The Rowan

by Anne McCaffrey

  ‘Send me the transcript file,’ Interior said, trying to keep the panic out of her voice, ‘and I’ll set up an in-depth psychiatric study.’

  ‘Oh, would you?’ Lusena was weak with relief. ‘This is far beyond anything in my training.’

  ‘Now, don’t start feeling inadequate on me, Lusena. You’ve coped magnificently with the child. She’s just … just …’

  ‘One step ahead of us?’

  ‘That’s better,’ Interior said, approving the wry tone of Lusena’s voice.

  The conversation between the Rowan and her pukha became fascinating auditing for her guardians and any pediatric psychologist granted the privilege of listening.

  ‘Purza, Siglen’s silly. I’ve done that sort of lifting, placing, and putting since I was a baby!’ the Rowan was heard to say after her first day’s tutelage. ‘I can’t very well tell her I shifted everything out of this apartment, can I? Well, yes, I know, you helped, and even told me where the space was. You’ve a very clever pukha, you know. How many would have been able to estimate the volume of that warehouse so precisely? There was just space left for an aisle when you’d finished. Yes, they know. The man is supposed to check that the stuff doesn’t leave the premises but how were you to know that he’d object to having an empty place used? Yes, people are funny about such details. She did give them to me so I may dispose of them as I see fit. Oh, you think I should have asked her first? Yes, but asking would have wounded her feelings because she really did think she’d done a marvelous job in the decorating. Only, Purza, how can I do good work when she considers me such a baby?’

  ‘Yesterday was bad enough, Purza, a whole day spent making knots of straight lines! But I had to do it all over again today! Yes, actually I thought of doing that, but she was with me every second and when I tried to deviate, she just pulled me back on line and said that I must concentrate harder. Concentrate? Who needs to concentrate on that ol’ baby stuff! Did you hear her?’ The Rowan then produced such an accurate imitation of Siglen’s fruity tones that the clandestine auditors were astonished. ‘“We must proceed carefully, step by step, until you become so totally aware of your Talent that its use is instinctive, efficient, and energy-saving.”’

  ‘Energy-saving? I ask you, Purza, with all the energy available on Altair, we could never use it all up. She what? I know history as well as you do. So what if she did grow up on old Earth when their energy sources were stretched to the limit, but we’re here! There’s unlimited power in just the winds and the tides, not to mention the fossil fuels … Siglen ought to update herself. And if she says “waste not, want not” one more time, I’m going to puke. It’s near as bad as “Always Be Careful” – ABC—’ the Rowan dropped into the devastatingly accurate Siglen voice for the maxims. ‘And I am thrifty.’ Now the Rowan giggled. ‘I saved all that awful stuff she crammed into my place. Crabs, Purza, I’m so booooooooored!’

  That complaint became more and more prevalent in the pukha conversations.

  Bralla did her best to assist, tactfully mentioning to Siglen that the Rowan showed great application and dexterity with the basic kinetic exercises.

  ‘But then, she has the best of teachers in the entire known galaxy,’ Bralla had added when she saw Siglen bridle. ‘Of course she would grasp the basics quickly. You explain things so succinctly even the dullest wit would understand.’

  It took three days for the notion to be absorbed and then suddenly Siglen began the Rowan’s lesson with a new exercise, designed to strengthen her ‘mental muscles’.

  ‘It is a nice change,’ the Rowan confided in Purza that night and then spent time rearranging the furnishings in her apartment with her ‘mental muscles’, ‘to explain the technique to the pukha.’

  Gerolaman, the Station manager, took his turn in suggesting more challenging tasks for the Rowan.

  ‘I need a bit of help in Stores, Siglen. It’d take this li’l girl a couple of hours while you’re busy with the batch coming in from David. It’s more or less what you’ve been doing with her only more practical because she can’t break anything, yet she’ll get the practice. Whaddya say?’

  ‘It’d be a thrifty use of my time and energy, Siglen,’ the Rowan added casually, pretending indifference.

  ‘I dislike interrupting the flow of your lessons, Rowan child,’ Siglen temporized.

  ‘Same thing, different objects,’ Gerolaman remarked as if he couldn’t care less. And the Rowan was excused to his care. ‘You’re a clever one,’ he told her when they were on their way to Stores. ‘Good shot Siglen’s not got an ounce of empathy: You were leaking a little of what you felt in there and that’s not good.’

