by Gin Hollan
"You're deep in thought," Sam said to her.
"Other crystals transmit, and the fields listen,” Arabeth stopped long enough to chew a bite off one of the bread sticks. “Is it the whole field that listens, or just a specific group within the field? My most recent project was a listening device." Were the emotions and impressions she got when touching a crystal a simple transmission echo, of sorts.
"Ah! Just as I suspected. You were making those for your mother." Graham said, grinning.
“I guess eavesdropping is old news here. I should work on some form of interference technology, instead," she said.
"That wouldn't be difficult. All you need is something that generates enough feedback that eavesdropper's would get an earful of static or noise," Kennen said, his mouth half-full again.
"Wouldn't that be dependent on knowing the frequency?" Melanie asked. "And it would need to be... non-organic, predictable, with on and off switches."
Arabeth looked at her, eyebrows raised. "Melanie?"
"I worked at one of the radio broadcast stations for a short time. Apparently I ask too many questions." She scowled, took a deep breath and blew it out, slowly. "If anybody knows how to generate static, it would be me. At least, that's what my boss would say."
"And you thought having all those jobs was a detriment," Arabeth chuckled. "We'll have to talk later."
She was going to have a nice long chat with this friar. Simply adding him to the conversation brought new insight, it seemed. He might even be able to help her figure out what the King of Vensay was up to. Suddenly she wanted to know everything there was to know about using these crystals use for communication.
“I can see the wheels turning, Arabeth. What are you planning?” Sam asked.
“Graham needs to go home, and anyone else who wants to. Kennen, are you familiar with this city? Is there an underground transport anywhere?" She smiled, but didn't look at him directly. She didn't want to intimidate him. She wanted to open, honest conversation.
"Yes, ma'am. Although, there are some here who would recognize me, and of them, some who might not take kindly to my being here,” Kennen said.
“Wait, if you're not going home, neither are we,” Melanie said.
“I am,” Graham muttered.
Arabeth ignored Melanie's declaration.
"It seems our paths were indeed meant to cross, Kennen." Arabeth paused as their dinners arrived, catching the servers attention. "This young man needs to order a proper dinner."
"Yes, ma'am," the server said turning to look at Kennen.
The sudden flurry of people calling her ma'am was a little off-putting, but she shrugged it off. It was appropriate, even if it did make her feel a little old.
The young friar didn't hesitate. "I've been wanting one of their hot beef dip sandwiches for months now, if that's alright with you," he looked at Arabeth.
She nodded. Simple tastes. That was a good sign. Arabeth found herself distracted by the small dish of aromatic beets sitting as a side dish. They smelled divine. Ignoring the general conversation, she was content to let the others chat.
As they finished their meal, both Graham and Melanie begged off, saying they just wanted to sit in their rooms and relax. Arabeth suspected they'd last ten minutes before curiosity got the better of them, but just smiled.
"Remember how to find the hotel," she smiled.
"Oh, that's easy," Kennen said. "Ask the clerk for a location tag. The down-side is that you can be tracked too. But at least you won't get lost."
Arabeth's head whipped around, staring at him.
"Sorry, did I say something wrong?" He sat back.
"No, but..." Melanie said. "Arabeth has been working on that technology for a few years now."
"Ah, well, I'm sure there are differences," he shrugged.
"It raises a question or three though, doesn't it?" Graham mused.
Arabeth looked at him and nodded, suddenly feeling a lot less brilliant. Unless there were crystals around, hearing her discuss inventions, how could there be such a strong coincidence? But that was crazy. How would someone know who to listen to or where to put them?
"Well, you came up with yours from scratch, so that's something," Melanie said.
"I'd like a good look at the technology that went into it," she said, softly.
"The inventor lives here, so that's easy." He tilted his head. "Well, it might be easy. He's become something of a recluse in the last few years."
"I thought you were a friar. Don't you just garden and preach?" Graham asked.
