Necessity's Child (Liaden Universe®) (29 page)

“I thought that you would.” There was a suggestion of a sigh there.

“Do you not?”

“Who am I to judge?” Udari returned. “If my brother finds the bargain fair, then my heart is full of my brother’s happiness.”

Rys felt tears rise in his eyes, and managed a smile despite them. “You are good to me, Udari.”

“And you are good to me,” the other replied.

“Now,” he said, more briskly, “are you recovered? Do you wait upon the
luthia
’s word, or are you free to come with me?”

“Silain was called to tend Dmitri. She bade me come to our hearth, find the amber bottle and put five drops in my tea.”

“So, you have done as you were bade, and kept faith with the
luthia
,” Udari said. “I fear we’ll be called together soon in celebration of our elder brother. For now, I think we should go to Rafin, Brother, if you’re well enough to walk.”

Rys smiled, and reached for his crutch.

“Almost,” he said, “I am well enough to run.”

* * *

Kezzi walked next to Syl Vor, Gavit the
garda
walking behind. It was, she thought, better than being pulled along by her wrist, or pushed along by a hand on her shoulder, but not
very
much better. Did he still think she was going to run away?

She thought about that for a moment, and was forced to admit to herself that he might think so, since he had no way of knowing about the
luthia
’s judgment on the matter, or her instructions regarding Kezzi’s brother.

Sighing, she glanced at him, and encountered a pair of worried blue eyes.

“Are you angry?” he asked; his eyebrows drew together in a frown. “Were you hurt, when Peter pushed us?”

“No, and no. It’s only that . . .” She hesitated, but the
luthia
’s judgment had been plain. She owed this boy—this brother—the gift the Bedel gave only among themselves.

Truth.

“I don’t like to walk under the eye of a
garda
,” she said.

He nodded. “It does seem silly, doesn’t it? Our house is quite close, and none of the others have escorts.” He looked over his shoulder. “Do you think my mother will let us walk home without an escort, Gavit? Now that there are two of us?”

The
garda
shrugged, his mouth twisting up like he’d taken a bite of a limin.

“Best ta ask Mike, Silver. He knows your ma’s mind best, bein’ her ’hand like he is.”

“Yes, that’s very true, thank you.” He looked back to Kezzi.

“We’ll talk with Mike when we get home—and we have to remember to set your watch by the house clock, so you’ll be on time to school tomorrow.”

Time. The
gadje
were all ruled by
time
, which was a far different matter than
timing
and
intervals
. Kezzi sighed.

“I don’t have a watch. The Bedel have no need.”

“Ms. Taylor said that you must be on time,” Syl Vor pointed out, which was . . . true. “Mother expects us to do well in school, and to conform to the teacher’s instructions.”

“That means,” Gavit the
garda
put in, “Silver’ll be gettin’ you a watch outta the house supply and makin’ sure you wear it.”

She turned her head to glare at him, and was surprised to see him give her a wink and smile.

“I don’t want a watch,” she told Syl Vor.

“How will you be on time, then?”

That was a puzzle, and Kezzi began to feel a little short-breathed, as if walls had sprung up too close beside her.

“The Bedel . . .” she began again, and stopped, hearing again Silain telling her to do what tasks Syl Vor’s mother gave her as well as she could.

“You’ll have to teach me to use it, then,” she said sulkily.

Syl Vor nodded.

“All right.”

* * *

“Ah, here he is, and much improved in spirit.” Rafin’s face was black with soot, his eyes as blue as lightning.

“Where is Pulka?” asked Udari, glancing ’round. “He will want to see his dream with waking eyes.”

“He was called to duty,” Rafin said, spitting into the forge. “The
garda
have come too near the old western gate and the headman has ordered it sealed.”

Udari looked grave.

“That’s the third gate closed within two hands.”

“It is, and if you say that we’re on the edge of closing too many, your voice will join the voices of all our brothers—yes, and our sisters, too!”

For no reason that he could summon to mind, Rys felt his mouth dry. He swallowed, and looked to Udari.

“The . . .
garda
. What do they seek?”

Udari shrugged.

