“I’m not, now,” Jonah said sharply, before Roger could accuse him of hypocrisy. “She’s not like the rest of them.”
“So something did happen tonight, then,” Peter said, jumping on it as if he’d spotted a weak weld.
“No!...Yes.” Jonah shoved his hand through his hair once more. “Yeah,” he said heavily. “But don’t ask me to tell you about it now. Not now.”
Roger shrugged, his powerful shoulders moving easily. “So we won’t ask you about it now. No problems…as long as you give us all the dirty details tomorrow.”
“Yeah, Jonah and a woman. That’s a story I have to hear,” Peter added.
Roger looked at him and raised his brow.
Peter scowled. “Love is love, my lover.”
Roger considered that and nodded at Jonah. “Okay. Tomorrow, then.”
Agatha got to her feet and came over to the armchair and bent over Jonah. “Is she a good woman, Jonah?”
“I don’t know anything about her,” Jonah protested.
Agatha just looked at him, her head tilting, her big brown eyes soft.
“Yes, I think she is,” Jonah amended.
Agatha patted his cheek. “She would be a fool to ignore you.” She held out her hand and Siegel got to his feet and took it and nodded at Jonah.
“Good night, Jonah,” Agatha said.
Siegel lifted his hand again. This time, it was simply a wave goodnight.
They walked back to the walled-off section that was their bedroom.
Jonah watched them go, his heart working overtime as he considered Agatha’s words. It was a sure bet that Marlow Fitzgerald would ignore him. He was nothing but trouble, as far as she could see.
* * * * *
It was well after midnight before Marlow got home. The apartment was still and silent, yet it wasn’t altogether dark.
Erron would be in bed. Taniel was sitting and reading under the low light of the lamp. He looked up, frowning, as Marlow dropped her damp bag and heavy jacket on the table and sighed, stretching her shoulders.
“I heard there was trouble at the game tonight,” Taniel said.
Marlow nodded. “I also stayed and spent some time in the training center, as you won’t be here tomorrow.”
Taniel’s mouth straightened into a thin line. “You’re staying here the full day, right? I warned you about this three days ago. I won’t be able to come back until late in the day.”
“It’s fine,” she assured him. “I’m not on duty tomorrow at all. I’m not even on call. I’ll be here for Erron.”
Taniel relaxed and put the board down and got to his feet. He was taller than Marlow. Most men were. That just made them easier to trip over. She had learned that Taniel was harder to trip than most. He had hidden muscle and was very light on his feet and impossible to topple.
“I’m sorry about this,” he said, looking down at her. “About tomorrow, I mean.”
“You’re entitled to look for work,” she assured him. “Erron won’t be with us much longer.”
Erron was nineteen and had already been accepted into the Palatine Agriculture Institute. He had an aptitude for growing things. When he turned twenty, he would move to the Palatine to take up full-time work and complete his training.
Taniel was the one who had elected to stay home and care for Erron, while Marlow had continued to follow her career on the Bridge. Her entitlements were much greater than Taniel’s had been. Taniel had been in engineering, although his real interest in life was aligned with hers. They were both physical people, interested in good health, exercise and above all, personal strength.
It had been Taniel who had researched and designed her bo sticks. She had trained with him to become proficient with them and there was still no one on the Bridge who came near to her abilities with the sticks, because they had not had Taniel coaching them.
Although now that Erron was approaching his Emergence, Taniel would return to engineering.
“It’s such a hard time to find a place anywhere now,” Marlow said with a sigh. “This is the…what? The tenth interview you’ve had, I think.”
“Something like that,” he said easily. He rubbed his eyes with his finger and thumb. “I should get some sleep before then, too.”
“Of course. Did you wait up for me?” she asked.
“It’s a good book. I got wrapped up in it. I’ll send it to you.” He stepped around her and headed for his room.
Marlow held up her hand, even though his back was to her. “No, wait. Just a moment. I have something to ask you.”
He turned back to look at her.
“You were from the Capitol originally. I was wondering…do you know someone called Jonah Solomon?”
Taniel looked surprised and puzzled. “Everyone has heard of him. He’s the nutcase on the Forum, screaming about downward spirals and closed systems and the end of the world as we know it, when he’s not pointing at the Bridge and calling them all murderers.”
“I mean…did you know him when you were living in the Capitol?”
Taniel shrugged. “That was twenty years ago. Isn’t he from the Palatine originally?”
“Was he? I didn’t know that.” She hadn’t got that far back into the public record, not with the whole process room watching her. She certainly wouldn’t access the record here at home. That wouldn’t be right.
Taniel frowned. “Why do you ask?”
“He’s an odd man. I met him tonight.”
“Don’t you mean arrested?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t arrest him. He was trying to make the gate controllers let Willard Bordon into the game.”
Taniel snorted. “That sounds about right. A nut case, like I said.” He shrugged.
“I don’t think he’s crazy at all,” she said slowly.
Taniel frowned, studying her. “Then that makes you unique. Everyone else does.”
“I thought you didn’t know him.”
“I know of him. People laugh at him behind his back, did you know that?”
