The Children of the Sky

by VernorVinge

  Jefri had eased up on Nevil. Jef’s smile didn’t have quite the deadliness of seconds before. “One more now,” he said.

  Zek had disappeared again. So Amdi must be next. All eyes were on the stairway, but something made Ravna looked back at the crowd, especially around their ankles. The last six tendays had taught her to watch for low-flying surprises. Yes. There was a single snout poking out from between a couple of Children. Ritl was waiting in ambush.

  Zek came back into view. He scanned the crowd, maybe pausing at the sight of Ritl. Then he arched his neck and waved at whoever was behind him.

  The members that came to the top of the stairs were not as heavy as Ravna remembered, and one of the heads was slightly misshapen. “Amdi!” Jef shouted, turning away from Nevil. The rest of Amdi came out in rush, almost knocking Zek off the platform. They were all looking at Jefri. Amdi was saying something in Samnorsk, about Johanna, but it was so focused on Jef that Ravna couldn’t make sense of it.

  The stairs were wide but not eight-wide, and Amdi came down like an avalanche.

  Ritl streaked out of the crowd, babbling loud abuse. She swung around in front of Jefri and turned toward Amdi. For a moment she had both Jefri and Amdi balked. She was chastising Amdi, or perhaps mocking him.

  Amdiranifani drew in on himself, not responding.

  After a moment more, Ritl made a spiky, dismissive noise—and ran directly through Amdi. The Amdi pack didn’t scatter, but milled around, disconcerted by this foreign fragment of mind and fur and gender that was pushing and shoving past its members. Jaws were snapping and heads were turning, and when Ritl emerged on the other side, some of Amdi started after her. But Ritl didn’t stop, and all of him were left behind, watching her departure. Ritl continued on her way, but more slowly. She was still emitting abusive noises, but now her head was stuck snootily in the air. She climbed the airship’s steps, then turned to stand close to Zek.

  All the packs were gobbling. Most of the Children looked puzzled, but Ravna suddenly imagined a human analogy. Amdi was like the teenage boy who long has been rejecting the advances of an aggressive girl. Then one day, she gives him a big smile and brushes close by him, running her hand through his hair as she walks—out of his life. And the boy is left looking around, relieved and suddenly wistful for what he’s missed.

  Jefri must have noticed the same thing. He was laughing even as he ran to Amdi, even as Amdi recovered and surrounded him.

  —————

  So these were all the prisoners they were going to get.

  Jefri came out of his huddle with Amdi and strode angrily back toward Nevil. Ravna could guess the reason. Two of Amdi wore dark bandages on their heads. More torture. Amdi ran along after Jef, pulling at his trouser cuffs as if to restrain him.

  “Hei, Nevil!” The shout came from uphill, at the edge of the forest. It was Bili Yngva. Giske was right behind him. She had both her sons! The older one was holding her hand, while she carried the other on her hip. Rolf walked just behind the trio. As she came closer, everyone could see that she and Rolf were smiling. Giske was clearly overjoyed; she couldn’t keep her eyes off her two boys.

  Giske and company walked to the edge of where the river grass turned marshy. Nevil and most of the Children ran to greet her. “What’s this?” asked Nevil, his voice full of surprise.

  Bili grinned back. “Giske has made a decision.” He gave Giske an encouraging nod.

  “Ah, yes,” said Giske, looking back and forth across her audience. “Bili showed me what you’ve done up there in the caves. It truly is as comfortable as what we have on, on the coast. It was so good to see my husband again.” Rolf gave her a pat on the shoulder. “And it’s so wonderful to be with my sons!” She looked down at her kids and her smile blossomed. “I think that Best Hope is truly humankind’s best hope. Please let me join you.”

  Ravna heard scattered gasps. Nevil looked as surprised as anyone. “Giske, you are welcome to join us.” He stepped forward as if to embrace her, then turned to face the crowd. “All persons of goodwill are welcome to be a part of Best Hope!”

  It might only have been Ravna’s imagination, but in that instant she saw a flicker of revulsion cross Giske’s face. Giske had given up a lot to be with her sons; she had not given up what she believed. But she answered the crowd’s questions, still smiling, seeming to convince even her closest friends that she was happy in her decision.

