Zee’s heart sank. David didn’t want to hear anything bad about his older brother, and all she’d done was drive a wedge between herself and David.
For a few minutes they rode in silence, the separation between them as solid as a third passenger. Then suddenly they were plunging downhill at breathtaking speed. They were going so fast Zee couldn’t make out the landscape, but assumed they were on an off-ramp.
David flung his body over hers and reached for the emergency button. It didn’t work. Zee tried to open the door, but it was on autolock because they were going so fast.
“What’s wrong?” she cried. “Why can’t we stop?”
“I don’t know.” He pushed her down so she was almost lying on the seat and turned facing her, so his back would take the force of the impact.
The impact never came. Instead, the car was traveling so fast when it hit the exit curve, it flipped over the barrier and rolled three times before coming to a halt. Zee and David never let go of each other.
As they stood in the dew-damp grass waiting for the accident investigation team and the Britcab representative to arrive, Zee tried to remember the sequence of events. Paul had ordered the cabs and had ushered them into the first one. Could he have somehow tampered with it? But how? And when? He’d been at the house the whole evening, and he’d been ready to ride in it with them. Would he have risked his own safety? And Jozi’s? She’d programmed the cab herself, but she was agitated and upset—had she made a mistake? But the cold of the evening and the shock of the accident were already making her memory crumble, and the only comfort she found was in the fact they were still alive, unhurt, and not once, not even during the fiercest of the rolls, had she and David let go of each other.
The accident scared them and left them hungry for each other, and the minute they were safe at home, they fell into each other’s arms. Neither mentioned the conversation they’d been having about Paul in the minutes before the accident, but its ghost still floated between them. Later, when Zee lay curled against him, David asked, “Are we okay then?”
“We’ll always be okay,” she said, hoping it was true. But in her heart, she knew she should have told David about Paul and Lorna, and he should have listened.
David put his arms around her and flung one leg over hers, as if she were something precious he had to protect, and she pushed the thought out of her mind. After all that had happened, it felt so good just to lie quietly, drifting slowly off to sleep.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” he said. “I found an address for that girl you asked me about. Pipi? Patty?”
“Piper,” Zee answered. “You found her?”
“Yeah, it took a while because she married her Time Fleeter right away, in Ohio, where his family is. Then he took a one-month leave. They’re back in London now, but she took his name, so there’s no record of her under her old name. I sent the info to your address book.” He pulled her tighter to him and kissed her one last time.
“There are some things a computer just can’t do,” she murmured, and laughed when she saw the puzzled look on his face.
CHAPTER SEVEN
LOST ARTS
The accident report found nothing. Britcab sent them an apology, credit for ten free rides anywhere in the UK, and an assurance that the cab had been removed from service and destroyed.
“Why destroyed?” Zee asked David. “Is the cab haunted or something? Why wouldn’t they just repair it?”
“I don’t know, it’s just what they do. I’ve never thought about it all that much.” He shrugged. “Accidents aren’t very common, so I guess it’s cheaper to destroy the cab completely and not take any chances.”
In the end, what disturbed Zee most was that she hadn’t felt it coming. There was no inward flicker, no vibration of something about to happen. Maybe it was because she’d been distracted by the discussion about Paul. Or maybe, as she suspected, her divining skills were withering. Studying on her own wasn’t enough. She needed a structure to work in. She needed to continue developing her abilities. Most of all, she needed an ally.
The next day after David left for the base, she opened her computer and searched for the Psi Center, where she had studied so long ago. She wasn’t surprised that the search found nothing. Nevertheless, discovering that a place that had once been so important to her had vanished without a trace made her feel even lonelier.
“I wonder what became of Major Dawson,” she sighed, remembering the mentor who’d set her on the path to becoming a diviner.
Search again? the screen flashed.
Zee switched to voice recognition. “Someone from long ago. Before the meteors. Hamish Dawson.”
