Necessity's Child (Liaden Universe®) (8 page)

The tech must’ve hit Danny with some happy juice when he wasn’t looking, Mike thought. He took a hard look at the streeter’s face—white and sweaty. Might be shock—or might be fury. Whichever, maybe he’d say more.

“Where?” he asked.

“Up ta north side, two blocks in,” Danny said through gritted teeth. “What’s my reward, Goldie?”

“Have to see the body first,” he said, tucking his hands carefully into his pockets. There was law, now. And the law said he couldn’t just break Danny’s neck for being a bad act and all-around nuisance. He said he’d killed somebody, but there wasn’t no murder until there was a body. Mike took a breath.

“I’ll get back to you,” he told Danny and stepped away, gesturing to the security.

“Yessir.”

“Can you keep these guys close?”

The security shrugged. “Danny ain’t goin’ nowhere, is my bet. Gin already hit him with a calm-down dose and she’ll hit him with another one ’fore she gets done, not to say some antibiotics. That’s a bad cut, like you said. She lets him outta here, it’ll go septic for sure. Woman hates to see her work wasted.”

Mike nodded. “Patrol can take Mort and Hank.”

“I’ll call ’em and set it up.”

“Thanks,” Mike said. “They have anything with ’em when they come in?”

“Took some things outta pockets, but I’m guessing the good stuff, if there was any, went with Dwight and Parfil.”

Mike nodded. “Me and Patroller bar’Obin will wanna look at what’s there.”

“Sure.”

* * *

Like the man’d said, there wasn’t much—some coins, a snap knife with a grippy handle, a box of strike-anywheres.

Patroller bar’Obin used her chin to point at the knife.

“That is off-world,” she said.

Mike nodded to show he’d heard her, though it didn’t help all that much. Lately, anybody with enough money, or a light touch, could have an outworld knife.

“Do you have orders for the Patrol, Michael Golden of Boss Nova’s office?”

He sighed and looked at her, seeing only a kind of smooth politeness.

“Yeah. See if you can get a line on the knife. And ask Chief Tilden to send a couple Patrollers up into the warehouses—north side, first—to see if they can find a pot—or a body.”

* * *

The
gadje
breathed yet, far more than the five Udari had called. That he would continue to breathe through the night, or that he would mend—those were questions even the
luthia
could not answer.

“We will do what may be done,” the
luthia
said, her bag repacked and her face pale with strain from her labors. Kezzi brought her a cup of tea, there by the hearth. Inside, Jin sat with the
gadje
, holding his undamaged hand between both of hers, so he would know, even in the depths of his coma, that he was not alone.

“Will he live?” Kezzi asked again, sitting on her heels next to the fire. For many hours, she had bound and held and snipped and washed as directed by the
luthia
. The
gadje
—he had been like a doll, smashed under a heavy, heedless boot. His right hand—the tiny bones broken like so many twigs—his ribs, his face, and things broken inside, too, so that the
luthia
had called for the Deep Healer—the first time Kezzi had ever seen this device used.

“He may live or he may not,” Silain said, giving the question the only answer she would. “We have done what we are given to do. We have shown the universe that we do not willingly let him go.”

A shadow moved at the edge of the fire.

“And why,” asked Alosha the headman, “do we not relinquish him, O
luthia
? What do the Bedel owe this
gadje
that we will return him to life, and trust him not to betray us?”

The
luthia
looked to Kezzi. “Bring tea for the headman, small sister. And take some for yourself.”

Alosha sighed, and sat at the
luthia
’s right hand, legs crossed and face weary.

“Udari’s actions at the first seem sensible. A dying
gadje
at our very door! Such a thing must be removed, and quickly. The furnace was near, and certain. Child,” he said, accepting the mug from Kezzi’s hand.

“But does Udari of the Bedel make an end to the sad
gadje
’s pain, and afterward feed the furnace? He does not. Instead, he brings the
gadje
to Silain, our
luthia
.” Alosha paused, sipped, and allowed another sigh to be heard.

“Well! Udari has a soft nature; he is devout. And we are taught that the
luthia
’s blessing is required to smooth the way to the World Unseen.”