“What do they seek?” Rafin said. “Rat holes! Torv brings the news from Above—the new Boss doesn’t believe in ghosts. He looks at the buildings over our heads and he sees a place for
gadje
to live; a place to grow fruits and vegetables, protected from the cruel weather.”

“They seek to be like the Bedel, then,” Rys said, since Udari continued in frowning silence.

“No,
that
they do not!” Rafin declared. “They seek to be dry, and warm, and fed.”

“All people seek those things,” Udari said at last. “It’s plain, Brothers; if the
gadje
come here, then the Bedel must go . . . somewhere else.”

“Best if the
gadje
don’t
come here, I say—and others of our brothers with me. There are ways to be certain.”

“If Boss Conrad doesn’t believe in ghosts, he’ll look for men,” Udari argued.

Rafin sighed.

“As for that, the
garda
did find something of note, according to Zand, who followed them.”

“What was that?” asked Udari.

“The remains of a camp, above the third floor, two buildings east.”

“
Above
the third floor?” Rys asked, frowning.

“A subattic, not easy to find, except Zand said that one of the
garda
had played in that building as a boy. There was a pipe from the rain catcher on the rooftop, that was cut and a faucet installed. Wires had been cross-woven to power a small communication system. Some blankets, and a stove—a snug nest. There was no food or sign that the place had been habited recently. The
garda
took away what was there.”

“Another brave one, who was not afraid of ghosts,” Udari commented drily.

Rafin shrugged. “Or who was more afraid of something else. But, come! We’re here for another purpose! The frame is roughed. Now, the fighting cock must come over to the bench and suffer himself to be enclosed, so that I can take fine measurements and consider the best locations for releases and springs. This, we may safely do while Pulka is at duty. It’s the finished piece that he’ll want to measure against his dream!”

* * *

“Boss and Mike gone out callin’,” the woman named Veeno told Syl Vor when they came into the house. “They’ll be back in time for supper. Boss said you and your sister was to play nice.”

Silver nodded, and pulled off his jacket to hang away. The sleeve of his sweater was pulled up, exposing the heavy bracelet. He sighed and pushed the sleeve down.

“Come on,” he said, after Kezzi had hung up her coat. “Let’s play a game!”

* * *

Syl Vor’s room at the top of the house was no larger than the hearth-room she shared with Droi and Vylet, and the side-place where a table and computer stood seemed oddly like a hearth. She had, Kezzi owned, expected it to be larger, and more full of . . .
things
.

She had not expected it to be bright—or at least as bright as the late day sun could make it, glowing through glass windows framed by dark curtains. The
kompani
’s place Beneath was always in twilight, despite the use of dims, and the constant glow from the hearthstones.

In the hearth-room was a bed, covered over with a blue blanket, and in the center of the bed was a furry orange-and-white circle.

“Here she is!”

Syl Vor leaned over the bed to stroke the curved back with the flat of his palm until, slowly, the cat uncurled into a long furry tube, eyes closed and ears twitching.

“Come sleepy one, wake! Here is my sister Kezzi, who I told you about. She is come to meet you!”

The cat opened green eyes, not very wide, and yawned, showing dainty pointed teeth.

“There, that’s better,” Syl Vor said, and turned his head. “Kezzi, come and make yourself known to Eztina.”

She came to his side, and stood looking down at the cat, who had rolled half onto her head, with her paws in the air and her white belly exposed, so much like Malda when he wanted a tummy rub that Kezzi chuckled.

“What you must do,” Syl Vor said, “is to extend your first finger toward her nose. Do not
touch
her nose, or bump it—that would be rude. Just hold your finger still and allow her to decide what she will do.”

Carefully, Kezzi followed these instructions. The cat blinked green eyes and did nothing.

“It may take a little while,” Syl Vor said. “Only be patient.”

“She looks like she wants her belly rubbed.”

“On no account! She tries to tempt you.”

“Tempt me?”

“If you touch her belly, she will instantly wrap herself around your hand and wrist and hold on with all her claws. Which I assure you does not sting a little!”

“But—” Kezzi caught her breath on the question she was about to ask, for Eztina had rolled bonelessly to her feet, deftly avoiding Kezzi’s finger, stood gracefully on three feet while she stretched one back foot up behind her.

