Dreamer (9 page)

Ara tried to think. How should she approach him? She didn’t want to frighten him off, but she didn’t want to lose him, either. Two tiny transmitters nestled in her pocket and she could probably plant one by “accidentally” bumping into him. On the other hand, if he figured out what she was doing, it would probably destroy all hope of a working relationship. Maybe she should just try to strike up a conversation. But how?

Ara sighed. It was so much easier to do this in a slave market. You pointed, paid, and took the person home. It took a while to convince some slaves that the Children of Irfan were actually setting them free, but all in all it wasn’t that hard.

And how would Irfan have viewed this?
she thought tartly.
A Mother Adept whining to herself that the job will take some effort.

Chastised, Ara decided to simply watch the boy for a while to see if she could gain any clues about how to approach him. It would also give Gretchen and the others time to catch up.

A long, dark ground car drove up to the curb and one mirrored window lowered itself a few centimeters. The boy sauntered up to it. The window lowered further and he leaned inside. Ara noticed that his ragged clothes were definitely on the tight side and many of the rips seemed strategic.

“Uh oh,” Ara said.

“What happens, Mother?”
Harenn asked.
“I have met Gretchen and we are coming.”

“Ben,” Ara subvocalized hurriedly, “hack into the nets and find out who owns a ground car with registry number—” she squinted “—H14 dash 35J. Hurry!”

“On it.”

“What is it?”
Gretchen asked.

Ara stepped up to the street. The boy was still leaning into the car and couldn’t see her, though she was barely three meters away. For a brief moment she considered trying to plant a transmitter on him and almost instantly decided against it. He might notice. Plant one on the car? No. Any car that expensive had disruption devices for just such an occurrence. She scanned the street instead.

“Ben, are there any cabs in the area?” she asked.

“I can’t check that and find the registration number at the same time, Mother.”

“Mother Adept, what’s happening?”
Gretchen demanded.

“I think our boy is a...working lad,” Ara murmured. No cabs were in sight.

Harenn spoke up.
“So pick him up and offer to pay for an hour or two. What is such a problem?”

The boy backed out of the window. The car door opened and he climbed inside.

“Shit,” Ara muttered.

“The car is registered to Melvan and Xava Yshidra,”
Ben said.
“Do you want their address?”

And then, by a miracle, a cab turned a corner and buzzed up the street. Ara waved frantically and it stopped. The other vehicle slid smoothly into traffic as Ara leaped into the cab.

“Glory to the Unity. Stay behind them,” she said, pointing. There was no way in hell she was going to say
Follow that car.

The driver, a raw-boned woman with blond dreadlocks, obeyed without a word. As they drove off, Ara caught a glimpse of Gretchen and Harenn emerging breathlessly from the market.

“Do you want the address, Mother?”
Ben repeated.
“And do you still want me to find a cab?”

“Not yet and no,” she subvocalized. “Gretchen and Harenn, I’m in a cab and I’m following the boy. He’s in another car.”

“We saw,”
Gretchen said.
“What do you want us to do?”

“Stay where you are,” she ordered.

The electric engine on the cab was nearly silent, meaning the driver could probably tell that Ara was carrying on a quiet, one-sided conversation. However, she gave no sign she heard or understood. Ara liked that. She peered forward, never letting her gaze stray from the car they followed.

The car made a right turn, then another right, and another. Her quarry was going in a big circle. Ara imagined the car had a sound-proof partition between driver and passengers to afford a certain amount of privacy for their...activities. Ara wondered whether it was Melvan or Xava who was in the back seat with the boy. For all she knew, it was both.

They passed the original street corner and Ara resisted the urge to wave at Gretchen and Harenn. Are settled back in her seat to think. The boy was obviously a prostitute. This didn’t bother Ara. It made her job easier. As Harenn had pointed out, she could simply proposition him and use the opportunity to talk. But Kendi had said the local houses didn’t tolerate freelancers. How had he gotten away with it?

Ara drummed her fingers on the gritty handrest. The cab’s interior was worn and dirty. A small sign informed her that a network link was available for a surcharge, and a muted vidscreen set into the back of the driver’s seat showed a local newscast. A second sign said that slaves must prove their owners had granted permission for them to ride in a cab and they must pay in advance. A third sign said,
You Are Safe with the Unity.

What if the men in the alley had been enforcers? That would make sense. One of the houses may have gotten wind that the boy was turning tricks and sent a couple of goons. Ara wondered if they were still in prison.

The ground car drove up to the same curb and the boy exited. Ara told the cabbie to pull over and let her out. Ara paid the fare and climbed out just in time to see Gretchen bump heavily into the boy. Harenn, a few steps away, watched from behind her veil.

