Festival Moon

by C. J. Cherryh

  A wide walkway led through the heart of Borg and, like the bridge, it was crowded. Justice nearly lost sight of Krishna and Pavel again. He kept his pace set to theirs, hanging back from them in the seething mass of people, not willing yet to be seen. He chewed on his lower lip and clenched his hands. The entire thing could be legitimate.

  The hell it was.

  Justice tagged along behind Krishna and Pavel, trying to look like any other person out for Festival. No one seemed to be paying any attention to him. In front of a furniture maker's shop, a knot of people had gathered around a thin wisp of a man who was addressing anyone who stopped to listen. The crowd appeared composed of drunks and other aimless folk; the speaker must have had some entertainment value, for no one had run him off yet. Justice frowned and quickened his pace. An Adventist trying to stir up the crowd? Huhn. Best to keep moving.

  Krishna and Pavel reached the druggist's shop at the far end of Borg and continued on. Justice cursed and stopped for a moment, his heart lurching, and a smallish fellow, well into his cups, bumped into him.

  " 'Scuse me, ser," the man said.

  Justice nodded, stepped aside, but the fellow moved in exactly the same direction.

  "Damn!" Justice fended the drunken man off—the fellow seemed determined to step into the way again. Abandoning manners, he shoved the shorter man aside, and glanced frantically around for Krishna.

  Lord and my Ancestors! If I lose them now, I'll never find them!

  No. There they were—crossing Junction Bridge that ran from Borg across to White, on canalside and mid-level. Justice dodged traffic and quickened his pace.

  Where was Krishna going? He was certainly not heading home, for even if he had been inclined to walk, he would have turned right to go over to Bucher. The image of Sunny's puzzled face flashed in Justice's mind, and he increased his pace again.

  Junction Bridge was even more crowded than Borg, though the throng that jammed it was mostly stationary, come for the late afternoon boat parade, Grandside. The steady din of footsteps on the wooden planking had faded to the sound of his own bootheels and those of the few others who walked back and forth across the bridge.

  Krishna and Pavel stopped a moment, conferred hastily, and then went off the bridge onto White. Justice followed, slouching a bit. Most of Merovingen's people were of medium build, but his English ancestry made him taller than many he met. Thank the Ancestors he at least had black hair.

  He was on White now, an upper-class isle. Krishna and Pavel turned left and, committed now to seeing what was to become of Sunny, Justice had no choice but to follow. His heart started beating heavily: whatever Krishna had up his sleeve did not bode well for Hilda's cat.

  Oh, damn! Now what do I do? Krishna's got a temper and that sword he's wearing's not there for show. And Pavel doesn't like me anyway. What's one more accident at Festival?

  He licked his lips, squared his shoulders and walked on.

  Escape, Sunny! he whispered inwardly. Get the hell out of that bag and run for it!

  Krishna and Pavel had stopped now; Justice kept on a few more steps and then came to a halt. His two fellow students were talking to a gatewarden who stood before a closed doorway leading to White's upper-level stairs. The gatewarden smiled, nodded a few times, then opened the gate and waved Krishna and Pavel through.

  Justice stared, his heart sinking down to his boots. For where Krishna and Pavel had just gone, a student like himself would find it hard to follow.

  Justice faced the stairway and the gate that had not slowed down Krishna or his companion in the least. He shrugged, straightened his shirt, and walked purposefully over to the gate.

  "Excuse me, ser," he said in his best hightown accent. "Have two students been through here recently?"

  The gatewarden, a burly fellow who sported a drooping mustache, eyed Justice for a moment. "Why would you be wanting to know?"

  "I'm trying to catch up to them." Justice smiled in what he trusted was a disarming fashion. "We're all getting together for a party before the boat parade. I was late setting off, and they told me to follow."

  "Oh?" The gatewarden leaned against the wall of the fabric shop against which the gate and stairs had been built. "And who might these two gentlemen be you say you're to meet up there?" The last words with a significant lift of the heavy-jowled chin.

  Justice sighed, keeping his expression utterly polite. "Look, I know you're only doing your duty, but I am hurry. It was Krishna Malenkov of Martushev Isle and Pavel Suhakai of Takezawa. Now have they been through here, or did I get the wrong directions?"

