Necessity's Child (Liaden Universe®) (34 page)

“
I don’t know!
” The shout rocked his head; lightning played inside his eyes; he forgot to breathe, then gasped greedily for air.

“Udari—” He stretched his gloveless hand out, felt it gripped, firm and steady. “Forgive me.”

“What have you done?”

“I shouted. You deserve better of me.”

“If it comes to that, you deserve better of me.” Udari sighed. “I forget my training. One repair at a time, eh? Yesterday, the hand. Today, the leg. Tomorrow, the soul.”

Rys sighed. “Perhaps it’s wiser, to let the hidden past hide.”

Udari tipped his head, as if considering this.

“No, Brother, I don’t think that. How can you go forward, shriveled by fear, divided in soul? A man should know the tale of his deeds; the names of his friends, and his enemies. This . . . this not knowing is the last of your injuries. I swore, as your brother, to see you made whole again. And that I shall do.”

Rys sighed, and drank off what was left of his tea.

* * *

“Is Syl Vor badly hurt?” Pat Rin demanded.

“A dislocated shoulder, already put to rights, save some residual tenderness. He would have it that he could return to school today, but as it happens Ms. Taylor gave an early dismissal to the whole class, not just those who were exhausted from early brawling in the alley. I left him and Kezzi studying ship silhouettes.” Nova sighed and sipped her tea.

“I come to you because the three principals in the brawl—Peter Day, Luce Jacobs, and Rudy Daniel—all agree under separate questioning that the cause of the altercation was Rudy’s failure to pay his insurance in a timely manner.”

Pat Rin put his cup down with a sharp click.

“Insurance,” he repeated, expressionlessly.

“Yes, I thought you’d be delighted. Also,” she sighed, “also, it would seem that there is someone upline from Peter and Luce, to whom they pay insurance. Both are more afraid of that person than they are of me.”

Pat Rin nodded absently. “Both look to Boss Wentworth, I think you said?”

“Yes.”

“I will be certain to have a personal talk with the Boss after the council meeting this evening. If someone is trying to set up a personal insurance system, that must concern him,” Pat Rin said.

“And if Boss Wentworth is seeking to reestablish an insurance system?” asked Nova.

Pat Rin smiled. “Then that, of course, concerns me.”

“Very well, then; I leave the matter in your hands.”

“You honor me.”

She laughed slightly. “I fear I am about to shower even more honor upon you. When I was at the schoolhouse today, I spoke to Ms. Audrey, who tells me that the new furniture has arrived.”

Pat Rin considered her earnestly. “One must of course be gratified to hear it, but I wonder what the new furniture has to do with me.”

“Precisely what I asked! Audrey tells me that business is good. So good that there has been a remodeling project some weeks in planning, and an expansion of the secondary house at the port.”

“That,” Pat Rin murmured, “I had known of. I apprehend that the furniture is to adorn the primary house.”

“It is. Luken is in some way involved in the whole scheme; I hesitated to inquire too closely there, but the short tale is that Ms. Audrey needs the space now occupied by the school as a staging area—and of course, a place to store the new furniture.”

“Of course. And Ms. Audrey’s suggestions regarding the school?” Pat Rin asked.

“That the students be moved to the Consolidated School, which had, after all, been the plan all along. She confesses that she hadn’t thought her establishment would be required to play host for quite so long, and while she grudges us not a day, she can give us only six more.”

“Well, there’s something,” he replied. “I had feared she wished to close the doors tomorrow. Mr. McFarland has informed me of Mr. Golden’s opinion, that the sabotage at the site is at an end. I have just yesterday received a report from the Building Committee which suggests that the building is ready for use. I had hoped for an orderly—but Audrey gives us six days, and the Council of Bosses meets tonight. We will merely need to dance more quickly than we had anticipated. If we move the core schools into the new building on the same day and hour, they will within a two-day have opportunity to bond as a team, and so be ready to assist those who arrive during open enrollment.” He frowned, perhaps at his desktop, or his teacup, or at nothing at all. “Yes. I think we may contrive. May I assist you in any other way, Cousin?”

“Well . . . no,” she replied. “Though I may have something else tomorrow.”

“After meeting with the grandmother of Syl Vor’s sister, I apprehend?”

