel Nest-bond again. To speak Nest-truths.”
“You will. When the time comes. When my work here is done.”
“No. I mean here, today, now.”
It was a quiet afternoon. The warm humid summer was over, and a strong autumn wind was blowing, hot but dry and crisp, out of the south. She and Kundalimon had coupled, and now they lay curled close together on his couch with limbs still entangled, grooming each other’s rumpled fur.
He said, “Now? How can that be?”
She gave him a wary look. Had she misjudged the moment? Was twining, was any sort of soul-intimacy, still as frightening to him as it had been at the beginning? He had changed so much since he had begun going out by himself into the city. He seemed different now in so many ways, stronger, less tense, more assured of himself in his flesh-folk identity. But still she was uneasy about risking his trust by crossing the unspoken boundaries that had been established between them.
He seemed calm, though. He watched her with easy, gentle eyes.
Cautiously she said, “You can guide me through your Nest-memories. By the touching of minds.”
“You mean the twining,” he said.
She hesitated. “That would be one way. Or through using our second sight.”
“You often speak of second sight. But I don’t know what that is.”
“A way of seeing — of perceiving the depths that lie beyond the surface of things—” Nialli Apuilana shook her head. “You’ve never felt yourself doing it? But everyone can do it. Young children, even. Although perhaps in the Nest, with no other flesh-folk minds around to show you what your own mind was capable of—”
“Show me now,” he said.
“You won’t be afraid when I touch you?”
“Show me.”
He really has changed, she thought.
Still she was fearful of provoking fear in him, of forcing him away from her. But he had asked. He had asked. Show me. She summoned her second sight and sent it outward, expanding its field around him. He felt it. No doubt of that. She perceived his mind’s instantaneous reaction, a startled drawing-back. And he was trembling. But he remained close beside her, open, accessible. There was no indication that he was putting up any of the usual defenses that one would put up against someone else’s use of second sight. Was it simply that he didn’t know how? No, no, he seemed to be accepting her probing willingly.
She took a deep breath and drove her expanded perceptions as deep into his mind as she dared.
And she saw the Nest.
Everything was blurred, indistinct, uncertain. Either his mental powers were still undeveloped, or he had learned some hjjk way of masking his mind. For what she saw in him she saw as though through many thicknesses of dark water.
It was the Nest, all right. She saw the dusky underground corridors, she saw the vaulted roofs. Dark figures moved about, hjjk-shaped, hjjk-rigid. But everything was vague. She couldn’t distinguish castes. She couldn’t even tell male from female, Military from Worker. And what was missing, above all else, was the spirit of the Nest, the dimension of soul-reality, the depth of Nest-bond that should envelop everything, the all-pervasive sweep of Queen-love flooding those dim subterranean aisles, the overriding imperative that was Egg-plan. There was no savor. There was no warmth. There was no nourishment. She was looking into the Nest and yet she remained cut off from it, an outsider, alone, lost in the cold realm of blackness that lies between the unfeeling stars.
In frustration, she probed a little deeper. No better. Then she felt a gentle push.
Kundalimon was trying to help her. Somehow he had discovered the font of his own second sight, which perhaps he had never used before, or had used without knowing what it was, and he was straining to amplify the vision for her. But even that couldn’t entirely lift the veil. She saw more clearly, yes, but the new brightness merely brought new distortions.
Maddening. To come this close, and not get there—
A sob burst from her. She pulled her mind free of his and rolled away, to lie facing the wall.
“Nialli?”
“I’m sorry. I’ll be all right in a moment.” She wept silently. She felt more alone than ever before.
His hands caressed her back, her shoulders. “Did I do anything to upset you?”
“No. Nothing, Kundalimon.”
“We went about it the wrong way, then?”
She shook her head. “I saw a little. Just a little. The edge of the outline of the Nest. It was all so shadowy. Unclear. Distant.”
“I did it wrong. You will teach me the right way.”
“It wasn’t your fault. It — just didn’t work.”
There was silence for a while. He moved closer to her, covering her body with his. Then, suddenly, startlingly, he ran his sensing-organ along hers, a quick whispering touch that sent a shiver of keen sensation through her soul.
“We try the twining, you think?” he asked.
“Do you want to, Kundalimon?” She held her breath, waiting.
“You want to see the Nest.”
“Yes. Yes, I do. So very much.”
“Then maybe the twining.”
“You were afraid, that other time.”
“That was the other time.” He laughed softly. “And there once was a time when you were afraid of coupling, I think.”
She smiled. “Things change.”
“Yes. Things change. Come. Show me the twining, and I’ll show you the Nest. But you must turn toward me, first.”
Nialli Apuilana nodded and swung around to face him. He was smiling, that wonderful open sunlit smile of his, a child’s innocent smile in a man’s face. His eyes gleamed into hers, bright, expectant, excited. He was beckoning to her in a way that he had never done before.
“I’ve twined only once,” she said. “With Boldirinthe, almost four years ago. I may not be much better at it than you are.”
“We will be fine,” he said. “Show me what it is, this twining.”
“First the sensing-organs, the contact. You focus everything, your entire being—” He began to look troubled. “No,” she said. “Don’t try to focus anything, don’t even try to think. Just do as I do, and let things happen to you.” She drew her sensing-organ close to his. He relaxed. He seemed completely trusting now.
They made contact. And held it.
Nialli Apuilana had never forgotten her hour of intimacy with Boldirinthe. The phases of it were clear in her mind, the way they had descended the ladder of perception that led to the deep realms of the soul where the communion took place. Kundalimon followed her readily. He seemed to know intuitively what to do, or else he discovered it as he went. In moments he was following her no longer, but was descending at her side, and even, at times, leading the way, down toward the dark mysterious depths where self was unknown and nothing existed but the unity of all souls.
They joined, then, in full twining.