Kendi bristled at the man’s tone. He and Ben had almost died, and this guy sailed in here out of nowhere to yell at them?
"It’s okay, Uncle Hazid," Ben said quietly. "We’re-"
"You were having a party, weren’t you?" Sil accused. "And the neighbors called to complain. Ben, that’s just like you, to ignore what your family-"
"The party was mine," Kendi interrupted. "Who the hell do you think are you, anyway?"
Sil’s mouth fell open and Hazid drew himself up to his full height, topping Kendi by a good ten centimeters. "I am Brother Hazid Lemish and this is Sister Sil Lemish. You will show proper respect, student."
The words just fell from Kendi’s mouth, as if his brain had set itself in neutral. "So Mother Ara outranks you both. Must make it hard at family gatherings."
"Listen, you-"
"I need to finish talking to these boys," Inspector Gray interrupted firmly. "You can get the full story from them in a minute."
"The Guardians questioning the ex-slave," Sil sneered. "I warned Ara that it would come to this one day."
"Yeah, you warned her that she might do something useful with her life," Kendi shot back, "instead of sniffing double doses of Dream drugs to get you through the day. Oh wait-that’s what your kids do."
Hazid’s face went purple. Sil’s mouth opened and shut like a stunned fish. Ben clapped both hands over his face.
"You lying, thieving, filthy little-" Hazid began.
"That the best you can do?" Kendi said. "No wonder you haven’t been promoted."
Ben was curled up on the sofa, hands still over his face. Kendi ignored him. All his anger and fear came rushing out to seek a target, and the man in front of him was a handy one.
"Listen, you piece of gutter trash," Hazid roared. "I’ll see that you get put on so much work detail, you won’t sleep for a week!"
"You’d rather hit me, though, wouldn’t you?" Kendi stuck out his chin. "Go ahead. Your dick will still be smaller than your wife’s."
Hazid sucked in his breath and Inspector Gray stepped between them. "That’s enough!" he roared. "You-" he pointed to Hazid "-take your wife into the kitchen and get her a glass of water. You and you-" he pointed at Kendi and Ben "-come into the bedroom so I can finish questioning you. God, now I know why I didn’t go into teaching."
Hazid, face still flushed, looked like he was going to argue. Then he gave in and guided the still-gaping Sil into the kitchen. Gray was about to march Kendi and Ben into the bedroom when a chime sounded. With a sigh, he reached into a pocket and drew out a portable phone. Almost instantly he fell into a deep conversation. Kendi, feeling a bit drained, sat on the couch next to Ben, whose face was still buried in his hands.
"All life, he’s an asshole," Kendi said. "Are you okay?"
Ben nodded. A strange sound leaked out between his fingers.
"Why are you doing that?" Kendi asked. "What’s wrong?"
A few unintelligible words.
"What?"
Ben got up and ran to Mother Ara’s bedroom. Startled, Kendi scrambled to follow. Ben, who must have parted his fingers enough to see through them, flung himself across the bed. He was shaking. Kendi stood over him, wondering what to do. Was it a seizure? Or was Ben angry? Then Ben flung his hands away from his face and Kendi saw he was laughing. Kendi hurriedly shut the door.
"You were great!" Ben whooped. A few tears leaked out of his eyes to run down his face. "Oh my god-that was the best! I thought Uncle Hazid was going to have a stroke."
Kendi sat gingerly next to him. "Yeah. I’ll keep that in mind while I’m shoveling piles of dino-dung into the next century."
"I’ll help you," Ben said, sitting up. "It was completely worth it. Hey, your hand."
Kendi flexed his palm and winced. Dried blood made a red-brown crust on it, and there were still splinters stuck under the skin. "I haven’t had the chance to clean it yet."
"Hold on a sec." Ben left the room and came back with a first aid kit. Gently, he wiped the blood from Kendi’s hand, then teased the splinters free with a pair of tweezers. Kendi held perfectly still. The pain was negligible, and Kendi remained very aware of was Ben’s hands on his. Ben sprayed the wounds with a disinfectant bandage, and he seemed to be taking his time about it. Kendi swallowed. When the last part of the bandage had been applied, Ben turned Kendi’s palm toward the light to inspect his handiwork.