  Afterwards, Nevil looked well-satisfied with himself. Giske’s apparent change of heart gave him the ideal platform for his Best Hope sales pitch and distracted from everything else. “We have a good relationship with Tycoon, my friends. If we all—those living under Woodcarver and Ravna and those of us here at Best Hope—if we all can cooperate, I think we can convince Tycoon that villains are rare among the humans. Someday, hopefully someday soon, even Johanna Olsndot can be returned to us.” It was all a bit illogical, but he brought it off; some of the loyalist Children were giving him a serious listen.

  Pray Nevil shuts down soon, thought Ravna. She wasn’t up to listening to the monster. She had get out of here, chat with Flenser and Woodcarver, decide how to deal with Tycoon’s failure to release Johanna.

  Then Nevil looked her way, and she realized she should have walked away sooner. “So I’m pleading with you, Ravna. Will you and Woodcarver cooperate with us here at Best Hope?”

  Ravna opened her mouth. No peace! Not without Johanna. Not without word about Pilgrim. For better or worse, she was preempted by words that boomed from the airship’s hatch: “I think the question is, will Ravna cooperate with the Tines of Tycoon?” It was Zek. At least, Zek was making the sounds.

  Nevil turned toward the airship, a stupefied expression flickering across his face. “Um, yes. Of course, I meant—” Nevil was actually floundering! It was heartwarming, even if it took a crazypack like Tycoon to make it happen.

  Zek’s voice rode over Nevil’s: “However much we are allies, we have independent interests. I want to know Ravna and Woodcarver’s intentions—”

  “Yes, certainly—”

  “—and I think a private meeting is in order.”

  Nevil’s expression was fixed and blank. He turned and had a short, emphatic conversation with Bili. When he turned back to the crowd he was smiling again, literally putting the best face on the inevitable. “I agree, sir.” He gestured in Ravna’s direction. “I can only hope that Ravna has sufficient trust to meet with you.”

  And now Ravna was the center of attention. “I’d be happy to chat with Mr. Radio. As, as for privacy, he’s welcome in one of our tents.”

  In her ear, Woodcarver said, “Good.”

  “That’s not really private.” Zek’s voice was uncompromising. “Please come aboard. My employer guarantees your safety. You may leave as soon as you wish.”

  “No!” hissed Woodcarver. “Tycoon already has Johanna, and he’s clearly nuts.”

  Across the field, Flenser was still visible, though beyond the range of focused sound. He was looking back at Ravna, and now gave her a surreptitious, encouraging wave. So this world’s deepest student of treachery thought she should trust Tycoon—but wanted that advice kept secret?

  Ravna slowly walked to the base of the airship’s steps. Those seconds gave her no insight, but Scrupilo and Woodcarver were full of anxious objections. Benky and Øvin came running over. “You’re not going in alone,” Øvin said. Where was Jefri?

  From the top of the steps, Zek gazed down at her. “I said private, Ravna. Leave these others behind you.”

  Nevil was looking less puzzled and more satisfied. This was outside his game plan, but he seemed to figure that no matter what, it would work to his benefit.

  Woodcarver: “Ssst! What does Amdi say?”

  Jefri and Amdi were still with the other rescuees, also beyond the range of focused sound. Like everyone else, they were just…watching. Jefri was on his knees, close to Amdi, his gaze fixed on Ravna. So was Amdi’s. They looked very much as they had that day by the arr
ow trees.

  “It’ll be okay, Øvin,” she said softly. And then more loudly: “I’m going aboard.”

  —————

  The inside of the airship smelled of packs and humans all crammed together. In fact, this was the ship she and Jefri had flown in; she recognized the dings and scratches. Funny that she hadn’t noticed the smell then. Behind her, somepack ominously slammed the hatch closed. Ah. It was the innocuous steward, not a gunpack.

  Zek turned left and led her along the main corridor, toward the bow. Ritl stuck close to Zek. She was making a singsong racket that probably didn’t amount to anything. Every so often, Zek emitted a chord that meant roughly “please be quiet already.”

  Zek’s new human voice said, “We’ll talk on the command deck. It’s been properly muffled against eavesdropping.”

  Woodcarver’s voice came faintly in her ear, maybe inaudible to Zek: “Except for me and Scrupilo! Just pretend we’re not here.”

  “That’s fine,” said Ravna. Her words might have been a reply to Zek’s comment. She glanced down at the singleton. “So, Zek, who are you speaking for right now?”

