Reading the Wind (Silver Ship) (19 page)

She looked at Marcus. “When I last saw you, you worked alone. Are you affiliated now?”

He shook his head, smiling softly, apparently amused at the question.

“I appreciate your offer, but I don’t know if we can take it. I …” She hesitated, glancing at Tiala for a second. “I don’t know what kind of resources I have yet. It will take days or more to sell the ship’s contents, and I can’t yet tell how much the Port Authority will try to block me. How much do you need?”

Alicia gasped.

How much? Did Marcus want credit to train me? I hadn’t expected that, but maybe that was the root of Jenna’s questions about affiliation. What was he offering anyway? It had sounded like a command.

Marcus stepped back and shook his head, still looking bemused. “Well, I suspect I could get the Port Authority to pay me a pretty penny to train him for
them
. The newer ships the navy flies need strength like his, or mine.” He arched an eyebrow and cocked his head, reminding me for a moment of Akashi, playing to an audience onstage during story night. “And there may be war here soon. There’s tension between the Five Worlds. Islas is building up its fleet, and signaling some nasty intentions toward us. Lopali is with us, but Paradise and Joy Heaven haven’t signaled their preferences.” He grimaced. “Or at least they haven’t told us.”

Jenna grimaced. “How much do you want?” I asked.

He looked at me. “You could earn your own way.”

It felt like a test. “What do you mean?”

“It may take months, or more, to teach you about this place. Jenna
could teach you a little, but I’m one of the only people who can teach you how to ride data. You should never have seen me inside the
New Making
. I should have been able to turn that ship like an unseen hand.” He pursed his lips and shook his head, a chiding humor in his voice. “But your control is really pretty poor.”

I bit back a sharp protest and waited. He hadn’t answered my question yet.

“I work for hire. That’s what I was doing today—and I won’t be getting paid for that job, now, I suspect.” He grinned. “You’ll be able to help in a few months. You can work off your training.”

I bit my lip. Working it off sounded better, more noble. But that was exactly what Jenna had chosen to avoid when she refused the command to land at the space station. Without taking my eyes from Marcus, I said, “Jenna, isn’t some of the cargo mine?”

“Yes.” Approval. I had said the right thing.

“Then we’ll pay, Marcus.” I tried to radiate strength. “If I go. But first, I want to know why you’re doing this. Why did you come for me at all?”

“Because I don’t want you working for the wrong people.”

When I looked at Jenna, she was smiling at Marcus’s answer. So I looked back at him and said, “Very well.” I hadn’t been to Trading Days twice a year for nothing. I didn’t understand value here. Not yet. “You can work out the price with Jenna.”

Alicia spoke up. “What about me?”

Marcus looked at her. “Ask Jenna.”

Alicia recoiled slightly, but pressed on. “Surely you’re not taking him off by himself?”

He ignored her, turning toward Jenna. “Four hundred credits for the first month, then three hundred a month after that.”

Tiala gasped. “That’s the price of a small ship!”

I blinked, surprised, but held my tongue yet again. I didn’t want to leave Alicia, but I needed a way to understand this place—its data, its people, and what I could be here.

Marcus kept his gaze on Jenna. “It’s a high price, but I keep my freedom by having enough credit to buy it. Jenna, you know what you’ve brought here.” He nodded at me. “I won’t have time to do much of anything else for the next few months.”

Jenna put her hand on Tiala’s free shoulder. Bell leaned around and twittered at her until Tiala raised a hand and said, “Okay, Bell.” The bird quieted immediately.

“Tiala,” Jenna said, “there’s plenty. Even though I can already tell I’ll need resources for other things, Joseph may be our future. I’ll pay.”

Tiala shook her head. “That’s a lot of credit.” She watched me silently, but not unkindly. I had the sense she was trying to decide if I was worth a small ship.

Alicia stepped back near me, taking my hand. “What happens to us, Jenna?” She sounded betrayed. “You said you’d teach us what we need to know. And now you’re sending Joseph away. What happens to us?”

Jenna looked pained. “You’ll stay with me until I find out more. Then, you two will need teachers. But no one is about to chase you down.”

Bryan cleared his throat. “Is someone about to chase Joseph down?”

Marcus answered. “We aren’t going to wait around to find out.”

I blinked at him. “Do I have to go now?”

