Golden Son (59 page)

Darrow.”

The tears leave warm paths down my cheeks. I let them linger.

“Mother.”

Still on my knees, I throw my arms around her and let the silent tears come. We say nothing for the longest time. Her scent is of grease, rust, and the musty tang of haemanthus. Her lips kiss my hair as they used to. Her hands scratch my back as though she remembers it just as broad as it is now, just as strong.

“I have to take the kettle off,” she says. “Before someone wakes and sees you like …”

“Of course.”

“You have to let go of me.”

“Sorry.” I do, laughing at myself.

“How …?” she asks me, standing there looking at the Sigils on my hands, shaking her head. “How

could this be? You … your accent. Everything.”

“I was carved. Uncle Narol saved me. I can explain.”

She shakes her head, trembling so slightly she must think I can’t see it. The kettle shrieks louder.

“Take a seat.” She turns her back to me and takes the kettle off the stove. She sets out another mug.

One from the high shelf. I remember it was my father ’s. Dust covers the molded clay. She pauses, saying nothing as she cradles it close, slipping into a moment not meant for me, where she remembers those mornings when they would ready for the day together. With a long breath, she drops the loose-leaf tea into the pot and pours hot water after. “Would you like anything else? We have those biscuits you liked.”

“No, thank you.”

“And I took my portion from the feast tonight. It’s delicate Gold food. Did you do that?”

“I’m not a Gold.”

“There are beans too. Fresh from Leora’s garden. You remember her?”

I spare a look at my datapad. Mustang is gone, heading back to the ship after she watched the holoCube. I feared this. I read a message from Sevro.
“Stop her?”
he asks. Two choices. Let Sevro and Ragnar catch her, and contain her till I can speak with her. Or trust her to make her own decisions.

But if I trust her, she could leave, tell her father what I am, and it could all end. Yet she may just need time. I’ve given her so much to digest. If Ragnar and Sevro capture her prematurely, it may set her against me. Or they may act on their own and kill her.

Cursing silently, I type a quick reply.

“I remember everyone,” I say to my mother, looking back up. “I’m still me.”

She pauses at that, still facing the stove. When she turns, a lopsided smile crosses her stroke-ravaged face. Her hand fumbles one of the mugs, but swiftly she recovers.

“Got something against the chairs?” she asks sharply, noticing I saw the clumsiness of her hand.

“Other way around, I’m afraid … I hold up the chair. It’s better suited for a Gold child than a Peerless Scarred who stands just over seven feet and weighs as much as any three Reds put together.

She chuckles that dark chuckle of hers, the one that, as a child, always made me think she’d done something particularly sinister. Gracefully, she folds her legs and sits on the ground. I follow, feeling gangly and clumsy here. She sets the steaming cups between us.

“You don’t seem terribly surprised to see me,” I say.

“You talk funny now.” She pauses so long I wonder if she’ll continue. “Narol told me you were alive. Failed to say you’d gone and dipped yourself Gold, though.” She sips her tea. “I bet you’ve got questions.”

I laugh. “I thought you’d have more.”

“I would. But I know my son.” She eyes my Sigils. “I’m more patient. Go on now.”

“Narol … is he …?”

“Dead? Aye. He’s dead.”

The breath goes out of me.

“How long?”

“Two years ago.” She chuckles. “Fell down a mineshaft with Loran. Never found the bodies.”

“Why the hell are you laughing?”

“Your father ’s brother was always the black sheep of the bunch.” She sips her tea. It’s still too hot for me. “Suppose it makes sense he’d be as hard to kill as a cockroach. So I’ll believe he’s dead when I see him in the Vale. Shifty bugger.” She speaks slowly, like most Reds. The lisp from the stroke is faint, but always there. “I think he left this place and took Loran with him.” The way she says it makes me know she understands there’s more beyond the mines. Perhaps she doesn’t know the whole truth, but she knows a part. Maybe my uncle and cousin aren’t dead. Maybe they left to be with the Sons.