“Ah,” Syl Vor said softly, just as a cool, slightly damp nose met Kezzi’s fingertip.

“There, she is polite,” he murmured. “You may now lightly rub her behind the ears.”

This Kezzi did, nowhere near so robust as if it were Malda’s ears she rubbed, for she had no wish to damage this fragile-looking creature, who was, she thought, not at all like the cats who took employ with the Bedel, or their cousins in the City Above.

Kezzi smiled as Eztina bumped her head vigorously against her fingers, then turned half about and sat, lifting a back leg and beginning to groom.

“The cats I know aren’t friendly,” she commented. “They have their duty-work and don’t want anything from us.”

He nodded. “But Eztina is a house cat—a pet—and I fear that Padi is right in saying that we spoil her.”

“Padi—this is a sister?”

“My cousin,” he said. “She’s gone with her father—my Uncle Shan—on the
Dutiful Passage
, to learn to be a trader. And that reminds me of the game!”

He crossed the room, pulled open a drawer and took out a pouch.

“Come!” He beckoned her to the table, pulled the tie loose and upended the pouch over the tabletop.

Coins spilled out, ringing like bells, and a stub of pale chalk no longer than her smallest finger.

And—no, Kezzi thought, they weren’t coins, at least not any coins that she knew.

“
Aequitas
,” Syl Vor said. “Trade tokens. They’re used when the trade is for information, instead of things.” He glanced up at her, blue eyes wide.

“
Things
are easy to get,” he said, seriously, “but information can save lives.”

She blinked at him—so serious—then again at the tumble and shine of coins—of
aequitas
—littering the tabletop.

“Choose a color,” Syl Vor said, pulling out a chair and coiling onto it, one leg bent under him, and the other foot swinging above the floor. “Take all the coins of that color to your side of the table.”

She chose red and quickly sorted them to her side. Syl Vor did the same with the blue coins, then picked up the chalk and drew a line across the middle of the table, dividing her side from his.

“This is how it works,” he said. “You ask a question, and I answer. If you learn something from my answer, you pass one of your coins to my side of the table. Then, I ask you a question. If I learn something I pass you one of my coins. If the answer is
very
informative,” he said with a grin, “or surprising, two coins may pass.”

He swept the unused colors to one side, with the chalk bit.

“There are more rules, but the simple ones should do for today. I haven’t played since Padi left us, so I’m out of practice.”

“And I,” Kezzi said, picking up a coin and weighing it in her hand, “have never played, or heard of this game.”

“We play it because we’re a trade house,” Syl Vor said, and looked at her expectantly.

She stared back at him, frowning.

“Did you know that?” he asked, casting a significant glance down at her coins.

Kezzi stared, and suddenly, like a lesson learned in dream, the rules of the game became vividly clear, and she grinned

“I didn’t know that I’d asked the first question,” she said, and slid a red coin to his side of the table.

He nodded. “Now, it’s my turn. What does
gadje
mean?”

“Those Others,” she said. “People who are not Bedel.”

A blue coin came across the table to her, and she felt a glow of accomplishment.

Syl Vor folded his arms on the table and the bracelet again peeked from under the sleeve.

“What
is
that?” she demanded.

“What? This?” He lifted his arm; the bracelet gleamed in the light from the window. “It tells Mike Golden where it is.”

She gave him a coin for it—and blinked as he unclasped and held it out to her.

“Here.”

Kezzi frowned down at the thing in her hand. It was dull bronze in color, but not quite as heavy as she had expected it to be. She pressed on the clasp, approving the solid snap as it closed.

She turned it over, looking for a maker’s mark or a pressure point that might open an inner pocket, but the inside was smooth and featureless. Finally, she glanced up to find Syl Vor watching her curiously. She felt her face heat and handed the cuff back to him.

“It’s well-made, though fine for a boy,” she said austerely.

He grinned.

“At ho— on Liad, I would never have had such a thing,” he said, putting it aside, with the unused tokens. “Children don’t wear jewelry, except their clan sign.” He touched the collar of his shirt.

“What is Liad?”

“The planet we lived on, before the
delm
brought us to Surebleak,” he answered promptly.