Tepper,Sheri - After Long Silence

by After Long Silence(Lit)

"You didn't want to go with Chanty," he snarled, mimicking viciously. "Oh, no, little Affy didn't want to get mixed up with kidnapping babies and killing women."

  "I don't like killing," she said with some dignity. "I never have. You and Chantiforth Bins know that very well, Myrony. I never did a job with you where there was any killing, and I haven't done any on this one. Besides, I think it shits to go grabbing babies. Why's this woman and her kid important anyhow?"

  "Justin thinks she may be important to that Tripsinger from Deepsoil Five, that's all. Important enough, maybe he'll trade for her."

  "Most unlikely," she drawled, putting on her pulpit voice. "Most unlikely for any man to put himself in peril to save some woman, particularly some woman isn't even his wife or anything." She wiped sweat again and glared at the handkerchief, grimed with the sticky dust of the trail. "Besides, I thought you and Geroan were going to take care of the Tripsinger and the Explorer. When and if we catch up to them, that is."

  "If is right. According to Justin, they had them located. Located, hell. By the time we got dropped off, they were god knows how far ahead of us. All we were supposed to do was buzz in, splash 'em from a distance with these new rifles and get ourselves back to Splash One, ready for the sunder. Oh, yeah, Justin had it all plotted."

  "You didn't say splash them to me, My. You said take care of … "

  "What the fuckin' hell did you think we meant, Affy? Invite 'em to a tea party? Convert 'em into bein' good little Crystallites?"

  She was silent for a time, finally asking with at least an appearance of meekness, "Well, when we catch up to them and you dispose of the Tripsinger, then nobody needs the woman and kid, do they!"

  "Insurance," he growled, almost beneath his breath, hearing the crunch of hooves narrowing the distance between themselves and Spider Geroan. "The woman and the kid are just insurance, Affy, and mind your fuckin' tongue."

  Inside one of the massive walls of the BDL building, a lean and dusty figure lifted a soil-filled bucket high above her head and felt the weight leave her hands as it was hauled away.

  "That's enough for now," came a whisper from above. "Come on up, Gretl." There was the sound of water running. The dirt dug out of the mud brick wall was being disposed of, washed into the sewers of Splash One.

  Gretl Mechas started to object, then sagged against the wall of the vertical shaft, unable to muster the strength to move. She could not have continued, even if he had been willing. The makeshift mallet and chisel fell from her hands.

  "Gretl?"

  "Coming," she said at last, setting her foot on the first of the laboriously inserted pegs that formed a spiral ladder in the chimneylike shaft. When she came to the top, Michael, the doctor, reached for her hand and pulled her out, like a cork out of a bottle. They stood in what had been Gretl's cell when she had been alive. Now that she was dead—for the second time—it was presumably empty, at least temporarily. Michael placed a mud-covered bit of planking conveniently near the opening, then moved the cot back almost to cover it.

  "How much farther do we have to go down?" she sighed.

  He ran the length of hauling rope between his hands, measuring off the yards. "Another twenty feet, maybe. That should bring us into the cellars." He dropped the bucket and coils of rope into the shaft. "I can get us down another foot or so tonight, after I'm sure he's asleep."

  "You're sure he's got a tunnel?" She asked the question for the twentieth time and he gave her the answer he had given each time before.

  "According to the guards I overheard, yes. It was put in when the building was constructed. It runs out to the east, through the farmland. There's a door out there. According to the men, it's so well hidden from the outside, it isn't even locked."

  "We should be able to move faster now that I'm dead," she said tonelessly, wiping the dust from her eyes. "I won't have to listen for that damned door every minute, wondering if he's coming down the hall."

  The doctor nodded, fetching a damp cloth from the attached convenience so she could wash the dust from her face. "There's no one else alive in this corridor, Gretl. Unless he brings someone new in here, I think you're safe. And from what the ladies say, he's preoccupied with other things right now."

  "Ladies," she snorted weakly.

  "They hate him just as much as you do. They just had a lower breaking point, that's all." He stroked her hair. "You did your part very well. You looked as though you were dying."

