Young Rissa

by F. M. Busby

  Dal Nardo escorted her downstairs; outside, an aircar waited. Her previous escorts had helped with her luggage; he did not. He pointed to the car and walked away. Then he turned back briefly, to say, “You won’t be around long, Hulzeins or no Hulzeins. That mouth of yours will have you dead on the dueling grounds. Perhaps by me.” He entered the building, and Rissa moved to the aircar.

  The pilot was a tall girl, Rissa’s age or perhaps younger. Short, tousled hair showed fair around the edges of her jaunty cap. She smiled and said, “What’s snicking the Provost? Wouldn’t you spread for him?”

  Despite her mood, Rissa smiled back. “He did not ask me — and just as well, too. No — do not get out — I can hoist these things in well enough.” She did, and climbed in also — standing for a moment, wondering which seat to take.

  “Here — come sit alongside me. You’ll have a better view.” Rissa joined her and fastened the safety harness, puzzled briefly by its unfamiliar design. The aircar took off and gained altitude rapidly. Its propulsion system made only a heavy soft hissing sound.

  Rissa said, “You know dal Nardo, I take it.”

  The girl shook her head. “Only by reputation — and that’s snooky with me.”

  Snooky? Local slang, of course. “I would prefer that for myself also, I think — uh . . .”

  The girl looked at her sidelong. “Oh — my name? Felcie — Felcie Parager. Dumb name, huh? What got the Provost knucking at you, anyway? Or can you say? And what’s your name? Where are you from?”

  In her mind Rissa ordered the stream of questions. “I am Tari Obrigo. From Far Corner, most recently. Any name is fine unless you yourself dislike it — if you do, then change it. Yes, I can say how I offended dal Nardo. He began our interview by threatening my life, and I topped his threat; that is all.”

  Felcie laughed without restraint, then sobered. “I hope nobody else was there!”

  “There were. Two of his aides.”

  “Then I’m afraid you’ve made a dangerous enemy. What did you snick him with, anyway?”

  “Now, that I cannot tell you — sorry, Felcie.”

  The girl nodded. “Nothing shaken — we all have our secrets, don’t we?” She pointed ahead. “Hill country coming up. We go alongside the first ridge maybe half an hour, then cross it at the Gap.”

  Rissa looked. At first the rolling, wooded hills seemed familiar, Earthlike — then she saw their gigantic scale. “On Earth, these would be called mountains.”

  “I know — I’ve heard. The Big Hills are oversize, like Number One itself.”

  “Were you born here, Felcie?”

  “If you call it that. I’m one of the zoom-womb babies, hatched out of sperm and ova from a hijacked UET ship.”

  “I have heard of that episode — but I thought it was longer ago.”

  The girl laughed again. “Well, they couldn’t hatch us all at once, you know. I’m from the last batch.” Her face and voice turned serious. “Tari — what’s it like to have parents — your own, I mean, instead of maybe one grownup to fifty or sixty kids?” After a silence she turned to look at Rissa.

  “Did I say something?”

  Rissa shook her head. “No, Felcie — it is merely that I do not know. It has been so long — I cannot really remember.”

  The lodge clung to the edge of a high valley, overlooking a wooded downward sweep. Felcie landed in a clearing alongside the building. “I’ll help you to the door with your things, but I’m not supposed to go inside. Comes to that — officially I don’t even know who lives here.”

  “Then I will not ask. So I cannot give you away by error.”

  “But you know, don’t you? I mean — “ Suddenly Felcie grinned and snapped her fingers; then her expression was solemn. “Now I know why the Provost . . .”

  “Yes? Tell me.”

  “I should’ve stitched it together sooner.” Her head gestured toward the lodge. “These people here — they don’t win popularity contests among their rivals, but generally they’re respected. Dal Nardo, though

  — it’s common knowledge — he’s a hating man, and anyone connected here is what he hates most.” “I . . . see. I wish I had known.” Rissa shuddered briefly. “Well, perhaps I should go inside.” They disembarked. At the lodge’s door the girl said, “I hope I see you again, Tari.”

  “So do I. And thank you.” Rissa saw her walk away, and turned to the door and knocked.

