Kingdom of Cages (17 page)

Toward the water, she glimpsed some white, tentlike structures. The crowds seemed even thicker there. Chena slid through the
knots and currents of people and headed toward the tents, trying to look casual, like she’d done this a thousand times. She
stole glances at the town, careful not to stare. It would mark her. Maybe there weren’t real spies here, but she’d bet there
were people like Madra, or Regan the cop, or Nan Elle. The kind of people who always wanted to know who you were, what you
were doing, and why.

Compared to Offshoot, Stem was flat. All the buildings were dug into the dunes, with sand and thin grasses covering them.
The roof plantings were sparse—lots of grasses tipped with tiny purple and red flowers, and thin vines hanging down walls.
She didn’t see any actual gardens like they had on top of the dorm or the dining hall.

Chena reached the boardwalk closest to the water’s edge. The lane broadened out into a wide street. Along the edges, people
had set up poles and hung them with canvas to make shady awnings. Men and women sat under the awnings in the middle of collections
of baskets, talking to, or even shouting at, the passersby.

“Fresh as a daisy, straight out of the lake, not five minutes ago!”

“Pure dried, take a look at that, smell that, that’s pure and strong, that is!”

“Lake plums! Lake plums! Sweet and tangy, right here!”

Chena’s smile returned. It was a market, like they had in the stairways on the station some weeks. Except the stuff here looked
new.

Chena’s good mood put a swing in her stride as she passed through the market, glancing casually into the baskets, but not
letting herself be caught by the sellers. Some baskets held piles of dried leaves or brightly colored cloth. One or two held
other baskets. There were toys, clothes, even some shoes, although none of them would be much good in the woods, since they
were mostly sandals. But there were jackets and fruits and paper books, bread and jugs of stuff that smelled sweet or tangy
or just plain strong. Chena felt a familiar soft envy steal over her that she knew came from the sight of so many things she
couldn’t have.

The cool wind off the water brought the scent of cooking fish and hot spices. Chena’s stomach rumbled painfully. She followed
the scent to another white tent, where people lined up like they did in the dining hall in Offshoot. Chena spotted a stack
of bowls, grabbed one, and joined the line. But before she could get to the pots of whatever smelled so good, a round, brown,
bald man walking by with a stack of clean bowls frowned at her.

“Don’t know you, do I?” His accent was nasal and he slurred his words together into unfamiliar patterns.

Before Chena could think, she shook her head.

“Lemme see your hand.” He balanced the bowls in the crook of one fat elbow and gestured impatiently. Reluctantly, Chena extended
her hand, and he studied the mark on the back.

Then he turned his head and spat on the sandy boardwalk. “Get outta here. This is for citizens only. Offshoot’s gotta feed
its own.”

“Please?” Chena tried, putting on her best big-eyed begging look. “I’ve been riding all morning. I won’t take much, I promise.”

“Piss off, kid.”

“Back at you.” Chena pitched her bowl right at the stack in his arms. It hit, and all the bowls tumbled to the boardwalk.
She was already off and running by the time she heard shattering ceramic. Her legs were tired, but she tore down the boardwalk,
shoving her way between people and dodging around obstacles she barely saw, until the tents were out of sight behind the dunes.

Great,
she thought, wrapping her arms tight around herself and staring at the dunes and their sparse, waving grass.
Now what?

There had to be a place where she could pay for food. She had a couple of metal chits in her pocket that Mom said was twenty
positives out of their account. That should be more than enough for a meal, and an emergency comm burst to the receiver at
the Offshoot library, if she needed one.

Chena wandered along the boardwalk between the buildings nestled into the dunes. The windows were all tinted, so she couldn’t
see inside them. She thought she smelled cooking a couple of times, but she didn’t see one open door or inviting canopy.

Finally she collapsed against one of the boardwalk rails, took off her hat, and wiped at her forehead. She unslung her water
bottle from her shoulder and drank down the last of it, rattling the bottle a little to make sure she’d gotten it all. She
hung it back over her shoulder, jammed her hat back on her head, and closed her eyes for a minute, trying to think.

