by Sharon Lee
“Now, see, you shouldna done it. Wasn’t your fight. Ain’t your fight.”
“Sometimes,” Patsy said, from her lean against the wall, “you gotta get involved, whether it’s your fight or not. Two on one—that’s bad. I’d’ve waded into that, myself, no matter what I thought about the one.” She shifted, recrossing her arms; her eyes suddenly not so sleepy-looking.
“’Course, I got off-world notions. Couple years in the merc’ll do it, maybe.”
She might have said more. Kezzi thought she was going to say more, but there were voices in the hall, and then Tansy and Kaleb and Rodale arrived, noisily, and Kaleb loudly demanding to know what kind of cookies.
Rudy sank back into his chair, and Patsy smiled, her eyes sleepy again.
Syl Vor picked up his mug and sipped the ’toot, wrinkling his nose.
* * *
Udari brought the luthia into Joan’s Bakery and seated her, by her command, at a table in the center of the room. Had it been his to choose, he would have taken a table nearer the door, though the best of those was already occupied by a gadje slumped over a newssheet spread across the table-top, one hand in a ragged, fingerless glove curled ’round a steaming cup, and a half-eaten muffin on a plate by the other hand.
Well, it was Silain’s meeting, and as she would have him to understand, between sister-luthia. The table at the center, which might be so easily surrounded, was an eloquent statement of Silain-luthia’s trust in her sister, Nova yos’Galan, mother to Syl Vor, the very small dragon, brother to Kezzi of the Bedel.
“Bespeak tea, and a plate of mixed sweets, for two,” the luthia said to him in their own tongue. “Ask to have it brought to this table when I am joined by my guest, and no sooner than that. Pay fairly, in local coin. When you have done this, return and stand behind my chair. Listen, watch, but do not speak. Should danger come, I know that you will act in the best interest of the kompani.”
“Yes, luthia,” he made answer, and strode to the back of the room, where a gadje woman with tired brown eyes waited, her worn face registering interest.
He bespoke the tea and sweets, and paid a little more than she asked—“For use of the table,” he said, and she awarded him a faint smile.
Udari returned to the middle table and stood behind the luthia’s chair.
Aside the gadje reading her paper at the table most convenient to the door, there were two other customers in the room. A round-faced gadje sat at a table rather deeper into the room, his coat flung over the chair next him, all of his attention seemingly on a large slice of cake, which he addressed with gusto. In the back, near the ovens, an old man sat with his chair wedged into the corner, nursing a cup and a plate of broken breads.
Udari sighed quietly. He regretted the absence of another brother, who would have lent strength to his arm, were it needed. That it should not be needed in what was styled as a meeting of kin, imparted…only a little comfort.
Syl Vor seemed a likely boy, and Kezzi had quickly come to accept his place in her life. Udari himself liked what he had seen of the lad.
Yet, there was Rys, who was no fool, no, nor fainthearted, shivering at the mention of dragons, betrayed by fear into wishing for what no man wanted—that he continue down this life as a stranger to his own soul.
A shadow disturbed the symmetry of light through the front window; the door was opened; the bell above it jangling on its string.
Of the three gadje in the room, only the old man at the back turned his head to see who had come in.
This, as it happened, was a broad brown man well-known to Udari. He glanced around the room, seemingly incurious, nodded, and pushed the door open wider to admit a woman who was already pulling off her hat, loosing a quantity of golden hair.
Even across the room, Udari could see that she was Syl Vor’s mother—the pointed chin and willful mouth, the improbable color of her eyes, which were not so much blue as violet, made her unmistakeable.
She came quietly to the table where the luthia sat, leaving Mike Golden to deal with the door and whatever else might be required.
Silain remained where she sat, her hands flat on the table before her. It lacked only a deck of cards, thought Udari, to make it seem as if she were welcoming an unwary gadje into the fleez.
The woman who so looked like Syl Vor bent her bright head.
“I come as the mother of a girl,” she said softly, “to speak to the grandmother of a girl.”