  The young man who answered wore a hood and dark goggles. From his pale skin Rissa suspected he was another albino, and wondered if the condition were common on Number One. He said, “I’m Castel. And you’re who?”

  “Tari Obrigo.”

  His smile showed smallish teeth. “The one who angered Provost dal Nardo.”

  “I am afraid so. I would have preferred not to, but — ”

  “Dal Nardo’s a frunk. But it’s dangerous to provoke him — especially for a Hulzein connection lacking immune status. He hates this clan.”

  “So I have been told. But unfortunately, after the fact. And the way he talked, it seems dangerous even to meet him.”

  Castel shrugged. “I’m not standing in line for the privilege.” He took one of her suitcases, turned and motioned for her to follow.

  They walked down a wide hall paneled in dark wood. Castel opened a carved door and gestured her inside. “Wait here. Sit facing the big chair.” She nodded; he set the suitcase beside her and closed the door.

  Before sitting she looked around the room — spacious but low-ceilinged, with heavy beams that matched the massive effect of its furnishings. Outside, climbing vines obscured the single large window and dimmed incoming sunlight. On the walls hung trophy heads of unfamiliar animals. The great chair, heavy and ornately carved, sat with its back near the window.

  She heard a sound behind her and turned; a tall woman entered. Rissa gasped. “Erika!” But no — it could not be — the face was uncannily the same, but younger than Erika had been. And the thick braids, coiled crowning the head, were iron-gray, not white. “Frieda?” Yet she recalled Frieda’s features as coarser, not so cleanly cut.

  “Weren’t you told to sit, Tari Obrigo? Please do so.” The woman waited while Rissa seated herself facing the commanding position of the big chair, then walked to it and sat. Against the light Rissa could not see the face clearly, nor its expression. The woman chuckled. “You’ve pretty well established your bona fides. You knew Erika? And Frieda? What word do you bring me?”

  “I knew them, yes. And their man on Far Corner.”

  “His name?”

  “Osallin.” The woman nodded, and Rissa said, “But who are you?”

  “Erika didn’t tell you? Then why are you here? Maybe our interview won’t be as routine as I thought.”

  “Erika told me nothing of this planet. All that she — or I — knew of my plans was that I would go to Far Corner and then to whatever

  Hidden World I could reach. Osallin mentioned a Hulzein connection

  here on Number One. But you — you are a Hulzein, are you not?”

  “What year did you leave Earth? How old was Erika?”

  Rissa named the year. “She was seventy, and Frieda thirty.”

  “It matches.” The nod took the crown of braids into and then out of a shaft of sunlight. “And what’s your own age?”

  “Biological? About eighteen, I think. I can say more closely from the day-count of my timepiece which is . . . packed away. And — what Earth year is it now?” Seeing the woman’s smile, Rissa flushed and rephrased her question. “Yes — I know that simultaneity cannot apply over the distances we travel. But how old would I be, had I remained on Earth?”

  “That’s still not entirely accurate, but better. Let’s see — about forty-four, I’d guess. Me, now — I’m a biological sixty, and twenty-nine years ahead of the game.” She sighed. “If Erika’s still alive, which I doubt, she’d be ninety-eight. And apparently she hadn’t heard from me when you left — or didn’t see fit to tell you, if she
had.”

  After a moment Rissa said, “I do not know which.” She shook her head. “You look so much like Erika. Younger, of course . . .”

  “How long did you know her?”

  “Something over a year. She . . . taught me.”

  For a moment, silence. Then; “You sound right; I’ll take the chance. Not much of one — you don’t leave the Lodge until I say so, and my jurisdiction’s as absolute as Erika’s. You understand?”

  “Of course. But still I do not know — ”

  “Who I am? I’m Liesel Hulzein, Erika’s sister.”

  “She said nothing — ”

  “She wouldn’t. Well, then — tell me what you know of the Hulzeins.”

  “I know of Heidele, Renalle, Erika, and Frieda.” She decided not to mention Osallin’s forebodings. “But I did not know of you.”