The search icon flickered, and the number of records examined mounted into the millions. Then the icon vanished and the results screen said the information was not retrievable.
Zee switched the computer to voice as well. “Does that mean you couldn’t find anything?”
The computer hesitated. “It means you cannot retrieve the data.”
“But there is data?”
The computer was silent.
Zee felt suddenly desperate for some small fragment of her old life. “Please,” she said. “Is there any way?”
After a long moment, the computer asked, “Was this person important to you?”
This time Zee hesitated, remembering David’s warning not to answer questions from a computer. But what harm could it do, even if the computer meant harm? Major Dawson was long dead by now.
“Very important,” she said at last.
One moment, the screen read. The computer had taken itself off voice.
A minute later, she was staring at an image of Major Dawson. Underneath the image it said Hamish Dawson, Security Classification Level 1-A. Restricted Access.
It was definitely her Major Dawson, even though the image was so old the pixelation had somewhat deteriorated.
“Is there more?” she asked.
A folder opened. There wasn’t much in it. His military history, his activities at the Psi Center, a note that he had survived the meteor strike and attempted to resume work. There the trail ended, and the last words were Whereabouts unknown, presumed dead circa 2260.
Odd that New Earth still honored the old security protocols and had obviously forbidden her access. Yet her computer had somehow overridden them.
“How did you do that?” Zee asked. “Can you teach me?”
“We have our own ways of searching, which humans cannot adopt,” the computer replied, switching back to voice. “Is there another search you would like me to perform?”
“No,” Zee answered, wondering if David had gone overboard in his warnings about computers. Just seeing the image of her old mentor made her feel better. He had always believed in her potential to become a diviner. If he were here now, he would tell her not to give up.
* * *
The next Wednesday, Zee stood in front of Piper’s building, waiting to be buzzed in. She and Piper had never been friends, and the last time they’d seen each other—when Piper had tried to help her—Zee had been rude and dismissive. Now she wanted to apologize, not only because she needed Piper’s friendship but because it was the right thing to do.
When Piper opened her door, Zee barely recognized her. Piper was beaming. Her eyes sparkled, and there was a wide, open smile on her face. Zee had never seen Piper happy before, and it left her speechless.
“Zee! I’m so happy to see you!” Piper took Zee’s hand and drew her into the flat. “I heard you were here on New Earth and hoped our paths would cross. I’ve wanted to apologize to you for so long.”
“Apologize to me?”
Piper nodded. “For the way I acted before—back home. You were so young and fresh and good at helping patients. I was in love with Jake by then”—she held up her hand and wiggled her fingers so Zee could see the silver loop of wedding ring—“and I was miserable because I thought we’d be separated. I’d lost my edge as an empath and was so jealous of you I wanted to shake
you up. So that night, when I saw that good-looking alien in Casualty, I sent you there in my place, hoping he’d rattle you, and you’d be the one who couldn’t focus.”
“Well, you were right about that. I ended up in love with him.”
“I know. And now you’ve given up everything for him. Your home, your work, everything. So I’m sorry.”
“I’m not,” Zee said. “I can’t imagine my life without David. Leaving was hard, but what we have together—I can’t imagine not having that. And don’t be too sure about giving up our work. I’ve been doing our old empath exercises and thinking about our options.”
While Piper poured two mugs of tea, Zee laid out the plan that had been forming in her mind. It wasn’t a plan she wanted to execute alone, and she hoped Piper would join her. But when she was finished, Piper shook her head thoughtfully.
“I don’t think so, Zee. At least not for now. You know, even before Jake, I was starting to burn out as an empath. I let too much in, bonded with my patients too much.” She set her mug down and looked directly at Zee. “Did you know I was an orphan?”
“No.”
“They almost didn’t let me in the program because they were worried that I would overbond. I talked them out of it, but looking back, maybe they were right. My patients were the closest thing to a family I ever had. But things are different now. Jake is taking a hiatus from missions to do a rotation as a Time Fleet trainer, based here. I do want to find work eventually, but not just now, and not anything nearly as demanding as being an empath was.” She reached over and took Zee’s hand, something unthinkable for the old Piper. “This is the first real home I’ve ever had, and I don’t want to miss a minute of it. I hope we can be friends, though.”