“You have found the right hearth,” Silain said composedly. “Please sit down. Tea will come directly.”
“Thank you,” the woman said. She was not, he thought, ignorant of Udari’s presence; rather, she had understood that it was not Udari with whom she was to deal.
She unfastened her coat and disposed it along the back of her chair before sitting down, and giving Silain her attention. Her expression was austere; he remembered that Kezzi had said she was like a star, cold and distant, and seeing her for himself, he could not say that the child was wrong.
Mike Golden stepped up behind her chair, gave Udari an affable nod, such as a man might afford a man, but said nothing. Udari returned the courtesy, preserving his own silence. It was well, he thought; they were both brought to duty by their own luthia, as an extra pair or eyes and ears, as well as back-up, should danger arise.
The tea and cakes arrived, and the luthia poured two cups, allowing the other to choose which she would be hers. In this, Udari saw that Silain seized the high ground, establishing herself as the host.
The golden-haired woman, who was, Udari reminded himself forcefully, a dragon-grown, took the cup nearest her hand, and tasted the contents without hesitation, showing herself mannerly as well as beautiful. Silain took the remaining cup and did likewise.
The golden-haired woman set her cup aside and folded her hands upon the table, sitting straight in the uneven chair, slim shoulders level under a sweater made of some napped fabric, its purple sheen reflecting in the depths of her eyes, her hair feathered across it in careless golden threads.
“My name is Nova yos’Galan,” she said, her voice cool without being chill, strong, but with no hint of cruelty. “In my own culture, I would say, my name is Nova yos’Galan Clan Korval.”
The luthia inclined her aged head. She had put her hair into a knot, and had ’round her shoulders many layers of scarves in ruby, citrine, gold, emerald, sapphire, lapis, and amethyst. The long black cape she had cast behind her on the chair.
“My name is Silain,” she said, her voice, known to him all his life, reverberated with power as she gave her true-name to a gadje.
“Here above it might be rendered as Silain Bedel. My office is luthia. The child told you that I was her grandmother, and in that she spoke true, for I stand as grandmother to all the Bedel.”
“The information is well come,” said Nova yos’Galan gravely. “I ask, for I am ignorant, if you may decide for the child in such a matter of kinship as I bring.”
“Matters of kinship fall within my office,” Silain said. “However, the judgment of how that kinship affects the Bedel, that falls to the headman.”
Syl Vor’s mother smiled, and very nearly Udari was blinded.
“It would seem that we labor under similar circumstances. In the matter of the child’s kinship with my child, and with myself, I have jurisdiction. Where, or if, such a kinship touches Korval—that is for the delm to say. For my part, I am willing for the kinship to stand. Already, learning and bonding has taken place. I find this good.”
“I find it good, also,” Silain said. “You should know that the child is the youngest of us. Her older kin indulge her as if her years are less, even, than they are, or scold her for not knowing those things that life has not yet brought to her. To have a brother more near her own years is a gift.”
“My child is similarly situated. He is appreciably younger than his next-elder cousins, and those next junior to him in age are not yet steady on their feet.”
“So, then, for the children a
nd for ourselves, we are content in this situation they have found,” Silain said, and lifted her cup to drink.
“Yes,” said Nova yos’Galan, and also raised her cup.
* * *
Thus far, Nova thought, placing her cup gently onto the table, the meeting had been positive. The old lady across from her bore her years and her authority with ease. If there was a reserve—well, how could there not be a reserve, when two strangers met to speak of the future of children?
Or of other things.
“We come now,” said Silain the luthia, “to those matters which concern the headman.” She smiled as if gently amused by the headman’s necessities, but not in any way as if she found him improper in his care of duty.
“You must understand that he is the headman; he sees and plans and worries for the future of the Bedel. Children and the brothers of children are of little interest to him, except as they might improve the condition of the Bedel, or endanger the future.”
Nova returned the smile. “I understand perfectly.”