"How’s that feel?" he asked.
"It’s good. Thanks."
Ben still hadn’t let go of Kendi’s hand, and Kendi didn’t pull away. His mouth had dried up. The only sound in the room was his and Ben’s breathing. Kendi’s brown eyes met Ben’s blue ones, trying to read what he saw there. He gave Ben’s hand a tentative squeeze. Ben made no response but he didn’t let go, either. Kendi was about to make himself say something when the door opened and Inspector Gray walked in. Ben dropped Kendi’s hand.
"Sorry about that," Gray said. "Long call. Let’s take it from the top again, all right?"
After Gray finished taking their statements, he spoke briefly to Sil and Hazid, advising them to stay the night so Ben and Kendi wouldn’t be alone if Dorna came back again. The Guardians would also keep an eye on the house. Hazid was clearly outraged to hear that Kendi was staying in the guest room.
"That insolent, mouthy piece of garbage is sharing this roof?" he said.
Kendi thought about volunteering to stay in Ben’s room and thought the better of it, especially when Ben shot him a look that clearly told him to keep quiet.
"You will sleep on the couch," Hazid told Kendi after Gray had left. "And be thankful it isn’t the floor."
Kendi bit back a sharp reply. All of a sudden he was too tired to care what Hazid said or thought. Not only that, but something was itching at the back of his head. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was, and it bothered him. Something someone had said or done that was important to what was going on.
Ben avoided further contact, especially while Hazid and Sil were watching. Hazid made a quick call to let his offspring know that he and Sil were spending the night at the Rymar house while Sil checked on the guest bedroom. Kendi’s tired mind was nonetheless alert enough to wonder if Sil was looking for slovenly habits on behalf of the ex-slave-something else to complain about. Kendi, however, kept few possessions beyond his clothes. Possessions, he had decided, were something that could be taken away at any time, so there was no point in acquiring a great many of them. It was a bit of Real People philosophy he hadn’t understood until he had lost everything he owned, including his own body, to the slavers.
Finally, after several more glares and pointed remarks on behalf of Sil and Hazid, everyone was settled in for the night. Kendi lay on his back and stared into the beams above the couch. The thing, whatever it was, still nagged at him. Oddly enough, he felt no fear that Dorna would come back to try to finish him off. It seemed connected to the fact he was missing. The nagging itch kept him awake despite his weariness. He thought about sneaking into Ben’s room, seeing if he was awake and talking to him about it, then changed his mind. He didn’t want Hazid or Sil to catch them together. Kendi curled his bandaged hand, remembering how Ben had held it. How much feeling was there? Kendi longed to come straight out and ask, but Pup and Pitr remained uppermost in his mind. What if it was all just a mistake? He couldn’t risk it. Kendi crossed his arms and sighed heavily. Ben would simply have to make the next move.
It took him a long time to fall asleep.
The next morning, Sil and Hazid were still sleeping when Kendi and Ben left for classes. They rehashed the events of the previous night as they walked, though Ben made no reference to anything deeper. The sense that Kendi had missed something continued to nag at him like an itch that he couldn’t locate to scratch.
The moment Kendi reached the monastery classrooms, Jeren, Willa and Kite pounced on him, demanding more details of what had happened. Jeren seemed especially interested.
"Do they know where Dorna’s been hiding?" he dema
nded. The scar outlining his left eye seemed to blaze against his skin. "She almost killed you."
"I don’t think they know," Kendi said. "I just hope she’s okay."
"Okay?" Willa almost squeaked. "Kendi, she almost knocked you off the balcony. It makes me shake to think that she was our student mentor and she killed all those women."
"We don’t know she did that," Kendi shot back. "And even if she did-"
"— it’s because she’s crazy," Kite finished.
"What is this?" Jeren put in. "Some kind of Aborigine turn-the-other-cheek?"
"We don’t have all the facts yet," Kendi replied lamely. "I think we should keep an open mind. Besides, who knows what Mother Ara’s finding out at Dreamers, Inc.?"
Jeren’s only reply was a sarcastic snort.