Kezzi poured the dregs of the kettle into her mug and squatted by the fire, listening.

“But does the
luthia
then release the
gadje
’s spirit into the next world? She does not. Rather, she undertakes a healing, for no reason that I can understand.
Luthia
, teach me. I ask it.”

There was a small silence while Silain sipped her tea.

“There are those things which are given to the headman’s authority and understanding,” she said at last. “And those things which are given to the understanding and the authority of the
luthia
.”

“So we are taught, and so we believe,” Alosha acknowledged.

“So we are taught, and so we believe,
and so the universe is ordered
,” the
luthia
said, which was the fuller answer.

She shook her hair back and looked across the fire to the headman. Kezzi could see that she smiled.

“Sleep well and dream richly, Alosha, headman of the Bedel. The universe is ordered, and all is as well as may be.”

CHAPTER NINE

“Good morning, Grandaunt.”

Syl Vor waited just inside the door to the morning room for Grandaunt Kareen to acknowledge him. He had taken particular care with himself this morning, brushing his hair until it lay flat, and choosing for his costume a white shirt, an embroidered vest, and soft dark pants. Of course, he was too young to have formal calling clothes, but he thought he had done rather well, given the resources available to him.

Grandaunt looked up from her book, one eyebrow lifting as she surveyed him. Syl Vor raised his chin and met her eye boldly. Grandaunt did not approve of meeching manners.

“Good morning, Child Syl Vor,” she said. “I hope I see you well this early in the day?”

“Indeed, I am very well,” he answered, which correct response she herself had taught him. “May I hope that you are the same?”

“I enjoy my usual robust health, thank you.” She closed the book and tucked it between her hip and the arm of the chair. “May I deduce from your attire that you have on purpose sought me out?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “I have—if you please, Grandaunt—a question of protocol.”

“A
pressing
question of protocol, I apprehend. Very well, child; you have my attention. Stand forth and ask.”

Thus encouraged, he came an additional six steps into the room and bowed as one grateful for a kindness.

“I have been reviewing the forms,” he said, which was perfectly true. “And I find that I—that my understanding founders on a matter of timing.” He paused, in case she wished to comment on his preface, or perhaps to praise his diligence.

Grandaunt merely moved a hand, inviting him to continue.

“I wonder, ma’am, what is the proper waiting period, when one party has said to another that a face-to-face meeting is required?”

Grandaunt Kareen considered him blandly. Syl Vor folded his hands and composed himself to wait.

“That is a question which cannot be answered before the sub-questions it spawns are properly retired.” She raised her hand, thumb extended. “Are both parties on-world?”

“Yes, ma’am, they are.”

Her index finger joined the thumb. “Have both parties agreed to the necessity of this meeting?”

“Yes.”

Middle finger. “Is there any necessity of clan or survival which prevents one party from attending?”

This was where he had stumbled in his own analysis. Surely, if there was some danger in the city that prevented his mother from arriving home, the House would have heard—and acted. And yet, he was only just learning
melant’i
and form. There well could be some adult circumstance which was hidden from his understanding.

“I am waiting, Child Syl Vor.”

He bowed.

“Forgive me, Grandaunt. There is no impediment
that I am aware of
.”

“Ah, this is the crux, is it?” Grandaunt smiled her sharp, slender smile. “If such an impediment exists, it is the duty of the impeded party to communicate this. The Code assumes that we will be observant and thoughtful, Child Syl Vor. It does not assume prescience.”

Syl Vor sighed, only a very tiny sigh, but Grandaunt of course heard. Astonishingly, she did not scold him for an unbecoming display, but merely asked, “What does your analysis tell you now?”

“Three days,” he said. “Unless word has been sent.”

“That is correct.” Grandaunt tipped her head. “Is there anything else, Child Syl Vor?”

“No. I thank you, Grandaunt; there was only that.”

“Then I will regretfully bid you good morning.”

He bowed, younger to elder. “Good morning, Grandaunt. Thank you.”

“You are welcome. Please do me the kindness of closing the door behind you.”