  "You were right. He didn't want me any more when he couldn't get any response. It was hard not to show anything, Michael. Oh, God, but I do hate him."

  "I know."

  "I've meant to ask, how did you make him believe I was dead?"

  "The same way he made everyone out there believe Gretl Mechas was dead before. There's no shortage of bodies. There are two or three rooms down the corridor that have bodies in them. I just bagged one of those and gave it to the guards. They weren't likely to look. They saw what they expected to see, just as your friends did when they saw your clothes on that other poor soul, whoever it was." Michael's voice shook with despair. "The place is full of death. Justin breathes death. My wife and the kids are dead. I know it. God, I hoped for so long, but I saw it in his eyes this last time."

  "Why did he pick you?"

  "The historic press published a story on me. I'd developed some new treatments for diseases of aging using biological products I'd found here on Jubal. Nothing very significant, but the historic news blew it up into something. He asked me to work for him full time as his personal physician. I thought that was ridiculous and said so … "

  "Justin told me once that no one can say no to him."

  "He said the same thing to me. 'Nobody gets away with saying no to Harward Justin,' and 'What's mine stays mine.' "

  "What's his stays dead," she whispered. "Did he think you could keep him alive forever or something?"

  "Who knows what he thought. I can't extend his life, no matter what. So far I've been lucky. He hasn't been sick. And, of course, when the escape shaft is done … " His head came up, listening. "I hear something. Better get through onto my side in case he pays me a visit." He crawled headfirst into the opening, bent his body into a "U" shape and came up through a similar opening on the other side of the wall, behind a couch in his own apartment. Behind him, Gretl hovered, listening to furniture-moving sounds. In a moment she heard him whispering, "False alarm. Do you have enough food? I have more for you here if you need it."

  "Not hungry," she mumbled.

  "Have to be," he told her. "Both of us have to be. For strength. Strength to be dead, Gretl. Strength to get us out of here."

  "All right," she said, reaching through the thick wall to take the wrapped package. Then she placed the plank over the hole and moved the bare cot to cover it. When the doctor had come to "do away with her," he had wedged the latch on her door so it wouldn't close. Later, while she was below in the shaft they had been digging for months, he had given the guards her "body." The guards weren't watchful, and they certainly weren't intelligent.

  She slipped to the far end of the corridor and into an empty room, carefully wedging the latch, saliva filling her mouth at the smell of the package in her hands. She would have a bath. And a meal. And then sleep. And then it would be night, and she would start digging again.

  Thalia Ferrence sat in her chair by the wall, dreaming of a grandchild. The Grand Master had called to tell her that he had learned about the woman, that she and the child were on their way to her. The child and Lim's wife, Vivian. Thalia hadn't told Betuny yet. Betuny would be upset, afraid that Thalia wouldn't need her anymore. Perhaps Thalia wouldn't really need Betuny anymore, but she'd deal with that later. Just now, it was too pleasant to anticipate, to dream, to imagine all the wonderful things implied in a daughter coming, and a baby. And to think about old times, too. She had done that a lot lately.

  She had allowed herself a celebratory glass of broundy, something she seldom did, and now sat in her chair at the end of the garde
n, her arms folded on the low wall, the setting sun shining full on her face so that she felt the soft warmth of it as she half dreamed about old times long past, wishing she could see the brou fields and the towering Presences once more. She could see them in a sense, but they loomed so large in her remembered vision that she wondered if she had not created them. She wanted to check reality against her memory and had spent a long hour floating dreamily over this, as though the truth were something she needed to arrive at—a key to some future imagining that could not be achieved otherwise. She could no longer be sure what was true, what had actually happened. What had been the truth about Lim, about Miles? Was Tasmin actually what she thought he was? Had Celcy been? Was this woman who was coming going to be a part of her life? Was this world the world she remembered, or was it only a dream she had invented? How would she know?

  The voice, when it came, though it asked a similar question, was not like that other voice that had accosted her. This voice was so soft and insinuating it could have been part of her brooding dream.

  "Are you the mother of Lim Ferrence?"