  Zek emitted a very natural-sounding human chuckle. “This is really just me, Mr. Radio. It’s good to see you, Ravna.”

  Ah?

  They had reached the end of the corridor. Zek scooted up the spiral stairs with Ritl close behind. Ravna had the usual problems winding around the spiral. Up top—

  Up top, Johanna sat on one of Tycoon’s perches. She had a huge grin on her face.

  Ravna must have let out a shriek, for Johanna put a finger to her lips. “We’re shielded, but there are limits—and we don’t want people to think you’re being tortured.” She bounced to her feet and they had a big hug, not saying anything for a moment.

  Then Ravna stepped back, speechless. She’d had surprises this big in the past—but rarely pleasant ones. Now she could only wave her hands inarticulately. On her private link, Woodcarver and Scrupilo sounded even more confused than Ravna.

  “It’s Johanna,” Ravna finally said.

  “Yup. It’s really me. I’m really alive, unharmed, and happy to see you.”

  “And you’re not a prisoner?”

  “No…I could walk off this ship right this minute. But I’m not going to.” Jo wasn’t smiling anymore. She turned and looked through the gauzy quilting that covered the bow windows. Outside, the sun was so bright that you could see the landscape ahead of the ship. “I’m sorry to mislead my friends, though I’m sure Jefri already knows the truth.” She waved at Ravna’s tiara. “And I’ll bet Woodcarver does too.”

  Ravna nodded and touched the tiara. Now Woodcarver’s voice was audible in the room: “Yes, I’m here. Scrupilo, too. I think I’ve figured out what’s going on. This is all to set up secret cooperation with Tycoon?”

  “That’s pretty much it. And I’m here to convince you of Tycoon’s good will.”

  Ravna put in, “She looks fine to me, Woodcarver.”

  Woodcarver: “And what of Pilgrim?”

  Johanna brashness disappeared. Suddenly, she looked like she’d walked into a wall. “I…I think Pilgrim is dead, at least dismembered. Vendacious chased him into the Choir. Woodcarver, can we talk about this, just you and me?”

  Woodcarver’s voice came back after the briefest of pauses: “Certainly, but later.”

  “O-Okay.” Johanna turned back to the bow windows and didn’t say anything more for a long moment. A couple of Benky’s troopers were visible, patrolling back and forth. “I think this maneuver has fooled Nevil.” Some of the sass crept back into her voice. “Tyco! Are you listening?”

  Zek emitted a different voice now. It sounded like Timor, but grumpier. “Of course I’m listening. You want me to explain my change of hearts, right?”

  “Yes. You spent years trying to find and kill me. What happened to change that? Keep it short since we have people outside waiting for Ravna.”

  “Very well, but I don’t want anyone to think that I change my mind lightly. My resolve is nearly infinite. I would never have succeeded in the Tropics otherwise. And yet, part of me was always suspicious of Vendacious—even as he was enormously helpful to me. I noticed that the humans I met were not monsters. When Mr. Radio spoke up for the humans, that made me just curious enough not to kill Johanna the instant I saw her.”

  “Yes, thank you for that,” said Jo.

  “But it put me in a difficult position,” Tycoon continued. “Fortunately, I’m a very quick thinker. I had to get away from Nevil and his beam gun. That weapon supposedly has a range of hundreds of kilometers and I needed hours of safe passage. So I grabbed Johanna and took off, all the time giving Nevil hope that I was still willing to deal with him.”

  Jo nodded. “Tyco and I had a very…tense afternoon. It was like what you saw on Nevil’s stage, but spread out over hours. I think Scriber’s invention notebook made the difference.”

  Tycoon: “Scriber used to bore me so much with his notebooks. Talking to Johanna, I could see Scriber had irritated her the same way. She hadn’t murdered him, she’d just wanted to. We both had rejected him…and we both had spent years regretting the act. And I had been wrong about Johanna. I don’t often make mistakes, but when I do, they can be of awesome proportions. I’ve used the tendays since to revise my strategies.”

  Scrupilo sounded skeptical, but in a geeky, nitpicking way: “If it took you hours to decide about Johanna, wasn’t it a bit impulsive to toss Vendacious when you did? You hadn’t even taken off.”