  Liesel Hulzein rubbed a palm across her eyes. “No? Well, it’s simple enough. Erika was a sickly child, so our mother had me — for insurance, continuity of the line. Erika and I got along all right until our mother died — the same year you were born, in fact. Then — it seems Hulzeins can’t share power.”

  “And — what happened?”

  “There was a showdown, and Erika won. She could have had me killed, but it turned out that Hulzeins don’t kill each other, either. So she did what I’d have done in her place — let me get off Earth with fifty million Weltmarks as my share of the Establishment, and kept the rest. She said maybe we could trade together, or our children could, when I found a good base of operations. I doubt she realized — I did-n’t — it’d take thirty objective years to find one — this one. Frozen like a shrimp, I was, twenty-nine of those years.”

  The concept awed Rissa. Perhaps sixty years for round-trip communication? Only the long Hulzein view could work on such terms. She said, “From Earth to Far Corner I had a freeze-chamber. Then, coming here, the ship’s chambers were inoperative, unsafe. But it was only a few months, biological.”

  Abruptly she decided to trust this woman. “Just a moment; I can tell you the exact time lapse.” From a hidden recess in one suitcase she took a small device, used it at each eye, and unveiled her own gray irises. Then she held the lock box to her face; she blinked twice, and it opened. The calendar of her isotope-powered watch gave its answer. “Biologically,” she said, “I have lived two hundred seventy-five days since boarding Inconnu at Far Corner.”

  “Inconnu?” The word came as a gasp.

  “Yes. You know that ship?”

  “I’ve heard of it. Go on.”

  “Oh. And — umm — of the time since I left Earth — and with the slowing of body-time by freezing — today I am biologically as near eighteen years old as makes no difference.”

  The older woman cleared her throat. “Fine. But something interests me more. Those little things you lifted off your corneas — far as I know, they don’t work in more than one layer, so I’m seeing your real eye color. And it doesn’t match with your identification. You call yourself Tari Obrigo — who are you, really?”

  “The name should not matter, here — Rissa Kerguelen — you would not have heard it.”

  After a moment, Liesel pointed a finger. “Oh, but I have! — and not too long ago, from a fast ship Escaped direct from Earth. You’re the child who won the Committee’s lottery and skipped out, leaving UET grinding its teeth. So you went to ground at Erika’s, did you? Now how did you manage that, fresh out of Welfare?”

  “I had help — a friend of my parents.”

  “I see. And you were with Erika a year or so . . .” She paused. “Turn the lights on, will you? The switch is by the door.” Rissa did so. Now, as she sat again, she could see the other’s expression.

  Smiling, Liesel Hulzein said, “I read what you said to the press the day you got out of Welfare. They asked what you planned to do, and you said — get off Earth, grow your hair down to your butt, and the rest was none of their business!” She laughed, coughed, then laughed again. “Well, you’re off Earth, all right — the hair still has some way to go.”

  Self-consciously, Rissa reached to touch the ends of hair that lay against her back. “I have had less than three years, biological, and slowed for part of that time by the freeze-chamber. And I must trim the skimpy ends at the back to let the front catch up, or it does not look well.”

  Liesel’s laugh was a whoop. “Oh, I wasn’t trying to embarrass you. Just a factual comment because your remarks stuck in my mind. And I admired you for speaking up that way, under the circumstances.” She gripped the arms of the big chair and came up standing.

  “I’ll have Castel show you to your room. Unpack, rest, have a bath — a snack, if you like; he’ll bring you something. And be dressed to have dinner with us shortly after sundown.” “Us? And how shall I dress?” “Us is whoever I have to table. Dress as you like.”

  Her room was on the third floor, at the front. Its window looked out over a vast sweep of woodland to the range of hills she had crossed. Here too, the walls were wood-paneled, but in a lighter color. The bath dwarfed Rissa; one faucet brought warm water that bubbled gently and smelled of forest. She lay a long time, head propped on a cushion so that face and ears were above water. Then almost in one motion she gripped the sides of the bath, drew her feet under her, and sprang erect. She felt refreshed, euphoric; without volition her laugh came.