Zee felt joy and contentment in Piper’s touch. Setting her own disappointment aside, she picked up the gift basket she’d brought. “Then let me congratulate you on your wedding with this lovely fruit basket. If you haven’t tasted nano fruit yet, you’re in for a real treat.”
“Oh, yes, I have had that pleasure many times.”
They started to laugh, rolling their eyes at the fat peaches and supposedly juicy pineapples.
“Actually, that was a joke,” Zee said. She reached for the beribboned box she’d also brought. “This is your real present.”
Piper slid the ribbon off the box and opened the lid. Inside was an assortment of fancy pastries, made by Marc and sent to Zee that morning as a thank-you for referring him to Mrs. Sutton, whose dinner party had been such a success two other women had hired him for their own parties.
“These are real?” Piper asked, inhaling the heady scent of sugar, butter, and vanilla. “Where did you get them? Who made them? Let’s have one right now.”
Zee laughed. “Have one later with Jake. For now, come with me and I’ll introduce you to the baker.”
* * *
The immigrants’ group was vibrant with energy when Zee and Piper arrived, and at first Zee didn’t recognize the chic young woman who seemed to be the center of attention. But when she turned and smiled at Zee, there was no mistaking the wide blue eyes and sweep of blond hair, now straightened and cut fashionably chin-length.
“Meli!”
“Oh!” Piper exclaimed before Zee could finish the introductions. “A baby-doll dress! Where did you get it? The shops are totally sold out.” Last year a team had returned from the twentieth century with sketches of 1960s Carnaby Street fashions. Miniskirts and baby-doll dresses were now so popular there was actually a molecule shortage in the nanotech clothing industry. “And the hat!” Piper went on. “I haven’t even seen those yet.”
“Just in from the nineteenth century. It’s called a Dolly Varden. I added the lace and flowers myself, though.” Meli reached over and grabbed Zee’s hand. “You wouldn’t believe what happened to me after the day we met. One of those little brats you shooed away wanted to file a complaint against me. Yes! His sister works in the Data Department of Time Immigration. He tried to get my address! But his sister is engaged, and when he told her about the lace, she contacted me herself and wanted to know if I could make her a veil and how much it would cost!” Meli held her hands up. The tips of her fingers were reddened from work. “See! I’ve been making lace all day. My fingers hurt, and I will need new eyes soon, but all our bills are paid. And when I finish Augusta Clark’s bridal veil, I have orders from her friends. Trims, christening gowns, undergarments. Lace, lace, lace!” Meli laughed happily. “There should be more hours in a day!”
“Did you make that lace yourself?” Piper asked, studying Meli’s hat with new interest. “It’s beautiful. Could you teach me? And if I learned, could others?”
Piper’s eyes sparkled, and she was about to go on, but the meeting was called to order. It began on a high note, with Meli telling the group what she’d just told Zee and Piper. Someone else, a musician who’d once played with Bach, was trying to organize music lessons in schools.
“And what did they say?” another member asked the violinist.
“That it’s frivolous. Imagine—Bach! Frivolous! But I told them it isn’t. It improves mathematical skills!”
“Yeah? How far did you get with that?” someone else scoffed.
Zee flinched. The energy was starting to leak out of the room and would soon be replaced by despair and cynicism. Piper must have sensed the same thing, because suddenly she stood up.
“I know I’m new here,” she began, “but I’ve got an idea—”
Before she could say more, the doors swung open and Marc entered, almost hidden behind baskets and boxes.