Kennen barked a laugh. "Sorry, sir. Friars exist to serve. That's one of the reasons I'm here, with you all. The part about growing our own food helps keep us from being a burden. Understand?"
"Ah," Graham said, face tinged with a bit of red.
Arabeth stood, needing to walk off a sudden case of nerves.
The group dispersed as she paid the bill, each getting a location tag from the hotel front desk before they left. Even Sam went after returning with her tag.
"Where are they all going?" Kennen asked.
"Oh, I imagine your talk about the technology differences has them all curious. We are each specialists, after all."
"I see." He looked around, waiting.
"Not to be rude, but don't you have somewhere to be, now that you've introduced yourself?"
He shook his head. "I am completely at your disposal."
"I see." Arabeth sighed.
"Although, I do need to use the facilities here."
"Sorry, the what?"
"The water closet. The bathing room."
"Oh," Arabeth hadn't heard it referred to as facilities before. That was reserved for large structures filled with equipment for public activities, like rallies, lectures, and so forth.
"Wait for me, please," he said, hurrying away.
Wait? She sighed. Fine. He'd been a good source of information, so far.
Having a guide should speed simplify her locating the checkerboard, but logic told her it would be in the deepest, darkest corner, and she really didn't want to go there with a virtual stranger. She wondered at that impulse. He was no threat, and here she had no reputation. But still, it was supposed to be kept secret. All she wanted to do was find it, strap her friends in, and go back to hunting.
The device in Arabeth's hand vibrated a moment, causing her to nearly drop it. She opened her hand to take a closer look, and noticed it had hidden section under a thin top cover. She pushed lightly against the cover and smiled when it rotated open. Inside, was a little display screen, not unlike the one Marble had on her collar, except that this one showed a variety of colours and symbols. Maybe it could be calibrated to work with Marble's collar. it was far more detailed than her own display.
Kennen came back with a bounce in his step, smiling. "What would you like to see first?"
"I understand radar, but explain this to me."
Kennen quickly but smoothly slipped it from her hand and put it in her pocket.
"It means you have friends here. Someone slipped you a monitoring device, instead of a tracker. You should stop talking about it immediately." He spoke from behind a hand, quickly and quietly.
Mildly alarmed, Arabeth nodded and started walking out into the hallway. "I'm going to need some new clothes. There's only so often this set can be cleaned before it gets ratty."
"We'll head to the textile district, then. But I think we'll take the scenic route."
His demeanour had changed, from lighthearted to guarded, and the change was not lost on Arabeth.
"Is there a train here, leading out?"
"Where do you need to go?"
"Away. Back to our home."
"That could be difficult. The border is closed."
"We weren't planning on flashing our identification at the border."
"It’s nearly impossible to leave your country – they may not believe you did, and the citizens of Vensay aren’t welcome there."
"You seem well-travelled a
nd well-educated. Why did you chose to become a friar?"
He chuckled. "It was chosen for me. A bit of a long story, but it was that or join the military for ten years."
"Ten years as either a friar or in the military...." she prompted. When he didn't respond, she continued. "So you chose healing, instead of hurting."
"Sounds kind of noble when you say it like that, right?" he grinned. “Nobility aside, I did have fun doing the Robin Hood thing. I did sell half of it to support my activities, to be honest, but the rest was set as bait for the actual criminals.”
"Sounds like you're a con man who saw a new way to milk an old cow."
He clutched his chest and gasped. "Lady, you wound me."
"With your flare for the dramatic, you'll no doubt try to win off that as well," she laughed. "Why are we taking the long way to the textile district, and don't tell me it's a tour." The disk in her pocket started chirping and he paused.
"A story for another day," he said, hand outstretched.
She pulled the device out and slid the top open. One of the symbols had turned red and was moving toward them, at great speed. Suddenly Melanie went by, sitting, tied to one of the hover conveyances, looking angry but calm. "Arabeth," she said, motioning that she should follow. "Help!”
