Hidden in Sight (36 page)

Rudy suddenly understood how Kearn must have felt, facing that crisis of belief. He faced one now. Did he keep his suspicion, treat this new version of Kearn as he had the old? Or had he a chance to gain an unexpected ally, a powerful one, with the capabilities of a starship and the authority of the Commonwealth?

Had Esen been foolish?
Rudy wondered abruptly.
Or had she been the wisest of them all?

As if he sensed Rudy's doubts and needed to answer them, Kearn said, “It wasn't easy.” He broke off and rubbed his forehead, his hand trembling. “You deserve to know that. When Esen contacted me the second time, and I finally believed it was her, my first reaction was to be terrified. One reason, I suppose, I was so quick to accept Cristoffen. You'd left. The rest of the crew—Timri—there was no one I could trust to tell me the truth. But I had to have it. I had to know, Rudy, if I'd been wrong. So I hunted it for myself.”

“Where?”

Kearn took his hand from his forehead, frowned at it, then pointed at the shelves and stacks of abstracts. “In here,” he said. He tapped his head once more. “Here. I spent months examining everything I knew—or thought I knew—using a new hypothesis. There is variation in every species, in every group of individuals. I asked myself: what if there had been two creatures like Esen, fifty years ago, with the difference that only one of them had acted in a way we'd call evil? It was a difficult question. I was—and am afraid of her abilities.”

“I had a nightmare or two when I found out,” Rudy said, returning honesty for honesty. “Not that Esen deserved them.”

Kearn's eyes grew haunted. “Nightmares. Yes.” He blinked and went on more briskly. “I should never have let mine twist my work, blind me to what I could have found within my own research. I grew angry at myself for wasting time. I accepted the hypothesis and expanded it. If there was an ‘evil' 'shifter, could there be a good one? What if Esen had been trying to help us, acting against this evil one of her kind? The folklore I'd collected supported the concept; it fit the evidence from the attacks. And,” Kearn almost smiled, “it finally made sense of Paul—what he'd done and sacrificed. I think that's what convinced me, in the end.”

“You aren't the only one,” Rudy said ruefully. He studied Kearn's face and saw nothing but a tired openness, a relief he found he shared. Acting on impulse, he stood and offered his hand.

Kearn copied the gesture without hesitation, their hands meeting in a firm grip.

“I don't suppose you have anything drinkable on board,” the former captain of the
Russ'
said lightly as he sat back down. “I think I could use it.”

Now Kearn did smile. “For some reason, I developed a taste for brandy after you left.” He looted one cupboard for glasses and a drawer for a bottle. Hurrying back to the desk, he poured them each a drink, then lifted his own glass. “A toast, Rudy. To Paul.”

“To Paul,” Rudy echoed, then raised his eyebrow. “Any reason in particular?”

“For recognizing goodness, regardless of its shape.” Kearn gave a short, self-conscious laugh. “And for knowing when not to follow my orders.”

21: Abyss Morning; Surface Dawn

I'D BEEN ready to confront my web-kin and battle for Paul's life. At the very least, I'd been ready to tell her exactly what I thought of her behavior in as many languages as had profanity, and could be expressed using only a larynx, tongue, lips, and two arms.
And scowling.
I'd planned to avoid foot stamping, given I'd found no shoes that fit.

Of course, being so prepared, it shouldn't have surprised me to find Skalet had left while Paul and I were dressing in our stolen clothing.

“She's locked us in,” Paul said, coming back to me. He looked more relieved than concerned, something I understood. Skalet was uncomfortable company at her best.

“And left a note,” I told him, pointing to a piece of parchment that looked as old as me—and probably was, knowing how rarely Skalet came down to the Abyss. The parchment was stabbed to the stone of the tabletop by a long, delicate pin. Skalet-memory contained far too much detail of how such a pin, if inserted into critical points, could inconspicuously cause convulsions or death in a depressing number of species.
It was
, as if I cared,
easily hidden in hair or clothing.
I couldn't bring myself to touch it.

Paul might not be intimately familiar with a Kraal assassin's pin, but he wisely chose to read the note where it was, rather than touch anything Skalet might have booby-trapped. “ ‘We leave in three hours. Rest or not, as you wish.'” He checked his chrono. “Not the Busfish, then.”

“No.”

He walked to the nearest wall and rapped it with his knuckles. “Can you get through this?”

“No.” Though I smiled at the suggestion. Humans could take anything for granted.

Paul sighed and rolled his eyes at me. “Esen, is that ‘no' as in ‘can't' or ‘no' as in ‘won't'?”

“Both.” I stood beside him, pressing my smaller Human hands flat against the opaqued wall. Instead of its usual varied pastel tones, this clearfoil was dark and shot through with pearlescent streaks, like a semiprecious stone. It chilled my palms, so I rubbed them against the fabric of my skirt. “She must have activated a transmitter in here to set the clearfoil. It can't listen to me.”

“And the ‘won't?' ”

I peered up at him sideways, through wisps of hair that had needed cutting my last time in this form. “There's no need for a lecture. Skalet wants me Human, so Human I'll be. For now.”

Paul's finger looped the hair behind my ear, letting me see the unhappy look on his face. “I wish you weren't.”

Ah.
I hunted for what to say, knowing, as he did, that this was another trap Skalet had laid—as potentially deadly as the poison. “Try to feel otherwise,” I advised him. “You understand the difference between your purely Human reaction to this form and the reality of me. Skalet doesn't know you. She expects your parental instincts to cloud your judgment, to interfere with our partnership.” I stuck my tongue out at him and he forced a smile. “It gives us an advantage.”