“I’m so sorry,” Gretchen said with uncharacteristic politeness. “Goodness me, I almost knocked you over. Are you all right? Glory to the Unity.”

“Yeah, yeah, glory,” the boy replied. “Don’t touch me, lady.” And he hurried away.

Ara trotted up to her. “You didn’t touch him flesh-to-flesh, did you? Did you plant a transmitter?”

“No, and what do you think?”

“Got him,”
Ben said.
“You don’t have to run now.”

Ara gestured to Gretchen and Harenn. “Fan out. Harenn, since he hasn’t seen you, I want you to cross the street and get ahead of him. Gretchen, you stay a little further behind, and I’ll get closer. Pitr, follow as best you can and be ready to stand by. Trish, either grab a hotel room or go back to the ship and get into the Dream. Find us and follow us so you can whisper at people. Watch for the boy there, too, and for anything else that’s strange.”

“On my way, Mother,”
Trish said.

“Got it, Mother,”
Pitr said.

“Yes, Mother,” Harenn and Gretchen said in chorus. The three of them took up their positions and headed up the street in silent pursuit.

CHAPTER SEVEN

THE DREAM

[A] dream taught me this wisdom, and...I still fear I may wake up and find myself once more confined in prison.

—Pedro Calderon de la Barca

“...all right?”

Kendi tore his eyes away from the iron bar in his hand. Trish was standing above him. She wore a strap of brown cloth across her breasts and another across her loins. The outfit looked strange on her white, stick-like figure. How long had he been staring at the bar? He should have felt Trish’s presence instantly.

“Did you hear me, Kendi?” Trish said. “I asked if you were all right.”

“I’m okay.” He scrambled to his feet, bar in his hand. Where had it come from? He hadn’t called it up. Did it have something to do with the canyon or the kid?

“Mother Ara told me to watch the Dream for signs of the kid,” Trish said. “I think that thing—” she gestured at the canyon “—qualifies. Did it almost open up under your feet too?”

“Yeah. And there’s something in it that screams at you.”

“I heard.” Trish shuddered. “Is it the kid, do you think? Can you sense him?”

Kendi closed his eyes and stretched out his senses. Nothing. The ground showed no further signs of shaking, the scrubby vegetation was alive and healthy, and the tiny tickle that told him his drugs were wearing off began to itch behind his eyes.

“I don’t feel anything,” Kendi admitted.

“What’s the bar for?”

Kendi hefted the bar without answering. It didn’t belong here. It would disappear. One...two...three.

The bar remained, cool and heavy, in his hand. It was just like the bars across his cell in—

Kendi flung the bar away. It spun off and vanished into the distance.

“What was that about?” Trish asked.

“Nothing,” Kendi said. “Look, my drugs are wearing off. I’d better go, all right?”

Trish gave him an odd look. “Sure. I’ve got scouting to do. See you on the ship later.” And she vanished.

Kendi gathered his concentration.
If it is in my best interest and in the best interest of all life everywhere, let me leave the Dream.

His room on board the
Post Script
snapped into being. Kendi disentangled himself from the spear under his knee and dressed with care, wincing at his bruises and the pain in his ribs. Well, there was no reason not to use painkillers now. After a quick visit to the infirmary, Kendi felt much better and had decided to discuss the situation with someone.

“Peggy-Sue,” Kendi said, “locate Mother Ara.”

“Mother Adept Araceil is not on board the
Post Script,”
the computer reported.

Doing merchant stuff,
he wondered,
or tracking the kid with my composite?
“Peggy-Sue, locate Brother Pitr.”

“Pitr Haddis is not on board the
Post-Script.”

“Peggy-Sue, who
is
on board?”

“Benjamin Rymar, Sister Trish Haddis, and Jack Jameson are now on board.”

“Peggy-Sue, locate Ben Rymar.”

“Benjamin Rymar is on the bridge.”

Kendi headed up to the bridge. Ben wasn’t Silent and he didn’t understand the intricacies of the Dream, but Jack wasn’t someone Kendi had spent a lot of time with, and Trish was busy in the Dream.

Or you’re just looking for excuses,
he thought to himself.

Ben was at the communications board. His fingers danced over the console and his soft voice muttered commands to the computer. As usual, his red hair was tousled and his purple tunic was wrinkled. The main vidscreen showed a map of the city of Ijhan. Different colored dots and a single gold star flashed on it. Ben turned as Kendi entered.

“You’re supposed to be resting, aren’t you?” Ben said.

“I can rest up here.” Kendi flung himself into the captain’s chair. “What’s going on?”