  The broundy was flowing in her veins. "Lim Terrée he called himself," she said, almost chanting and with a half smile curving her lips. "But I was his mother, yes." The voice that had spoken to her was a strange voice, almost like a child's voice, but with an odd accent. It could be a dream voice. Certainly it did not seem to be a real one.

  There was a moment's silence, as though she had said something confusing.

  "Was?" the voice asked at last. "Implies former time? Not now?"

  "He is dead," she said. "Dead. He died on the Enigma."

  A tiny consternation of sounds. She was reminded of birds talking, that chirrupy, squeaky noise, but in a moment the child's voice spoke again, almost like singing.

  "What kin did he leave behind?"

  "I thought it was just me, you know. I thought I was his only real kin, the only one who still cared, and remembered, and grieved. Oh, there is Tasmin, of course. His brother, but Tasmin couldn't be expected to care. Yes, I thought it was only me, but it seems he had a wife, and a child. They're coming here. Soon. Someone came to inquire about them, and then when I asked the citadel, they found out for me … " Her dream gave way to a sharp pang of anxiety. "I hope nothing's happened to them."

  Again that dream pause. Something brushed her face, like a feather, something soft, cool, and infinitely gentle. Then the voice. "Why should something happen to them?"

  "I don't know. It's that man who came. His voice. He didn't tell me his name. He said it was lucky I was blind. He wanted to know where Lim's wife was, and his baby. I told them I didn't know Lim had a wife and a baby. The man wasn't polite. He didn't even say goodbye."

  That small consternation of sound once more. "Did you think it was a threat to your son's wife?"

  "It seemed odd they would want to know where she was. It seemed odd anyone would want to know. What is she to anyone? The Master General said she was only a woman, no position, no family. Working in the fish market, he said. And the baby, only a baby." Thalia brooded over the wonder of a woman and a baby who were only that. Not Tripsingers. Not people with busy-ness or resentments to take them away, but only people. A woman. A child.

  Then the voice once more, soft as gauze, so soft she could scarcely tell from what direction it came, unaware it came from all about her, from two dozen throats, soft as a whisper. "How was she to come to you, Mother of Lim Ferrence?"

  "By the southern route. Southwest of the Enigma. To the Black Tower." Her eyes filled with tears. She had been worrying over that route. Miles had died at the Black Tower.

  Her weeping hid the tiny sound of those that departed. In the grayed light of dusk none had seen them come, and none saw them go.

  West of Deepsoil Five, the troupe of Bondri Gesel found a trail through the Far Watchlings, called by the viggies Those Joyously Emergent. Although narrow, it was an insensitive trail, one that required little song and on which great haste might be made.

  "We were right about the Enigma," several members of the troupe were singing. "The Mad One has killed again. Lim Ferrence, honored be his name, cannot be repaid, for the Enigma has killed him. Oh, how foolish to attempt song with the Enigma."

  Bondri hissed in irritation, and their song faded away. He didn't wish to think of the Enigma just now. If Favel were still here to sing it over with, perhaps they could have arrived at some conclusion, but this was truly a matter for the priests. He sang so, briefly, to a tinkling chorus of assent.

  "How are we sure that the Loudsinger and her child are in danger?" caroled one of the young viggies, an attractive female whom Bondri had had his eyes on for some time as a proper trade daughter for the troupe of Chowdri, to the south.

  "The mother of Lim Ferrence was not sure," Bondri admitted. "She but suspected danger. Still, she has no eyes, and … "

  "Contradiction," sang the senior giligee. "She has eyes, oh Bondri Gesel, Wide-eared one. Her eyes are not in repair, it is true, but they could be fixed. This pouched one could fix them."

  Bondri made a small noise, indicating both consternation at being interrupted and a degree of doubt. He knew of no incident in which a giligee had worked on a Loudsinger.

  "Truly, oh Bondri Gesel. This one has taken their bodies apart many times. The mother of Lim Ferrence, honored be his name, has only a small malfunction. It could be made proper."

