The Farris Channel (26 page)

He was healing a strained tendon and torn muscle in a renSime logger’s leg. The injury had been caused by a boot heel that came off, taking the whole boot sole with it while the woman had been climbing a tree to saw the top off. She had lost purchase, throwing her weight against a safety belt, which broke, and she had fallen.

Both boots had thinning leather uppers with a few cracks. Rimon had noticed an increasing number of people in worn footgear lately. There were at least four master cobblers in the Fort now so this shouldn’t be happening. He made a mental note to inquire after the problem then fell to the job of healing the renSime’s injury.

For the first time since he healed Sian’s paralysis he saw his patient’s second body hazily floating outside her physical body.

Without even thinking about it, he seized the image of the ruined tendon and muscle, molded it into healthy tissue and put it back into the woman’s leg hastily before Solamar could turn up in the vision world.

He fell back into his body with a jarring, frightening jolt, but managed to mask his terror until he’d caught his breath. Even Bruce didn’t notice.

Rimon excused himself to go to the latrine while Bruce finished wrapping a pressure bandage around the renSime’s ankle. He raced to his room where he slung the belt around his hips as fast as he could and sobbed with relief when the buckle was in place.

Except for swelling and tenderness, the leg returned to normal in a matter of hours instead of the week or two Rimon would have expected. No one was amazed because Rimon was the only channel who knew the extent of the injury and everyone expected his Healings to work faster.

Later, he considered asking Solamar for that training. As Lexy had said, people would notice how he was avoiding Solamar, and people were already noticing the belt.

Rimon thought about how much more effective he could become at Healing and how vital that skill might be come spring when the Raiders attacked again, or the Gens did. Either way, they’d have to defend this Fort again.

Yet everything in him shied away from that offered training.
I’m getting too old and weak to face the rigors of learning something like this.

Watching BanSha race through the sequence of skills that had become the traditional fare for second and third month old channels convinced Rimon he was right about himself. The vitality of youth was long gone. He had tried to shed the belt too soon. Older people took longer to heal.

If they were going to defend this Fort again, people must have solid footgear. He saw Sian coming in for his transfer and brought him into his office. Sian was wearing shoes with holes over his little toes. The cobblers worked next to the looms and Sian talked to them every day but he had no idea why shoes were in short supply. “Find out what’s going on,” finished Rimon seriously.

For the next three days, Rimon avoided Solamar as he had been all winter. Since Lexy and Solamar were the only people other than Bruce he could really talk to, that made life lonely.
But it’s only temporary,
he told himself.
With time, I’ll be stable again unless I let Solamar start pulling me out of my body on a regular basis.

Another time they discussed plans to build Rimon a new house since he’d given his away and taken to living in his on-duty room instead. He didn’t want a whole house with Aipensha gone and Lexy about to start her own family.

In time, Rimon began to relax, believing Solamar would not press about teaching him. They discussed everything from Shiltpron techniques to Genlan invective, anything and everything but channeling.

Searching for another topic, Solamar said, “Oh, and someone left new blankets on the bed, so I took the liberty of hanging your quilt back on the wall.”

“You did? Thank you. That’s a very old quilt and I really didn’t want to see it more worn from regular use.”

“It has a story behind it, I’ll bet.” Solamar remembered the first time he’d slept under it and felt the passionate hope glowing from every stitch. It was packed with love, hope, triumph. He’d never felt such a complex warding spell either. Someone with untrained but major power had made both the baby quilt and the enlargement.

“Many stories. I think I told you, the center piece was made for me when I was a baby. Since then it’s been involved in births, deaths, and even one wedding.”

Solamar kept his nager to himself, avoiding anything such as the penetrating nageric interlocks that had triggered Rimon’s problem. Still, he felt Rimon’s love of that quilt. He’d just have to wait to be told the whole story.

The third night, just a few days before Lexy would be three months pregnant, under a cloudless sky, with the air so still they could hear the river, Solamar was standing beside Rimon, leaning on the railing wondering how to open the topic of Lexy and her child. He had to find a way to convince her to marry him. He wanted more than to simply stand as father to her child. He wanted it all. If anyone knew how to convince her, it would be Rimon.

Eventually, Rimon gave him an opening. “I examined Lexy again today. She isn’t exhibiting the signs of a woman pregnant with a channel. This child will be Gen or renSime, and I’m betting on Gen.”

“I’d love to be the father to raise that Gen. She said the renSime father had a sister who was a Companion.” He paused judging Rimon’s nager. But he didn’t get to say,
Rimon, I’m in love with your daughter
out loud.

Behind them, BanSha stormed up the stairs, leaping them three at a time with youthful confidence in his zlinning ability to spot ice before he stepped on it.

Oberin tromped over to lecture the young channel before letting him on the catwalk. Rimon met Solamar’s eyes and they shared a private chuckle. “I suppose where you grew up, they had an Oberin too?”

“Oh, yes,” agreed Solamar, remembering a number of scoldings all too keenly and being very glad his father wasn’t here now to comment on how he was failing.

“Tell me about it sometime,” said Rimon zlinning Solamar quickly. Then he pushed himself away from the wall and moved toward BanSha but not to rescue him.

Maybe he’ll trust me if I tell him how my grandfather thought the Farris channel mutation would ultimately be the key to uniting humanity, Sime and Gen together without fear.
But then I’d have to tell him, and Lexy, about how my father could talk for hours presenting philosophical proof that the whole concept of channeling was wrong headed, a dead end that would be the source of more misery than salvation.

Solamar followed the Farris channel over to BanSha. He added his nageric support as Rimon reinforced Oberin’s lesson in how a channel should behave.

