Chapter Fifteen
Six days after the party, Ran-Del decided to go back to the river again. He had explored the city in different directions, but he hadn’t found anything nearly as interesting as the Jordan. There was just the matter of getting there without any interference.
Fortunately Francesca was too busy frowning at her father across the breakfast table to ask Ran-Del any questions about his plans for the day. “What’s up, Pop? You look distracted.”
A spurt of annoyance radiated from Stefan Hayden. “I’ve asked you not to call me Pop.”
“I know you have.” Francesca reached across the table and tapped his hand. “Give! Tell me what’s worrying you.”
It was just the three of them at breakfast, unless Buster counted. The Sansoussy hound lay with his head resting on Ran-Del’s left foot.
Nisa Palli sometimes joined them for lunch but rarely at other meals. Ran-Del had been surprised to hear that Stefan Hayden’s feelings for her were a secret the Baron wanted kept quiet. To Ran-Del, it was obvious the two of them cared for each other.
Stefan answered his daughter in a light tone. “Nothing you need to worry about. But I am planning a trip to Hayden today. I’ll come back tomorrow, but you and Ran-Del should plan on staying for a while. Cancel any engagements you might have made from now through the next couple of weeks, and pack your things.”
Francesca set her teacup down. “What? I don’t want to go to Hayden now. Besides, Julie’s engagement party is tonight. It’ll piss off old lady Wah if I cancel at this late date.”
Stefan tapped his fork on his plate in irritation. “All right. You can go to the party—be sure to take Ran-Del. But plan on packing in the morning. I’ll bring the flyter back by noon tomorrow, and you can both go back with me.”
Her eyes narrowed as she stared at him. “Why? What’s going on?”
Stefan glanced from her to Ran-Del, then shrugged. “It may be nothing. But D’Persis thinks she has a line on how Maeve Omalley got those plans—a disgruntled former employee may have sold some information. I think it would be best if we moved out to Hayden for a few weeks, until she can check it out.”
Ran-Del could feel Francesca’s concern. “Maybe we should go with you, then?” she said.
The Baron shook his head. “No, I don’t want us to appear scared. Keep your commitment here. I want to look things over at Hayden first, anyway.”
Francesca bit her lip. “But, Pop—”
“Don’t call me Pop!”
Ran-Del almost jumped from surprise. Stefan’s nerves must truly be on edge for him to yell at his daughter.
Francesca looked down at her plate.
Stefan sighed and got up from the table. He bent over to hug Francesca, emitting equal amounts of worry and regret. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
She hugged him back. “It’s okay, P—it’s okay. I’m a little jittery myself.”
He kissed the top of her head. “I’m leaving this afternoon, right after lunch. If I don’t see you before then, I’ll see you tomorrow around noon.”
She clung to him for a second. “All right. I have a lot to do today, then.”
He left them with no more than a pat on Francesca’s shoulder and a wave to Ran-Del.
Francesca stared at Ran-Del rather like he himself had once studied a pack of tree bears before he decided which one to shoot. “We could get married today if it wouldn’t steal Julie’s applause so much.”
The thought jolted Ran-Del. He had watched pebbles accumulate in the delicate bowl on Francesca’s dresser and wondered whether she would indeed go through with their marriage. “Who is Julie?” he asked as a distraction.
“Julie Wah is a first cousin.” Francesca stared at the food on her plate like she thought it might try to escape. “You met her at our party. Her father is my mother’s only sibling.”
And she had no siblings herself. They had such small families in the city. “Do you have other cousins?”
“Not many.” Her eyes seemed to come back into focus. She looked up at him. “What are you going to do today?”
So much for distraction. “Explore the city again.”
She blinked. “Be careful—and don’t stay out too long. You’ll need to dress up for the party tonight. I’ll have the servants pack your clothes tomorrow. You can take anything you want with you.”
Ran-Del looked down at his dog. “I will take Buster and my weapons.”
Her mouth twisted in a lopsided smile. “I don’t think bows and arrows will be much use if we need weapons.”
Ran-Del shrugged. “If nothing else, my weapons would be unexpected.”
After Francesca left the table, Ran-Del took Buster to the kennels. The smaller dog had made a place for himself in the guard dog hierarchy, and Ran-Del didn’t want to leave him alone in the house all day while he was in the city.
Ran-Del had no problems leaving by the security gate. By retracing his steps carefully, he passed through the same neighborhoods and eventually came to the same bridge. After he had crossed it, he looked around at the surrounding buildings and determined that the large building facing the wharf must be the warehouse.
When he had asked her, Francesca had explained what a warehouse was; she had made a point to show him illustrations in an encyclopedia, to emphasize to him that he could look things up for himself if he could only read. Ran-Del had begun to see the value of the printed word, but he wasn’t ready to let Francesca know that. He had listened to her explanation in silence, noted the information, and refused either to argue with her comment or to agree with it.
Ran-Del studied the markings on the sign above the warehouse and wondered what they said. He shrugged in defeat and walked through the open doorway into the dim light.
The warehouse looked very much like the illustrations Francesca had shown him. The ceiling was higher than any ceiling Ran-Del had ever seen, the space below it defined by rows and rows of tall shelves, twelve tiers high. A few machines rolled up and down the aisles putting away goods, or getting them down from shelves. As Ran-Del watched, one machine rolled to a stop in front of a shelf, then began to grow taller and taller until it seemed to be aiming for the roof. When the top part had reached the second tallest shelf, mechanical arms slid out of it and picked up a large crate, then retracted to slide the container onto the machine. Once the container was secure, the machine shrank down to its previous height and then rolled along the floor like its mates.
