The Stolen Child (31 page)

“Dayaram,”
he
said, with the barest hint of a nod.  “It's been a while.”

The man in the red and gold looked her father over with a cool gaze, as if he was studying an apprentice's craftsmanship.

“I trust your journey was not too trying?”

“We had a little trouble on the way, but nothing we couldn't handle,” her father replied, smoothly.  “Now,
this must be... Vaneeta, yes?”
 

Her father
smiled
politely in the woman's direction.  She inclined her head ever so slightly, as Rishi and Abasi offered perfect half bows.  The smoothness in her father's voice, and his pleasant smile, reminded her of how he sometimes acted around the men on the university board.  Though she'd seen him put on the facade before, it always left her feeling a little unsettled, as if she was watching a different person who had stolen her father's face.  Across from him, Dayaram and Vaneeta's faces seemed like perfectly arranged masks, pleasant on the outside, but with eyes that seemed all too hollow within.
 

Abasi and Dayaram shook hands,
their grip perhaps a little too firm
, and then
her father
began to introduce his crew.  Micah bowed and kissed Vaneeta's hand, and
Ilona
, her features set in almost uncanny mimicry of Vaneeta's, allowed Dayaram to offer the same courtes
y
.

“My wife, Milima,” Abasi said, as Milima nodded at Dayaram and
Vaneeta
in turn, pressing her hand to her chest, just over her heart.

“And
you must be
miss Chandra,” Vaneeta said, smil
i
ng sweetly as Arsha remembered herself and
bowed politely
.  
She was sure she must have looked horribly awkward, but no one remarked on it.  She wished she had Ilona's easy way with high class manners.
 

“And of course, the young lady herself,” Dayaram added, turning to address Rachael.  “You must excuse us, young miss.  We were not informed of your name.”

“I'm Rachael.  Barnes,”
Rachael
said,
obviously
feeling uncomfortable with their expectant gazes.

Dayaram simply nodded and gestured for the group to follow him
toward the archway at the far end of the courtyard
.  
As they walked,
Arsha and Rachael
slipped into the back of the group,
side by
side.

“That was weird,”
Rachael
whispered as they walked.  Arsha just shrugged.

“It's sort of this thing everyone has to do.  I think all the
big families
just have this game going or something, to see who can sound the most sincere without meaning it,”
s
he said.

“Father is in his study,” Dayaram was saying to her dad, at the front of their procession.  “He's been informed of your arrival, and hopes you will join him for lunch.  He regrets that he could not greet you all in person, but he is an old man, and tired.”

Her father nodded politely.

“You may inform
Lord Bhandari
that I will be pleased to join him.  There is much that I
wish
to discuss,”
h
e said, as Dayaram lead them under the archway, into a long tunnel lit by a myriad of hanging ghostlamps.

“What was with that thing Milima did back there?  Like, when everyone else was shaking hands and stuff,” Rachael said, as the soft gloom of the tunnel enclosed them.

“That?  Oh, uh, it's a Herdlander thing.  Most people don't like shaking hands with them, so they do that instead,”
she said.
 

“Why?  I mean, why don't people want to touch them or whatever?”

Arsha
considered this for a moment, feeling
slightly confused by the question.

“I guess it's just, y'know, because of what they are.”

“What they are?”  
Rachael repeated, perplexed.
 

Arsha
just
shrugged.

“Out
landers
.”

They emerged from the tunnel into a sprawling garden.  A path of white gravel was laid out between green lawns.  Vibrant sprays of brightly coloured flowers seemed to burst forth from every side.  The air was thick and warm like a heavy blanket after the coolness of the tunnel.  Beyond the nearest rooftops, Arsha could see towers and sloped roofs that rose up in grand tiers.  

“God, I could spend a
ll
day
running around
this place,” Rachael said, eyeing the vast expanse of the rooftops.

At the far end of the garden, steps lead up to the front of a colonnaded building with a large pair of double doors.  As the group approached the doors swung wide, revealing a grand entrance hall.

“Rooms have been prepared for you in the South wing.  Our home is yours, should you wish to wander the grounds or make use of any of the facilities.  The servants will attend to anything you require.”

“
Thank you, Dayaram.  You are too kind.”
 

“
N
ot at all,
Rishi, not at all
.  I can show you to father's study now, if you wish.  Vaneeta will see that your companions are settled in.”

“If you would,”
t
he professor nodded.

“Oh, when you are done speaking with my father,” Dayaram added, “he has asked if young miss Barnes might grant him a few moments of her time.”

Rachael looked up sharply,
and Arsha
saw
her father's
civil mask crack just a little,
before
he
recovered himself.

“I'm afraid that's simply out of the question,”
h
e said, with the appearance of perfect calm.

“Oh?  I rather thought it might be her decision to make,”
Dayaram replied, with a raised eyebrow.  
He turned to regard Rachael directly, his features carefully neutral as he waited for her reply.  
Arsha tried her best to hide her curiosity, as she waited to see what Rachael would say.
 

Rachael looked over at her father, as if trying to decipher what was going on behind his cautious mask.  Then s
he looked back
to
Dayaram.

“Sure,”
she
said.  “I'll hear what the old man has to say.”

They found themselves lead through broad and well lit corridors that were covered in deep carpets of red and gold.  The winding passageways eventually lead them to what Arsha imagined was one of the more secluded wings.  Trying to remember the route was a nightmare.  The estate seemed to have been built upon itself in layers, some of it surprisingly new, some of it very old.

Eventually they arrived at their rooms, where servants deposited their baggage and p
oli
t
e
ly inquired after any needs they might have.

“It's like one of them fancy hotels,” Rachael whispered.  “Everyone's being polite because they have to be.”

