by Sharon Lee
“A spool of red thread would be welcome,” she said, coolly.
Rys nodded, once, and went away.
Chapter Thirty-Four
“And have you the proof for that rather astonishing assertion, Student Syl Vor?”
Ms. ker’Eklis was pushing again; pushing hard. Syl Vor would have thought that she was trying to make his lose his temper, only that made no sense. She was his math tutor, not his deportment teacher. Grand-aunt Kareen was quite capable in that regard! If she thought his answer was invalid, why didn’t she just—
He took a hard breath, and quickly reviewed Pilot’s Peace.
“I am waiting, Student Syl Vor.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said minding his mode closely. Student to instructor, nothing more nor less. “You have been waiting for less than a minute.”
Her eyebrows rose.
“Oh, indeed. And what is the proper length of time for an instructor to wait for a student’s answer?”
“Long enough to allow the student to gather his thought and produce the proof,” he answered, still keeping strictly to his mode. “Ma’am.”
“Ah, I see! Allow me just a moment of whimsy. In thirty seconds, a navcomp may fail. In thirty seconds, a lifepod may be launched. In thirty seconds an earthquake can destroy a city. But thirty seconds is too short a time for a student to produce the proof for an answer that he asserts to be accurate.”
He would not efface himself. She was wrong; she was pushing; and he…
Ms. ker’Eklis rose, bringing her comp with her.
“You may proceed with the lesson by yourself,” she said, calmly. “Please, take as much time as you wish.”
He rose, his legs not entirely steady, and after all she had succeeded in making him angry. What he wanted, right now, was to go downstairs and engage a brisk session with the shadow-spar.
“I will of course report to your mother,” Ms. ker’Eklis murmured. “It will be for her to decide whether we will continue, or whether you will find someone of your preferred speed to stand as your tutor. Good-day, Student Syl Vor.”
“Good-day, Ms. ker’Eklis,” he said bowing from student to instructor. He kept the bow until he heard the door shut, then straightened, throwing his arms toward the ceiling.
“Aaagh!”
Kezzi, who was sitting on the floor with her back against the bedstead, and a knee-desk across her lap, looked up at him. A box of color-sticks sat on the floor by her side, and several sticks in various shades of brown, red, blue, green yellow, and orange littered the surface of the lap desk. She was holding a carmine stick in one hand, and with the other was bracing a cardboard rectangle against the desk.
“Did you misremember a…” Heavy black eyebrows pulled together into a frown. “If it was me, I would say, misremembered a recipe, because I wasn’t very good at tinctures and ointments and draughts for a long, long time. I could say out the ingredients; it was the measurements for each that I couldn’t keep straight. Better I didn’t know the ingredients, Jin said, because if I measured wrong, I could kill someone when all they wanted was relief from the toothache.”
Syl Vor stared at her. “Didn’t you—?” he began, then recalled that the conversation had been in Liaden.
He collapsed to the floor, facing her.
“I misremembered—well, but I didn’t misremember! I gave her the answer, and mark you it was correct, or she would have said otherwise! But, no, what she wanted was the proof, and immediately.”
“And you couldn’t give it to her?”
“Well, I could have, if she had given me a moment to order myself! She wanted it too quickly, and…” He sighed.
“And I lost my temper,” he said. “Grand-aunt says that a person of melant’i never loses one’s temper.”
Kezzi looked down at her drawing and back to his face.
“My grandmother says that high temper proves a high heart.”
“Is that a good thing—a high heart?”
“It is for the Bedel,” Kezzi said, her brows still drawn. “What does your Grand-aunt say that you should do, when pushed, if not push back, and harder?”
“Write the name of the person who has provoked me, and all the particulars of the incident in my Debt Book, so that the matter may be Balanced, in due time. Which might,” he added bitterly, “take years.”
She nodded, her eyes drawn again to her artwork.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“I am making my deck, so that I may tell the futures of the gadje on the street.”