Alicia’s fingers tightened around my arm, and she stepped close to me, watching Marcus’s face.

“Yes.” He smiled warmly then. “I will not be easy on you.”

But … I looked from Alicia to Bryan to Jenna. I hated feeling weak enough to ask the next question. “By myself?”

He frowned at me. “Perhaps I haven’t been clear. Drop your shields.”

“My what?”

“Go on. Tell me what you can learn about this ordinary little park here. Open yourself up to its data.”

I swallowed hard, my pulse racing.

I had to try.

I opened. Silver’s Home screamed at me. Numbers. Coordinates. Lists of credits. Names and words I didn’t know. So much more than we had on Fremont, so much faster. Data threads plunging into me and pulling me out of my body. Shattering my core. I crumpled to the grass, landing on my knees, then all fours.

“Stop,” Marcus commanded.

I couldn’t. There wasn’t enough strength, enough cohesion. Too
much data filled me. Pieces of my very being seemed to float away in the data.

He bent down next to me, his face serious and still. Silence bathed me until I stopped shaking. “You need to come now,” he said.

Alicia knelt by my side. I didn’t remember that she’d touched me, but her palm caressed my cheek.

I smiled up at her, drinking her in, suddenly wanting to take her in my arms so badly it was a physical need like thirst. I settled for taking her hand. “He’s right. I have to go.”

She nodded, her tears still caught in her eyes, her back straight. Her lower lip trembled, just slightly. “I know.”

“You’ll stay in touch?” I asked.

She stared up at Marcus, and if looks could hurt, he’d need medi-tape. Her voice came out small and fierce. “I’ll make sure. Somehow.”

“There must be some way to communicate here.” Bryan sounded angry and looked lost. He’d been beaten, then shoved onto the ship without really knowing what had happened, stayed asleep for most of the journey, then woke up to land in this strange place soon after. He’d lost Chelo, his best friend, and now he was losing me.

I wanted to ask Alicia to take care of him, but I knew Bryan too well. I tightened my grip on Alicia’s hand. “You two take care of each other.”

“We will,” Alicia said.

She extended a hand, and I took it and stood up, my legs shaking.

Marcus said, “Time to go.”

Bell flew circles around our heads, her feathers gleaming in the late afternoon brightness as if she were, herself, a tiny sunset. I’d never seen such behavior in a bird. In dogs, but never in a bird.

Jenna leaned in and hugged me, Bryan pulled me close for a second, his large arm enfolding me, and Alicia clung, only stepping back when I pushed myself gently away. I looked at Tiala, struck again by the differences between the sisters. Tiala could have been Jenna’s child, or grandchild. We had actually never quite been introduced. “Pleased to meet you, Tiala.”

She inclined her head. “Good luck.”

I turned to Jenna. “When will I see you again?”

Marcus answered for her. “Not for at least a few months.”

That felt like a lifetime. I looked once more at all of them, drinking in their shapes, the angles of their faces. I swallowed hard, and said, “I’m ready.”

T
he smell of baking bread woke me. I rolled over, stretching out on smooth, soft sheets scented with something like outdoor garden air, rich and complex. The bread! It called to the empty hollow where my stomach used to be. The last thing I’d eaten was the waybread in the Command Room.

I struggled to sit up, every muscle sore. Vague memories of landing somewhere in the dark. We’d flown here through the dark, and I had given into exhaustion almost immediately.

I was alone.

Except for Marcus. Who was he, really?

When we arrived, Marcus’s arm had steadied me and led me up dimly lit stairs. I recalled deciding he was putting me into a bed and that the right thing to do was close my eyes.

He’d left me clothed, but my shoes lay neatly at the side of the bed, and the captain’s coat hung on the corner of an ornately carved wooden box that cupped the bed. I pushed a light green coverlet away and padded to the bathroom attached to the room. In the mirror, I looked exhausted and shell-shocked. I splashed cold water on my face, struggling to wake, driven by hunger.

I did not feel like myself at all, but like some character in the made-up stories Akashi used to tell at community fires.

A fresh set of clothes had been set out—simple blue pants and a green shirt, soft to the touch. The seams were sewn with data threads like my father’s old headband, and the belt-line of the pants had a subtle blue-on-blue design shot through with gold data thread. By
now, I knew the thread was merely an amplifier, and that, in fact, it did me little good. And why would I want to amplify the data here? I so wanted to reach for it, to have it steady me, extend me. Like at home. Like on
New Making
. I stayed closed up, changed, and went in search of the source of the bread smell.