Marlow gave him a stiff smile. “They’re not exactly nice about me behind my back, either,” she reminded him.
“That is the burden I’ve had to share for twenty years.” His smile, though, was not forced. The nice thing about Taniel was that he simply had not cared that she was part of the Bridge Guard and that her job was to make other people toe the line. He hadn’t cared that people didn’t generally like her or the work she did. He had made life outside the Bridge far more tolerable.
Erron had been their common point of agreement. They both thought he was wonderful and had since they’d brought him home, nearly two decades ago. Sometimes, Marlow wasn’t sure where the twenty years had gone. They had slipped by so fast.
Taniel shifted on his feet, facing his room once more. “Well….?”
“I’m sorry. Yes, thanks. You go and sleep,” she told him and watched him leave.
She went to bed herself. Her sleep didn’t come nearly fast enough to suit her. She couldn’t get rid of the image of dark eyes watching her.
Chapter Four
It was too bright, too hot, this morning. Tomas had woken with a headache from last night’s drinking and that didn’t help. He also woke just as the sun was at the top of the cycle, blazing down on the house and making his vision swim with dark spots each time he looked at a window.
The sound of birds twittering outside the window didn’t help, either.
He bathed his face and briefly considered a shower. He didn’t have the energy for it. Instead, he went to the big kitchen where he knew that coffee, at least, would be waiting for him.
Both his parents were in the kitchen and his father looked up and smiled at him. “You got in late,” Daniel Avery said, dismissing the little screen in front of him.
“I have breakfast ready to go for you, sweetheart,” his mother added. “Sit. It’ll just be a minute.”
Tomas sat and the cushion adjusted around him. The coffee cup he had used since he was
ten sat on the warmer spot, steam rising from it. He reached for it gratefully. “The midnight rain started before I could get away from the meeting. I ended up sitting under a verandah with Ambrose Gunther and waiting it out.”
That had been the most interesting part of the night, in his estimation. He had not realized how agile the Dream Hawks topliner was, until he’d watched him run and jump over fences and gates to reach the shelter. Tomas had been forced to run around the objects Gunther had gone over and had been very nearly soaked by the time he caught up with Gunther.
Tomas’ parents both looked at him. Pleasure touched Daniel’s face. “Then it was a good meeting,” his father said slowly. “Tell me about it.”
“We talked. We drank. A lot.” Tomas shrugged and sipped the coffee, then grimaced. “It’s stewed beyond drinkable,” he said and thrust the cup across the counter.
Maritza picked up the cup. “Never mind. I’ll fix that.” She turned back to the dispenser and ran her hand over the controls with practiced speed.
“Drinking is all part of it,” Tomas’ father told him. “People relax when they drink. They’re more receptive. Biddable.”
“Maybe,” Tomas said, rubbing his temple as his head throbbed. “It was a waste of time. They’re tankball fans. All they spoke about was the game last night, other games they remember and on and on. I was bored out of my brain.”
“They know who you are,” his father said quietly. “I guarantee they did not ask you to join their little meeting because they think you like tankball. Tell me who was there.”
Tomas frowned. “Can we do this later? My head is killing me. I need to eat and then I need to sleep.”
“You just got up,” his mother pointed out, as she slid his refilled coffee mug over in front of him.
Tomas scowled at her. He turned his scowl upon his father. “Ambrose Gunther was there,” he said. “I told you.”
“Who else?”
Tomas shrugged. “The head of the Red Guard. I don’t remember his name.”
“Nicolo Hayim?” his father said sharply. He sat forward. “You were talking with the senior lieutenant of the Bridge Guard and you don’t consider that significant, Tomas? This is…it’s very exciting. Did they ask you back?”
“They said something about another time,” Tomas said. “So what?”
His parents exchanged glances.
Daniel leaned forward again. “This might be the breakthrough we’ve been looking for all these years, Tomas, that’s what. You have access to one of the most influential people on the Bridge, thanks to last night’s meeting. We can do something with that.”
“Even though we did nothing but talk about tankball strategies?” Tomas scowled again.
Maritza put his breakfast plate in front of him. “They were measuring you, sweetheart.”
“Don’t call me that,” Tomas snapped. “I’m twenty-eight years old, mother.”
“And you are the rightful captain of the Endurance,” she replied serenely. “One day, your father and I will see you sit upon the captain’s chair and claim your heritage. But you are still my baby.”
Tomas scowled. The pain in his head was intolerable. “I am the real captain,” he said in agreement. “So why am I spending time with tankball players and their admirers?”
“Because you were cheated out of your inheritance,” his father replied. “To win back your rightful place on the Endurance, you must take power from wherever it is offered. These people are powerful, Tomas. They drink with the Bridge Guard and that buys them favors when they need them. You can’t afford to dismiss them.”
Tomas began to eat, thinking it through. But the ache in his head wouldn’t allow a lot of critical thought. He was going to go back to bed once he’d eaten and sleep this off.
His father brought up a small screen in front of him, tilted so that he didn’t have to move his head to read it. “There’s another article from Jonah Solomon this morning. He’s complaining about the new daily ration limits.”