“It is well. The headman, on learning of the child’s kinship, came to my hearth and said, ‘Luthia, the child’s new brother. It is said on the street that he is kin to the Boss Conrad.’” Silain paused and surveyed Nova from grave black eyes.
“First, I ask if this is so.”
Ah, thought Nova, and drew a careful breath.
“It is so,” she told the luthia. “As we reckon the kinship lines, Boss Conrad is my son’s cousin. Because he is much the elder, and our families have a habit of easy intercourse, he stands somewhat closer to uncle in authority.”
“Yes. And in addition to this kinship, you are yourself a Boss, working with the Boss Conrad to achieve his dream for this place.”
“That is correct.”
“Good. The headman’s information is fair. He would therefore ask the Boss Conrad, through the boy or yourself, that the Bedel be left in peace, in that place we have found for ourselves.”
Nova inclined her head, her heartbeat a little increased. Here was what Pat Rin had wanted, or at least part of it.
“I can no more speak for Boss Conrad than you may guarantee the headman’s word,” she said carefully. “It would be best, if headman and Boss would speak together, as we are speaking together now. If that cannot be done…” She let her voice drift off.
“I agree that it would be best, for Bedel and for those Here Above, for the headman and the Boss Conrad to dream together,” the elder lady said calmly. “The headman will send a letter with the child, to the Boss Conrad.”
“I will be very glad to give such a letter into the Boss’ hand,” said Nova. She picked up her cup and sipped tea to buy time for thought.
“Another thing,” she murmured. “If the headman should have a desire to find a ship…”
Black eyes sharpened, and for a heartbeat Nova thought she had offended the luthia strongly enough to lose Syl Vor a sister.
Then, Silain laughed, ruefully, and shook her grey head.
“Well, sisters and brothers, they will talk together, will they not?”
“They will. And a brother who cares for his sister will bring her problem to an elder who may be able to solve on her behalf.”
Silain nodded.
“This question also properly sits on the headman’s knee. Well,” she said again. “When sisters speak, mountains move. Now, the boy. I would have him come to us some day soon, to meet the others of his sisters kin.” She raised her hand perpendicular to the table, and rocked it slightly. “It is true that a brother may come to a sister…”
“But there are things that a brother might see, while visiting his sister, that fall into the headman’s honor.”
“You understand. For the meanwhile, then, the child will continue to go to school and to come to you, after. Has she been a good daughter and done all her mother has asked of her?”
“She has been exemplary,” Nova said, failing, for the sake of diplomacy, to mention that she had thus far asked Kezzi to do very little. “It would be good if she could come to us for several days together, when there is no school.”
“I will dream on it.”
Silain obviously felt that their meeting was nearing a close. Nova took a breath and reminded herself that she had not hoped to learn so much. And that she had a promise of future contact.
“I should tell you,” she said. “The school will be moving to another location within the next few days. There is a new consolidated school, and it will require a trip in a taxi to reach it.”
Silain tipped her head to one side, and then nodded.
“I hear this,” she said, and rose.
* * *
Udari dropped back to the door, in order to give Nova yos’Galan and Mike Golden room to exit.
This they did in proper order, while the luthia still gathered her cloak about her. Udari watched, and started, feeling a hand on his sleeve.
It was the gadje who had been so absorbed in her newssheet, now looking up at him. Her face was all sharp angles, and her eyes were blue as snow.
“You are,” she said softly, with an eye also on the luthia, “brother to the one called Rys?”
He frowned, and she held up a hand, as if she would ward his displeasure.
“I ask nothing for myself! It is only that I found his knife, and I wonder if you will take it to him.”
He considered her more closely, and decided that it could do no harm.
“I will gladly take my brother’s knife to him.”
“Good,” she said, softly, and slipped it into his hand, where it rested, cold as the ice in her eyes.
Chapter Thirty-Three
“All right!” Ms. Taylor clapped her hands together and looked across the class, meeting each of their eyes in turn.