  The gatewarden blinked a few times, obviously set back by Justice's ability to name names, and by his refined manner and upper-level speech. "And your name, ser?" he asked, obviously convinced now he was talking with someone who had a right to ascend that stairway.

  Justice flinched inwardly: there was no hope for it now. The gatewarden could call in the law if he felt the situation warranted. "Justice Lee of Lindsey," he said, not bothering to mention that it was second-level Lindsey, not upper.

  "Huhn." The gatewarden thought it over. "All right, m'ser. Pass through. Them two students you're hunting for can't be more than a few minutes ahead."

  "My thanks," Justice said, relief weakening his knees. He bowed slightly as the gatewarden opened the doorway to the stairs. "Good karma to you!"

  The gatewarden blinked at the Revenantist blessing. "With a name like yours, m'ser," he grinned, revealing a gap-toothed jaw, "I'd've thought you was Adventist."

  Justice smiled. "J-U-S-T-U-S," he said. "Happy Festival."

  And with that, keeping his steps Firm and deliberate, Justice began climbing the stairs. Behind him, he heard the gate close, a heavy sound, bleak in its finality.

  Halfway up the stairs and out of sight of the gatewarden, he stopped for a moment and leaned against the wall. Now what the hell was he to do? Here he was, headed toward the upper-level neighborhood of an isle he had never visited, in pursuit of two denizens of Merovingen-above who more than belonged there. He took a deep breath, straightened his shirt once more, and headed on up.

  And stood blinking in the sunlight.

  Sunlight everywhere, even this late in the afternoon. And sky. He threw back his head and looked up at the vast blue vault above him. Even though he inhabited the second level, and not the lower hell of canalside, open sky was something he rarely ever saw. He glanced down at the residences around him, at the broad walkway that ran between them. There were few people out here, and those went dressed in hightown best, velvets and silks, in colors those with less funds could never afford.

  The entire spectacle, quiet and refined though it was, dazzled him, though he dare not let that show. He stopped gawking and looked down the walkway. There! He caught sight of Krishna and Pavel not all that far in front of him and, trying to appear nonchalant, followed after them.

  A tall man, near his own height, passed him going off toward Boregy Bridge. Justice could not help staring. The fellow was conspicuous, being fair of skin and dressed in clothing befitting a minor aristocrat. The very blondness of the man's hair would have made him hard to forget. Not more than two steps behind went a dark-skinned girl of about sixteen or seventeen, her arms loaded down with packages, canaler's cap thrust back on her head. Her bare feet padded near soundlessly on the wooden walkway as she shifted her load on the run.

  Justice looked quickly away, afraid of missing Krishna and Pavel, but they had stopped before one of the houses of White's upper level. Justice stood for a moment undecided and chewed on a troublesome hangnail. He had two choices: he could confront Krishna, demanding to know what he was doing with Hilda's cat, or he could stay far enough away that he could at least tell what was going on. He glanced around—there were fewer people out now than when he had left the stairs, and confronting Krishna on a level where he and Pavel belonged could be a bad idea.

  To say nothing of deadly.

  With a shrug, Justice sat down on a bench at the far end o
f the building where Krishna and Pavel stood. Neither of them had noticed him, a bit of luck if nothing else. With so few places to hide, now that he was away from the shadows below, Justice could only hope that luck held.

  It was quiet here, so much quieter than the levels below. Justice closed his eyes briefly and listened. Ancestors! What a peaceful place to live! He opened his eyes again as he heard the door to the large house open and Krishna answering the questions of the doorman.

  Then Krishna lifted the bag that held Sunny, turning it from one side to the other. The cat's meows were more strident now, pitiful in pitch. Justice half-rose from his position on the bench, a flush of anger warming his face.

  And what can you do about it, Justice Lee? Rush right up and call Krishna a thieving liar? Here? On White? Where he obviously knows the household? He laughed bitterly. Damn, fellow! They'd throw you off the edge into the Grand quicker than quick!

  The doorman gestured, stepped back and Krishna, Pavel and the howling Sunny disappeared inside the house.