Tomas snorted, then held still until the thumping from the movement died away. “If the Capitolinos spent more time figuring out how to get ahead so they were entitled to more, instead of whining about what is given to them already, the level of basic rations wouldn’t be an issue.”
“Some people can’t get ahead,” his mother pointed out. “The system doesn’t let them.”
“You did,” Tomas said.
“Because the Gene Therapy Institute took a liking to me,” Maritza replied calmly. “I would still be living in the Capitol, a basic engineer, if they had not seen my potential.”
“And now you’re one of the senior Accouchement analysts, which proves my point. You got out of there.” Tomas shrugged and went back to eating.
“My point,” his father said with a heavy tone that said Tomas was stretching his patience, “is that people listen to this Jonah Solomon. They are influenced by him.”
Influence is power. How often had his father said that? Tomas looked at him. “You want me to start writing articles about the failures of the Bridge?” he asked, astonished.
“It’s a strategy we should consider.”
Tomas sighed. Really, the things one had to do to be captain of the ship were ridiculous.
* * * * *
Siegel brought home a small jar of fresh clotted cream from the farm. Agatha wanted to whip it and put it on the peaches she had preserved last year, as a surprise and very welcome desert. Peter, the health nut and incidental foodie, found a recipe on the Forum that used only four ingredients, creating simple cakes the preserves could be spread upon, with the clotted cream dolloped on top.
They finished their first meal under the new rations limit having drawn only one person’s limit for the day, to print the flour. Everything else they had on hand, in the food closet that Agatha managed with almost magical genius, including the stone stew she made up of food scraps from the last few days. She had a way of making the stew taste incredible.
As a thank you, Peter used some of his entitlements to print Agatha a cup of hot chocolate. Everyone settled her in the corner of the lounge, Siegel put her feet up on the hassock he had made out of cured cowhide and while she enjoyed her chocolate, everyone else cleaned up, recycling as much as possible for the energy credits.
It was a rare moment of peace for Jonah. The laughter and the discussion about recipes and cooking, the easy back-and-forth banter between everyone had helped him disconnect his mind and let it idle, with no negative thoughts and worries about the future to darken the period.
When the door chimed with his personal code, Jonah answered it with little thought about who it might be.
The man standing on the spatula was running his gaze over the door and the frame around it, frowning. He was of average height, with medium brown, curly hair, brown eyes and pale skin. Like most people in the Capitol, he was underweight. His clothes were neat enough. In almost every way, Brenden Coin was average…except for his mind.
“Brendan…my stars!” Jonah said. “How long has it been?”
“Six years, three months and…” Brenden frowned. “About three days.” He waved at the doorway. “There’s no apartment code anywhere. I wasn’t sure I was in the right place.”
“The spatula never gets it wrong,” Jonah said cautiously. Peter had coded the spatula one dark night to make sure it went to the same apartment door for all five of them, while Jonah had erased the codes on the three doors. The other two doors were permanently sealed. Inside they couldn’t be seen because other structures were in front of them.
Brenden tilted his head and glanced over Jonah’s shoulder. “Have you done something with your quarters?” he asked suspiciously.
No, Brenden wasn’t stupid at all.
Jonah stepped out onto the spatula and eased the door almost closed. “I haven’t seen you since I left the Third Wall District Engineering School. Are you still teaching there?”
Brenden glanced at the door again. “I get it,” he said e
asily, not offended by Jonah trying to shut him down. “I’m still teaching. Yes. But tonight, I’m here to collect you.”
“For what?”
“The game, man! Grab a jacket or something. You’re well enough dressed for those you’ll be sitting with.”
Jonah frowned. “It’s a patrician game tonight,” he pointed out. “Hawks and the Bullets.”
“Which means the Captain will be there.” Brenden grinned. “Hurry up! We’re walking. I don’t want to blow my rations on the train.”
Jonah looked up at the time. “Even if we’re walking, there’s still more than enough time.”
“That’s if you’re going only to watch the game.” Brenden winked at him. “Let’s go.”
* * * * *
There were a lot of people weaving their way through the Capitol and into the Aventine. Jonah and Brenden fell in with the sinuous line as it made its way toward the arena. No one seemed to be walking alone. Everyone was chatting, although there was very little laughter or light conversation that Jonah could hear. It made the banter around the dinner table tonight seem odd and out of place.
These people looked unhappy. They whispered together and their manner was cautious…yet they were heading for the arena presumably to be entertained. It was a troubling contrast.
“So why have you suddenly reappeared to take me to a tankball game?” Jonah asked Brenden.
“Not so suddenly.” Brenden’s tone was jovial. “You had a conversation the other night with a couple of people I know quite well.”
“Veda Kovaks?” Jonah asked.
“A great lady,” Brenden said. “Very much underappreciated, in my estimation.”
Jonah nodded. “So you’re a member of the Spanners team.”
“Not just a member,” Brendan replied. “I guess it would be fair to say I’m right up there at the top.”
“I thought Kovaks was.”
“Nah. There’s fans and then there’s the leaders. Veda is in the Spanner faction. She directs policy. It’s all us plebeians in the ranks who do the work, as always.”
Yesterday's Legacy Page 4