“Maybe.” Paul traced my cheek and shook his head, making entirely too much sense.

“Keep thinking: ‘Old Blob,'” I suggested. “Meanwhile, let's see if there's anything to eat around here.”

“That you'd trust?” An incredulous look.

I shrugged, already looking around. “Skalet doesn't believe in wasted effort. You've been dosed and she can hardly poison this form if she wants me to stay in it.” I was careful where I stepped. Skalet had made no effort to clear the floor of crystal shards. I was sure she'd think I deserved to cut myself, having made the mess in the first place. But having no intention of needing more time with the med kit, I took the smallest of the animal pelts from the floor and began using it as a broom to push the shards into a corner.

As for resting?
I might not fear poison, but I wasn't closing my eyes.

 

“Wake up, Es.”

So much for that resolution
, I grumbled to myself later, but obeyed the voice. “Is she back?” I asked, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. It was still dark.
No, I was under something, something soft
. I must have burrowed beneath the blankets like my Lishcyn-self into the grass of my box. It was my Human's fault.
Lie down for a few minutes, Esen
, I repeated to myself. He must have known this form would fall asleep.

“Of course I'm back, Youngest. What's the matter with you? Human, is she exceptionally slow to become conscious in this form?”

“I don't know,” I heard Paul say. “I've never seen her sleep—this way—before. But exhausted Human children do sleep soundly.” The blanket lifted. I squinted up at Paul, seeing Skalet past his shoulder. She was wearing clothing that matched ours, brown and plain, though hers fit. Her hair was missing.

That was a surprise.
I crawled into the open and yawned at my web-kin. “Where's your hair?”

“My—If this is a game, Youngest, I tire of it.” She glared at me. “Get her ready.”

When Skalet turned her back to leave the bedroom, I winked at Paul.

I'd puzzled over how Skalet meant to return to the surface, if not via the Busfish. The Prumbins insisted on living transports to Nirvana. How became clear the moment Paul and I followed Skalet through her air lock. Besides the door to the dry corridor, it had a floor hatch, well-concealed, leading into a very old Kraal submersible.

The submersible was docked under her suite at the Happy House, away from any eyes but the beady, non-image-forming ones of wall crawlers. Still, its mere presence demonstrated a distinct lack of respect for the Prumbins' notions of paradise on the part of both this web-kin and Mixs.

And
, I told myself,
a willful carelessness for the sake of convenience.
Ersh must have been furious when she swallowed this memory. One of those uncomfortable discussions had likely ensued.
Skalet the careless.
It was something to keep in mind.

“Strap in.”

Paul and I took the bench seats along each side, obeying Skalet and pulling the harnesses over our shoulders—another sign of the age of this craft. I trusted, for Paul's sake, that she'd had it tested for seaworthiness in the last century.

I found myself studying the back of Skalet's head, watching her hands as she worked the controls with an economy of motion few true Humans could match. The interior lights dimmed to a rose-glow as she activated the viewports, the color washing away the foreign cream of her skin; shadows repainted her tattoos. For the first time, I saw her as I knew her, as I hadn't since that terrible day on the
Trium Set.

Moisture prickled my eyes and spilled down one cheek. Surprised, I wiped it away, then stared at my damp fingers.

“Esen?” Whisper-soft.

I shook my head, dismissing Paul's concern. There was nothing wrong with me beyond this form's disconcerting ability to feel.

A form the emotionless Skalet wore more than any other.
That contradiction kept me from paying full attention as the antique submersible sank below the lowermost buildings along the Brim, then leveled off to move along the Abyss, though normally I'd be fascinated by the life clinging to its walls.

Think for yourself, Esen
, I could hear Ersh say. I did my best. After being Lishcyn for fifty years, I'd gained a firm and completely irrational belief that almost any problem could be resolved by shopping. Skalet had been Human much longer, a form I'd begun to understand, thanks to Paul. So what would her behavior today mean, if truly tainted by that form?

She'd sent me away when her identity was first exposed.
To avoid my emotional overreaction—or her own?
When we'd been together, she'd lost control, badly enough to damage me. Having done so, she'd left, returning only when necessary to leave the Abyss.
Remorse?

If I'd learned anything from my time with Skalet, it was the danger of trying to second-guess her motives.
Were my own any clearer?
The ache in my flesh to reconnect with my own kind couldn't be trusted. The drive to assimilate new knowledge, to share my own, was an instinct waiting to betray me.

None of this mattered
, I decided. What did was that Skalet wanted the ability to move through space, something I couldn't permit any web-being, let alone one who played at war.

I closed my eyes on the past and leaned back.

 

“This is where it gets interesting,” Skalet informed us as we stood looking toward the shoreline. Prumbinat's Port City of Gathergo tumbled over the low hills, no more than a series of dark, boxlike outlines. Flashes in the distance marked where starships came and went. Our goal. I licked salt spray from my lips, gauging the amount of time until sunrise by the lack of stars on the eastern horizon.

“I trust you have a plan?” Paul asked her, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the distant crash of surf. He kept his arm wrapped tightly around my waist, his other hand gripping the side of the vessel. The wind whipped his hair and mine. Skalet, having taken hers off, was immune.

She'd brought us to the surface outside the channel used by the Busfish, a precaution against collision as well as detection by the Prumbin authorities. You'd think a living transport would be better able to avoid accidents, but a Busfish tended to aim itself at anything smaller, in reasonable expectation of swallowing it. The safest tactic was not to get in front of one at any time. After surfacing, Skalet had blown off the roof, turning the submersible into a permanent and ungainly boat, limiting our options to one.