by Doris Egan
And I'd been trained differently, brought up in a heter-ogenous society. Pyrenese who didn't think nature had made them flashy enough would dye their hair and skin. It hadn't occurred to me that anybody else would use a different system to identify people.
My anger had left by the back door while I was working this out. "Sorry to be so touchy," I said.
"It's all right," said Des kindly.
"When the rains fall, the groundmarks vanish," agreed Sembet. "But I still don't believe attending the speech is a good idea."
Des said, "You can give her your hood."
Sembet's hand went to his hood as though he were protecting himself. "I wore it today for a reason," he said.
"A crowd of small-time provincials," said Des. "Come on. Whoever knew you before, they're not likely to be in this bunch."
Sembet looked at him. Des was treading very near the line here. Still, there was no point in pretending that he wasn't nobly born; he couldn't hide it any more than I could hide that I was a barbarian. He began untying his hood. "The Governor might recognize me," he muttered.
"We'll stay near the back of the crowd." Des took the hood from Sembet and arranged it over my head. "Allow me." He tied it just right, not too tight or too loose, and then gave the whole thing a slight tilt to the left. "Green is your color, Tymon."
"Don't I get a vote in any of this?" I inquired.
Des grinned. "Come on, friend, be a sport. You wouldn't let two of your best companions-of-the-road go off on an adventure by themselves."
"Be a sport," agreed Sembet. "Why should Des talk one person into doing something stupid when he can talk two?"
What an invitation. I said, "Des, Stereth should keep you behind bars when he doesn't need you." Des smiled, because he knew that meant I was coming with them. I pulled the hood farther around my face.
It took a while for the crowd to gather sufficiently. We were near the back, as Des promised, up against a records office just off the crossroads. "We should be in the road, where we can retreat if we have to," I said.
"Women," said Des. "You take them out, you give them clothing accessories, they're never satisfied."
This was addressed to Sembet, who was not amused by it. He was constantly scanning the crowd and a permanent frown seemed to have settled over his features. I said, "Is this really dangerous for you? Do you want to leave?"
"No," he said abstractedly. "As long as I pay attention, I think it'll be… Kanz." His eyes widened.
"What?"
Three men in official regalia were mounting the platform. Two of them wore the high blue felt hats of Imperial Favor, and one had the white silk sash of "honored public guest" tied around his outer robe. His hair was platinum-colored, tied in a very un-Ivoran ponytail, and his skin was fair.
"See," said Des, "no need to worry. There's even a barbarian on the speakers' platform."
Sembet continued to stare. At last he said, apparently to himself, "Why? Why come here now? I refuse to believe…"
"Who are they?" I asked, tugging on his sleeve.
"What? Governor Atvalid, of course, just as you said." He paused and looked confused. "And his son Vere."
"Well, what's wrong with that?"
Four men in dress-gold militia uniforms took their places at the four corners of the platform. Two of them raised slim horns that should have been gold as well, but were a dull bronze under the cloudy sky.
Sembet said, "Vere wearing the blue hat? And why isn't he at school? He was two years behind me, and I wasn't finished myself when—" He stopped, suddenly aware he was discussing his personal life. Just then the horns sounded, beautiful and clear in the cool air, more like the heralds of an evening of music than a call for attention.
So this was Vere Atvalid, the Governor's oldest son; engaged to the daughter of one of the Six Families and making them nervous thereby. And Nor Atvalid, the target of the investigation we'd been asked to run a short while ago in another lifetime. I stared openly at them.
Of course, Nor was responsible for putting Ran's face up all over the Sector, so he got no marks from me. Other than that, I had to admit he had a good, strong look about him, an air of honesty and competence. He looked as though he could do government paperwork and put his shoulder to the wheel of a stuck wagon with equal willingness, and equal success. Probably all a front, I told myself. For one thing, nobody gets to be a full provincial governor without kissing bottoms all the way up to the prime minister. Some people can get away with minimizing that aspect
of Ivoran officialdom more than others, but even so… Actually, he looked very familiar. Something about that bulbous nose, and those lines around the mouth…
Good heavens. I'd seen him caricatured on an attention-stick only a few days ago in Shaskala. A stick that was pounded against a hard wood block several times a day in the best inn of the city, just in the nature of things.