The day proved difficult. Thoughts of Ben mingled with thoughts of Dorna-Violet? — and he ached to talk to Ara about the whole thing. Maybe after classes were over he could drop into the Dream, see if she was there. There was a way to reach out of the Dream to contact Silent in the solid world, something Ara called knocking, but Kendi hadn’t learned how to do that yet. Maybe he could figure out how it worked?
With a start he realized that someone had repeated his name. Sister Bren stood over his desk, her young face waiting expectantly.
"What?" he asked.
"Kendi, I do get tired of repeating questions to you," she said. "Please pay attention."
"Sorry," he muttered.
"I asked you what other gift the Ched-Balaar gave humanity. The Dream was one. What was the other."
For once, Kendi remembered the answer. "Gravity," he said. "They gave us gravity generators."
"Absolutely correct," Bren said. "Before the Ched-Balaar, all human ships either operated in freefall or they had to simulate gravity how?"
"By spinning," Kite said without raising his hand.
Bren nodded. "An inconvenient way to travel, to say the least. Now, I’ve uploaded a new program onto the student network. Take out your pads and open the file named-"
But Kendi’s mind was already wandering again.
At last classes ended for the day. He was about to go with the others back to the dormitory when he noticed Willa splitting off in another direction.
"Where are you headed?" he asked.
Willa held up her dermospray. "I’m empty, remember? I have to go the dispensary."
"I’ll go with you," Kendi said on impulse.
They walked in silence for a while, feet tromping the swaying walkways. Almost idly Kendi noticed that Willa wasn’t quite so thin anymore. Her features weren’t nearly as sharp, and her hair, formerly dull as dishwater, had taken on a distinct sheen. Her posture was straighter, and although she showed nothing of the overconfident cockiness of Jeren, she carried herself with more ease.
"You like it here, don’t you?" Kendi said.
"I love it," she declared without hesitation. Her voice was much firmer than it had been a year ago. "Everything about this place is beautiful and fine."
She paused in her walking to peer over the walkway. The lush green growth below trapped the clean scent of last night’s rain and were slowly releasing it even in the late afternoon. Humans and Ched-Balaar, all wearing the medallions of Irfan, strolled up and down balconies and walkways, words mixing pleasantly with clatters and hoots. A gondola sailed past, filled with a human couple and their children. Above them and below, giant buildings and tiny houses nestled discretely among the solid talltree branches as if they had grown there. It felt more like a vacation paradise than a monastery of thousands set into a city of over half a million.
"It’s beautiful," Willa continued. "I know there are dreadful things going on in the Dream and in the solid world-we saw that last night-but I still feel the serenity of the place. It’s like Irfan is watching over us. I feel calm here."
"You had it hard as a slave," Kendi said.
Willa’s face clouded, then cleared. "I did. I had three masters, and every one of them left a mark on me. They changed my name and they tried to change my own self. So I buried it-my own self, I mean. I buried it so deep I couldn’t find it again. This place has helped me dig it back out."
"Was Willa your birth name?" Kendi said. "I never asked."
Willa shook her head. "My name was Janet. Willa was the name my last master gave me. By the time Ara bought and freed me, I had had that name longer than any other, so I decided to keep it. You changed yours again, I know."
"The Real People take names that describe them and change them whenever they need to," Kendi said. "But I think I’ll be a kendi for a long time."
They continued on their way to the student dispensary. It was nothing more than a middle-sized room with seven service windows along the back wall. A sign said Please form a single line, and a series of ropes indicated the direction the line was to take. Because classes had ended for the day, there were several people already waiting, and all seven windows were staffed. After several minutes, Kendi and Willa reached the front and were beckoned toward a window. A male clerk sat behind it.
"Name?" he asked.
Willa gave it and handed over her dermospray. The clerk tapped several keys on his computer and the holographic screen flickered.
"You’ve been practicing quite a lot," he said. "No wonder you need a refill. Hold on a sec."
He popped the dermospray into a slot and tapped the computer again. A slight hissing sound whispered across the counter and a light on the dermospray winked green. The clerk pulled it free and handed it back to Willa.
"A dozen doses," he said. "Thumb here and you’re all set."
Willa pressed her thumb to the plate. Kendi stared at it and something clicked inside his head. His heart jumped.