// Chapter 19 //
Arabeth ran after the conveyance but stopped when she saw it go into the police station. It looked nothing like the ones at home, having two tall, narrow, opaque glass doors to pass through and stone walls on either side. Squaring her shoulders, she walked over and pushed the door open.
Inside, the brightly room with a white floor and walls was populated only with a single row of white chairs up against the wall and a ticket dispenser on the wall at the start of that line.
Arabeth ignored each of those hints and went over to the opaque white glass doors at the other end of the room. She pulled the door handle but it did not give way. She rattled it again, hoping someone would notice and let her in.
"I'll get us a number," Kennen said, taking a ticket and sitting down.
Sam burst through the first set of doors, followed by Marble. He stopped until he spotted Arabeth then hurried over.
"Arabeth, calm down," Sam said, hurrying over. He picked up Marble and gave her to Arabeth.
"Sam, do you know what's going on?" she said, worry etched across her brow. "Why was Melanie on that thing, and where did they take her?"
The outer doors swung open again and this time a short woman in her early twenties, strode in. She had short brown curly hair similar to Kennen, and a dark scar down one side of her neck. She was dressed unlike anyone Arabeth had ever seen before, in loose brown overalls and packing a tool belt that would shame any repairman back home.
"News travels fast," the woman said. "You're the new Barnes I was told about, I'm guessing. You look like one." She stuck her hand out to shake Arabeth's. "I'm another of about fifty cousins-once-removed that you've got, though I'm the only one in Owen."
Arabeth shook her hand. "How did you know we needed help?"
"I've got monitors all over." She turned to Sam. "You - tell me why that woman thought it smart to bust up one of my cameras."
"She was offended, from what I gather. Where we're from, people don't randomly spy on each other," he said, defensively.
"It's safety, not spying. It's dangerous down here. We can't let anything suspicious escape notice. I'll get her out, but you'd better babysit her like she was a drunken monkey with a weakness for shiny objects."
The woman pulled out a long strip of thin metal with varying holes and notches out of a bag. Frowning, Arabeth watched as she ran it into a slot and heard a variety of metal thunks. When it reached the bottom, the glass doors opened and the woman walked in.
"No one introduces themselves here," Graham muttered. "Who exactly is that?"
Sam shrugged. "One of apparently many second cousins. But she has a way in."
"I'm Clarice Barnes, but call me Clara," she called back “You'd better follow a little faster.”
The group followed her in to a small holding area. Like the waiting area, it was empty white walls and floor, and its sole occupant was Melanie, sitting frustrated and tearful on the conveyance. Clara walked over and reached underneath it, flipped a switch and stood back as Melanie's wrist and leg straps released her. She jumped off and ran to her friends.
"They have crazy laws here. Why didn't you warn me?" She looked pointedly at Kennen.
"I didn't think about that," He started.
"Don't blame him. You're the one that destroyed one of our safety cameras," Clara snapped. She looked at Arabeth. "I know how you came to be here, but not why. What are you doing here?" Looking back at Melanie, she huffed out a large sigh. "I can only imagine the chaos your existence is injecting into our culture. Are you really node responsive?"
"Node?"
"Nodes... or maybe you'd call them clusters... you must know something about crystals. You're managing the set Sebastian gave you well. The nodes amplify planet magnetics. That's why we can tune them for communication and other uses," she paused. "The crystals are used for communication, not just as a power source."
Arabeth suspected half her confusion was the disorganized way this woman communicated.
When they stared at Clara with varying looks of confusion, she huffed a sigh. “First things first - I'm going to have to take you to the Centre to have the charges against this one dropped." She jerked her head toward Melanie. "Family," she muttered, unkindly. "Dragging me away from...." She trailed off as she stormed away. The others stared after her a moment.
"Are we supposed to follow her?" Sam asked, starting to walk, but waiting for Arabeth.