The sounds of voices reached her, not from her right, where the market and busy piers were, but from the left, and a little
behind. Chena’s eyes flipped open and she turned her head toward the noise, straightening up as she did. It took her a minute
to orient on the sounds, but there was laughter as well as talk. Hope rising inside her, she followed the voices.

The boardwalk wound in and out of the curves of three dunes until finally it passed by a low, open doorway into one of the
hills. The laughter came out of there; so did the cooking smells. Chena’s mouth started watering, and she was in through the
doorway before she knew she’d moved.

It looked like there was a party going on. Four men and women stood on a narrow stage at the back singing about “a stroll,
and a roll, and get back up again.” People, all kinds and all ages, stood around laughing and talking. Women sat on men’s
laps. Men leaned over women’s shoulders and whispered in their ears. People carried trays of food around, offering them so
people could pick out whatever they wanted. Chena smelled spices and meat and fresh bread. The scents cramped her stomach
up again. She stepped farther into the scented dimness and skirted the crowd to try to find an empty table. She could watch
what happened and see how you ordered, or maybe you had to prepay, or—

“Well, then, who let you in here?”

Chena looked up, startled, into the eyes of the handsomest man she had ever seen. His wavy auburn hair fell back from his
high forehead. His eyes glowed green, as if sunlight shone behind them. His shoulders and arms were broad, but not ridiculous,
like a cartoon, just… nice. His skin was a clear pale pink, but unlike most men that color, he had no hint of a beard. He
wore a loose white tunic tucked into trousers that were tight enough she could see the strong shape of his legs.

“I, um, just…” began Chena, trying desperately to decide what she should be saying or doing here. She felt her cheeks start
to burn. “I was hungry and I couldn’t get anything down in the group tent, and I—”

“And you smelled food and came in here,” he finished for her. “Naturally.” He frowned, and even angry, he was still gorgeous.
“Who’s the reject we’ve got on the door anyway?” He wasn’t looking at her anymore, he was scanning the room.

“I’ll go,” she said quickly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know—”

“Wait a minute.” He put a hand on her shoulder, and Chena felt her heart pound hard against her rib cage. “I’m not mad at
you. Listen”—he smiled like he already knew her and liked her—“what’s your name?”

“Chena Trust,” she said immediately. She knew she should be careful. She knew all about strangers and what could happen, she
wasn’t stupid, she just wanted him to know her name.

A flicker of some other expression crossed his face, but cleared up right away. “Chena,” he said, as if to make sure he had
it right. “Why don’t you go out and wait by the door? I’ll be there in two seconds, all right?”

Chena nodded and retreated. Once she reached the threshold, she glanced back into the dim, crowded interior and saw the man
talking with a pale woman and waving his hands. The woman looked angry. Chena bit her lip and ducked around the corner. Had
she gotten him in trouble?

But when he came out a couple of minutes later, he was smiling. Looking at him, Chena felt a warmth spread through her. As
long as he was smiling, everything had to be okay.

“Well,” he said. “I have to apologize for my rudeness. You gave me your name, but I didn’t return the compliment. I’m Farin
Shas.” He saluted her formally.

“I’m Chena Trust.” Then she remembered she’d already told him that, and bit her lip against the fresh blush that was already
starting.

Farin just raised his eyebrows as if hearing her name for the first time. His brows were thick and full, outlining his green
eyes and making them look even brighter. “Trust? There’s a portentous name. Who do you trust, Chena? Or does it mean I should
trust you?”

He was teasing and she knew it, but no fast answer came to her. All she could do was look at the ground and shrug, although
she was kicking herself inside the entire time.

“I’m sorry,” he said gently. “You should never have to be teased on an empty stomach. Would you like to have lunch with me?”

As she lifted her gaze, Chena realized he was carrying a basket on his arm with some bundles wrapped in white cloth inside.

“That would be great. Thank you.” The words came out fairly steady.

“Then allow me to show you one of the more peaceful places in our bustling little community.” He gestured for her to come
walk beside him, which Chena did, trying all the time to keep from grinning like an idiot. She didn’t want him to think she
was just a baby. In the back of her mind she knew Mom would kill her if she ever found out about this. Well, Mom was back
in Offshoot, and Chena wasn’t going to do anything really stupid. They were in public, and she wasn’t going to eat or drink
anything he didn’t. She knew what she was doing.