  ‘I was?’

  ‘You’re getting careless. Don’t! Siglen’s got faults, the Good knows that, and we all suffer from them from time to time. The main thrust of her Talent is the gestalt. Most of us here,’ and his gesture took in the entire Station, ‘can bounce things from a place we can see to a place we know about. But she can juggle objects she can’t see and get them where they’re supposed to go even if she’s never been there. Nor likely to go. So you study her, Rowan, and get to hear underneath what she says. Lusena says you’ve a high empathy rating. Let it work for you. I don’t say you should attempt to manipulate her moods but you could sort of ease her along now and then and she wouldn’t get suspicious. That way,’ and Gerolaman gave her a shrewd sideways glance, ‘you won’t get so bored, working several levels in that white head of yours.’ He ruffled her hair affectionately.

  For some reason that casual caress had more effect on the Rowan than Gerolaman’s spoken advice.

  ‘He touched me, Purza. He put his hand on my hair and messed it up, just like Finnan does. That must mean he likes me. Is it because he understands Talents? … Oh, he’s not a pervert, silly Purz. It wasn’t that sort of a touch. I’d recognize the slimy kind from what Bardy told me. Gerolaman’s got children of his own. He treats me like one of them, Purza. Fatherly. It would be nice to have a father, Purz.’

  Gerolaman was instructed to act as paternally as circumstances permitted.

  ‘But she’s a Prime Talent!’ Gerolaman had replied, surprised, pleased, and nervous. ‘I can’t just treat her like I do my daughter.’

  ‘That,’ Lusena said firmly, ‘is exactly what she needs! A little fatherly affection! Bardy and Finnan had their father during their early childhood. Rowan’s never had a father figure. Since she has now realized it, we must provide a suitable substitute and you’re it, Gerolaman!’

  ‘Sure I’ll do what I can. The Good knows she’ll get no love and affection from the Prime.’

  Gerolaman often prevailed on Siglen to lend him the Rowan for more ‘muscle’ exercise. These tended to be dispatched quickly enough so that the Rowan would have time to have a snack or ‘tea’ in Gerolaman’s office. On those occasions, he would explain other aspects of the Tower responsibilities, its administration, how cargo was routed from one Prime station to another, the ‘windows’ to other systems and moons, how to connect with mid-space drone shipments, the major mid-points all around the Central Worlds’ sphere of business and colonization. In a relaxed atmosphere, she developed the spatial sense she would require when, if she came into Prime status, she would need to know how to scan the instrumentation in the Tower that kept track of all matter in the Altairian sector of the galaxy. She learned to appreciate and how to adroitly assist the lesser kinetic Talents who did not have the gestalt faculty but nevertheless handled the traffic of message capsules constantly shunted about the Nine-Star League.

  Gerolaman would often take her out of the Tower and into the freight yards so that she became familiar with the variety of carriers, freight pods, drone vehicles, specialized cargo carriers for live or inanimate freight. He took her on inspection tours of the powered ships from scout vessels and shuttles to the great passenger and immense bulky freight containers. He had her memorize the major trade routes and lines, the space stations and other Nine-Star League facilities until she
knew the furniture of space as well as the things in her own quarters.

  ‘You should know every aspect of this business,’ Gerolaman said, ‘not just how to sit in that Tower couch and bitch when there’s an equipment failure.’

  There had been one recently and Gerolaman had borne the brunt of Siglen’s outrage and fury, for she felt that she would be held responsible for a failure that interrupted the smooth function of Altair’s FT&T Station. The Rowan had been in his office when the Number 3 Generator had overheated and started shedding parts. She had seen how quickly Gerolaman had patched in the spare and then ordered an investigation of the accident. When it appeared that poor grade oils had been at fault, he canceled the supplier’s contract and took tenders for a new source. That morning provided the Rowan with a new insight into her own problems with the Prime. The next day provided yet another. A T-8 stormed into Gerolaman’s office, threatening to resign and leave Altair altogether to get away from ‘that woman’: Siglen had taken out her frustration with the brief lapse of service on the first person to irritate her.