This was much more interesting than Ms. ker’Eklis, only…
“How old are you?” he asked.
Kezzi lifted her chin and glared at him.
“I am a younger,” she said haughtily, which was no answer at all. But, Syl Vor thought, the last thing he wanted was to have Kezzi mad at him, too.
“All right,” he said peaceably. “In our House, it’s not known if someone will be a…” He paused, startled. Usually, when he was speaking in Terran, he knew only Terran words, but the only word he could think of now was Liaden. “…a cha’dramliz until they come halfling.”
“What’s that?”
He sighed, and spread his hand. “Someone who can…see the future, or the past, or, or lift a thing by thinking at it, or—there are many gifts. Aunt Anthora can—” But this was getting into complex territory—“can heal someone who is feeling sad. And Uncle Ren Zel can—he can see far and away into the future. I think.” He looked down at her card, raised a hand, but deliberately did not touch it.
“I never knew him to use cards to see ahead.”
“Well, of course he doesn’t,” Kezzi said acidly.
Syl Vor blinked at her. “But you just said—”
“I said that I’m making a deck so I can tell the futures of the gadje on the street. The cards are for the gadje; they’re—they’re part of the fleez. Your uncle is vey, and truly sees ahead. He needs no cards.”
Syl Vor frowned.
“So the cards are a…cheat?” he asked slowly. “They don’t tell…true futures?”
Kezzi shrugged.
“They are cards,” she said; “they know nothing. Just like gadje know nothing.” Perhaps she saw his frown deepen, or perhaps she realized she had not explained herself plainly.
“Everyone who learns the fleez makes their own deck, but the pictures are the same in every deck, you see?”
He nodded.
“Good. Every picture has a little story attached to it—the same story for the same card, every time, no matter who offers the cards, no matter who draws it—yes?”
“Yes.”
“It satisfies the gadje; they pay a coin, sometimes two, to hear the story that goes with the card they draw. It’s a simple thing, no harm done, and the Bedel gain a coin.” She sighed. “But only gadje would believe that cards are vey.”
Syl Vor put the tip of his finger on the desk next to the card she had been coloring.
“What does that card mean?”
Kezzi sighed sharply.
“Have you been listening? It means nothing!”
“You said each picture had a story attached to it.”
Her sigh this time was slightly less sharp.
“Yes, I did say that,” she admitted, and held up the card, which showed a tall house standing in a garden, flowers ’round its base—and a jagged yellow bolt that had quite blown off the roof and started a little dance of flame.
“This is the Burning House,” Kezzi said, her voice taking on an odd husky tone. “It foretells change, and good fortune.”
“How can it be good fortune for your house to be burning?” Syl Vor demanded.
For a moment, he thought she would throw the card at him, then she shook her head.
“I don’t know,” she admitted, “but that’s the story the card tells.”
She frowned at the image, and said slowly. “Maybe there was something…bad in the house. The people who live there will be driven out by the fire,
but the bad thing—it might be burned up.” She looked at him. “That would be fortunate, wouldn’t it?”
Syl Vor chewed his lip, thinking.
“Maybe it would,” he said eventually. “Quin would say—Luck is a double-edged knife.”
“The Bedel say that Fortune and Misfortune are sisters, and each must have their share. Oh!”
She put the card down and reached into one of her many pockets, pulling out—his pen.
“Here,” she said, holding it out.
“Don’t you need it anymore?”
“No,” she said, smiling. “U—Nathan found me these colors, for my cards.”
She extended her hand a little further, as if urging him to take the pen. “The luthia said it had served its purpose, which was to bring us together.”
He took the pen, which was still warm from having been in her pocket.
“Is the luthia vey?” he asked.
Kezzi snorted and picked up a blue stick.
“Sometimes,” she said, bending to her drawing, “you are a very stupid boy.”
“I don’t think—”
“That’s true,” she replied, shaking her head without looking at him. “Will that gadje tell Mother you pushed her back?”