“What of Kieran? Leanna? Dio?”

“Your sister is remarried. Lives with her husband in Gamma Township in the house of his family.”

“Gamma?”
I sneer. “You let her—” I stop as soon as I see the fresh twist in my mother ’s mouth. I might wear the trappings of a Gold, but I better shut the hell up about her daughter.

“She’s got two girls that look more like you than her or any Gamma I’ve ever seen. And Kieran’s

well.” She smiles to herself. “You’d be right proud of him. Not the sniveling child you might remember squabbing up his chores and talking in his sleep. Man of the house. HeadTalk for the crew after Narol slipped down. Kora, his wife, died in childbirth, though. He took another a few months back.”

My poor brother.

“And what of Dio? Eo’s parents?”

“Her father is dead. Killed himself not long after you tried the same.”

My head sags. “So many deaths.”

She touches my knee. “It’s the way of it.”

“Doesn’t make it right.”

“It was a hard time after you and Eo left us. But Dio’s well. Fact, she’s upstairs.”

“Upstairs? What do you … Did she marry Kieran?”

“Aye. And she’s pregnant. I’m hoping for a girl, but with my luck it’ll be a boy who wants to dodge pitvipers and steam burns his whole life. If he’s got the choice, that is.”

“What do you mean?”

“Things are tough. Changed. Mine isn’t giving the way it ought. Some of the men are whispering

this corner of the world is all used up. And it makes them start fearing—what happens to the miners when there’s nothing left to mine? They’re hoping the terraforming will catch on before we run through our helium deposits.”

“Nothing will happen to you. I promise I will protect this mine. No matter what.”

“How?”

“I just will.”

“My turn.” She eyes me over her tea. “Where you been, child?”

“I … I don’t even know where to start.”

“With Eo’s death, I think.”

I flinch. My mother was always blunt. Made Kieran cry his way through his childhood. But that bluntness makes calluses out of blisters. So I owe her a reply in kind. I tell her everything, starting with the moments after Eo’s death and ending with the promise I made to the ArchGovernor.

Our tea is long gone when I finish.

“That’s quite a tale,” she says.

“Tale? It’s the truth.”

“They won’t believe you, the rest of them.”

“You do, though?”

“I’m your mother.” She takes my hand and runs her crooked fingers over the Sigils that run from

the back of my hands up my forearms, smirking when she reaches the metal wings embedded on the

outside of my forearms. “I never liked Eo,” she says quietly.

I twist my head up to look at her.

“Not for you. She could be manipulative. She kept some things from you.…”

“I know about the child,” I say. “I know what she told Dio on the scaffold.”

Mother scoots closer to me, her hands grasping mine and bringing my knuckles to her lips. She never gave much comfort. She’s awkward at it now. But I don’t mind. Father loved her for the same reason I do. Everything she does, she means. There’s no falseness to her. No deception. So when she tells me she loves me, I know she means it with every part of her.

“Eo was not a cruel girl, you know that,” she says, pushing back so she can look into my eyes. “She loved you with everything she had. And I loved her for it. But I always feared she’d make you fight her battles. And I always feared how much she loved to fight.”

That’s not quite the Eo I remember. But I don’t find fault with my mother ’s words. I can’t. All eyes see their own way.

“But in the end, Mother, Eo was right about this. About Gold.”

“I’m your mother. I don’t care about what’s right. I care about you, child.”

“Someone has to fix all this,” I say. “Someone has to break the chains.”

“And that someone is you?”

Why is she doubting me? “Yes. It is. I’m not being foolish. I can lead us out of here. Out of slavery.”

