***
After twelve days studying with the elders of his village, Ran-Del stopped his work long enough to go visit his mother and spend a day with her. After his return, he rested and then began a daily regimen of several hours practicing the techniques of the Sixth Discipline that the elders had taught him.
By the twentieth day, he had mastered what he needed most to learn. He could shut out all distractions from people nearby, and he could even control the flood of thoughts and emotions when he touched someone. Even contact with his grandparents was bearable; the deluge became a manageable stream, intelligible, but not overwhelming. Isayah was pleased with his progress.
“You’ll have to keep practicing,” he said. “But you know the techniques now. It’s merely a matter of doing them over and over again, until you no longer have to think about it. The Sixth Discipline will be part of your everyday life.”
Ran-Del nodded. “Thank you, Grandfather.”
Isayah smiled, but Ran-Del could see a hint of anxiety in his eyes. “You won’t often be among others with the same gift. Among ourselves, we often use our minds as much as our voices. But never forget the rules. Unsuspecting strangers are entitled to their privacy. Unless you have a reason to suspect duplicity or you fear they mean harm, you have no right to prowl around in people’s innermost thoughts. Only the most cursory contact is permissible.”
Ran-Del thought about life in Shangri-La. “You’d think from that description that I’d never have cause to use my psy gift, and yet I know that it won’t be so.”
Isayah nodded agreement and folded Ran-Del into an embrace. With the strength of the Sixth Discipline in place, Ran-Del relished the comfort of his grandfather’s touch. He remembered what his great-grandfather had called it—the deep, direct, dialog of the heart.
“Be well, Ran-Del,” Isayah said. “Guard your temper and try to be tolerant of different customs—as much as you’re able.”
Ran-Del flushed, knowing that his grandfather was referring to the incident with Francesca’s erstwhile lover. Isayah projected reassurance.
“You need to talk to her more,” he said. “Even Mina and I have to talk, sometimes. And remember to give her credit for what she does, no matter what’s in her mind.”
“I will, Grandfather.”
Ran-Del set out for the city after breakfast the next day. He felt much stronger, both mentally and physically, than he had when he arrived, and he ran with ease, delighting in the sights and smells of the forest. He made it out of the forest quickly and used the electronic compass to set his course for Shangri-La.
He camped that night under the stars, the small stove burning brightly all night.
The next morning Ran-Del woke to ominous gray skies. The prospect of traveling all day in the rain had no appeal. On an impulse, he pulled the portable com from his pack and called Francesca.
She looked half asleep but alarmed. “Is anything wrong?”
“No,” Ran-Del said, “except that I’ve gone soft from living in Shangri-La. It looks like rain out here. Do you think you could send a flyter to pick me up?”
She laughed, relief as strong in her voice as amusement. “I’ll call Quinn and set it up. Keep the com active so we can track you.”
Ran-Del packed his things and went looking for shelter. He found a small clump of trees and made a rough tent from his tarpaulin. Large drops of rain began to spatter him just as he tossed the pack inside it. Ran-Del ducked under the tarp and sat down to wait.
It took a little over two hours for the flyter to show up. The rain had let up to a light drizzle, and Ran-Del stepped out from his shelter to signal his location.
The pilot waved back as she set the machine down some twenty meters away from the trees, while Ran-Del swiftly gathered his things. He trotted out to the flyter just as the pilot let down the ramp.
Merced climbed down from the flyter and took Ran-Del’s pack. “Jeeze, Ran-Del. You look as sorry as a wet dog.”
“I am a little damp.” Ran-Del glanced around the cabin. Merced was the only passenger. Through the window in the bulkhead he could see Kitty Lui maneuvering the flyter for takeoff. Ran-Del could feel Merced's curiosity, but the techniques his grandfather had taught him worked well at keeping the security guard's thoughts from leaking into Ran-Del's mind. “Kitty’s here to fly this machine. What are you here for, Eduardo?”
Merced grinned. “To protect you from Kitty, I guess.”
Ran-Del took a seat hastily, to save himself from being knocked off his feet as the flyter lifted and banked sharply. Kitty wasn’t hanging around.