Syl Vor sighed, surprised to find that he wasn’t angry, anymore.
“She said so. She also said I should finish the lesson without her.”
“Then you should do it—and do it very well, so she’s shown to be rude and stupid.”
Syl Vor laughed, and Kezzi looked up at him.
“Was that funny?”
“No,” he told her, rising into a long stretch. “It was Liaden.”
* * *
“Your eye is quick and your hand is steady,” Udari praised him, as they strolled together down the street, unhurriedly leaving the premises of Al’s Hardware Store, Udari somewhat the richer for a box of nails and Rys by two tin mugs.
“I feel that I may have performed similar actions in the past,” he said, smiling.
“Do you?” Udari looked at him with interest. “Can you say more?”
Rys moved his shoulders, wishing he could say more, but—
“A feeling only,” he said to Udari. “Perhaps it will become clearer, in time. In this time, however, I feel I should now find some thread, or Droi will surely eat me.”
Udari cleared his throat.
“It was brother-like, to ask her what she might want,” he said carefully. “But Droi—”
“Droi is dangerous,” Rys interrupted, and laughed slightly. “I know, Brother. And yet…it was me she came to, when the kompani’s numbers wanted repair.”
He stopped, having heard the sharp intake of Udari’s breath.
“Did she so? Brother, this is—Have you brought this to the luthia?”
“I did, for being so ignorant, I did not wish to offend, or fall behind any obligation…”
“And what said the luthia to this?” Udari demanded, interrupting a second time. “Does she speak to the headman on your behalf? Did she say she would call your brothers to stand before the fire with you when we make you fully Bedel?”
Rys bowed his head, but of course Silain could do none of those things, no matter the tradition of the kompani. He was half-a-man, fear-ridden, with a debt hanging above him and his crime a mystery.
“Silain said that, in three days, she would take me to the mother of the small Dragon Syl Vor, so that we might all learn how I have transgressed, and what Balance must be made.”
Silence from Udari, followed by a heavy sigh.
“The luthia is wise,” he said, his voice subdued. “These matters have precedence. A man’s soul is his only possession, and that business must be settled before all else.”
He put his hand on Rys’ shoulder.
“When the time comes for you to stand before the fire, I will be there, Brother. Believe me.”
Rys blinked his eyes, clearing sudden, foolish tears.
“I do believe you,” he said softly, and reached up to put his gloved hand, very gently, atop his brother’s hand.
“Yes,” said Udari, and raised his head, looking at the sky.
“I must fetch the child,” he said. “Will you come, or no?”
“The thread,” Rys said. “I’ll tend to that, and meet you in kompani, later.” He reached into his deep inner pocket and pulled out the mugs. “Do you take these to Jin for me.”
Udari took the mugs.
“I will take them to my hearth. You found them; it is yours to give them.”
“All right,” Rys said, smiling. “Until soon, Brother.”
“Until soon.”
* * *
“Ms. Taylor said taxi chits would be given to those who lived a distance away from the new school,” Syl Vor was telling their mother.
Tonight’s meal was a spicy vegetable soup, hot bread and cheese. Kezzi was already on her second bowl of soup and third piece of bread. However, this brought her attention up from her trencher with a jerk. She put the spoon down on the saucer, as she had seen Syl Vor do with his, and leaned forward slightly, watching the lovely, controlled face.
“That is correct,” Mother said. “You and Kezzi will both qualify for chits.”
She had, Kezzi thought, been afraid that would be the case.
“If we can work out the timing with Mike Golden’s watch,” she said, now, and stopped as Mother’s eyes found her face, slim brows raised.
“Yes, daughter? Please continue.”
“Yes, ma’am. I don’t think it would be…I don’t think my grandmother would want a taxi to come to me. If Syl Vor’s going to take a taxi, I’ll walk here, with Nathan, or another of my brothers, and take the taxi with him.”
