The 97th Step (20 page)

"Transportation?" he asked.

"No. We walk. It's only a few kilometers. Somebody will bring our baggage later."

Overhead, a few klicks away, an afternoon thunderhead was nearly finished building, dark purple-gray clouds at the bottom, with the cottony-white top high enough to be shredded by substratospheric winds.

He had been in the tropics of several worlds, and he didn't much care for them. This place seemed worse than most.

Ferret found himself enveloped in a sudden fog. It bit him. Damn, where had all these insects come from?

He slapped at the bugs, his efforts doing little except to swirl them about him in buzzing clouds. They didn't seem to be bothering the priestess, even if they could have gotten at her through all that cloth.

"Here," Moon said.

She held out a dark blue hand-sized plastic rectangle.

"A repel-field generator," she said. "The low setting will keep the insects away. The high setting will stop most precipitation."

Ferret took the device, slid the control tab up to the low power setting, and was gratified to see his surrounding bug-smoke dissipate. He slipped the generator onto his belt. It made no sound or vibration he could feel.

"So, the order doesn't believe in wasting its money on such frills as ground cars or flitters, eh?"

Moon continued her long strides without looking at him. "That little device I just gave you cost eight thousand stads," she said. "About the same as a two-passenger flitter runs in a major metropolitan area.

Here, with shipping, the flitter would cost half again as much. This island is only a little over thirty by ninety klicks, around sixteen hundred and forty square kilometers altogether. Most of it is inaccessible by ground car or flitter."

She was interrupted by a strobe of lightning and a tearing boom of thunder fast following. Almost immediately, it began to rain. The drops were fat, spattering the plastcrete and nearby bushes with a sound like pebbles falling. Within seconds, a driving tropical wind sent rain sweeping over Ferret and Moon in slanting angular waves.

Ferret fumbled with the control tab on his belt generator, and the waterfall deluging him turned into a fine mist, powdery light, hardly enough to dampen him more than he already was.

Moon leaned close to him, and their fields intersected. He felt his hair stir slightly. Some kind of reaction to the two fields clashing, he figured. A few drops of rain slanted through, confirming his guess. Moon said, "It rains like this almost every afternoon. Between the rain and the insects, which would you rather have—the generator or a ground car you can't drive anywhere?"

"I take your point."

She retreated a pace, and his hair fell back into place. The fine mist continued, no more stray drops hitting him. They walked along the road, skirting puddles. The noise of the rain made casual conversation difficult, so they hiked without speaking. At least it was cooler, Ferret thought.

The few kilometers turned out to be about six. The storm had swept away by the time they reached the gate to the complex, the wind gone and thunder diminished to distant grumbles. Vapor rose under the sun's renewed touch, and already Ferret could feel the heat returning despite the five centimeters of rain.

He had seen a map in the travel station, another item to be committed to memory, and he mentally reviewed it, trying to determine their position. The island's profile was roughly fish-shaped, tapering from the "head" on the east to a sort of squashed, flukelike tail on the west. The fish would have a hook-shaped "nose," if fish had such, an upturned crescent-shaped horn that was actually another small island. This horn was separated from the main body by a strait that seemed narrow enough to span with a thrown rock, judging by the map. At the tail end, tiny islands dribbled away into the sea, looking like small bits of excreta from the larger fish. The travel station was somewhere in the vicinity of the fish's eye, and they walked northeast away from it, as nearly as he could tell—he recalled that Earth's sun set in the west. From the top of a rise a klick back, he had seen the sea, maybe another six or eight kilometers ahead.

Around the compound, a fence stretched in both directions, a metal chain interlink hung with signs warning of high voltage and danger in several languages. Trees and foliage had been cleared from the mesh for five meters on either side. Nobody was going to shinny up a tree and clear the fence, from inside or out. The gate itself was thickly barred and the frame heavy plastcrete; a guard kiosk stood to the left of the entrance, manned by the first person Ferret had seen since arriving. The guard wore a shroud identical to Moon's, but controlled no weapons Ferret could see. Why didn't the Confed notice this place? Some stads must have changed hands somewhere, and not just a few.