“To where? To the surface?” She speaks of it familiarly, as if she’s known the truth of Mars for years, not minutes. Perhaps she has. “Where we will do what? All we know is the mines. All we know is how to dig, how to harvest silk. If what you say is true and there are hundreds of millions of Reds on Mars, how will there be enough homes for us up there? How will there be enough work? Most won’t leave the mines, even if they know. You’ll see. They’ll just stay miners. And their children will be miners. And their children’s children, except the nobility will be lost. Do you think about these things?”

“Of course I do.”

“And do you have an answer?”

“No.”

“Men.” She rubs her right temple. “Your father was one to jump without looking.” Her expression

tells me what she thinks of that. “Helldivers all think they provide for the clans. No. The women do.”

She gestures around. “Everything you see, made by a woman. But you know how to shape the world,

don’t you? Know how it should be.”

“No. I don’t,” I say. “I’m not the one with the answers.” Mustang is. Eo was. Mother is. “No one man or woman has all the answers. A thousand, a million bright minds will be needed to answer what you’ve asked me. That’s the point of this. What I can do, what I am
good
at is tearing down the men and women who would keep those minds shackled. That’s why I’m here. It’s why I exist.”

“You’ve changed,” she says.

“I know.” I pick dust from the floor and rub it between my palms. The dust looks strange on these hands. “Do you think … Is it possible to love two people?”

Before she can answer, feet pad down the stairs.

My mother turns to look.

“Grandma?”
a small voice says sleepily.
“Grandma, Dunlow isn’t in bed.”

A small child stands on the stairs, nightshirt scraping the floor. One of Kieran’s. She’s three, maybe four. Born just after I left. Her face is heart-shaped. Red hair thick and rusty as my wife’s. Mother looks back to me, worried how she will explain my presence. But I activated my ghostCloak as soon as I heard the noise.

“Oh, he probably snuck out to cause trouble,” my mother says.

I squeeze her hand before sliding back from the room toward the door. My time here is at an end, yet I linger. The little girl gingerly steps down the stairs, one foot after another, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

“Who were you talking to?”

“I was praying, child.”

“Praying for what?”

“For the soul of a man who loves you very much.” Mother touches her nose with a finger.

“Papa?”

“No. Your uncle.”

“Uncle Darrow? But he’s dead.”

Mother picks the girl up in her arms. “The dead can always hear us, my love. Why else do you think we sing? We want them to know that even though they are gone, we can still find joy.” Cradling my niece, she turns to look at me as she takes the first step up the stairs. “That’s all they’d want for us.”

50

THE DEEP

Mustang is gone. I’d hoped she would come in. But I suspect that was too much to ask. Of course it was. Idiot. I remember thinking this would humanize me in her eyes. Thought meeting my mother would make her weep and realize we’re all the same.

The guilt falls fast on me. I handed Mustang the holo of my carving, expecting … expecting what?

For her to come inside? For her, the daughter of the ArchGovernor of Mars, to sit on my floor with my mother and me? I’m a coward for coming here. I’m a coward for letting the holo speak for me. I didn’t want to watch her process learning who I really am. I didn’t want to see the betrayal in her eyes.

Four years of deception. Four years of lying to the girl who has never been able to trust anyone. Four years and I tell the truth when I’m not even in the bloodydamn room. I’m a coward.

She’s gone.

I check my datapad. The radiation tracker Sevro insisted on sticking her with before she came to see me in the Pot’s observation room says she is three hundred kilometers away and moving fast.

Sevro’s ship pursues, awaiting my orders.

Ragnar and Sevro both hail me. I don’t answer their calls. They’ll want me to give the order to shoot her down. I won’t. I can’t. Neither understands.

Without Mustang, what is the point to all this?

I wander from the township, down and down into the old mine, trying to forget the present by finding the past. There, I stand alone listening to the call of the deepmines. Wind wails its way through the earth, mournful in its song. My eyes are closed to the black, heels planted in the loose soil, head looking down the maw of darkness that stretches deep into the bowels of my world. This is how we tested our bravery as youths. Standing, waiting, in the deep hollows our ancestors dug in the times before.