Governor Atvalid was not a popular man. Hilo hadn't liked him either, now that I recalled. And yet he looked so honest and reliable.
As for Vere, he was… average. Tall and well-featured, but so are most Ivorans; black-haired, ditto; he did seem very young, though. Not necessarily in himself, just too young to be standing on a platform beside older men, with all this pomp and circumstance. The hat did not favor him.
"Is he a friend of yours?" I asked Sembet. He didn't answer.
Governor Atvalid stepped forward, touched the band at his throat, and his voice boomed out over the crowd. "Friends," he began, "and fellow subjects of our most glorious Emperor. I am happy to find Kynogin Market Town as busy and prosperous as when I left it last. May it endure as long as any city in the Empire!" There was some polite applause and foot-stamping at that. "The graciousness of your reception honors me…"
I'll skip over that part. Floweriness and flattery are normal modes on Ivory, and in speeches they can go on and on. Somewhere in all the sugar and honey, Atvalid managed to convey that he and his entourage were making a circuit of all the major towns in the Tuvin part of the Sector (of which Kynogin was the jewel and cornerstone) in order to speak personally with the farmers, ranchers, and traders (who in Kynogin were the backbone of the entire Sector) so that he could present them with the principal gift of his House.
"Kanz," Sembet muttered when we heard that.
I flicked a glance at him and then turned back to the Governor, who was leading forward the barbarian. The platinum-haired guest, that is. The Governor said, "But first, allow me the happiness of making you acquainted with one who will be our ally, both yours and mine, in prosper-
ity. Gracious sir Hippolitus, Pyrenese Trade Representative to the Northwest Sector."
To the Northwest Sector?
My jaw was hanging open. This made no sense. How could Pyrene be sending out representatives to minor areas of planets? And assuming Atvalid got the title wrong, or adapted it deliberately to please his audience—what the hell was a Pyrene trade rep doing out here in the back-end of nowhere? And what was he doing on a platform being introduced to the locals? And why—
Atvalid was going on. I made an effort to cut short a mental picture of Hippolitus leading a string of steermods into a cargo ship. That would be the most expensive meal anyone on Pyrene ever ate.
"I never asked you," said Des, "are you Pyrenese?"
"Shut up," I said.
"My friends," intoned the Governor, "Gracious sir Hippolitus, as representative of the Pyrene Minerals and Resources Board, would like to speak to you."
Hippolitus smiled. "I hope that I, too, may address you as 'my friends.' "
He spoke with a flat, affectless accent, the kind that comes from an implant, the same kind I used to have. If he left Ivory within the year, his memory of the language would start to fade.
My usual inclination is not to call attention to myself, but I wondered if he knew my friend Octavia, also a trade delegate. If I could get a message to her, and she could get a message to Kylla…
"Carium," he was saying. "It is our
hope to set up carium extraction pits, developed in partnership with you, the local citizens. We will be in sore need of people to fill the jobs that will have to be done, and I can promise a share in the profits to anyone who joins up."
Sembet said to Des, "Have you ever heard of carium deposits in the plateau?"
"No," said Des. "But then, I can't say I ever paid much attention."
The Governor took back control of the platform, after prolonged applause for Hippolitus. No doubt the word "profit" had done it. "But my friends," he said, "before this new era of prosperity begins, we must stamp out the
ways of the past, the customs that shackle us to poverty and spiritual darkness."
Des, Sembet, and I looked at each other. Spiritual darkness?
"In other words, my friends, we must put a stop to the outlaw bands that prey on innocent citizens and bleed our province dry. Gracious sir Hippolitus has assured me that as soon as we can guarantee the safety of his people, the carium project will begin. I hope you agree with me that that day should be soon!"