  “Well, um, as I said, I can be very quick thinking. In this case—”

  Zek’s voice changed in mid-sentence as Mr. Radio interrupted his boss: “In this case, it was Tycoon’s employees who anticipated his wishes. You see, Vendacious died as the result of…a mutiny. Ravna, you know that Amdiranifani had been helping Ut and those other parts of myself he could contact. That wasn’t all. Vendacious’ operation was always on the verge of mutiny. Vendacious reveled in that; he had years of experience playing the game. Amdiranifani undertook to win through the crew. He lost two eyes in his first attempt—and that just made him come back smarter. Bits of me have seen Vendacious’ victims before. I don’t think he was ever outsmarted by someone he tortured—until Amdiranifani.”

  Amdi? Amdi the shy? Ravna almost said the words aloud.

  Mr. Radio continued, “That day over Starship Hill, when we opened the drop hatch, Vendacious was going to toss out pieces of somebody—probably Amdiranifani. Amdiranifani was channeling sound all around the control gondola, never quite detected by Vendacious. He had nearly constant communication with Remnant St—Remnant Screwfloss, as those four were always moving in their cage, never giving Vendacious a chance to add up the sounds. Then Vendacious sent one of himself down to the open hatch and had the Cargomaster unshackle part of Amdiranifani. I—Ut—did just what Amdiranifani had planned for us. I slipped off my perch, got the keys from Cargomaster, and opened Screwfloss’ cage. Those four are a bloody killer pack, do you know that? They turned the gondola into mayhem, hacking at Vendacious and anyone who was still loyal to Vendacious. Cargomaster tossed one of Vendacious out the hatch. Then Vendacious caught me from behind and cut my throat. About all I remember after that was lying on the deck, bleeding to death.”

  Mr. Radio’s voice had remained steady throughout his story, but Zek’s eyes were wide and he was trembling. Ravna reached out to him. “That’s okay,” she said softly. “We know the rest.”

  When Tycoon spoke again, he didn’t sound quite so full of brag. “They did the right thing. I am grateful.”

  “Yes,” said Johanna, grim and satisfied. “In the end, Vendacious got something like what he gave poor Scriber.” She was silent for a moment. “So that’s what happened. It’s best if we keep it from Nevil as long as possible.”

  Scrupilo said, “Oh? Much as I like to mess up Nevil, what’s the point? If Tycoon is our ally now, it doesn’t really matter what Nevil thinks—at least as soon as Ravna’s expedition gets bac
k to Newcastle.”

  Zek emitted a negative, and then Tycoon’s voice continued: “You misunderstand. Johanna Olsndot is my advisor—and also she’s fun to have around—but I am not your ally. If you must, you may consider Johanna your ambassador to me. I regard the Domain as a business competitor, and though I…dislike Nevil, I will trade with him too.”

  Scrupilo was outraged. “That’s absurd! You have no business opposing Woodcarver now. I say—” but then his voice faded off as he heard no support from Woodcarver.

  Ravna looked at Johanna searchingly. “Are you really free to leave, Jo?”

  “Of course she is!” said Tycoon.

  Johanna smiled. “I’ve scouted things out, Rav. I figure I could shoot my way out of this ship, if I really wanted to.”

  “You could?” Tycoon sound a little abashed.

  “Yup.”

  “Well then,” said Ravna. To hell with being diplomatically oblique. “Is it really safe for you to go back to the Tropics, to live in this fellow’s power?” Ravna had her own experience with that.

  “Hmm,” Johanna sounded thoughtful…and happy. Sometimes she had sounded this way when she was sitting with Pilgrim, petting him like a pack of friendly dogs. “Do I feel safe going back to House of Tycoon? Not entirely. Tycoon can be bastards if he’s convinced you’re a bastard. But he rescued both Timor and Geri, and he learned from them. Facts can eventually pound their way through his thick skulls. He hated me more than is easily imagined. Now? Well, I feel safer with Tycoon than I do, say, with Flenser. The reformed Flenser is a good guy. He probably saved my life by getting Woodcarver to bring that notebook—but he’s sneaky to the point of being unpredictable.” She hesitated. “Tycoon is the most successful rebuild I have ever met. He’s spent ten years trying to reconstitute what he lost. Talking to him is almost like I’ve found a lost friend.”

  Tycoon: “I’m only partway there.”

  Johanna said softly, “Tyco, you’ll never get all the way there. But I think Scriber would be proud if you make something even better from his memories. That’s exactly the grand leap he would admire.”