“All right!” she said again, fingering the pointer out of her pocket while still staring searchingly around the room. “Who can show me the shortest route to the Consolidated School?”
Not one hand went up. Tansy actually turned in her seat, the better to see if anyone volunteered.
“Nobody?” asked Ms. Taylor. “Delia?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Pete?”
The big boy shook his head, adding, as if he had just remembered his manners, “No, ma’am.”
“Tansy? Rodale? Luce?”
“No, ma’am,” came the separate but identical answers.
Ms. Taylor shook her head, her face reflecting disappointment as she continued to scan the room.
“Syl Vor?” she said.
His mother had told him last night that the transfer to the Consolidated School would happen in a matter of days, and that none of his schoolmates knew this, yet. As soon as Ms. Taylor had asked her question, he had expected, grumpily, that he would be called on to explain the new school. Knowing where and what it was, when nobody else did would only mark him out again, and make him odd, and not-like-them. Rudy would call him a Boss’ brat again, and—
“Syl Vor?”
On the other hand, he didn’t seem to have any choice.
“Yes, ma’am.”
He got to his feet. Ms. Taylor threw the pointer to him, gently underhanded. He caught it, and he stared up at the map.
“The Consolidated School is at the corner of four turfs,” he said slowly, keeping his eyes on the map; “Boss Conrad, Boss Calhoon, Boss Schroeder, and Boss Engle. The shortest route from this school is to go down Rendan Road four blocks, to where the toll-booths used to be. Turn right for three blocks on Tyson Street, then left for two blocks on Kantico Road…”
As he spoke, he traced the route on the map, slowly and carefully.
“This,” he said, making a loopy circle with the pointer in what was on the map a vacant lot, “is the Consolidated School.”
“Thank you, Syl Vor,” Ms. Taylor, matching his gravity. She raised her hand. “Please return the pointer.”
He threw it back, gently, and sat down.
“Starting the day after tomorrow,�
� Ms. Taylor said, slowly retracing the route to the new school, “we’ll be meeting for class in the new Consolidated School, here. Please memorize the route, everyone.”
“But,” Rudy said, into the stunned silence that had overtaken the classroom. “That’s wayaway from my street, ma’am. Take me all day to walk there.”
“No walkin’ to it,” Rodale said scornfully. “Just take a taxi’s all.”
Rudy’s face colored. “Taxi’s spendy.”
“Not the school taxi,” Tansy said. “My ma don’t got nothing extra for taxi-fare, neither, but the school gives a chit and the taxi brings me back and forth to home—ain’t that so, Delia?”
“That’s how it works now,” Delia answered slowly. “Might not be how it’ll work with this new school, though.”
“That’s exactly how it’ll work with the new school,” Ms. Taylor said from the front of the room. She lifted the pointer and again traced the route from the present school to the new one.
“The Bosses will subsidize transportation,” she said, “just like they do now, with the taxi chits. You’ll get your chits from your teacher at the beginning of each week. If you lose a chit, or sell it, or trade it, you’ll have to either pay for the taxi ride out of your own pocket cash, or miss school for the day you don’t have a chit.”
“But,” said Kaleb, “why do we have to go to school so far away?”
“That’s a good question, Kaleb,” said Ms. Taylor. She snapped off the pointer and slipped it away into her pocket. “The Consolidated School is something all the Bosses have been working on for a long time, now. You would’ve been attending that school already, except there were some problems with people stealing materials from the site, and breaking things.
“Now those problems are taken care of, the school’s ready, and all the students from the all street-level schools, like ours, are being shifted to the new one.”
“But you’ll still be our teacher, won’t you, Ms. Taylor?” Tansy demanded.
“I’ll be your Home Teacher, but you’ll have other teachers, too, for other subjects.” She grinned. “Subjects I never heard of, some of them. You’ll mix in with the students from the other schools, and form up classes. Then, after you get settled, there’ll be an Open Enrollment, so anybody who wants to go to school, can. The students who’re already in place—and who know how things work—will be expected to help the new students find their feet.”
