Skeen's Search (32 page)

“Saa saa, you insult the innocent beasts. None I know of would do that to another of his kind.”

“No, love, don't. I haven't any humor in me right now. Not about this. Listen. Is Picarefy a person, or merely a clever counterfeit of a person? Our own computers can come close to approximating a playful creativity with the proper software, but it's not real, there's no more self-awareness in them than there is in a dauber tist making palaces of mud. It's all program. And look at that zoo she brought with her. Skeen and Rostico Burn at least match, but the others? And it's worse Beyondthe-Veil; did Picarefy show you images of the kind of things we'll have to be dealing with if we leave the Veil somehow? I mean after this is over. Enough to put one off one's food forever, some of them. I mean, what makes a person? I …”

Zuistro laughed and patted Zelzony's arm. “Forget the conundrums, Zeli, you're too old for this kind of silliness, making mud pies to throw in your own face. Resign yourself to it, love, you are going to go out there and, I know you, Zeli Zeli, you're going to enjoy yourself enormously once you're there. Now, go talk to Picarefy and let her take your mind off ineffable unanswerable nonsense.”

WARNING. EXPOSITORY LUMP AHEAD.

“I loathe and detest unfinished stories, Zem-trallen. I have an itch in my flakes for months when I come across one. So tell me about what's ahead for those three.”

Zelzony settled herself into the pilot's chair on Workhorse, noticeably not so comfortable as those on Picarefy's bridge. “Well, in a senn't they will have their judging.…”

“Judging?”

“Hmm.” Zelzony scratched the tip of her nose with the tip of her right foreclaw. “If this were an ordinary case, say willful doing of damage to property or theft or even sale of drugs to tweeners, a local case, then the Zemortzal of the Gurn or, more likely, the ortzal-fej of the Gather would investigate the wrong with as much thoroughness as he or she was capable of. Let's say she, since I don't want to have to continually he or she this explanation. She'd get everything in writing, including whatever diagrams were necessary, the testimony of witnesses, if any, the valuation of goods involved, the past history of the accused. When she completed the report and caged the suspect, she would go to the Remmyo of the Gather or, if the offense was more than merely local, to the Zem-ortzal of the Gurn. In cases involving official corruption of whatever sort, she'd report to the Kinra of the Gurn-Set.” Zelzony made an impatient movement of her hand. “Fah, I'm no good at this sort of thing; you sure you want me to go on? I could send you a book that explains all this much better.”

“Please do, I'd appreciate the favor. Go on, you're giving me a sketch of the background so I can flesh out the story and bring it to an end. I want to hear it
now
, please.”

“Oh, well. What happens next is three justicers are chosen to preside over the judging. One comes from the clan of the accused and serves to watch over her rights, make sure all mitigating circumstances are excavated and presented. The local Remmyo names this one. The other two, called neutrals, they're chosen by the Kinra or someone appointed by the Kinra to handle such things. That last is more usual since most Kinras have a lot more to worry about than naming justicers, um, this choice is subject to review later and if improperly made might invalidate the judgment. The justicers read the ortzal-fej's report. This takes three to ten days, those things can be heavy enough to give a grubber a hernia. They make notes of anything not clear, any assumption they find questionable, then they question the ortzal-fej. That can be over fast, or the miserable woman might find herself reduced to shreds after a week of picking and pounding. If they find it necessary, they can re-interview witnesses or anyone else the ortzal-fej talked to, though they usually don't bother. Then, finally, they interview the accused. When that's finished they work on their judgment. Determination of guilt is usually quick, without much argument. Conviction requires a unanimous verdict. Two out of three can acquit. If two out of three are convinced of guilt but the third will not acquiesce, an arbiter is called in, usually the Kinra of the Gum-Set, though if the Kinra happens to belong to the clan of the accused, the Kinravaly will be the arbiter. Once they have guilt settled, the justicers will search among the lists of Gurn and Gather projects and assign the convicted a length and type of reparation that seems to suit the crime she committed. Ah, yes, she will be supervised, we're not so trusting as all that. She'll work on the project during the day and at night will sleep in the local holding center. That's how it's supposed to work,” a shrug and a grimace, “depends on what Gurn-Set you're in how close you get.”

