The Outworlder

after a while, “stand still.”
I wasn’t planning on moving and wasn’t even sure why I would, but then pain flashed inside my head, in a place I didn’t realize could hurt. It blinded me for a heartbeat, but when it passed my head was filled with new knowledge. I became familiar with every vessár in Mespana—their faces, names, specialties, even some saucy gossip I’d rather not have known. And it didn’t seem like it was going to vanish anytime soon.
“Thanks,” I murmured.
“You’re welcome,” he answered offhandedly.
He looked away and focused on his tchalka, giving me a moment to digest the newly-found knowledge. There were all kinds of facts, from the genuinely helpful—like Innam Ar-Leig, vessár of the First Cohort and the man responsible for training fresh recruits, having a degree in psychology and profiling us all before graduation—to useless but interesting trivia, like Sanam Il-Asa being a big Tarviss sympathizer and sporting a beard up until the rebellion started.
Curiously, there was nothing about Myar Mal. I was about to ask about it, when Tayrel Kan spoke.
“I forgot how boring Mespana is. It’s all humanoids here. You won’t even find a bloody besseq.”
“Besheq are not fighting species,” I replied. The lithe, tentacled creatures I often encountered on the market, selling palm sap or baskets, rather gave an impression of being ready to collapse from a hard shove.
“Unless you get slashed with one of those tentacles. Hey, you wanna hear a funny thing?”
I murmured something noncommittal, not sure if I wanted to.
“Besseq are not naturally venomous. They absorb poison from some shit they eat in Van-Yian. The more they have, the more potent their venom is. But in lower doses,” he sent me a sideways glance, smiling mischieviously, “some people would describe their touch as arousing.”
I coughed nervously.
“I wouldn’t know anything about it,” I murmured.
Tayrel Kan chuckled. “I wouldn’t expect you to.”
The remark stung. Despite the deepest wish to end this line of conversation as soon as possible, I couldn’t help but protest, “Not being attracted to nonhumans doesn’t make me a speciesist. I’m just not interested.”
“Oh. What are you interested in, then?” Now his voice was lascivious as he stared at me even more slyly. Laik Var’s warnings echoed in my head.
I shuddered and grit my teeth, with no idea in the worlds how to react.
“I’m… not… ,” I stammered finally.
His smile fell, and the look in his eyes shifted to more curious. “Not at all?”
“No,” I said sharply, hoping he’d get the point and shut up.
“Men, women?”
“Nope.”
His smile returned. “Yourself?”
My face was so hot, I was afraid my skin may start to peel off. At the same time I started feeling first pangs of annoyance. Sex was not something that was discussed in our culture and I was still not comfortable with the casualness Dahlsi treated it with. “No.”
Another hum. “So you never felt that particular itch in your wand?”
It took me a moment to realize he didn’t suddenly switch to talking about magic.
He waved his hand and said lightly, “that was a euphemism, I meant your dick.”
Oh. Talking about itch and sex in one sentence made me think of pubic lice. Before I said anything, Tayrel Kan choked on his smoke and twisted his fingers. A familiar tingle ran over my body. I winced, not sure whether of embarrassment or anger. Yeah, I could cast cleaning spells myself.
And I knew you didn’t mean it that way. I’m not that stupid.
As if struck by a sudden thought, the sorcerer asked, “But you do know you can do it yourself?”
“Yes, Tayrel Kan, I got some education, imagine that,” I said, now only annoyed.
“They taught masturbation in your school?”
“No! It’s just…” Talking about education was easier than talking about my pitiful adventures and realization I had absolutely no interest in bringing them to fruition. “Our teacher was very open, and she allowed us to ask anything we wanted. So, naturally, most kids asked about sex.”
Especially since it wasn’t something our parents talked about.
He hummed again, then went silent for a moment. My body was tense as I waited for him to speak. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Okay, just say what you have to say, and let’s get this over with,” I snapped.
He arched his eyebrow. “What do you expect me to say?”
What everyone else had said. “That I’m stunted.”
I thought saying the words myself would make them sting less, but they only left a bitter taste in my mouth.
Tayrel Kan looked me in the eye. “You are not stunted.”
I tensed, not sure how to react. I was so used to scrutiny, I never imagined someone might… not do it.
I cleared my throat, trying to push through the tightness. “Do you really think so?”
“Sex doesn’t make anyone mature. Or smart. It’s just a bit of fun to temporarily kill existential dread. Or pass it onto others, I guess. People experience it in different ways, and some choose not to experience it at all. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
My tension melted, and a strange warmth spread in my chest. So far, the kindest reactions were assurances I would learn to love my wife (from Tarvissi) or musings I hadn’t met the right person (from everyone else). He was the first one ever who just accepted me for who I was.
Especially since he was, well…
“I have a lot of existential dread to kill,” he said lightly. I wasn’t sure if he was joking. Luckily, he quickly changed the subject, “but I have to say, your school sounds pretty cool.”
“It wasn’t a real school,” I explained. “Just a woman, Girana Da-Vai with a mission to make our lives better. She was a bit of everything: official, healer, sorcerer. And a teacher. She used to gather all the kids in the old Peridion mansion and taught us to read, write, count. She let us ask whatever we wanted.”
“What did you ask her about?”
“The universe,” I replied without hesitation. “I was always interested in what lies beyond. Dahls and other worlds, anything really.”
“So, I guess you’re pretty