by Audrey Faye
Tee had sensed the pattern even before I had because she’s got a good nose and fierce grandmother instincts of her own, but now I knew for certain that Tatiana was both the purpose and the endpoint of whatever very long game Yesenia was playing. I didn’t have details—the woo tended to leave those out. But I could see the slim girl with golden eyes at the center of what would come.
I stood absolutely still, not permitting the crackling connections forming inside my head to show. Yesenia was building a small group of Fixers who could think. A tool, or in less savory hands, the core of a power play. I’d never given any thought time to the latter because Yesenia was KarmaCorp in every way that mattered.
Except for one. The child she appeared not to love.
The daughter she’d quietly slid into the gravitational well of each of my friends before she sent them off on the mission that had changed them.
The daughter who would one day walk in peril.
I’d been given a tiny glimpse of that future darkness—and I had no doubt it had been given. Yesenia had impeccable control. She’d allowed me to see. And then she’d cleaned it up, because not a hint of what I had just seen clung to so much as a mote of dust in this room. Snipped away as cleanly as if the boss lady had a pair of vacuum scissors in her hand.
Shaman work at a level I hadn’t known she was capable of.
Work she was trusting me not to undo.
All of which had to stay far underground. I wasn’t sure how I knew that, but I knew it deep down where wisdom first forms. I’d felt the pain along with the message. Yesenia did this for fierce reasons, even if I didn’t understand them. I wouldn’t get in her way. Not without knowing a lot more about what came in the dark.
I cleared my throat and kept my energies as clean and task-focused as possible. “Do you have more details for me about what’s brewing in Galieus?”
She shifted as smoothly as a senior diplomat. “Epsilon Conglomerate is one of the big players there. They’ve developed a new technology for sweeping up latent galactic energies and pollutants on a wider scale than we’ve ever been capable of before.”
Anyone who flew in a tin can knew why that was important. And anyone who didn’t live under a rock knew the tech she was speaking of. “The Harmonium project.” It was the most anticipated scientific achievement in my lifetime, one lauded by corporate interests, naturalist organizations, and anyone who had ever set foot in a space shuttle. It would clean up our past galactic messes and current ones, and smooth the stray energies that might not bother the galaxy any but sharply disrupted interstellar travel when they gathered too intensely. “Is there something getting in the way of their work?”
“Not that I’m aware of.” Yesenia glanced down at her tablet. “Epsilon expects to have prototypes installed on the first ships and spaceports within weeks.”
Shamans didn’t get sent to do product launch PR. I waited. I’d guessed wrong once—it was time to be quiet and listen.
“There is some concern that the technology may have unintended side effects.” This time, her pause felt pregnant, and not in a rotund, cozy way. “The most reputable report comes from a retired Fixer who was visiting her new grandson in Galieus. Dremelia Obdian.”
My eyebrows shot up. “She’s a Shaman.” And we don’t retire, whatever KarmaCorp might think. The dark always knows where to find us.
Yesenia nodded once. “She is. One who lacked skill in interpersonal relations, but her ability to sense energies in difficult situations was without equal in her time. She believes the tech may impede Shamanic shielding.”
I wasn’t liking this at all. Shields were how we kept ourselves safe and sane. “Is she still on-planet?”
“No. She raises termagants. She felt a need to return to them. Her report did not hit my desk in a timely manner.”
Yesenia’s dry delivery told me everything I needed to know about her opinion on Dremelia’s priorities. An opinion which I shared. The most important tech in a century or more was perched on the brink of roll out. If it caused problems for Shamans, I had a lot of work to do and not much time to do it.
Yesenia tapped her tablet twice. “I’ve sent you all the relevant briefing materials. We don’t want to stop such important scientific progress, but we will not allow the impeding of Shamanic Talent on the scale at which this technology will be distributed. Your job is to figure out how Shamans can appropriately shield themselves.”
That was a Master Fixer assignment in all but name.