"All life!" he gasped. "All life-that’s what it is!"
Willa looked at him. "What’s what it is?"
"Do you have the records of all the doses that everyone uses?" Kendi asked the clerk, voice urgent.
"Well, yeah," the clerk replied, startled. "The microtransmitter alerts the dispensary whenever a student uses a dose so your teacher can keep track of how much independent-"
"Can you show me the records for another student?" Kendi asked.
The clerk looked shocked. "Certainly not. That’s confidential information."
"It’s a matter of life and death," Kendi said, almost jumping up and down. "Please, you have to show me."
The clerk tapped his computer and the screen vanished. "Not without authorization I don’t. Listen, son, there are people behind you."
"But-"
"Next!" the clerk said pointedly.
Kendi bit his lip in frustration. Several students in the waiting area were eyeing him curiously, but he barely noticed. Abruptly he grabbed Willa’s hand.
"What’s going on?" she demanded. "Where are we going?"
He said, "To find Father Ched-Hisak."
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Sometimes your worst enemy turns out to be someone you know.
— Daniel Vik, husband to Irfan Qasad
The tiny Guardian ship popped out of slipspace a respectable fifty thousand kilometers from the space station headquarters of Dreamers, Inc. Alarms beeped and Tan’s fingers darted dextrously over the boards, informing the station who they were and that they did indeed have permission to hold their current position. Ara, meanwhile, radioed the docking authority to double-check their authorization. Everything was in order, as were the reservations for their accommodations. Ara relaxed, only then realizing that she had been worried that some bureaucratic snafu would strand them without a place to dock or sleep.
"Docking in two hours," Tan reported from the pilot’s chair.
Ara nodded and punched up an external visual on her monitor. It was a relief to see stars and blackness out there instead of the nauseating whirl of slipspace. The Guardian slipship was cramped and tiny-the bridge was barely big enough for two people-and there was little to do on board. Fortunately the little ship was also fast.
That and good slipspace conditions had gotten them to the station in just under eighteen hours.
Ara trained one of the cameras on the station and beefed up the magnification, more for something to do than anything else. The station orbited an ocean-covered planet with a few flyspeck islands and wide swaths of white clouds, and the thing was a real hodgepodge. Giant squares and enormous spheres were stuck together or connected by cylinders like tinkertoys assembled by a madman. The entire station probably massed as much as a small moon. Ships of varying sizes drifted, darted, or lumbered through open spaces. Ara shook her head. She hadn’t visited Dreamers, Inc., in over three years, but the station had rearranged itself in even that short time so that she barely recognized it. Dreamers had more money than even a multi-system corporation could burn, and Ara suspected the corp conducted the almost continual redecoration simply because it could.
Tan maneuvered the ship closer, and a voice came over the communication system. "You are authorized to use Dock 14-212-C. Please follow the course outlined. For safety reasons, deviation is not allowed and will result in immediate confiscation of your entire ship. Do you understand? By answering affirmatively, you agree to waive all right to liability, damages, or indemnity to your ship, cargo, crew, and passengers."
"I understand," Tan said.
A live holographic image of the station appeared over Tan’s board with a bright orange line indicating the course she was to take. It dipped and swooped like a drunken piece of spaghetti, and Ara could only assume it was intended to keep them from colliding with other ships.
"For a small fee," the voice continued, "you can slave your navigation computer to ours and we will guide your ship in for you."
"No thank you," Tan said. "We’ll take it from here."
"As you wish. By proceeding further, you waive all right to-"
Tan shut the communicator off.
"Thank you," Ara said.
Tan grunted and turned her concentration to her flying. The station rushed up and down, swooped and turned. Other ships brushed the flight path but never quite came close enough to hit them. Eventually, the ship nosed against a dock and Ara heard the clamps thunk into place. She and Tan retrieved their carryalls and, glad to be freed of the cramped ship, hurried through the airlock and into the main station. Ara asked the local computer for directions and discovered that they were quite a distance from the office of Ken Rashid, Chief of Security. The computer offered directions and a map-for a fee. Ara sighed and paid for both after agreeing that the map was for informational purposes only and she would not hold Dreamers, Inc., responsible for any damages incurred as a result of following its directions.
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