Dreamer Page 9

  “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 processio
n, 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.”

  The apartment house was a block away from the wall. The neighborhood buildings, while in poor repair, were at least clean. Windows gleamed. No papers or other detritus clogged the gutters. Walls were cracked, but any loose bits of mortar had been cleared away. Window boxes made of scrap lumber sported flowers and herbs. People sat on porches, enjoying the cooling night air, and flute music floated from a window.

  “Interesting,” Harenn murmured. “Inhabitants in the other neighborhoods we passed would not dare to be sitting outside in such a manner.”

  Ara nodded in agreement as they arrived at the boy’s building. No one sat on the steps but the entryway door was locked. When Ara tried the old-fashioned nob, a speaker whirred to life.

  “Glory to the Unity. Please state your name and your business,” a scratchy computer voice said.

  Ara ignored it and tried the door again.

  “Glory to the Unity. Please state your name and your business.”

  “Can you get this open, Gretchen?” Ara asked.

  “Probably,” Gretchen said. “But the gate guard is watching us.”

  “Damn. Ben, can you get a list of residents for this building?” Ara recited the address.

  “The directory lists eighteen,” Ben replied. “Do you want all of them?”

  “Can you tell what floor the boy is on?”

  “The first,” Ben said promptly. “I think you should know Kendi’s here and he’s biting his nails corn on the cob.”

  “Glory to the Unity. Please state your name and your business.”

  “What are the names of the first floor residents?” Ara said.

  “Keeren and Jace Muhar, Nara Oliva, and Vidya and Sejal Dasa. Nara is an old lady. Keeren and Jace are listed as spouses. Vidya and Sejal are listed as mother and son.”

  The boy was named Sejal, then. The Empress and her orders loomed in Ara’s mind. She may have to ensure the death of someone named Sejal. Ara faltered. She had never been easy with the idea of deciding whether this boy would live or die, and the fact that he now had a name and a mother made it even worse.

  “Glory to the Unity. Please state your name and your business.”

  Hunger rumbled in Ara’s stomach. Her legs ached, and she was bone tired. Suddenly the idea of seeing the boy—Sejal—up close was nothing but repellent.

  “Let’s get out of here,” she said.

  “Leave? But we’re so close,” Gretchen protested.

  “I’m tired, I’m hungry, and the boy isn’t going anywhere,” Ara said with more firmness than she had intended. “The Unity won’t find him by tomorrow. We’ll come back later. Let’s go.”

  Ara marched off, not waiting to see if Harenn and Gretchen followed. At the gate, she nodded once at the guard. “Glory. No one home,” she said without stopping to care about the transparent lie. And with that, Mother Adept Araceil strode swiftly back toward her ship.

  Benjamin Rymar stood uncertainly outside Ara’s door. Kendi had been right—Mother Adept Araceil wasn’t quite herself. It wasn’t just that she had gone straight to her quar
ters without speaking to anyone after she, Harenn, and Gretchen returned from the city. Ben also knew Ara well enough to see the signs that something was bothering her—a certain tightness around the mouth, certain tense gestures—and these signs had shown up after her conference with the Empress. The problem was obviously something to do with the Silent, and Ben wasn’t Silent. It was therefore none of his business.

  Of course it’s your business, said a small inner voice. You’re a member of the crew. Her problems have an impact on you.

  But Ben shrugged the voice away. The Children of Irfan had problems and dealt with situations that the non-Silent couldn’t even comprehend. None of his business. That had been made abundantly clear to him from childhood.

  So why was he now standing outside her door with the promise he had made to Kendi fresh in his mind?

  Kendi. Ben closed his eyes. It hadn’t been easy avoiding Kendi aboard the ship. When Ben had been forced to go alone to Kendi’s quarters to gather the dermosprays, he’d been sweating bullets. He remembered the jolt he’d experienced when Kendi’s arm spasmed and the look of pain that had crossed Kendi’s face. He remembered the warmth of Kendi’s arm when he’d helped Kendi sit on the bed. He remembered words bubbling up and he remembered barely swallowing them in time. Kendi always took the tiniest mole hills and from them built mountains to rival Everest. It was bad enough Ben had said “maybe.” He was sure Kendi had gotten a lot of mileage out of that one by now.

  So why had he said it?

  Ben shook his head. That was easy enough to answer. Love. The two weeks Kendi had gone missing had been pure, unadulterated hell. Trish had had to pry Ben away from the consoles for food and rest, and he had taken risks hacking the nets that made him shake in retrospect. Once Kendi had been located, Ara ran paperwork and Ben lay alone on his single bed, feeling guilty that he was free and wondering what was happening to Kendi. Was he being beaten? Raped? Murdered?

  Ben had barely slept. And then, when Kendi had walked into the foyer, looking pale and ashen, Ben had wanted to grab him and never let go. He had restrained himself just in time. It wouldn’t do any good. Their relationship wouldn’t work. Ben had let himself stay in it for too long as it was.