  The giligee had touched Lim Ferrence's mother with its antennae. If the giligee said such a thing could be done, then it could be done. "Remember what you have said," intoned Bondri, wondering just how far a viggy could go in breaking the taboo. "If we do not find the child, it may be we will pay our debt in this way."

  "I interrupted the Troupe Leader," chirped the giligee. "Please return to your song."

  "The woman cannot see," Bondri warbled, this time in the conditional mode. "Our ancestors say of those without eyes that the spirit must see what the flesh cannot, is this not so?"

  "Verily, these are true words," sang the troupe.

  "So, her ears told her the man made a threat, though perhaps his words did not convey his true intention."

  "Blasphemy," sighed the troupe. "Obscenity." To the viggy, words that did not convey reality were worse than no words at all. Once this tendency of the Loudsingers to sing falsehood had been determined, the taboo had been invoked. How could viggies sing with those who did not care about truth?

  "Pity them," intoned Bondri. "For they are lost in darkness of unmeaning." He paused, an obligatory beat, then continued, "So the mother of Lim Ferrence feels her son's mate and their descendent child are in danger. She does not even know she feels it, yet her inward parts know. If such danger truly threatens and can be forefended, Prime Priest Favel's debt is paid even though Lim Ferrence has been killed."

  There was appreciative murmuring, followed by a burst of purely recreational rejoicing. After a time, they halted for grooming and food. Bondri took advantage of the halt to peek into the pouch of the giligee who had honorably corrected him. The pink thing that squirmed there in its nest of pouch-tendrils looked very lively. The brain-bird of Prime Priest Favel was developing well.

  "We're being followed," said Jamieson, getting down from his mule with an exclamation of pain and annoyance as he grabbed for one ankle. "Damn! I keep hitting that place."

  "Shhh," said Clarin. "I told you last night to let me put a bandage on it."

  "It didn't need one."

  "It does if you keep hitting it every time you get on and off your mule, Reb. For heaven's sake!"

  "Oh, all right. Put some kind of a pad on it if it will make you feel better."

  "Me? It's you who keeps hitting it."

  "All right," said Tasmin, wearily as he rolled up his bedding and inflatable mattress. "The two of you slash it off, will you. You say we're being followed?"

  "I rode back and found the highest point I could, Master Ferrence, then looked along the backtrail as you suggested. They were there, all righ
t. Six riders. The only reason I could see them is they're coming down that long traverse along the cliff, the one we were on yesterday morning. About halfway down, the trail splits, you remember? Right there, one of them got down and snooped along the ground, obviously looking for trail signs. Then they came the way we did."

  "Have you any idea who?"

  "Two Explorers, Master. Way out in front, as though they don't want to associate with the ones behind."

  "And the ones behind?"

  "Riding in couples. A man and maybe a woman, then farther back, I think two men."

  "I don't suppose you could see who they are?"

  "I could see the Explorers' leathers. The woman seemed to be wearing something glittery in her hair, beads maybe. Maybe it isn't a woman at all, but that's the impression I got."

  "Well, it was only a matter of time before someone came after us." Tasmin cursed silently, wondering who. Wondering why. Wondering how they had found this trail. The group that had pursued them originally had been easy to evade, and they had hoped there would be no further pursuit. Now, this.

  The long north-south corridor between two escarpments of Presences that Donatella Furz had found for them had made the traveling simple and very quick, since they had not needed to sing their way through. Now they would need to travel even more quickly.

  Don came out of the grove of trees where their small tents were pitched, her face flushed with annoyance or anger or some mixture of both. "Did I hear you say someone is tracking us?"

  Tasmin nodded. She grimaced, then turned to take a folded chart from the pack on the ground, spreading it on a convenient rock and kneeling over it, "Damn! I didn't think anyone would find us in here."

  "They probably found our trail all the way back in the Redfang and tracked us in here, Don. There are two Explorers with the group."

  She shook her head. "Well, I found this corridor. I suppose it would be arrogant of me to think no one else had the wits to find it."

  "Did you tell anyone about this passage?"

  "I probably did. I would have noted it on the file charts in my room, too. I think I told Ralth. Hell, for all we know, Ralth may be one of the Explorers with them."