And a mission that sounded more like it needed a diplomat. Or a well-armed anarchist. Scientists, especially ones of the caliber that would be found in Galieus, weren’t going to let me play with the switches of their precious tech. “I assume my first step will be to assess the actual threat posed by the technology, if any. Do I have local contacts who might smooth my introduction to the Epsilon Conglomerate?”
“No. They are aware you will be visiting, and that you will have questions. They are also aware that both KarmaCorp and the StarReaders consider this vastly important technology, and that we have no intentions of derailing it. We merely want to ensure that our people are adequately protected.”
Those were very clear mission parameters with very little wiggle room. Don’t upset the scientists. Don’t get in the way of the tech. “And if I can’t do that with my hands tied behind my back?”
“I trust your ingenuity will prevail.” Yesenia turned back to the window. “Go, Journeywoman. Do your job.”
I blinked. This didn’t bear any resemblance to the innocuous assignments that had foundationally shifted my three closest friends. It was a high-risk and deeply complex task I’d just been assigned, and that was my first impression—further details weren’t likely to make it any less tricky.
I turned to go. I’d been dismissed, and my Talent was yelling for my attention. Despite the assignment that had just been dumped in my lap, the more important part of this conversation had happened before Galieus was ever mentioned. Yesenia’s long game, one that I suspected had been in motion for at least thirteen years. The one that involved four friends who had bonded the first day of trainee school, and the golden-eyed daughter of the woman I was walking away from.
I cast a glance at Bean as I walked out of the boss lady’s office. Bean didn’t have a drop of Talent according to the official record, but there was no way she didn’t have her fingers in this, whatever it was. And no way this didn’t have fingers in my being sent to Galieus. Which meant skeptical scientists were the least of my current problems.
Bean looked up from her work. Her nod was barely there, but it was enough.
She’d be at our usual place in an hour.
3
I made my way down the narrow side street that was the stomping grounds of Jissa’s diner and waved at a couple of people walking out the door. They were regulars, just like me. Locals who made the trek on a frequent basis because Jissa handed out plates of breakfast with real eggs, decent synth-caf, and a homey atmosphere that fed more than hungry bellies.
I slid in the door, tossed a casual hello at the woman behind the back counter, and looked around for Bean.
“Back booth,” Jissa called out. “She’s having her usual.”
Most of the clientele here had one, and Jissa never forgot any of them. “Make that two of us, and thanks.”
She grinned. “Got fresh berries today too, if you have a hankering.”
I did, and she probably wasn’t charging enough to cover the cost of picking them. Which was why Tee’s family had a habit of leaving baskets of produce on Jissa’s doorstep. The quiet underground economy of fresh food and kindness on Stardust Prime, of which I was a very happy consumer. “I do, and give me enough so Bean can swipe some.”
A dreadlocked head popped up over the low wall around the back booth. “Hey, I ordered my own berries. I’ll only swipe yours if you try to save them for dessert.”
Bean and I both came from worlds where berries should absolutely be eaten first, but fo
r very different reasons. She’d never told me a whole lot about Gastonia, but I had the distinct feeling that decent food of any kind had been in scarce supply. Something that had shocked me to the core when I’d first left Quixal, but I’d seen a bit more of the galaxy since then.
I slid into the booth across the table from Bean and leaned my forehead in to touch hers. She reached up and cupped my cheeks, which made me feel eleven again—and also very well loved. Most people didn’t like touching Shamans, but the woman who was the quiet power behind Yesenia’s throne had never been one of them.
“So.” She broke one of Jissa’s famous butter buns in half and dropped a steaming piece in my hands. “What do you think of your new assignment?”
Beating around the bush has always been one of Bean’s strengths, but it isn’t one of mine. So for as long as I’ve known her, she’s played arrow straight with me. Another thing most people don’t do with Shamans.
I leaned into the pure, clear, tough light of her spirit web and let myself breathe. “There’s actually something else I want to talk to you about first. How much do you know about this little group of Fixers Yesenia is building? The ones who can think for themselves.”
Bean raised an eyebrow. “She actually said that to you?”