“I agree with your assessment, on the basis on the talk I had with your grandmother today,” Mother said calmly. “You may, however, ask the taxi to take you up at the location of your choice. You need not go with Syl Vor, unless you wish to do so.”
Kezzi chewed her lip, and looked to Syl Vor.
“I don’t mind going to school with you,” she said; “in fact, it’s prolly better that I do, and keep you out of a fight. But if you’d rather not, or Gavit doesn’t want me, then I’ll tell the taxi another corner.”
Mike Golden was heard to make…an odd sound. Kezzi looked up at him, suspiciously, but he was paying close attention to his soup.
“I’d like company on the ride,” Syl Vor said. “I don’t think Gavit will be coming—will he?” he asked Mother.
“That has not yet been decided,” she said serenely. “Certainly, he will be with you on the first day, for there will be a great many people present.”
Kezzi looked at Syl Vor and Syl Vor looked at Kezzi.
“Ms. Taylor said that our school would…merge with the other schools, but—” Syl Vor looked at Kezzi again, his brows drawn. “I did not realize there would be so many,” he said.
“I didn’t think so either—a few schools with a few students, like ours.” Kezzi nodded.
“In fact, the lesser part of the first-day crowd will be students,” said Mother. “The Bosses have decided to…celebrate their achievement, for the school is something they have worked toward for a very long time, and pushed through to reality despite those who did not want a school and who stopped at very little to destroy it.”
“So that means,” said Mike Golden, leaning back in his chair. “That all the Bosses, and all their ’hands’ll be there to welcome all the students. Prolly be some speechifyin’, an’ maybe a tour.” He rolled his eyes and Kezzi laughed.
“You got no respect for the Bosses?” he asked her sternly.
“Why should I?” she answered. “They’re not my bosses!”
“That’s a point, I guess,” he said, looking thoughtful. “Still an’ all, it’s the Bosses who’re puttin’ things in order and built the school, so I’m guessin’ a little bit o’ politeness won’t go amiss. What d’you say to that?”
“Is it polite to force people who a
re busy to stop what they’re doing and go to school?”
“Touché, Mr. Golden,” Mother murmured.
“No law says the law’s gotta be polite,” he objected, and she laughed.
“I think neither side has a compelling argument,” she said, “and so rule the debate suspended until more facts are garnered. Now, I see that it is time for Kezzi to leave us—I sought your grandmother’s approval that you stay with us for a few days together, child. She said that she would dream upon it, so it might be that she will yet approve. In the meanwhile, we have let the meal go late, and it is time for you to find your brother. My son, have you completed the work your tutor left you?”
Syl Vor drew a breath.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Excellent, you may with Gavit escort Kezzi to her brother. When you are returned, come see me in my office.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Syl Vor said again, but he sounded subdued, and Kezzi wondered if he were going to be punished.
“His teacher was not kind today,” she commented, to no one in particular. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mother incline her head slightly, while Syl Vor threw her a wide-eyed look that might have meant she should have said nothing.
“Thank you. Now, I regret, but time presses. Please give my greatest respect to your grandmother.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Kezzi said, and got up, Syl Vor rising quickly beside her. “I’ll be happy to see you tomorrow, ma’am.”
Mother smiled. “Thank you, my child. I shall be happy to see you, as well.”
* * *
Acquiring the thread had required somewhat more guile than that required to liberate the two mugs, the proprietor of the dry goods establishment being rather more tender of her wares. Still, Rys managed the thing without difficulty, and hoped very much that Droi would be pleased, rather than insulted, to receive one spool each of red, blue, and black thread.
Perhaps best to give the blue and the black to Silain, he thought, than put Droi’s temper to the test.
He wondered, as he walked along, what might his role be among the Bedel, had he no Balance to make with Korval. Udari had seemed to think that he might become a child of the kompani, indeed, though it was hardly clear if that honor came through Droi’s choice, or through his own endeavors.