  The door slammed shut and Justice was left alone in the afternoon sunlight.

  * * *

  For a long while Justice stared at the closed door, knowing that events had just passed his ability to alter them. There was nothing, save pounding on that doorway and accusing Krishna of being a thief, that he could do except leave. He thought of poor Sunny in that rich house. Not that Sunny's life would be an unhappy one. He would be fed the choicest foods, sleep on a bed finer than many humans in Merovingen could boast, and be coddled near to death. Tamed cats were a rarity uptown folk would spend good money to own.

  Justice sighed, took several long breaths, and turned back toward the stairs leading down to the second level of White. His bootheels hollow on the wooden steps, he slowly descended the stairs. The gatewarden turned at the noise of footsteps, got up from his stool and opened the gate.

  "Missed 'em, did ye?" he asked, stepping back as Justice came through the gate. "Didn't think they was all that far ahead."

  Justice thought frantically. "They were in a hurry, I guess," he said, pausing by the gatewarden's side when every instinct screamed run! "They probably crossed over to Boregy or Eber. They never told me which isle they were going to, only that I should follow." He shrugged. "I suppose I don't have a choice. I'll meet them later at the boat parade."

  "Now that's always a sight," the gatewarden said, closing the gate and locking it. He straightened. "Hope you find your friends and have a good time, m'ser."

  "Thanks."

  Now that he was on the second level again, back in the shadowed walkways, Justice could understand why hightowners thought Merovingen-below oppressive. He walked over to the edge of junction Bridge, found an unoccupied spot, and leaned back against the railing. Looking down at his feet, he sighed quiedy.

  And now what are you going to do? Short of stealing Sunny, there's not much chance of getting him hack. He rubbed the end of his nose. Without Sunny around, Hilda's Tavern would seem empty.

  "Hey, you! Student!"

  The rough voice jerked Justice out of his thoughts, and he looked up from his feet to find himself surrounded by blacklegs.

  "What are you doing?" one of them demanded, fingering the hilt of his stick.

  An angry retort on the tip of his tongue, Justice looked from that man to his companions and back, setting his face to an expression of puzzled indignation.

  "Waiting for the boat parade to begin, sir," he replied, keeping his voice carefully neutral. "Should I be standing here?"

  "Thought he was drunk," muttered a woman who stood at the rear of the group of blacklegs. "Drugged, even."

  "No." The leader glanced around as he spoke, seeming preoccupied and not really all that interested in what he was doing. "All right, boy. Thought you were someone else."

  Thought I was someone else? Hah! Likely story! Damned eels! What are you really after?

  "No damage done," Justice said, using his best hightown speech. The blackleg flinched slightly, hearing the accents of the privileged. "Have a good Festival."

  The blackleg mumbled something, gestured curtly at his men, and turned away, heading off down the second level of White. Justice stared after, his heart beating loudly in his ears. Something was going on, something with a capital S. He could not remember having seen the law this stirred up in a long time.

  Now there was a thought. He could always tell Hilda. Turn Krishna in to the blacklegs for the thief he was. No. Whose story would they believe? Krishna's or his? Besides, if a hint of any trouble reached White, the family who lived in that lordly house, being more than likely adverse to involvement with the law, could always insist the cat had been theirs for years.

  Justice sighed again and, no longer interested in the boat parade, turned back toward Kass, walking down the Borg esplanade and hardly seeing those he passed. Sunny was gone. The only thing he could do now was to tell Hilda what had happened to her cat, leaving Krishna's punishment in her hands. After all, it was her cat, not his.

  And then what? Krishna would not let this pass unnoticed and justice had seen first hand how proficient the young Malenkov was with the rapier he wore. Dammit! You're no duellist! He'd skewer you like a fish on a spear.

  And yet—

  Justice, he chided himself. You love that cat near as much as she does, and you know it. You don't have a choice. You've got to tell her!