“We’re tracking the kid. Hot on the trail.”

Kendi’s stomach panged. He bolted to his feet and rushed over to Ben’s board. Without thinking, he put a hand on Ben’s shoulder and leaned over to look at the console. “And no one told me? Where are they? How long would it take me to get there?”

“They’re on up the map.” Ben’s dextrous fingers continued to move like dancing spiders. “Gretchen bugged him. And you aren’t going anywhere. Mother’s orders.”

“Neighborhood’s getting worse,”
Ara’s voice said from the console.
“Careful, everyone.”

Ben shifted, and Kendi suddenly became aware of the firm muscle bunching beneath his hand. He self-consciously took his hand away.

“Uh, why are you working so hard?” Kendi asked. “All you have to do is keep an eye on the transmitter.”

“And mask the signal from the Unity,” Ben said. “And keep an open link to the net. And track down—”

“I get it, I get it,” Kendi said. “Want some help?”

“It’s covered,” Ben replied absently.

Kendi nervously sank back down into the captain’s chair to watch Ben work. Ben had rolled his sleeves up, and fine red-gold hairs gleamed on his forearms. Kendi could see Ben’s collarbone, sharply defined above the wrinkled collar of his tunic. On the view screen the multi-colored dots chased the gold star over the map of Ijhan. A silence fell on the room, and Kendi didn’t try to fill it despite his churning stomach. The odds against his hopes were high, laughably so, but that didn’t stop his nerves from screaming at the thought that he might have found a part of his family again. Kendi watched the vidscreen and tried to calm his too-brittle nerves. His mouth was dry as salt.

Ben continued to work. Silence stretched across the bridge.

“Ara’s hiding something,” Kendi said, suddenly desperate to fill the quiet.

Ben looked up, a puzzled expression in his blue eyes. “Sorry?”

“Ara’s hiding something,” Kendi repeated. “I think it’s to do with the kid. I asked her, but she denied it. She lied.”

“She doesn’t lie,” Ben said stoutly. “At least, she never has to me.”

“Not to me, either. At least, not until now. It makes me angry, Ben. I’m second in command, but I don’t know all the details.”

“What am I supposed to do about it?”

Kendi leaned toward him. “Talk to her, would you? Find out what’s going on.”

“Me? What makes you think I’ll have any sway?”

“You’ve known her a little longer than I have,” Kendi replied dryly. “Please?”

Ben sighed. “I’ll try. But if she gets mad at me, I’m taking it out on you.”

The sun was setting and the neighborhood was getting worse. A trio of toughs Ara as she passed and she wished she had some sort of weapon, despite Unity law. Almost anything more powerful than a knife was strictly forbidden, and Ara had decreed pistols too risky. Now she wished she had taken the chance.

The crowd on the sidewalk was light, though battered ground cars hummed up and down the crumbling pavement. Trash littered the streets, and the people had a more haggard look. Most of the buildings were older, made of brick and mortar instead of aerogel. Many of them were cracked, and quite a few lay in ruins—victims of the Unity bombing years ago. Another time she passed a vacant lot filled with ramshackle shacks. Ragged people looked at Ara over open cooking fires. The marketplace, she realized with an odd clarity, was meant for the more affluent citizens of Irfan. This was how the majority of the population lived.

A Unity guard ground car, red and black, cruised slowly down the street. The people quietly vanished into their shacks, and Ara forced herself to keep an impassive expression as it went by. Were they looking for the boy? Ara assumed the Unity didn’t know who he was yet—they would have already snapped him up—but that could change at any moment.

Something tapped at Ara’s mind.
~Don’t worry about the guards, Mother,~
came Trish’s voice.
~I’m whispering to them. They don’t want to stop anyway, so they’re taking my advice.~

~Good work,~
Ara replied, grateful for the reassurance. Trish was very talented at whispering and knew her job well. All Silent could reach out of the Dream and contact other Silent, though many could do nothing more than alert the receiver to their presence. “Knocking,” as it was called, was a widely-accepted signal for the receiver to drop into the Dream for full conversation or to open themselves up to full possession by the sender, as the Empress’s slave had done for Ara. Most Silent, including Ara and Trish, could push the communication a little further and actually transmit words from the Dream to the real world, and a few could actually brush the minds of non-Silent. Full possession of the non-Silent was impossible—or so Ara had thought—but the truly skilled could nudge non-Silent minds, enhance a latent emotion or suppress an existing idea. Trish was good at both.