Ferret eyed the fence, his thief's instincts curious. "How do you keep it lit during all the rain? Any problem with shorts?"

"No. The carrier is broadcast and triggered by heavy weight—small animals can climb it, but a man will set it off. The charge is a high volt, low amp, come-see-me."

Ferret kept his face impassive as he nodded. Talking very sophisticated gear, a come-see-me zapper.

The fence was dead, except for wherever somebody tried to scale it. That particular spot would light up, and while it probably wasn't set to kill, a climber would be lucky to be knocked off and able to consider his mistake in trying it. Otherwise, he'd hang there, clamped to the wire by his own electrically clenched muscles, until somebody came to get him down. Behold my sticky web, stupid bug…

"Hello, Clip," Moon said, interrupting Ferret's professional thought train.

"Moon. Welcome home," the guard said.

"Good to be back. This is the new palliate."

Ferret looked at the man. He must be a permanent guard, he figured. Otherwise, how could she have known who he was?

"Von will be glad to see you," the man called Clip said.

"And I him."

Ferret caught a new undertone in her voice, a happy note he hadn't noticed before. Did Moon and this Von have something going?

Abruptly, he found that thought disquieting. He did not want Moon to be attached.

Oh? And why is that, Ferret old pal? Don't tell me you've got hormones for this tent-covered
priestess? Jesu, she could look like a tree stump under that rig!

Ferret suppressed a grin at his inner voice's carping.

Clip touched a control and the gate slid open. Moon walked into the compound, Ferret following.

"What's a palliate?"

"A new student," she said. "Someone who is uncloaked, and starting with the First Layer."

"First Layer?"

"Part of the Undershroud. You have to earn each layer of clothing. There are two divisions, Under and Over, and each has Three Layers. First, Second and Third Under; First, Second and Third Over."

Oh, sister, he thought. Mumbo-jumbo.

She seemed to hear his thought. "Think of it as a kind of pin or belt in a martial art."

Hmm. Put that way, it didn't sound so bad. Actually, it kind of made sense. You'd know who knew what just by looking. All right, he could live with that.

They moved from the gate along a walk that seemed to be made of marble, toward a small building straight ahead. The door slid open, and Moon entered, Ferret right behind her.

He followed her down a narrow hallway to a larger room that stood empty, save for a holoproj inset into the wall. After a beat, another Sibling entered, enwrapped as Moon and Clip were. The figure moved to Moon, said something Ferret did not catch, then stood waiting as Moon turned to Ferret.

"You have to surrender your weapons," she said.

"Weapons? I don't have any weapons."

"You have a plastic HO scan-transparent buckle blade and a stun-grade slap cap ring," she said.

"Huh?" Ferret was at a loss for a moment. Jesu, he had forgotten all about the ring and belt knife. He had been carrying them for years, had never used either one, and tended to dismiss them, as neither were killing devices. How did she know?

"Our detector is efficient," she said, again as if in answer to his unspoken question.

Maybe they were telepaths? "Right about that. Sorry, I forgot all about them."

He tendered the ring and unsnapped the blade from his belt buckle, handing it to her, too. She in turn passed the weapons to the silent figure standing behind her.

They walked from the antechamber down a short stretch of the marble path to a second, larger building, a T-shaped structure of stone, with a lot of windows.

"This is Admin," Moon said. "Von is waiting for us here. He is the Elder Brother of our order."

The Admin building's air was conditioned, and Ferret enjoyed the cooler and drier air as Moon led him along a hallway lined with a dozen doors, most of them open. He could see people inside the rooms—offices, actually—and while some of them were dressed like Moon, others wore fewer garments. All the costumes had a similar look—the wearers' faces and heads were covered, as were their torsos—but those of lower rank had thin, silky masks that stopped at the neck, and some had bare arms or legs, their clothing being little more than dark bodysuits and slippers.

So far, the layout seemed both modern and well constructed. There were computer and holoproj consoles, high-tech climate exchanger strips and liberal use of decorative wood and stone, often polished and carefully worked into intricate patterns. Whoever had designed the place hadn't stinted on material or workmanship, and Ferret had lived well enough to know an expensive structure when he saw one. This was not a poor order.