  ‘I didn’t realize, Purza, that others have problems with Siglen,’ the Rowan told the pukha that night. ‘I made myself as small as I could and I don’t think the T-8 even saw me. I liked the way Gerolaman talked to Macey, kindly like, as if he was as deeply hurt as she was. He got her an accommodation at Favor Bay for a week off, though her annual holiday is not for another three months. I wonder if we get holidays. It’d be nice to get away from the Tower for a while. Lusena used to take us all on trips when I lived with her.’

  Lusena, Gerolaman, Bralla, and Interior put their heads together to figure out how they could grant that wistful desire.

  ‘I didn’t realize so much time has passed but the Rowan’s been here for two years,’ Interior remarked. ‘Everyone gets holiday time.’

  ‘Except Siglen,’ Gerolaman said gloomily. ‘“And who could possibly take over if I went on vacation?”’ Gerolaman’s falsetto was a poor imitation of Siglen’s fruity tones. ‘Even I get away. Maybe that’d be the answer. Siglen might give her leave of absence if I promised to keep up her exercises. My family’s got a nice cabin in the woods …’

  ‘No woods,’ Lusena interrupted, holding up a warning hand. ‘For the Rowan, mountain and forest might be traumatic. I always kept to the plains and the seaside when she vacationed with us.’

  ‘Well, then,’ Interior began briskly, ‘there’s a Cabinet guesthouse, spacious, but not too grand, which can be made available to her. At this time of year, there aren’t all that many vacationers at Favor Bay.’ She gave Lusena a significant look.

  ‘I’d gladly accompany her,’ Lusena replied with a long sigh. ‘I could use the break myself. And I’ve nieces, my brothers’ children, who are the Rowan’s age. She’s had no peer group contact since she came here and she shouldn’t get so far out of touch. She may be Prime material but she’s also a young girl and that side of her development shouldn’t be neglected as …’ Lusena tactfully broke off.

  ‘I think a few words in the ear of the Medical Office might produce some results – especially if Bralla,’ and the Interior winked at the woman, ‘and Gerolaman notice that the Rowan is becoming listless, with no appetite … you know the sort of thing that can afflict the overextended youngster, Lusena.’

  ‘Indeed I do.’

  ‘Ill?’ Siglen’s eyes enlarged while she also appeared to compress herself. ‘How is the child ill?’ Rarely indisposed herself, Siglen had no patience with sickness.

  ‘Well, as you know, Siglen, girls her age are prone to minor ailments and I do think she’s sickening for something,’ Bralla remarked. ‘Why, you know yourself that her appetite’s been poor these past few days. You might suggest to Lusena to remove her until the symptoms disappear.’

  ‘To the infirmary?’

  ‘Well, a full medical check never hurts,’ Bralla replied. ‘I’ll make arrangements immediately.’

  So the Rowan was given an official leave to improve her health: Siglen practically ordering her out of the Tower.

  Favor Bay was essentially a family resort, with an excellent crescent beach of fine powdery sand: a marina catered to water sport enthusiasts and the bright, clear water encouraged them. There was also a small fair with a mechanical amusement park and an aquarium situated on the northern tip of Favor Bay’s crescent. The Cabinet guesthouse was set up on the southern hill surrounding the Bay, in its own grounds, neatly obscured from public view by shrubs and trees of Terran origin which had adapted to Altair and flourished in the mild climate of that part of the coast.

  ‘Not a minta among ’em,’ Interior had remarked in an aside to Lusena. ‘Doesn’t grow in that sort of soil.’

  An official air carrier whisked Lusena, her ecstatic nieces – Moria, Emer, and Talba – and a subdued Rowan to the resort. The driver saw the party safely installed, good-humoredly hauling in the many pieces of luggage which the nieces had brought. The Rowan managed her one small carisak, and Purza, quite handily by herself. She was, however, given the grandest room where a balcony gave her a splendid view of the sea and coastline for miles in all directions. That was the first bone of contention.

  Although each child had a luxurious bedroom with adjoining bath, comparisons became inevitable as the amenities were discussed at great length over the afternoon snack. At first Lusena dismissed the arguing as part and parcel of normal maneuvering of status-conscious thirteen-and fourteen-year-olds. The Rowan merely listened, more interested in the delicious foods arrayed on the table than power plays.

  Until Moria remarked that she ought to have Emer’s room, since the closet space was better and she really hadn’t enough room for her clothes.