I nodded, and noted her surprise. For good reason—verification was a whole different thing than supposition, even when it was smart people doing the guessing.
She nibbled on her bun and regarded me silently for a moment. “She’s a good person.”
I didn’t disagree with her, but I didn’t share her bone-deep loyalty, either. “She’s playing some kind of very long game, and I don’t know what it is. That makes me very uncomfortable.”
She smiled wryly. “Welcome to the galaxy the rest of us live in.”
I snorted. Bean might try to claim that she’s just a standard-issue admin assistant, but I’ve never been dumb enough to believe it. “You know more about what goes on here than anyone, especially if it’s coming from the boss lady’s office.”
“That’s because she’s smart and she keeps her ears open.” Jissa set two chunky mugs down on the table, full of steaming synth-caf. “And she comes to see me more often than you do, Leticia Ravencroft.”
Grandmothers can be found in so many places. “Sorry. I’ve been off-planet a lot lately.”
She raised an annoyed eyebrow. “You walk right past my place to get to the shuttle port, so don’t you go using that as an excuse.”
I hadn’t wanted to slime the diner with the goo of the Etruscan sector. Which was dumb. Nobody slimed Jissa or what was hers. “You’re right. Sometimes I forget what I need most.” I smiled at her bossy, maternal frown. “Can you pack me up some extra slices of pie to take with me when I leave?”
She rolled her eyes. “What, did you make Tyra mad or something? She not baking for you anymore?”
I pulled out my ace. “She says yours are better. Especially if you’ve got a fruit tart hiding back there somewhere.”
Jissa’s cheeks pinkened, but she just shook her head at me and turned away. “I’ll be right back with your plates.”
Bean snickered quietly. “She gave me heck too, and I was in here just last week.”
Jissa took care of her own. It was a big part of why we kept coming back. The rest was on the two plates landing on the table front of us. I leaned down, wrapping my arms around the plate, and nearly stuck my nose in one of the bright yellow egg yolks glistening on top of the pile of potato-and-squash hash, stewed tomatoes, and fried beans. Bad manners on any planet except for the one I’d grown up on, but the first time I’d done it in Jissa’s diner, she’d beamed at me like I’d handed her a mountain of shiny gold coins.
She’d always welcomed my wild, and that fed me somewhere far deeper than my belly.
“Mmmphrjmfomph.” Bean made incomprehensible sounds around her mouthful of food and gesticulated happily with her fork.
Jissa grinned and backed away. “Yell if you need anything else.”
We wouldn’t. One of Jissa’s all-day breakfast plates could hold me for a week. I popped a berry in my mouth and then dunked the little bit of butter bun I had left straight into the yellow-gold yolk. It ran down the mountain of hash and beans, delicious lava that would soak in and make the whole thing taste of comfort and real.
The back booth was quiet for a while as the two of us devoured our food with all due reverence. I waited until we were both mopping up the dregs from our plates before I spoke again. “Whatever Yesenia’s up to, it’s got something to do with Tatiana.”
The last thing I expected to see in Bean’s eyes was fear.
I leaned in, warrior ready to rumble for a girl my three best friends had pretty much adopted. “Is she in danger? What do you know?”
The fear tempered a little. “We can’t talk about it. She never has. She’s crazy careful—I think she’s afraid something in the woo will hear.”
I remembered my impression in the boss lady’s office that she had wielded scissors on the energies trying to stalk our conversation. “I can make sure that doesn’t happen.” I raised an eyebrow at Bean. “Something that people without Talent shouldn’t be able to see.”
She met my gaze casually and popped in a last bite of egg-soaked bread. “I’m just an admin assistant. The Seekers have sniffed all over me, and they all left disappointed.”
Which just made Bean a far more effective threat. Something her boss knew as well as anyone. I suddenly wondered just how many people were swept up in Yesenia’s slow, careful game.
Which I couldn’t ask until I kept my questions from rippling the energies. I gathered my Talent and did something with my spirit web that no one off Quixal knew how to do. For good reason. Without tribal wisdom and the great mother to hold it in check, it would be an unholy abuse of power. “It’s safe to talk. How long have you known that something was going on?”