Merced took a seat across from him, and studied him openly. “You look better than you did when you left. It’s hard to believe you were ever dead.”
“Thank you,” Ran-Del said politely.
“The Baroness will be glad to see you.” Merced seemed inclined to chat. “She’s been a little antsy lately.”
“Antsy?”
“Nervous,” Merced said. “On edge, kind of.”
Ran-Del didn’t comment.
“That guy you stuck your knife into showed up the day you left,” Merced went on. “The Baroness had Antonio buy him off and show him the gate. That’s one guy that the Wong-Reilly cartel had better not send again, huh, Ran-Del?”
Ran-Del remembered his grandfather’s words and tried for patience. “Does everyone in the Hayden complex feel free to discuss their employer’s private life or is it just the security staff?”
“Oh, it’s pretty much everyone,” Merced said cheerfully. “We’d never say a word to outsiders, but once you sign on with a Great House, you feel like you’re a part of it. A lot of families have been with Hayden for generations. No one ever said anything about how the late Baron brought you to Shangri-La, even though we all knew about it.” He glanced at Ran-Del as if debating how much to say. “Before you came along, we used to spend a lot of time trying to guess who Miss Francesca would wake up with next—and who she’d end up marrying.”
Ran-Del said nothing, but his silence failed to discourage Merced.
“The betting was heaviest on Freddie Leong,” the guard went on. “She seemed pretty sweet on him, and we figured he’d be too out of it to object to her having other, uh, friends.”
Ran-Del’s felt himself tense. “Are you trying to make me angry?”
Merced held up a hand. “Heck, no. If the Baroness has anything to say about it, you're going to be around for a long time. We don’t know how you did it, but we’re all real impressed. She sure has changed.”
Ran-Del gritted his teeth. He wasn’t even back in the city and already he was losing his temper. “She wasn’t married before.”
“Okay, okay,” Merced said. “Have it your way. So, what happened? The guy went too far and you set him straight, huh?”
Ran-Del shrugged. “It was a misunderstanding.”
Merced laughed at this. “Pagiani was there when Quinn called the alert. Sounds to me like this guy got your point.”
Ran-Del didn’t read any malice or spitefulness from Merced, only simple curiosity. If it was impossible to keep the staff from gossiping, then perhaps it would be best to put things in a better light. “Francesca and I made an agreement. She thought I’d broken it. Once she understood that I hadn’t, then everything was fine.”
Merced nodded sagely. “She was jealous of the redhead at Benjie’s. I figured as much.”
Ran-Del lost his patience. “It’s no concern of yours, Eduardo.”
“Don’t get in a sweat,” Merced said. “I like all my organs where they are, thank you. No need for you to rearrange them.”
“Then keep your tongue behind your teeth!”
“Well,” Merced said with a smile, “the thing is, Ran-Del, I’ve been elected to give you a message.”
“A message?” Ran-Del said, surprised.
“Yup. From the staff—the household staff, security—just about everybody.”
It seemed odd. City people used technology to communicate, not
messengers. “Why you?”
“Because,” Merced said with a grin, “no one else wanted to deliver it.”
“And you’re not afraid?”
Merced shook his head. “Nah, I’ve seen you take jokes from the guys at Benjie’s. You can get hot if you think someone’s stepping on your space, but you’ve never drawn your knife on a friend.”
Ran-Del digested this. “So what’s the message?”
“Well, the thing is, Ran-Del, we understand that you wanted to go home and see the folks. I mean, what with being killed and all. But we’d all appreciate it if you’d try to keep the trips home a little shorter.”
Ran-Del thought it over. In a way, he could see humor in the situation, And it told him Francesca was being faithful. “Antsy?”
“She had Antonio in tears yesterday, and Chien was so upset, he broke a vase. Even Quinn is feeling it.”
Ran-Del sat back in his seat. “I’ll keep it in mind. Meanwhile, you can assure everyone I have no immediate plans to travel again.”
“Glad to hear it,” Merced said with a grin. “And now you know what I’m here for.”
The Sixth Discipline Page 87