  ‘Fabrics must breathe,’ she explained in an arch manner. Then, seeing the Rowan’s surprised expression, found a ripe target for her effusions. ‘Garments need to be refreshed by circulating air, you understand. That’s even more important than proper cleansing and pressing, particularly with expensive gauzes.’ Moria shifted her attention to her aunt. ‘Is there someone to tend to our wardrobe?’

  Lusena was nonplussed by such a question. Her brother was exceedingly well connected with the mercantile bankers of Port Altair, and the girl was accustomed to a more sophisticated life than Rowan, whose social life was nonexistent. Lusena had no idea if Moria’s household included any indentured colonists, working out the expense of their transportation to Altair in menial capacities but, judging by Moria’s question, there probably were.

  ‘Did you bring any gauzes with you, Moria?’ was what Lusena asked to give herself time to think. ‘I did tell your mother that this would be a low-key holiday.’

  ‘I looked up the A-Z and it specifically mentions evening dances at the Regency Hotel where formal attire is de rigueur,’ Moria replied in a tone that suggested Lusena should know.

  ‘We have no escorts.’

  ‘There is also an agency which supplies escorts of impeccable character,’ Moria replied and Emer giggled. She and her sister exchanged anticipatory looks. Their parents did not entertain on the same level as Moria’s but that was by choice, certainly not necessity.

  ‘Who are unlikely to wish to escort a thirteen …’ Lusena said severely.

  ‘I’ll be fourteen in three weeks’ time …’ Moria was persistent.

  ‘… Thirteen- or fourteen-year-olds to any Regency ambience.’

  ‘I was certain that Rowan would want to dance,’ Moria retorted, eyeing the Rowan with a penetrating stare. ‘She’s old enough to know how.’ Her tone implied that anyone who didn’t was deprived, underprivileged, and asocial.

  ‘Talba and I can dance,’ Emer hastily put in.

  Lusena was beginning to regret the notion that her nieces would be suitable as friends for the Rowan.

  ‘Dancing is not a recreation in which I have any interest,’ the Rowan replied casually, with a mild hauteur and indifference that quite shot the wind out of Moria’s sails. ‘I am here to enjoy the sportive, not the cultural a
spects of the resort. You did bring appropriate attire for swimming and boating, did you not?’ The Rowan’s tone was more coolly dismissive than Moria’s, but then, Lusena thought, Siglen was a mistress of the put-down.

  Emer and Talba goggled but Moria blushed and sulked for the rest of the meal. Lusena wondered what was going through the Rowan’s mind. Would she make an adjustment or might she, tempted by Moria’s example, respond by manipulating the others: something the Rowan was quite able to do, consciously or unconsciously. And that was not what this holiday effort was about.

  Lusena sighed. Her timing was wrong. A year or two at this age could produce such astounding swings in attitudes and standards. The Rowan had left her schoolmates as a child with childish interests and concerns. Now, hovering at the edge of the major physiological and psychological adjustments in a young girl’s life, a perilous rite of passage might be forced.

  Lusena pressed briefly, cautiously, against the Rowan’s mind but the girl’s immediate thoughts were of satiety with the excellent meal just served and a mental debate over which area of the resort to explore first.

  ‘I see no reason,’ Lusena began briskly, hoping to alter the mood of the afternoon, ‘why you can’t all change into swimsuits. We can explore the beach while our lunch is being digested and then we’ll be ready for a dip. Moria, as the oldest, you’re in charge of water safety. I know your family often holidays by the sea whereas Emer, Talba, and Rowan haven’t done very much sea bathing.’

  Moria’s manner altered with the possession of even this nebulous superiority and, forgetting her sulk, she ran up the stairs well ahead of the others in order to be the first changed.

  It turned out to be a very pleasant afternoon for the water was cool enough to give a brisk tingle, the sun warming, and the beach deserted. Having marshaled her young charges into the water until they were exhausted with their exercise, Moria stripped to allow the sun full access to her already tanned skin. The Rowan watched with discreetly averted eyes. Moria had a splendid start on a feminine body. The still juvenile Emer and Talba also slipped out of their suits, oiling their paler skins with a sun block and then, suddenly, the Rowan was lying supine on the beach blanket as if she was a frequent sunbather. While Moria chattered away about the merits of various tanning preparations, Lusena was positive that the Rowan must be making some bizarre internal adjustments for in the space of about fifteen minutes, she acquired a nice sun-burnishing.