They passed the entrance to a library, shelves stacked with tapes, disks, recording spheres and actual books. Ferret was even more impressed. Hard copy books were usually rare and valuable, and for them to be kept in that space-consuming fashion must mean they were special indeed.

Another turning brought them to an office that seemed no different than any of the others at first glance. A second look revealed some finer touches, however. The wood of the walls inside this room was thick and full of buried knots, darker concentric patterns against the dark wood itself. The wood had been overlaid with something that gave it a dull gleam, more like satin than glass. Several paintings hung on the polished walls, one a magnificent woman, nude, caught in a pose that indicated both triumph and supplication, almost as if she had somehow found and now stood before God, having overcome great obstacles to do so. The painting so caught his attention that he hardly noticed the robed figure standing to one side.

"Ah. Moon."

Ferret tore his attention away from the painting. The man's voice was vibrant, deep, alive with power.

This was the Elder Brother? It must be a title, for surely this was no old man. That bothered him a little.

"Hello, Von." Again, there was that sound in Moon's voice, a current that Ferret could not quite recognize. Affection, to be sure. Maybe respect? Love, perhaps?

"Whom have you brought to us?"

"He calls himself Ferret," she said, as if he were not there and listening. "One of Dindabe's students.

Fallen on hard times."

Von shifted his attention from the priestess to Ferret. Ferret felt the man's gaze almost as if it were a touch. "Dindabe. He is well, I trust?"

Ferret said, "Yes. You know him?"

Ferret was sure that Von smiled under his covering. "We met some years ago. He would have joined us, but his intent was altogether too martial, I'm afraid."

Ferret stared at the man. His fear surged. "I don't know what my own intent is," he said. "I'm not sure I belong here."

"Moon seems to think you do," Von said. "And Moon is seldom wrong about these things."

Ferret turned to look at Moon. He tried for sarcasm. "Oh, really?"

"In truth," Von said, ignoring Ferret's attempt at irony. "Well. What shall we call him? Moon?"

"I thought 'Pen' might fit him." Her voice was quieter than usual, softer.

"Ah. You aim high."

"He has the potential."

"Hold on, what are we talking about here?"

"You think so?" Von continued, ignoring Ferret's question. The priest sounded surprised, and at the same time, most interested.

"Yes. I think so."

"Good. Pen it shall be."

"Excuse me," Ferret said, "but would somebody explain?"

Moon said, "When you join the Siblings of the Shroud, you leave your old identity behind. You take on a name that has meaning in the order. No one else can use the name as long as you are a member. We have not had a Brother Pen for some time."

Ferret felt a curious lightness. He tested the word in his mind. Pen. Pen. It was as if he could shed his past with his name. He had done it before, as a boy of sixteen, when he left Mwili and became Ferret.

There was something appealing about it, being able to start anew. In the church, there had been a parallel, being born again. He was too old and too cynical to be reborn, but he could start fresh here with this siblinghood, with a new name and a clean screen. Before he spoke, he was aware that he had made his decision, had actually made it when Dindabe had first suggested it to him.

Pen. It was just a word. A simple sound.

He looked at Von.

"Welcome to the Siblings of the Shroud, Pen."

Pen.

And Ferret no longer.

Twenty

THE FIRST SURPRISE came when Pen stripped away his old clothes and dressed in the skimpy tunic, briefs, pullover mask and boots they gave him. The cloth was like air. He could hardly even feel it on his skin.

"It's called
kawa
," Moon said, when he emerged from the dressing room. "An offshoot of orthoskin. It's one-way osmotic, but waterproof the other way; one-quarter as heavy as purest spider silk, twice as strong.
Kawa
has a rip-stop weave that will turn all but the sharpest knife; it sheds dirt, and it can be layered in such a way as to dissipate or hold virtually all your body heat—keeps you cool in summer, warm in winter. A shroud of
kawa
worn daily will last ten years with minimal care, more with special cleaning and draping. It feels almost alive, doesn't it?"