Arsha just nodded.  The
y
had been put in a shared room with two single beds and a small en-suite
bathroom
.  
W
indow
s
looked out onto the gardens, perfectly manicured and surrounded by a high stone wall.

Rachael began to poke around the room as Arsha sat down on the bed and watched.  When they heard a whispering sound, both girls turned to look in unison.

The door had been left slightly ajar, and through the crack they could see two pairs of eyes watching them.  Small, rounded faces with nervous
expressions
.  Two young boys, the oldest not more than
six
, as best she could guess.

Surprised, she raised a hand and waved.

“Hi there,”
s
he said, gently.  If anything, the boys eyes grew even wider.  There was another flurry of whispering, and then the door was pushed open and both boys stepped nervously into the room.

“Hi.  I'm Arsha.  This is Rachael,” Arsha continued.

“I'm Mohan,”
t
he older one said with a sudden energy, proudly slapping his chest.  “This is Jeevan.  He's my brother.”

“And do you boys live here?”

“Of course we do.  We're the hairs to the family.”

“Hairs?” Rachael said, looking perplexed.

“I think he means 'heirs',” Arsha said, with an embarrassed smile.

“That's what I said,” Mohan said, pouting.

“I guess that means the stiff bloke we met before would be your dad, huh?”
Rachael said.
 

“He runs everything here.  And my granddad is
a… is a guild council… uh… councilman.
”

T
he boy seemed immensely pleased with himself.  Silently, Jeevan stood a little behind him, clutching at his older brother's trouser leg.  
In his other hand, the boy was clutching a small stuffed doll, some kind of winged lizard.
 

“
S
o who's this then?”
Arsha
said, smiling
as she gestured at the doll.
 

“I
t'
s a dragon,” Jeevan announced, proudly
holding it aloft.  Immediately detaching himself from his older brother, he flew the 'dragon' in a lap around the room, as the girls both watched and laughed.
 

“It's probably just a Rake,
actually,
”
Arsha
whispered,
leaning close to Rachael so only she would hear
.

“What's that then?”
Rachael whispered back.
 

“Big winged lizard.  They fly in packs, and they hunt herd animals and stuff.  Abasi hates them, because they attack stuff that threatens them.  You know, big flying things like our ship.  So whenever we see packs of them we have to put in to port, or fly slow and close to the ground so they won't attack us.”

“So, how's it you don't just call them dragons?”

“Well, they're not.  
There aren't any dragons.  Not any more.
”

“Oh,” Rachael said,
seeming both
disappointed
and perplexed
by this discovery.  Jeevan continued flying his doll around, making angry growling noises as the 'dragon' attacked their legs.  
Then both boys looked up in surprise as the door opened.  A young man stood in the doorway.  Another brother, she guessed, perhaps ten or eleven.  It was hard to tell with boys.
 

“
Mohan
.  
Jeev
,” the boy hissed, sharply.  He made a gesture, and his brothers looked up with disappointed expressions, but made no move.  His first effort having failed, the young boy strode into the room, grabbed both of their hands and lead them out of the room, ignoring their protestations.  From the doorway he threw a sharp glare back at the girls, before the three of them disappeared.

“That was weird,” Arsha said, after a moment's pause.

“
A bit, yeah,” Rachael nodded.
 

"It's so sad.  They're just innocent little kids.  They've got no idea what their family is really like."

"Won't stop
'
em from turning out just as bad,”
Rachael replied.  Arsha turned to look at the girl with a mortified expression.
 

"You don't know that,"
she said.  Rachael just shrugged.
 

"People can't change what they come from."

Not sure how to respond, Arsha said nothing as Rachael continued to poke around the room.
 

"What about where you came from?”
she said, quietly.
  “What were they like?  Your parents?"

Rachael stood at the window, staring out into the garden.  For a moment Arsha wondered if she simply hadn't heard her.
 

"It's just you've never really talked about them,”
she added, cautiously.
 

"What's to talk about?”
Rachael said, still not looking at her.
  “They weren't my real parents."

"What do you mean?"

For a moment it seemed as if Rachael was turning something over in her head, as if she wasn't sure what to say, or maybe just how much to say.
 

"Justin told me,”
she said, at last.
  “My real mum, she lives way out in this dream thing.  
Honestly,
I didn't really understand much of it.  Point is, the people what I grew up with, they were never really my mum and dad."

"Did they know?"

Rachael shook her head.

"So they still loved you.  Just because you weren't really their daughter, doesn't change that."

Just for a moment Rachael turned away from the window, to give her a disdainful look.
 

"Love me?  Arsh, they thought I was crazy."

Arsha could think of nothing to say, as Rachael turned back to the window, her eyes fixed on something in the far distance.
 

"They thought I was crazy and they didn't know how to fix it," Rachael said, her voice growing softer.  "You know if it hadn't of been for me, they might have made it work. Dad might never have left, and Mum might never have..."

She fell silent again.  The only sound was the clock on the wall, counting out the seconds as Arsha stared at her hands, and wondered what to do.  She almost jumped in surprise when Rachael stepped away from the window.
 

“Screw this,” the girl said, “let's have a poke around.”

Trying not to let her nervousness show, Arsha f
ol
l
ow
ed Rachael out of the room,
still trying to think of something to say.  As they turned the corner, the pair of them very nearly crashed into the tall figure walking quickly the other way.
 

“Woah.  Girls, hi,” Micah said, clearly as
surprised
as they were.

“Fates Micah, you nearly scared us to death,” Arsha hissed,
feeling her heart pounding out a drumbeat on her ribcage
.

“Sorry,
about that,
”
he said.
  “
Anyway
, I was looking for you
two
.”