“My plan is to ascertain their location and their intentions.”

“Do that,” Pat Rin said cordially. “I will be most interested to be informed of both.”

CHAPTER THIRTY

It was a thing of beauty and elegance. Ink blue with a subtle silver stripe, it snapped close ’round his shattered leg, an exoskeleton that transformed ruin into beauty.

“It is . . . a jewel,” Rys murmured. “Rafin, this is art!”

“It is less art than a man’s natural leg, but it will do what you ask of it, as your own strove to do. Well, Brother?”

That last was to Pulka, who was on his knees, running his fingers down the woven metal, testing the fastenings and fingering the thin tubes.

“Yes,” he murmured. “Dreaming did not lead me astray. The hydraulics?”

“Bench tested well. The fighting cock will now test in place, and we will make what adjustments are necessary. If you are satisfied with the construction, Brother?”

“Past satisfied. It is as Rys says—this is no ordinary fabrication, Brother; your skill surpasses my dream.”

“Half of the fabrication is the material,” Udari said. “The discovery of that lies with Rys.”

“True!” Rafin nodded. “I had hoped for a coil of aersteel or a skein of carbolite. To find a knot of refined bintamium—I tell you nothing but the truth, Brothers, when I say that
I
dared not to dream so large. Here now,” he said to Rys, going to one knee and stretching out his arms like a fond father to a toddler, “come to Rafin, little one.”

Rys closed his eyes, the better to find his balance. The brace was so light that he scarce felt its weight. He pressed his enclosed heel down, felt gyros engage, and heard a small sound, as emitted from time to time by his glove. Microengines, he thought, smaller than his thumbnail.

“Well, do you intend only to stand and display your beauty to passersby?” demanded Rafin.

Rys smiled. “I was seeking my balance.”

“Seek it in flight, my cock! Come to me now so that we might see the function of your jewelry, eh?”

Rys nodded and stepped forward.

Two steps he made before the unexpected spring in his bejeweled leg betrayed him into a stumble, a twist, and a graceless collapse into Rafin’s ready arms.

“Too much energy, eh? Here, let us find the weight of you upon the world. Udari, your arm! Steady the small one while he walks the length of the pressure ribbon. Wait!” Rafin had hurried to his bench; there was a storm of short snaps as he brought various functions to life, then a shout.

“Now! Walk now, Rys!”

Walk he did, the spring not so much of a surprise this time, but still, he needed Udari’s arm.

“Too much push back,” Rafin said. “Also, our fledgling is lighter on his feet than I had judged. Sit him on the bench; I will adjust.”

* * *

“Why do you learn these?” Kezzi asked, flipping back through the silhouette pack.

“So that when I am a pilot, I will be able to identify the ships around me.”

“Doesn’t the ship have a program for that?”

“Yes, but sometimes programs go awry,” Syl Vor answered, shifting restlessly in his chair. “It’s why we learn to do the math and form the equations for navigation, even though there is a navcomp on the ship. At least,
I
haven’t gotten to piloting equations yet—but I will!”

“Because you are going to be a pilot.”

“Yes.”

Kezzi looked up. “You should rest,” she said. “Your arm hurts you.”

He glared at her, but she knew him well enough already to see that it wasn’t his best effort.

“Who said that my arm hurts?”

“Your eyes say it, and the way you press your mouth together,” Kezzi told him. “You might as well rest today, you know. Tomorrow, we’ll be at school again, and you won’t want Pete or Luce to see you tired.”

“Well . . .”

“Just lay on the bed next to Eztina,” Kezzi said. “I’ll sit and talk to you, if you want.”

“How did you know my shoulder was dislocated?” Syl Vor asked, stretching sideways across the bed so he didn’t disturb the cat.

“Because I’m apprentice to the
luthia.
”

“The
luthia
is the medic?”

Kezzi sniffed. “The
luthia
is
much
more than a medic,” she said haughtily. “Anyway, because I am her apprentice, I have dreamed many injuries and how to treat them.”

She sat cross-legged on the bed by his knee.

“Syl Vor?”

“Yes.”

“I was just thinking—if you had the silhouette of a
particular
ship, that—that had become lost, could you find it?”

He frowned.

“Find it? I suppose—but not from the silhouette. The silhouettes are ID tools—I told you.”