Her eyes looked bleak. “Since five years before Tatiana was born. Yesenia asked me to watch out for her.”
I stared. “She what?”
Bean swallowed again, and this time, she literally shuddered. “You promise that nothing out there will hear this?”
I wrapped my spirit web even tighter around the two of us. I had some tricks nobody at KarmaCorp had ever seen, and this was one of them. It impinged far too strongly on someone’s free will—unless both parties held deep trust. This was how the grandmothers healed souls. Which wasn’t at all my goal, because Bean was one of the healthiest people I knew, but it essentially extended my shielding over her. “I’m sure.”
The bleakness in her eyes reached out and swallowed her whole body. “You’ve heard the story about how she handed her baby over to a nursery minder and never looked back, right? What nobody tells you, because they don’t know, is how she still can’t stand to hear a baby crying. How she personally reads the file of every person who works with every child on Stardust Prime. How she walks past the door of a homesick trainee, and the next day, that trainee isn’t sad anymore. How every year on Tatiana’s birthday, no matter what treats I bring Yesenia, she won’t eat a single bite. And how, five years before Tatiana arrived, she left me a note that casually suggested I might want to spend some regular time in the nursery.”
Circumstantial evidence—but it painted a picture. A sad, awful picture.
Bean’s eyes were burning now, her whole spirit web tangling in anguish. “I saw her the morning after she left Tatiana in the nursery. Her face was that ice-cold thing she does when she’s angry, except she wasn’t angry. Her eyes were so sad, Raven. I’ve never seen eyes that sad.”
She huffed out a breath and laid her palms on the table. “She loves Tatiana as deeply as anyone ever could. I believe that with every fiber of my being. I can’t promise that she isn’t manipulating the four of you, but whatever she’s doing, she’s doing it out of love.”
I could read the truth of her belief in her spirit web. “She might be manipulating you too.”
She no
dded, her eyes wide open and seeing clearly and still as loyal as a guardian moon. “I know.”
A guardian who served freely. I brushed appreciation over Bean’s spirit. “I’m not doubting you—but if she loves, she keeps so much distance, I can’t even see it in her spirit web.” Which spoke of hiding at an energetic level I wouldn’t have believed possible. Sharing blood is primal, the very core of who we are.
Bean nodded. “I think she’s deathly scared to acknowledge Tatiana as important. As worthy of her attention in any way.”
That was horrifying—and begged a single, terrible question. “Why?”
“I don’t know.” The woman who knew pretty much everything was already shaking her head. “To protect her, I think. I can’t imagine any other reason. She’s so careful to stay away from Tatiana. To never look at her with pride or love or approval.”
Something in me knew. “Because Tatiana might love her back.” Energy could be snipped if you had enough skill. Love, not so much. “Because that might make Tatiana matter to whatever is coming.”
Bean’s eyes got as big as her plate. “You see something?”
Damn. Future-seeing created train wrecks, especially when I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. “The edges. Nothing is clear, and I think it’s still a long time away.” Except for the part where Yesenia was training up the people I loved.
Or maybe not only Yesenia. I stepped back, following the instincts in my gut, needing to see the bigger picture. “How involved is Regalis?”
Bean mostly managed to hide her shiver. “He’s involved—in your assignment, too—but I’m not sure he’s running the show.”
I eyed her carefully. We were approaching lines that even two very independent thinkers shouldn’t be crossing. Not in daylight over coffee, anyhow. It was clear that Yesenia was playing a deep game in the shadows, one years in the making. One that might align with KarmaCorp’s directives.
Or might not.
I took a sip of my caf. “I don’t like this.” Political machinations weren’t anything new, but beyond the carefully contained boundaries of my home world, far too often the people pulling the strings of power didn’t have any awareness of the great mother under their feet. Power for the good of the tribe, I utterly respected. Power for any other reason slicked my gut with cold grease.