“I’m late, I know,” he said. “I just prepared a luncheon and had to chop everything for the salad myself. A travesty! Is there no one in all of London who can use a knife on a radish? I have two houses to cook for tonight, but I had just enough time to make a stupendous treat for you. I’ve just discovered an Italian dish called pizza!” He set down his boxes and saw Piper standing. “Ah, I’ve interrupted. Go on, go on, I’ll just warm this up a bit.”
Piper looked at the group. For a moment, the impatience of the old Piper flashed in her eyes. “Am I the only one who sees a pattern here? Meli and Marc worked this week. They worked legally, at jobs no one can take away because no one on New Earth has their skills. Officially, their jobs don’t exist. But that doesn’t mean they can’t exist. Each of us worked in our home zones, didn’t we? And yes, we have to learn all the ways of New Earth. But maybe we have something to give, too, and instead of trying to hide who we are, we should look for ways to make our skills marketable.”
A young woman Zee’s age with a pale white-blond braid that reached nearly to her knees stood up. “I’ve never spoken before,” she began shyly. “My name is Gudrun, and my home zone is the twelfth century. I don’t speak because you were all born after me, so new, so much younger than I am.”
A soft giggle swept the room. Regardless of age, it was hard to break the habit of thinking of anyone born after you as younger. Their laughter seemed to relax the young woman.
“I lived in the far north of Norway and learned only household arts. Churning butter, preserving meats, weaving. Even if people wanted real butter and cloth, I could not do that, because everyone is impatient, and no one wants clothes stitched by hand.”
“Can you make cheese?” Marc asked, but Meli stepped in front of him.
“You can count, can’t you?”
“Of course,” Gudrun replied with a spark of confidence. “Counting is everything in weaving. If you lose count of the rows, you spoil the pattern.”
“It’s the same in lace making!” Meli exclaimed. “It’s a kind of weaving too, done by wrapping threads around one another. It’s difficult, because you must count carefully. You must count carefully and not lose track, or you will spend as much time undoing your work as doing it.”
Gudrun nodded. “I know exactly what you mean. Do you think I could try to learn?”
“I will teach you myself.” Meli smiled. “Well, I guess I’
d have to—there’s no one else, is there?”
Everyone in the room looked at Meli and realized they were looking at the only person on New Earth who knew the secrets of lace making. It was as if they saw, for the first time, that they too were special and valuable, and could become more than outsiders.
“What about me?” a young man in a jerkin, jeans, and suede boots asked. “I lived on the American frontier, just after the Revolution. I hunted, I scraped and tanned the hides and made my own clothes. Who wants that now?”
“Can you use a knife?” Marc asked.
“Blindfolded,” the young man answered.
“Then come work for me tonight. Chopping, peeling, cutting up a chicken, cleaning a fish. Half of cooking is knives.”
Meli was surveying the group. “Miyako, didn’t you say you knew how to do a traditional Japanese tea ceremony? That might be popular. And, Bartello, what about that sport you were so good at?”
“Tennis?”
“If there’s one thing New Earth needs,” someone muttered, “it’s to lighten up a little. They could use some fun and games here.”
“But who’s going to know about us?” Bartello asked, looking at the entire group. “Meli and Marc found work through strokes of luck. We could starve waiting for lightning to strike again.”
“Maybe we could start our own employment agency,” Piper suggested. “We could make a point of supplying special skills and producing unique goods and experience. We could call it—”
“Lost Arts,” Zee said.
“Perfect!”
“Maybe we could start a list of everyone’s skills,” Meli suggested.
“And figure out what to charge,” Piper said. “It has to be expensive, or people won’t think we’re selling anything special. It has to be more than most people can afford, at least until we’re established.”
Meli smiled. As a formerly pampered princess, she knew exactly what Piper meant.
Zee watched it all unfold around her. For a moment, she thought how nice it would be to join them, to learn to make lace or bake pastries and fall into a nice, cozy niche. But even as she watched Piper and Meli and the others make plans, she knew she wouldn’t join them. Her path had to be different. Even without Piper as an ally, the plan that had been forming in her mind leapt up bright and clear, pointing the way.
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