  She toweled herself. Then off came Tari Obrigo — the nose mole, the protruding teeth-cap, the fingerprints — all of it. She brushed back her wet hair, gripped the mass to bring the ends around to vision, and trimmed off a wispy half-inch. Then she dried it and held one mirror to see herself reflected in another. It was getting there, she thought — the front was catching up to the back. Still far short of her impromptu boast, but — oh, well . . .

  Another young man — Ernol, taller than Castel and of African ancestry — summoned her for dinner and showed her the way. The dining room reminded her of the room in which she had met Liesel — the same effect of massiveness. Wall lights and a central chandelier were jets of burning gas.

  Against a wall stood a huge table; under the central lights was placed a smaller one. It would have seated six, but only four chairs surrounded it.

  Liesel sat in one. To her right was a younger woman — perhaps, by Earth years, nearing thirty — tall, slim, with dark hair coiled atop her head and a lean, tanned face. All her features were emphatic — heavy arched brows over green eyes, the cheekbones and chin, blade-straight nose over a wide mouth — it was, thought Rissa, as though her face competed with its own parts. And yet the whole had a precarious harmony.

  The man at Liesel’s left Rissa guessed to be nearly seven feet tall. A curly black beard largely hid his swarthy face. His eyes were deep-set; she could not determine their color.

  Liesel glanced up and said, “Do sit down. Rissa Kerguelen, be acquainted with Hawkman and Sparline Moray.” The two nodded but said nothing; Rissa did the same, and sat.

  Young persons brought food and wine; the wall lights dimmed and went dark. “There is a business matter,” said Hawkman Moray in a soft, deep voice. “Fennerabilis overreaches himself.”

  “When he loses his balance,” said Liesel, “we push. Sparline — could you distract his attention for a time at the next ten-day gathering?”

  “So long as I need not give him mine, after the gathering.”

  As the discussion began, excluding Rissa, so it continued. Trying to follow it, she ate without noting flavors. Time passed slowly; she was filled, but continued eating for want of anything else to do. Her one attempt at conversation, a comment on her impressions of the planet, was not only ignored but interrupted.

  All right, she thought; she could sulk with the best of them. She kept silence and soon was engrossed in her own thoughts, unheeding of the talk that so pointedly ignored her. I do not have to stay here, she thought. I can play docile for a time, and then . . . After all, she still had Cele Metrokin as a hole card — and Laura Konig. At the time for drug-sticks
, she smoked automatically and lightly.

  Liesel’s voice cut through her preoccupation. “I said, ‘Rissa — we’re not boring you, are we?’”

  She shook her head, not in negation but to clear her mind. She said, “It is futile to lie to a Hulzein, and I prefer the truth anyway. You are boring the hell out of me, and you all very well know it.”

  Hawkman Moray grunted, touched a napkin to his lips, and rose. “In that case we will desist. Come, Sparline.”

  The woman stood also. “Good night, Liesel.” Arm in arm, the two left the room.

  Alarmed, Rissa looked at her hostess. “Should I follow and apologize?”

  “No, they found out what they wanted to know. So did I.”

  “Have I made myself unwelcome here?”

  Liesel shook her head. “You’ve missed the point. Rissa, did you understand anything of what was said here?”

  Rissa started to say no, then realized that the gist had stuck in her mind. “It is a power play. Fenner — whatever his name is — is trying to undermine your influence in the Windy Lakes area. So you will use — oh, I forget the names — to give him trouble elsewhere, to occupy him while you sew the Lakes up solidly. And — ”

  “That’s close enough. You see, you did understand. Then why were you bored?”

  “Because no one ever spoke to me, or explained who anybody is. I — ”

  “In some ways, you’re a spoiled child. Capable, yes — but untrained.”

  “Erika trained me!”

  “In some skills. Not, apparently, in patience or subtlety.” She waved a hand. “No, no — don’t confuse individual guile with the ability to work subtly in group actions. However, I have hope for you — if you’re willing to learn. And if you survive, once you’re ready for work outside this place.”

  “Survive? Why should I not?”

  “Dal Nardo. I called him — he wants your life, all right. He hates anything to do with the Hulzeins, and you humiliated him. He as much as told me I can’t hide you forever — and when you come out, you’ll be challenged by hired duelists.”