“Can I help you?” said a voice.
It was Brandon, the fair-haired man who had brought Georges his clothes.
“Yes, thank you,” Ran-Del said. “I’m looking for Georges Rangoon.”
“Over there,” Brandon said, seeming not to recognize Ran-Del. He nodded at a corner where Georges conferred with a gray-haired woman. They stood near one of the machines that had stretched itself up to the top shelf and seemed intent on staying there.
“Damn it, Clara,” Georges was saying as Ran-Del approached, “what the hell good is a service contract if it doesn’t get us service?”
“We’ll get it, Georges,” the woman said soothingly, “just not today.”
Georges started to argue, but he caught sight of Ran-Del. After a second, he smiled in recognition. “Hello,” he said, holding out his hand. “Clara, honey, this is the man I told you about, my big fish from the Jordan.”
Ran-Del shook hands with the man but looked at the woman closely. In spite of her gray hair, she didn’t look any older than Georges. Her eyes were bright and cheerful, her face only lightly lined at the corners of her eyes.
“Hello,” she said, offering her hand, also. “Glad to see you’re staying away from the water’s edge.”
Ran-Del murmured a greeting as he shook her hand.
“What can I do for you?” Georges asked.
“You said you might have work.”
George shook his head. “Not today.” He waved a hand at the machine above him in the air. “Not unless you can climb like
a tree bear.”
Ran-Del craned his head back and looked up at the machine. “What’s wrong with it?”
“It’s stuck,” Georges said in disgust. “Oh, there’s a more technical explanation, but basically, it’s stuck. There’s a reset switch, but the remote control for it doesn’t seem to be working, either, and we can’t reach the switch to activate it manually, so for now, it’s just damn stuck.”
“What does a reset switch look like?” Ran-Del asked him.
“It’s black and round and says ‘reset’ under it. Why?”
Ran-Del didn’t answer. Instead, he walked over to the lowest shelf and swung himself up onto it. Then he jumped up and grabbed the next shelf and pulled himself up again.
Clara’s voice called out, “Stop him Georges! He’ll kill himself.”
Ran-Del glanced back. Why were they so anxious? It was a simple enough climb. He reached for the next shelf.
“Hey!” Georges shouted at him. “Hey, you! What’s your name? Ran-Del! Stop! I wasn’t serious. You can’t climb with no safety equipment.”
Ran-Del stopped for a moment and looked down at Georges. Had he misunderstood? “Do you need the machine unstuck?”
The man waved both hands frantically. “It can wait. Come down before you kill yourself. I didn’t save your life to see you throw it away.”
Perhaps they didn’t climb often, as there were so few blackwoods in the city. Happy to have a chance to show his skills, Ran-Del continued pulling himself up a shelf at a time until he was about twenty-five meters in the air, on the highest shelf and level with the controls of the lifter. He walked to the edge, surveyed the distance carefully, and then stepped across the empty air so that he stood on the machine. It had a tiny platform, presumably for times when it was operated manually. After a quick study of the control panel, he leaned over the side and called down to Georges Rangoon.
“There are six controls that are round and black,” he said, his voice echoing in the cavernous space. “Which one is the reset switch?”
“The one that says ‘reset’ under it,” Georges shouted back.
“I can’t read.”
Georges let out an expletive. “Well, now is a damn, fricking fine time to tell me!” he shouted up at Ran-Del. “Just a moment; don’t touch anything!”
Ran-Del waited while Georges sprinted down the aisle to another lifting machine that sat idle and then sprinted back.
“It’s the third one from the left,” Georges said.
Ran-Del pulled his head back in and pressed the third button from the left. After a few seconds, the machine began to hum and then slowly sank to the floor. It felt almost like riding in the lift in the Hayden tower, only slower. Ran-Del waited until he was only a meter in the air and then jumped off.
“Damn you!” George sounded angry. “What the hell do you mean by taking that kind of a risk?”
The accusation took Ran-Del aback. “There was no risk. Your shelves are quite sturdy. They held my weight with no trouble.”
“Of course they held your weight.” Georges puffed out his chest. “They could hold a hundred times your weight. That doesn’t change the fact that you could have fallen.”
It was Ran-Del’s turn for indignation. “Fallen? From stable footing like that, with no wind at all to consider? What do you think I am, a child?”
Clara grasped her husband’s arm and tugged on it. “Wait, Georges, I think I understand. The Sansoussy climb trees.”
Ran-Del nodded. “Of course. What else is there to climb in the forest?”
“Quite tall trees?” Clara asked.
“Certainly,” Ran-Del said. “How else can we see what weather is coming, or ambush our enemies.”
Georges leaned back and stared up at his shelving. “You mean you could climb up there any time, with no trouble?”
Ran-Del nodded again.
“You must have quite a head for heights,” Georges said. “I don’t like to ask anyone to go up that high without safety equipment.” He grinned at Ran-Del. “I’m sorry I yelled at you, then. Thanks for taking care of the lifter for me. I owe you wages for that.”
Ran-Del shook his head. “It cost me nothing but a quick climb,” he said, paraphrasing Georges’ words to him.
“Nonsense!” Georges said, slapping him on the back. “I believe in rewarding initiative. Let’s talk about what you could do around here.”
An immeasurable satisfaction suffused Ran-Del. He had found work entirely by himself. A moment later he recalled Stefan Hayden’s plans to travel to the country and Francesca’s resolve. “I’m very willing to work, but I might not be available for a few weeks.” When Georges looked at him curiously, Ran-Del added an explanation. “I may be getting married.”
The Sixth Discipline Page 55