Farin led her around the boardwalks until they were back by the water. They came to a small dock with a chip scan on the gate.
Farin let it scan his hand and entered a code that brought the words
and a guest
up on the display. He nodded to Chena and she let herself be scanned. The gate clicked open for them.

The dock on the other side was dotted with benches curving around small tables that let you look out over the water and see
the boats skimming across the crinkled waves, and a stately dirigible drifting overhead. The cliffs towered over their shoulders,
and Chena could see that wind and water had carved dark arches and caves into the rust-red stone.

“I haven’t got much here,” said Farin, setting his basket on the table. “But this is a very informal arrangement. Next time
I hope you’ll let me know when you’re going to be in town.”

“Sure.” Chena got the word out without making it squeak, barely.

He lifted the cloth off the basket to reveal a loaf of bread. He picked it up and broke it in half, handing one part to Chena.
The inside was full of herbs and cheeses. It smelled fantastic. Once he’d bitten into his, she ate hers and found it tasted
even better than it smelled. He also had a cup full of raspberries. He ate a few, then smiled as he offered them to her.

“Contraband from Offshoot.” He winked conspiratorially. “They just don’t grow out here on the sand.”

Chena accepted a few of the sweet, dark red berries and ate them, keeping her attention fixed out across the water. She didn’t
want Farin to see her staring at him, even though she wanted to watch the way his red-gold hair rippled across his shoulders.

The silence stretched out until Chena wanted to squirm. She looked for something to say and found only the water in front
of her. Well, maybe that would do.

“So, um, this whole thing is a lake?” She swept her hand out in a broad arc.

“That’s right,” said Farin, tearing a piece of bread off of the loaf and popping it into his mouth. He chewed for a moment
and swallowed. “It’s the biggest lake on Pandora. They named it Superior after a similar body of water on Old Earth.” He cocked
his head toward her and Chena looked quickly down at the remains of bread in her hands. His accent was mellower than the man’s
in the food tent and the unfamiliar lilt made the words sound rhythmic, like poetry.

“And those are caves in the cliffs out there?” She nodded to the monoliths.

“They say some of them go on for a kilometer or more.” His smile grew sly again. “Not that anyone from the village has ever
gone out to see, of course.”

Chena swallowed hard. Did he mean to say someone had? Had he? Did he know a way around the fences? Could she maybe find a
way to ask him?

But before she could think of the right words, Farin said, “So, Chena, what brought you to Stem?”

Chena caught herself halfway through her shrug and dropped her shoulders. “I just wanted to see someplace different, and I
thought maybe…” She stopped.

“Maybe what?”

Chena risked a glance at him. Amusement danced in his green eyes, but he seemed genuinely interested.

“I wanted to see if I could figure out a way to make some money. My mom…” Pride stopped her, and she shrugged. “I just thought
maybe I could make something extra, you know?”

Farin nodded slowly, seriously. “Yes, I very much do know.” He gave her a fresh smile, this one just a little sad. “It’s hard
at first,” he said. “And particularly when on your first working day you get hauled in by the cops.”

His words brought Chena’s head up. “Who told you?”

He just continued to smile gently. “My spies are everywhere.”

Spies? Did he know about that too? Who was this guy? Did he think she was stupid? Chena felt on the verge of panic.

Farin laughed. “Easy, Chena.” He patted her shoulder. “I’m not working for Regan. Nan Elle told me.”

Chena felt her eyes widen. “You know her?”

He nodded. “Yes. I usually see her when I’m in Offshoot. She makes up a regular batch of medicine for me.”

“So, she’s not a poisoner?” Chena asked tentatively. She should have known not to trust the cop, but Nan Elle was so… bizarre
…

“No.” Farin pushed his hair back from his forehead. “The cops just want you to think that so you won’t go to her for help.
She’s outside the system, see, and the hothousers hate that kind of thing.”

“What kind of thing?”

“People not staying put.” Farin’s gaze drifted out across the water. “People not doing exactly what it’s predicted they’ll
do.” He jerked his chin inland. “That’s why they make it so hard to get from place to place, and why no one is allowed to
own a private phone or computer. If people are kept separated, they are easier to handle.”