  But what could Hilda do? Go to the law? Justice snorted a laugh. He was right back where he had started from. She could always throw Krishna out of the rooming house, explaining to his father why she had taken such an action. Now that was the best idea of all. Yuri Malenkov was known all over Merovingen as being one of the most honest merchants trading on the Det and overseas. To know that his son was not only a liar, but a thief—

  Justice drew up sharply, nearly running down the fned-fish seller who had moved down into Borg; the afternoon nearly over, the fellow had packed up his stand and was headed for home.

  "Sorry," Justice muttered, stepping around the little man and continuing on his way toward Borg Bridge and home.

  "Damn drunken students!" the fellow growled after. "Think they own the place, they do!"

  Bootheels echoing on the crowded bridge, Justice started across to Kass, a thousand ideas of vengeance flitting through his mind. Things he would like to do to Krishna. To all those individuals whose money and connections made them think themselves above others.

  Control your temper, idiot! A fine line of thinking for a convert!

  Yet where, by the Lord and everyone's fool Ancestors, did a cat and the selling of that cat, fit on the ever balancing scales of Revenantist karma?

  * * *

  The lights inside Hilda's Tavern had already been lit, for on the backside of the second level of Kass, blocked from the west by Spellbridge, evening fell sooner than elsewhere. Justice paused at the doorway, hearing the familiar rumble of conversation and laughter, and studied the crowd inside. None of the revelers of midday were present; it was a new group, one even noisier, who had been in their cups longer, and who cared less.

  And there, sitting at Justice's usual table, was Father Rhajmurti, his saffron shirt bright in the lamplight.

  Justice waved to Hilda who was occupied with explaining something quite serious to Anna the cook, and walked over to the table, secretly glad he did not have to tell Hilda about Sunny yet. Father Rhajmurti pulled back a chair, gestured Justice to it, and signaled Guy for another mug of beer.

  "So, how is your holiday going?" Rhajmurti asked once Justice had seated himself. "Are you glad to be away from the books for a while?"

  "Holidays are always welcome," Justice murmured, waiting for Guy to give the mug to Jason, who brought it to the table. Nodding thanks to the waiter, Justice took a long swallow, only now realizing how thirsty he had been.

  "All right, Justice." Rhajmurti's black eyes glinted in the lamplight. "What's the matter?"

  Justice blinked. "What's the matter, what?"

 
"Something's bothering you. After all these years, don't think you can hide it from me."

  "I should've known better," Justice said, rubbing the tip of one finger around the rim of his mug. "I got a problem, Father, and I suppose you can at least listen to me, if nothing else."

  Rhajmurti cocked his head, his bright eyes taking on an expression of extreme curiosity. "A problem regarding what? Your schooling? Karma? Your social life?"

  "Huhn. What social life students are allowed." Justice tried to laugh, but it came out wrong. "It's Krishna, Father. He's stolen Hilda's cat and sold him to one of the families on White."

  "Sold Sunny?" Rhajmurti's eyebrows rose. "How do you know?"

  "I saw it all, Father. All of it! He—"

  "Wait a moment. Before you get launched, let's have dinner, eh? I'll buy."

  Justice nodded, thankful for the time to get his events in proper order. Rhajmurti called Jason over to the table and ordered two meals of Hilda's best fish. As Jason left, the priest gestured to Justice to continue the story.

  And so, sparing no detail, Justice related the entire sequence of events, from Krishna's complaining about being moneyless at Festival time, to seeing Krishna and Pavel Suhakai enter the house on White's upper level, Sunny howling in the bag Krishna carried.

  "This," said Rhajmurti, "is serious, not only for the karma Krishna's taken on his soul—but because the law could eventually be drawn into it."

  "Frankly, I wish they would be, Father. I'd love nothing more than to see that—"

  "Now, now. He'll end up paying in his own way without the law to help him along." Rhajmurti's eyes focused behind Justice's right shoulder. "Ah, Hilda. We were just talking about you."

  Justice's heart did a flip in his chest and he looked up into Hilda Meier's broad, ruddy face.

  "Oh? All good, I'm sure."

  "Naturally. Justus has something he wants to tell you, I think."

  Hilda wiped her hands on her apron front, pulled out another chair and sat down with a sigh. "Been one blasted long day," she said. "Be glad to see it over." She turned her blue-eyed gaze on Justice. "Yes... what'd ye want to tell me?"