A mixed response to this. Some enthusiastic supporters, I noted uneasily, and others holding back. There were plenty of people in the Sector who made a second living by fencing outlaw booty.
"In line with this," said Atvalid, "a bounty of one thousand tabals will be placed automatically on the head of any outlaw, whether specifically known to us or not. More importantly—" he paused for a sip of water from a glass that suddenly appeared in an underling's hand, "—I hereby make the capture of Stereth Tar'krim our first priority. And I promise a free pardon for any outlaw who performs his citizen's duty by turning in this thief and murderer to the Emperor's justice."
As of one mind, Des, Sembet, and I began edging backward through the crowd.
"To demonstrate the seriousness of my commitment," Atvalid went on, "I have named my own son, Vere Atvalid, as District Steward, with the express purpose of dealing with the outlaw bands. The success or failure of this noble enterprise will be on the Atvalid House alone. The results of success, naturally, we will all share in, as will our Py-renese friends; the results of failure, the displeasure of the Emperor—" had there been a slight pause there? "—will be on my House only."
"The man is suicidal," I heard Sembet mutter, as we neared the corner of a winehouse. "And to drag Vere into this—"
"Heralds!" ordered the Governor, and a giant poster was unrolled down the front of the platform.
It was a new color poster of Ran, his head about six meters high.
"Great Collective Spirit of all Mankind," I breathed. It
was an oath from my childhood that I had forgotten entirely till that moment.
"Tymon, come on," said Sembet, pulling at me.
The crowd was thinning here. I walked quickly after them, keeping my head down.
Chapter Nine
I was in a mood to walk: I was in a mood to walk for several hours, in fact, without company to distract me, but unfortunately Des and Sembet had brought a wagon that they'd left behind at the dealer's.
Out on the lonesome road, the fairy-tale mist coming down yet again, they began to converse worriedly.
"Stereth will have a fit," said Des.
"He won't have a fit, that's the awful thing," said Sembet. "He'll take it absolutely coldly. And then tomorrow he'll have some new plan we'll all have to follow."
"That's what I mean by a fit," said Des.
I sat in the back of the wagon. "Will he be worried about somebody in the band turning him in?"
"Nobody will turn him in," said Des shortly, without looking around. "Nobody's that crazy. Stereth would kill them."
"If he's in the Governor's jail, I don't see how he can kill anybody."
Sembet shook his head. "He'd find a way." He spoke as one who dismisses an obvious truth, the better to concentrate on those things that really needed attention. "You know what this is going to do to our contacts?"
"I don't want to think about it," said Des.
"You see," said Sembet to me, "the band's all right. It's our town contacts we have to worry about."
"A thousand for each of us," said Des gloomily. "Every time we say hello."
"Our payments are never going to match that."
"What's wrong with Atvalid, anyhow? He's going to bankrupt his trelid treasury."
"Des!" said Sembet. "There's a lady present."
Des looked at him in disbelief from the security of his lower social class. "Harmless alliteration," he said.
"It's all right, Sembet," I told him. "I've heard worse in the capital marketplace every day before breakfast."
"The world is going to chaos when women can wander through the market before breakfast. I don't know what your family was thinking of. Do you want to ride up front, Tymon? The seat's probably more comfortable."
"If it's all right with Des."
Des grunted. I squeezed in between them and tapped his shoulder. "Are you mad at me?" He made another dissatisfied sound, but did not elucidate. "What's the matter?" I asked.
If he weren't a grown man, I would call it a pout. "You told me to shut up. Back at the crossroads."
I blinked; had I? "I'm sorry, Des," I said, patting him on the arm. "I was so involved with the speech. It must have just come out without my thinking."
He perked up. "That's all right, Tymon. You were distracted."
"Why don't you tell me about your racing scheme," I suggested, and he launched into it without further encouragement. Des is one of those people who blossoms under constant positive reinforcement. I don't mind that, actually; I prefer treating people well to treating them badly. There are enough confused individuals in the universe who don't seem to respect you unless you cut them up from time to time.