* * *

The
garda
had come up the street, and past three of their doors, including the door where Udari had found the dying
gadje
. Pulka, who watched the cameras one shift out of three, said that they had come to the very place where the
gadje
had lain, and placed a sniffer there on the ’crete. Had the headman’s cleansing of the area been less thorough—but Alosha was never careless, and so the devices of the
garda
were confounded.

The Bedel had, for several days after, remained in
kompani
, and only Torv went to the City Above, as the eyes and ears of the Bedel. He brought back that the
garda
searched for a dead man they did not, themselves, fully believe in. They were therefore undismayed to find no trace of him. There was no lamentation in the taverns, nor notices on the message poles, as sometimes there was, asking for news of the
gadje
,
their gadje
. It would seem from this that he was a man alone—which was not, as Kezzi knew—a strange thing, in the City Above, though it seemed strange, indeed, to the Bedel, who were as the petals on a single flower.

Their
gadje
, since coming among them, had kept to his coma. Silain said that he healed, and it did seem to Kezzi that his fires burned a little brighter. He had many breaths now, between him and the World Unseen, like markers in a game of chance. Still, Jin said that he was frail, and that he must wake soon, for the well-being of his heart and his mind.

To that, Silain the
luthia
said again that he healed, and that he would wake when he could bear it.

Kezzi took her turn sitting at the
gadje
’s side, watching the lines that fed water and virtue directly into his veins. Now that it was less swollen, she could see that his face was comely. His hair, brushed free of blood by Jin’s patient hand, was as black as her own, though it curled like a baby’s, all over his head. Sometimes, it seemed that dreams took him; he would mutter, his muscles jerk, and the dark lashes flicker along his cheeks.

He never opened his eyes, though.

Kezzi wondered what would happen, when at last he did.

* * *

Syl Vor checked his bag once more. He had a positioner, in case he should become lost, and a portcomm; extra gloves; his hat; a sweater; a cereal bar; and a bottle of water. On top, where he could find it easily, was a tin of his mother’s favorite tea, because one did not go on an afternoon call without bearing a gift—he had checked the forms, to be certain.

He was a little concerned, that the gift would be found insufficient, since he had simply taken it out of the pantry—
which
, he reminded himself firmly, was
not
stealing from kin, because the tea was for the use of the House.

In his pockets he had money, identification, and his folding knife. His gun was clipped to his belt, hidden beneath his jacket. Biting his lip, he tried to think if there was any other vital thing that he should have with him for this visit, until the chime of the hall clock recalled him to the passage of time.

Quickly, he sealed his jacket, put on his gloves and hat, slung the bag over his shoulder and headed for the door. The taxi would be here soon.

It would perhaps have been more seemly to have asked kin to drive him, but, once again, everyone was busy with this, or that, or another very important task, and he was reasonably certain that he had quite enough local money to pay for the taxi to and from.

He had recorded his absence and his destination in the house base, as he had promised Aunt Miri that he would do, so no one need worry that he had been lost.

He had just gained the main entrance hall when he heard the sound of rapid steps behind him.

“Syl Vor!” came the greeting, light-voiced and pleasant. “Where to in such a haste, Nephew?”

The voice belonged to Uncle Ren Zel, Aunt Anthora’s lifemate. Syl Vor liked Uncle Ren Zel; he was quiet and kind and sometimes came ’round to ask Syl Vor if he would indulge him with a game of catch. Because he liked Uncle Ren Zel, Syl Vor paused, and turned—though he would have been obliged to do so in any case, he told himself sternly. He smiled, and waited, which was hard, because
surely
the taxi had arrived by now!

“Good afternoon, Uncle,” he said. “I am going to town.”

“Are you indeed?” Ren Zel said, with a smile. “Shall I drive you?”

“Thank you,” he said politely. “I had seen on the schedule that you were with Weather Tech Brunner and did not wish to disturb you. I have called a taxi.”

“Mr. Brunner can spare me for an hour, at need. But I wonder where you are bound, in the city?”

“I am going to see my mother,” Syl Vor said. “I am quite well prepared. I have my gun, and my little knife, and extra warm clothes, and fare both ways.”

“I would call that well prepared, indeed. Does Nova expect you?”