He paused, frowning up at the ceiling.

“If the ship were
lost
then you would need to know where it had been and where it was going and whether it had been seen in-between, and—oh, many things! Also,” he added, stifling a yawn, “you would need a grown-up pilot.”

“But it could be done.”

“Well . . . yes.”

“Do you know any
grown-up
pilots?”

He laughed.

“Is that funny?” Kezzi asked, bristling.

“No—yes. Our whole family is pilots. Except Grandaunt.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Now you do,” he said, sounding cranky.

Kezzi sighed and turned the subject, thinking that the pain in his arm and her ignorance were together putting him out of patience.

“Why did you protect Rudy?” she asked. “He doesn’t like you.”

“No, nor I don’t like him,” Syl Vor said drowsily. “But it was wrong, two on one.” His eyes were more than half closed now.

“Why did you—help Rudy?” he asked.

Kezzi sniffed. “I didn’t help Rudy,” she said, watching his eyes drift fully shut. “I helped
you
. You’re my brother.”

Syl Vor smiled, and turned his head to snuggle his cheek against the pillow.

* * *

“
Luthia
, will you witness?”

Silain turned from her inventory of the death chest, and considered the shadow at the entrance to her hearth-room.

“On whose account?” she asked quietly, which was the ritual answer. Droi knew the rituals—all of the rituals, for she had a receptive and tenacious mind—and she had asked in full form.

“On my account,” she said now, and Silain felt her spirit waver. To witness on Droi’s account might mean anything from a murder to a badly seasoned dish.

“We have a death upon us,” she said, giving warning that, if the witnessing would be long, it would need to wait.

Droi bowed her head.

“Well I know it,” she said, abandoning the ritual, as Silain had hoped she would. “I would dance Dmitri through the door with a light heart, Grandmother. I merely wish to know if I carry the balancing number.”

Silain put the memory stick carefully back in the chest. So, the child had taken matters into her own hand—not surprising, really, and perhaps even a good and wise thing, for Droi’s Sight, while often terrifying, was rarely wrong.

“Did you have Rafin?”

Droi shook her head. “I didn’t think of Rafin, and when he proposed himself, I didn’t want him.”

This was encouraging; the child of two such fierce souls might have been more than the Bedel in their present state could support. However . . .

“Did you go Outside?”

“No,” she said sharply, and then laughed with genuine humor. “Or yes. Rys gave the seed.”

Rys, who looked to be Bedel, for all his slightness, who claimed true kinship with several of the
kompani
, and who found acceptance with others. Rys himself might well have been the balancing number, except—

“He has only half a soul,” Silain pointed out.

Droi laughed again, not so humorous this time.

“It wasn’t his soul I wanted.”

Of course not.

“The seed was willingly given?”

“It was.” A close and pleased cat-smile appeared. “And with vigor.”

“You told him that the child was for the
kompani
?”

“
Luthia
, I did so.”

“Then come forward and let us see if you’ve caught a Bedel soul, Daughter. Did you use the draught?”

“Yes. I dreamed it first; I wanted no error.”

Droi would not let such a detail escape her—and dreaming the formula first, so that there would be no error? Of course. That was her way: careful and thorough. Had her Sight not been so dark and so heavy, Droi would have been the
luthia
’s second apprentice.

“Come here, Daughter, and quickly. Dmitri fades into that other world even as we speak. His children pray with him now, but I must return.”

“Yes,” Droi said and stepped forward.

Silain unshipped the healing unit, and tapped in a code while Droi slipped her hand into the sampling glove.

Silain counted to ten, the machine beeped, and the codes marched down the readout.

Droi, who had learned to read the codes before the
luthia
had found it necessary to end her ’prenticeship, sighed.

“A catch for the Bedel,” she said.

Silain sighed as well.

“A catch,” she acknowledged, considering the numbers, “but not a strong one. I recommend a dram of the holding tonic.”

“Yes,” said Droi, her eyes very nearly wholly green.

“Jin will mix it; I must go to Dmitri. Drink it fresh, with no other food or drink, then rest on your bed. You will likely sleep; that is well. When you wake, you may rise, and dance Dmitri across the threshold.”

* * *

Adjustments were made, and again; the push-back ratio adjusted.