Here I am helping ram home a hard lesson just as my father taught me. I wonder if he loved me the way I love BanSha. I wonder if BanSha knows how we delight in him?

Finally, Oberin left Rimon and Solamar to escort the young channel down the slippery stair. On the ground, Rimon asked, “So what is this about?”

“Sian and Jhiti want you at a meeting. You too, Solamar. I’m supposed to go find Kahleen and Bruce too.”

“Who else?” asked Solamar. “And where?”

“Everyone important,” answered BanSha. “By the looms. There’s nobody sleeping in there anymore.” The youngster was off at a dead run over the slippery snow as if he hadn’t been scolded.
Of course I never paid any attention to my father either.

Solamar followed Rimon across the Fort at a more reasonable pace aware Rimon was zlinning him curiously.

The factory building was a long, slender edifice next to the old front gate where so many of Fort Tanhara had died that a monument had been erected. With the wall moved out, the monument now stood alone where the gate had been.

The wainwright, cabinet maker and the potter had the end of the building nearest the gate, and the looms were on the other end with the wicker workers. Between were the tailors, the cobbler, and other crafts. The candle makers, though, worked in the school building next to the laundry where there was always a well stoked hearth to keep the children warm. Now that they’d expanded the walls, they were planning additions to the crafts building to give everyone the space to supply the whole Fort’s requirements.

Solamar had seen the kitchen staff petitioning Rimon for space for a cannery that could double as a dye processor, tripling the value of their trade goods. He’d heard summer here produced riots of berries and grapes. Some of the timber they were using came from clear cutting the area they would use to expand the fields. That should have been a Council decision, but apparently they’d been too busy.

They arrived at the factory door as Lexy and Garen came from the stables. Lexy said, wiping her hands on a rag, “We’re going to have a lovely new colt born in a few weeks, several in fact, and then it’ll be lambing time. I don’t know where we’ll pasture these flocks.”

Kahleen joined them as Lexy and Rimon led the way into the building discussing pasturage.

Val, Bruce, Jhiti and Benart straggled in, and Zedros smelling like fresh laundry brought up the rear with Rinda.

Solamar had taken a donation from Rinda, a Gen woman who had come out of retirement to accept Fort Hope’s seat on the Fort Rimon Council. She was a level headed woman with experience at juggling conflicting demands on a Fort’s economy. She liked Tuzhel and that endeared her to his heart. She reminded him of his mother.

Everyone talking at once made a growing uproar. BanSha tucked himself into a corner, sucking on some dried fruit. He watched the fields with the absorption only a First Year channel could bring to bear.

Sian built up the fire in the hearth as the door closed for the last time. There were five others there, one the Fort Tanhara cobbler, Eric, who made superb saddles too. He’d been born out-Territory and raised in leatherworking trades.

Sian introduced everyone and then said, “Frevven here has news. He’s the Fort Hope cobbler.”

Frevven stood, respect suffusing his nager. “I’m a Fort Rimon cobbler now, and very glad of it, but sorry to report this Fort has problems. We didn’t invite the two Fort Butte cobblers to this meeting because we feel Rimon has to decide.”

Everyone nodded. There were very few from Fort Butte who would ask Rimon anything.

“Eric, Endra and I have been discussing this boot problem that Rimon brought to Sian’s attention. For the last two months, we’ve been repairing shoes, not making any. The two cobblers from Butte told us to make the leather go as far as possible, and that the Council would tell us when to make new boots and shoes, but meanwhile only two people would make new boots, the Butte cobblers.

“Well, you all know the record of this new Council, so when Sian told us Rimon was concerned about the boot problem I got Endra and we went to the store room to check the leather supply. Endra says there was plenty last summer before Tanhara and Hope arrived. Only now the leather store is empty. We can’t make any new boots.”

Solamar felt Rimon’s and Lexy’s shock as well as his own. Rimon said to Sian and Endra, “This wasn’t reported to me. Have we used all the leather we had in stock just repairing boots and making the new ones for Fort Hope?”

Endra stood up, an older Gen woman with rough hands and thick muscular forearms. “Rimon, I let the Fort Butte people manage the store room. I didn’t keep the records, so I don’t know if we’ve used all the leather stock you traded for last summer. My sense of things is that no, we haven’t. That leather went somewhere other than through our hands and into shoes, tack, hinges, vests, and so on. It wouldn’t have been adequate to make new boots for everyone here this winter, but we haven’t even tried.”

Rimon said thoughtfully, “Lately, it has seemed to me that the people originally from Fort Butte have boots and gear that isn’t worn to shreds. Am I right?”

Many thoughtful frowns were exchanged but the consensus was that no one had noticed worn boots on those from Fort Butte, though Fort Unity and Veritt people were also wearing boots thin with use.

Solamar said, “I’ve been assuming that since some people had new boots, we’d all get some eventually. I didn’t notice who did or did not have solid footwear.”

“My assumption exactly,” said Kahleen. “I never thought about it, and nobody has mentioned it to me.”

“Ordinarily,” said Bruce, “we’d send to Ardo to trade wool for leather. Or get it from traders in Shifron who got it at Ardo. We can’t do that in the middle of winter.”

“Wool stock is low, too,” put in Sian. “I can account for every strand. We made linen/wool blended blankets, cloaks, underwear, shirts, pants, and knitting yarn for socks, gloves, hats. All we could produce went to the children and Gens first just as you instructed. The un-spun wool and linen left is for taxes, if they even send a collector this spring. Of course we’ll have plenty after shearing.”