Downstairs, I found an empty kitchen the size of the common kitchen in Artistos that fed whole guilds. The alluring smell issued from an oven set into the wall. Surfaces gleamed: silver metal and natural-looking brown and gray and black stone. A cook-surface that could have fed half the community filled the middle of the large room, with wood and stone countertops surrounding it. Tools and dried herbs I didn’t recognize hung from walls, and a wide, low stone shelf with three sinks spaced far apart lined half a windowed wall, light spilling onto the stone.

On the other side of the window, flashes of bright color and movement drew my eye to a garden. Red and gold flowers vined up trellises, trees with maroon and green leaves twisted into geometric shapes that couldn’t be natural, but looked somehow exactly right. The walled garden dwarfed the huge kitchen, as wide as the long window, at least fifteen meters, and twice as long. Paths and benches and large stones, tiny lawns, and a small stream filled the open places. Huge purple flowers on long stalks, a golden bird with a silver beak that looked as artificial and perfect as Tiala’s Bell. I walked to the sink, leaning close to the window, inundated by perfect details.

“Do you like it?”

I jumped at the sound of Marcus’s voice, as if pulled from a trance.

“This is part of what I can teach you. We are all creators on Silver’s Home, and Wind Readers make the best creators. You have the ability to create spaces of beauty if you want to. For me, it is a way to practice my skills and hone my sense of balance all at once.”

“But how?” I whispered. “How does reading data translate to creating something like this?”

Marcus wore clothes much like mine, loose blue pants and a simple off-white shirt. He was a few inches taller than me, and slightly thinner, although strong and wiry rather than gawky. I recalled his green eyes from the day before, and now they seemed full of all the greens in his garden. He cleared his throat. “All living things are driven
by genetic data. Reading the Wind of data is the first step to weaving that data into changed patterns. We have a better track record than machines for creating life, as if the life inside us speaks to the life we are making.” He grinned at me. “Oddly enough, machines can design a better spaceship.”

I laughed at that, somehow not surprised. “This must have taken forever.”

His laugh sounded warm and silky. “It’s not done. To get this far took fifteen years.”

I still couldn’t tear myself away from the window. “Do people who aren’t Wind Readers create biological things?”

“They could make up the pieces of this—a flower, a tree, and some can even design birds or other pets. Often the best possible choice is to team a Wind Reader with someone good at strategy or with a strong artistic bent. Only a powerful Wind Reader can see the interrelationships necessary to make a whole ecosystem. A team without a Wind Reader cannot do it.”

A pair of red and blue birds twice the size of my hand flew in playful circles across the garden, alighting in a tree with blue-green leaves nearly a meter across. “How do you keep the birds in?”

“I designed it so they’d want to stay here. It’s a microclimate, and the shifts in heat and humidity from the garden to the rest of the property discourage migration.” He paused. “But sometimes they leave. If they do, I wish them luck.”

“So if I leave you will wish me luck?”

“
When
you leave I will wish you luck.” He took my arm, gently, peeling me away from the window, and led me to a small table set with plates of bread and fruit, glasses of water, and two steaming mugs of something black that smelled bitter. “Sit. You need food.”

No kidding. Now that the garden’s trance-hold on me was broken, my stomach screamed in my ears. I reached for a slice of bread. “What’s in the cup?”

“It’s col, a mild stimulant. It’s pretty much our traditional morning drink on Silver’s Home—the flavoring ingredients can be changed to match individual taste. It will tune your nervous system and help you think more clearly. I gave you the taste I like—luko nut and butter—but you can start experimenting tomorrow.”

I wrinkled my nose at the bitter smell, but took a sip anyway. The col tasted sweeter than it smelled, and unlike anything I’d ever tried. Almost immediately, colors looked slightly brighter, and sounds seemed crisper. I tore open a warm roll and bit into it, feeling it dissolve in my mouth. Was everything here better than anything I’d ever experienced? I took another bite, then another, finishing the bread. I reached for the strange fruits, trying something yellow and round. Sweetness filled my mouth, and a bit of juice dribbled down my chin.