“What kind of reparations can those three do, what in the wide universe can repair the harm they've done?” The emotion in the ship's voice made Zelzony squirm in her chair, waking again her ambivalence toward this amalgam of metal and personality.

She looked down at her hands, watched the shadows on the skin alter as she moved her claws in and out. “It's difficult. We don't know why they did what they did and until we do know, all we can be sure of is that they won't stop trying to do it again. We'll have to keep them caged one way or another. What the Kinravaly wants to do is have their flightskins cut away and their hamstrings severed, then give them to the University for study. Especially the geneticists. If the cause is something physical, we don't want it showing up again in our children. Did I say difficult? That is perhaps the biggest understatement any Ykx has made since we landed on Rallen. Sulleggen has already appointed herself as the homeclan justicer. Which means the Kinravaly will have to name the two neutrals. They'll be Tyomfin and Hatenzo, no question about that. She won't let Uratesto anywhere near the judging and Talahusso is too corrupt to trust. And she wants Selyays kept clear because of her connection with University.”

“Neutral? I don't see …”

“Oh. No. They're called neutrals but there's no need for them to be neutral in fact. Or ignorant of events. Yes, they've seen your records, but those won't be mentioned by anyone, not even Sulleggen, and they won't be part of the official record of the judging. If we didn't have sufficient other evidence, we'd have to let the three of them go. Why do you think I've been working so hard on placing them close to the other killings, and providing image prints and eye witnesses to Giulin's torment?”

“So, they end their lives as lab animals.”

“If things go the way the Kinravaly wants. Tell you the truth, I wouldn't be terribly surprised if Sulleggen snatches Peeper, takes him home to Marrallat and closes the borders against us. She's a fool if she does, the whole place would blow. There's no way she can keep word of what that monster has done away from the Marrallese.”

“I see. The Kinravaly has said you're coming with us. Does this postpone embarkation until after the judging?”

Zelzony sighed, dealt firmly with the sick churning in her stomach. “No. I wasn't a direct witness, my part in this is sufficiently described in the reports. So, we leave when everything's ready; it's better that way. Having us gone will clear the Kinravaly's mind and let her concentrate on dealing with Sullegen and her miserable dropping.”

“Sometimes it seems as if everything comes at one all at once.”

“Sometimes.”

My dearest friend:

Will you accept Bohalendas either as one of your aides or as an addition to your party? He wants to observe the Gate in operation and take an infinitude of measurements he says he cannot possibly describe to anyone else
.

If you agree, dearest one, will you take very good care of him? It will need tact and ingenuity, he was ever a man bound to make his own way without help from those who love him. Take very good care of yourself. I cannot count the ways I need you with me
.

Zo

Ykx began arriving at the lake, settling down in family groups on the rolling grasslands to the west of it. Every day more arrived, some as volunteers, some as witnesses to this historic event, an event both groups hoped would be only the first of many such departures.

Itekkillykx were everywhere, running cookshops, hawking souvenirs, selling matrices for the imagers almost everyone was carrying.

Poets declaimed, artists did portraits, soardancers played their graces in the air overhead.

Children swarmed over the grass, running about, soaring in short leaps, playing every game in the Rallykx repertoire. Their parents and other adults sat in groups, chatting comfortably, exchanging stories of their home Gurns and Gathers, glancing continually at the sky, using that as a kind of punctuation to the talk.