He told a good story, too. He would start to inch his arm around my waist now and again, but I removed it in a nice way. I never had a brother, but there was something brotherly about Des, for all his virility; now that I knew him I was about as attracted to him as I would be to a large, friendly dog. I didn't say that, though.
"Cut the nonsense," said Sembet from the back the third time Des tried to get physical. "Tymon's spoken for, anyway."
I let it pass. Unsuccessful deceit is just depressing.
We pulled onto the fort's grounds and I could see Ran standing at the end of the rectory wall. "Hey, Sokol!" Des yelled, grinning. "Did you know how popular you—"
I put my hand over his mouth. "If you don't mind," I said, "I'd like to break it to him gently."
He considered, then shrugged. "I wouldn't do this for anyone else."
"Yeah, Des, you tell that to all the barbarians. Thanks." I poked him on the arm and jumped down.
Ran was walking warily toward us. "What? What is it?"
My eyes went to the hillside and he turned to meet me there.
When I was sure we were out of earshot I said, "New problems." I told him about Atvalid's speech and the growing notoriety of his own facial features. He took it more calmly than I'd expected.
"If they're cracking down on the bands, that's all to the good. There'll be fewer outlaws between us and the edge of the Sector when we leave, and these people will be too busy with problems of their own to follow us."
"Ran, your face is all over Kynogin Market Town, and I'll bet it's in every major market town in the district. You're famous. You're the star outlaw of the Northwest Sector. You're the House of Atvalid's number-one priority. Maybe I haven't been expressing myself clearly—"
He got that faint look of smugness that meant he wasn't quite ready to share what he was thinking. "Tymon—"
"Wipe that look off your face, Ran. You can't take two steps in public without everybody rushing off to claim Stereth Tar'krim's reward. You'd better have a reason for being cheerful—"
"I do," he said. "It's eleven days till we'll be half-married."
Just when I was ready to yell at him.
He went on, "If we weren't in full view of the fort, I'd kiss you." He said it as though his
mind were on that subject even now.
"Why do you do this?" I asked, hearing my voice go low. "Do you like to drive me crazy?"
"I checked in the cookhouse, behind the main building. They've got flour and sugar for the cakes."
"Do you think this is quite the time, when we're being held prisoner by a band of outlaws and you're wanted by everybody in the Sector?"
"Why postpone it? We'll only have to do the whole four
months again later. And you might come up with some tymon-reason why not. You might need to run off to Athena for three academic credits or something."
"I'm trying to talk to you about matters relevant to our survival." It was good to know the stuff for the marriage-cakes was there, though. "Did you check the vanilla?… Never mind. You're changing the subject. Three academic credits, my maiden aunt—you're planning something and you're in that I'm-keeping-it-to-myself mood. Keep up with that attitude, Ran, and you can forget the damned marriage-cakes.''
"They've got vanilla."
"What about eggs?"
"Iffy. Some days yes, some days no."
A voice called from the main building. "Sokol! Tymon! Come in for the meeting!"
I recognized the voice as my guide of the morning. As we started down the hill, I said, "Carabinstereth says you must be good in bed."
"Really? And I haven't even demonstrated for her yet."
Ran had a streak of cool humor, but he rarely gave into it in front of anybody. It was just another of the things he usually kept to himself. I said, "Gods, you're cocky today. What are you planning?"
He smiled. At the doorway to the fort I stopped and said in a low voice, "I forgot. I ran the cards on the way to town."
"And?"
"Not much. You live for a while longer. Nothing about me."
"Well," he said, "what information you have is nice to know."
We stepped inside, and in a normal tone of voice I said, "Yes. Thank heaven I'm not the sort of person who keeps things to herself."
I'd thought the meeting would be a discussion of the news from Kynogin Market Town. This was not outlaw style. Instead I found people settling the details of tonight's party: Wine and bredesmoke pipes were brought out, and lots were drawn for lookout duty. Stereth did not approve