"I'm guessing yes." Arabeth said, with a scowl. "At least she can warn us if we're about to do something stupid here."
"She's going to commute my penalty. I'm going," Melanie said as she stared jogging after Clara. "Not interested in being treated like cargo again," she muttered as she went.
The rest needed no more prompting, hurrying to catch up.
Clara moved at nearly a jog herself, and they were all fairly winded when they reached their destination, except for Kennen, who was apparently accustomed to it. Arabeth tried not to envy his composure as she stood, trying to catch her breath in a lady-like manner. Normally she wouldn't care, but this place had cameras everywhere. At least she wasn't gasping or wheezing like Graham, which was something to be grateful for.
"Running on a full stomach," he complained. “Not intelligent, you know.”
The new office had the same style doors as the holding area, but inside the walls and furnishings were made of elaborately etched dark wood and deep green padded chairs. It reminded Arabeth of her father's study.
Clara walked to a box and pulled out a thin, leather-bound book. She opened to the first couple pages then nodded. "This is the most current edition of the Guide to Owen," she handed it to Arabeth. “You'll want to read it, if you're staying more than a day or two.”
Arabeth opened it and looked for an index. When there wasn't one, she flipped a few pages. "Do not walk near the glass barriers. Do not knock, rap, or otherwise strike the glass barriers." "Keep your hands away from the valve stitches." It was all simple speech, like they were talking to toddlers, and begged a question or two about the average intelligence of their intended reading audience.
Arabeth looked at Clara. "You had to put this in writing? Tell me you're kidding."
Clara broke out in a hearty laugh. "Actually, I am." She went over to a shelf and pulled out a much thinner book. "That was written either as a joke or criticism of our culture here. I'm not sure which, since the author fell off a lift swing a few days after it went to press."
"Not to interrupt, but are we waiting for someone?" Sam asked.
"No, no. I need to write up the incident report and send it to the central office. We'll have our answer within a week or two, so you may as well get comfortable. You have to stay at that long."
&
nbsp; "Here?" Melanie asked, looking at the room.
Clara laughed again as she sat down. "The hotel will be fine, but consider yourself confined."
"Confined? You don't mean all of us?" Graham asked, through squinted eyes.
"Just Miss Trelane, of course. Quiet now, so I can concentrate; you all keep making me want to laugh." She dipped a quill in ink and started writing but paused a moment later to look up at Graham. "You would be better served by looking out for your companions, over yourself. Then you would have four others looking out for you, instead of only one." She went back to work on her report.
Arabeth glanced at Graham wondering where that comment came from. He tried to hide his shock by putting the fingertips of one hand on his bottom lip, as though thinking.
The door behind them opened, causing them all to turn and look. A group of men walked in, each of them in an expensive suit. They spread out on either side of the door and waited.
When the door opened again, another man walked in alone. He was Arabeth's height and had a bit of a paunch, like he was used to the good life, but hadn't always been. The door shut and he stood back, arms crossed, as though assessing them. The other men formed a line behind him as, blocking the only exit.
His grim expression did nothing to encourage Arabeth, but she smiled anyway.
Clara jumped up from behind her desk and ran around to meet him, her hand extended to shake his.
"Sir, I am writing up the report right now. I need a few more minutes."
"Don't bother. I'd like to hear from them with my own ears. I want to know why they openly disrespect my place of business."
Arabeth hadn't been this nervous since the first time she was called in to Harbertrope's office. This man wasn't a police chief, reminding her of a less than savoury back-door arms dealer in both posture and speech.
"I am Zebakiah Weatherstone, Lord Regent of Owen. I see to the smooth and safe operations of this city. There are roughly twenty thousand people who live and work here." He waited for impact, but Arabeth only nodded. "Who is the one that decided that privacy was less important than a public safety camera?" he asked. “And whose brilliant idea was it to bring unregulated crystals in here?”