The crowd grew and grew, but maintained a vast good humor, Ykx packed against Ykx, accepting such crowding with an amiability that fascinated Zelzony. Day after day she stood for hours on the Kinravaly's flight tower watching the carnival on the grass, seeing in it contradictory things; on one side it was a folk-wide expression of her own aching need to soar beyond the visible limitation of the Veil, an affirmation of the validity of that need, on another it was a run from responsibilities at home, it was a rejection of traditions, it was a vastation of her ideal of civility which was woven about a proper appreciation of place, of the value of the class system with its beautiful symmetry of interaction, class with class. She knew well enough how far from that ideal civility most Ykx lived out their lives, but she refused to allow that knowledge to invalidate the dream. In that genial soup on the grass, Ykx from all classes swirled together, from all Gurns, all parts of the world. Every day Zelzony saw growing numbers of workers come struggling in, soaring dangerous distances on their flightskins, living off the land like swarms of locusts, here for a hope mostly unexpressed even to themselves, a hope of breaking free of the limits Rallen clamped about them, here to drop their names in the great drum that would be churned and turned after the starship arrived, when a thousand names would be drawn from it, called out, a thousand Ykx summoned to apotheosis. One thousand out of ten, twenty, the All-Wise alone knew how many would be there by then, watching, waiting, celebrating the occasion.

Zelzony watched and worried about what she and her few ortzin would do when the ship was gone and thousands of stray Ykx remained, many of them tweeners. The first senn't the crowd had been relatively clean of druggers and drunks, but as day blended into day that was changing, helped along by Itekkillykx peddling hardbrews of every complexion and Oldieppykx dickering over cachets of every brainscrambler Rallen produced. She could not do much about these illegal merchants without disrupting the good nature of the throng down there, starting something she knew she couldn't stop (though she could and did have her agents out getting images of them at work to stow away for later action). While that was frustrating, what worried her more was her fear that what was happening below portended drastic and troubling changes in the Rallen she knew and loved. A yeasty time, as the Kinravaly kept saying. Zelzony more and more thought she was going to hate the bread leavened by this yeast. More and more, she began to play with the thought of joining the volunteers, of leaving Rallen so she could hold it whole in her heart as it was when she was a child, leaving so she wouldn't see what these changes made of it. Another part of her knew this was fantasy, that she'd be lost and miserable among Ykx so eager to leave their Gathers. Looking down at them from the top of that massive tower, she tried to understand wanting to leave forever, without a chance of coming home, never ever coming home again. She could not. It was incomprehensible. Hard enough to leap into nowhere with those aliens when she had the promise of return, but cutting oneself off completely? No and no and no. She looked down at them, brown and gold and gray and brindle, all the same despite the different colors, all Ykx. What would it be like to live on a world where almost everyone else was a different species? They were in for more shocks that they knew, those poor idiots dreaming of a better life. She shivered at the pictures her mind presented her and repeated to herelf no and no and no.

Ykx continued to pour in; the grassy knolls were thick with them and a new drum had to be provided to take the names of the hopefúl.

They watched the sky. All of them. Waiting.

The transport swam out of the Veil and whispered up to Picarefy, dwarfing her as it floated next to her. Skeen sipped at her tea and watched the immense teardrop tremble daintily as it nudged into orbit a shiplength away. A last flirt of its tail, then the screen in front of her bloomed with the transport's bridge. Virgin and Hopeless looked out at her.

Hopeless' face split into an electric grin. “Ta, Skeen.”

“Ta, Hopeless, Virgin. How's it going?”

“Sweatin'. This beast is a cow for handling and there's a swarm of snaggers outside the Veil dipping their hooks in the insplit.”

Virgin was twitching and jitsy as an epileptic flea, her eyes widened until the white showed round the tarry black irids, tics did a dance in the muscles of her face, her mouth writhed around a spate of silent words. She never did well when separated too long from the Abode. The Eye hung above her, invisible but almost palpable, throbbing, twisting, expanding and closing in, mocking the movements of her mouth. That powerful vortex of nothingness made Skeen nervous. She did some twitching of her own as a Voice sounded behind her, deep and sepulchral like a basso shouting down a tube. “Cidder is out there waiting, crouching in the Essher Group like a spider, waiting.”

Hopeless nodded. “He kept the Eye spinning, Cidder did. He's got Imperial harriers spread along the Veil's Edge. He's got thirteen sets of snagships and maulers parked. He's got a score of snaggers trolling. You can feel his fury, Skeen, it's like a cloud of poison gas, cold, brrrh.”