Ara continued up the street, eyes glued to the boy. Her calves ached again. She’d been on her feet all afternoon, and it was now well into evening. Every so often she glanced back and caught a glimpse of Gretchen behind her. Harenn remained ahead of the procession, following cues supplied by Ben whenever the boy altered course. The boy himself, hands stuffed in his pockets, strode onward.

~I have news, Mother,~
Trish said.

~Can it wait?~
Ara asked almost petulantly.

~The Unity Silent have narrowed the kid’s presence down to Rust.~

A chill rippled Ara’s skin.
~It was inevitable. What else do they know?~

~They think he’s powerful. That means we—yike!~
Her voice cut off.

“Trish? Trish, what’s wrong?” Ara didn’t realize she’d spoken out loud until she saw the odd looks from the ragged people passing her on the street. With a double pang she noticed she’d lost Sejal. She sped up a bit and caught sight of him again. His head was down and he was still using his ground-eating pace.

~Trish!~
Ara said urgently.
~Trish, can you hear me?~

~I’m all right, Mother,~
came Trish’s Dream whisper, and Ara wanted to go limp with relief.
~The ground went shaky again. I had to move fast.~

~Don’t stay in the Dream if it’s going to risk—~

~I’m fine, Mother,~
Trish interrupted almost sharply.
~I know what I’m doing.~

Ara took the hint.
~Sorry. Sometimes I’m half Mother Adept and half mother hen.~

Sejal turned another corner, automatically losing Harenn, and Ara stirred her tired legs to a trot. When she turned the corner, Ara found a strange barrier. It was about half a block up the street and had been formed out of a variety of materials—old bricks, chunks of concrete, even old furniture. The wall spanned the street, though a gap in the center would allow a ground car to slip through. Ara’s quarry had already passed through the gap and she hurried to catch up. Through the gap she could see that the neighborhood on the other side looked much the same as this one, except the gutters and sidewalks were clear of trash.

“Hold it!” snapped a voice. Ara halted. A man armed with some kind of staff was standing guard just inside the wall. The staff was tipped with a wicked-looking metal ball. “Glory to the Unity. I don’t recognize you. What’s your business here?”

~I’m on him,~
Trish whispered.
~He’s stubborn and bit afraid, though. It’ll make things difficult.~

Just up the street, Ara saw the boy disappear into one of the apartment buildings just as Gretchen caught up. Ara put on an ingenuous smile and shot Gretchen a look that told her to keep quiet.

“Glory to the Unity,” Ara said. “My daughter and I are looking for an apartment.”

The guard frowned. “In here? Where?”

Ara pulled out her computer pad. She pretended to check the screen, then squinted up the darkening street. “There,” she said, pointing at the building the boy had entered.

The guard narrowed his eyes. “You sure? I don’t remember anyone saying they wanted to move.”

“That’s the address from the ad. Who are you?”

“Neighborhood patrol,” the man said. “And we don’t allow certain kinds of people in here.”

“Oh? People like who?” Gretchen asked.

“Drug dealers, gangs, hookers, other riff-raff,” the man said.

~He’s strong, Mother,~
Trish said.
~He doesn’t want to let you pass and I don’t think I can change his mind.~

Ara raised her eyebrows. “Are you sanctioned by the Unity?”

“No,” the man replied carefully.  ”We’re unofficial. We wanted a clean neighborhood, and the Unity doesn’t seem interested in giving it to us. So we made one.”

~Good move, Mother,~
Trish put in.
~Keep acting authoritative.~

“I see,” Ara said briskly. “Well, if you aren’t Unity, you don’t have the power to keep me out, do you?”

The man shifted. “You can pass through the streets,” he admitted. “But no one moves into our neighborhood without Vidya’s okay.”

“And where does this Vidya live?”

“There.” The man pointed to the boy’s building.

“Well, then,” Ara said, still in a brisk tone, “I guess that’ll kill two birds with one stone. We shall pass now.”

“Wait!” shouted another voice, and Harenn hurried up to them. Her veil fluttered with her breathing. “I’m here.”

“My other daughter,” Ara supplied before the guard could ask. “You’re late, my dear. Shall we? Glory to the Unity.”

They strolled passed the guard and into the neighborhood.

~That was good, Mother,~
Trish chortled.
~You sounded like a queen.~

“Daughter?” Harenn asked.

“I’ll explain later,” Ara said.

“Mother, what’s happening?”
Ben said in Ara’s earpiece.
“The kid has stopped moving and I think he’s indoors.”

“He’s in an apartment house,” Ara said. “We’re going in. We’ll probably be out of touch for a while, so hang tight.”

“What about me?”
Pitr asked.
“I’m about half a kilometer away.”

“If you can, find a place to wait for us,” Ara instructed. “If not, head back to the
Script.”