Which one was her contact on this colony? Had she met with him or her yet? Bain had learned from the other times he had accompanied Marnya, not all Order members traveled and worked visibly as Scholars or teachers or healers. Some pretended to be ordinary people, working in ordinary jobs where nobody would ever notice them. Bain figured it was just like what happened with children; people talked about secret things around children that they wouldn't discuss with other adults around. Too many adults overlooked children, or assumed the children wouldn't understand what was said.
In the offices where there were windows, Bain sometimes stood by the window and looked out into the street. He tried to find Jax, wherever the bodyguard might be waiting and hiding. He never did find the big man, no matter how hard he looked. Bain decided he would ask Jax how he could hide in plain sight, so even the people who were looking for him couldn't find him. That might be a useful talent later on, when the war was over.
Bain thought maybe he would need to know how to do that, if Lin's ideas worked out and Spacers teamed up with the Order on a permanent basis to help the Commonwealth. He liked the idea of visiting other worlds and pretending to be dozens of different people, gathering information and bringing help to the ones who really needed it. When the war was over, of course. Everything had to wait until the Mashrami left the Commonwealth alone forever.
Just before dusk, Sister Marnya finished her last interview and put her thumbprint on the last document. She sighed and pretended to lean on Bain for support as they left the office and stepped down into the street.
“Thank Fi'in that's over,” she muttered. “I forgot how much I hate paperwork. It's been ... well, quite a few years since I had to fill out reports most of the day.” She squeezed his shoulder and chuckled softly. “Now, I just read the infernal things most of the day."
“Now what do we do?” Bain led the way around the corner and down another long street, crowded with people heading home for the evening.
“We go back to our inn and eat dinner, first. After that ... well, it all depends on what Jax has found out today."
“Found out?"
“Later.” She squeezed his shoulder and nodded at a large group of men approaching them.
The men were all dressed in dark brown coveralls and wore helmets. Their clothes were streaked with red and yellow clay, ubiquitous to Antebio. Miners, Bain guessed. They talked loudly and bumped into each other as they walked, their steps uneven and their legs wobbling a little. They didn't even try to step aside for people as they approached, but kept walking straight ahead. Everyone else on the street had to move aside for them, or else risk brushing up against them and getting clay and grime on their clothes. Bain thought they were rude. Being tired was no excuse for rudeness. If they knew who Sister Marnya was, Bain was sure they would make room. They would probably be embarrassed.
He couldn't tell them, though. That would ruin everything. Bain sighed and swallowed the words he wanted to speak, and tried not to ask any more questions until they reached the inn.
In a corner of the main hall of the inn, a man stood over a long grill, cooking spiced meat on skewers. After they had returned to their room and washed up, Marnya sent Bain downstairs to get two skewers each for their dinner. There were four people ahead of Bain when he got there, waiting for their orders to cook.
“All alone, boy?” a familiar voice said from behind and high above Bain.
He turned and looked and had to bite the inside of his mouth not to grin in recognition. Jax towered over Bain. He wore a fake beard streaked with silver, and had silver painted in his sparse eyebrows. His voice had a gravelly sound and he hunched his shoulders and leaned on a cane. He still looked like Jax, even through the disguise.
Bain looked at the man a moment, wondering why the usual sparkle of humor was missing from Jax's eyes. Then he remembered the question and shook his head.
“My mother is upstairs waiting for our dinner.” Bain pointed at the man ahead of him who was taking his order from the cook, loaded on a thick, curved paper platter. “Four skewers, please,” the boy said, and handed over two triangular copper pieces that passed for money on Antebio.
“Tell her to be careful. The meat is more spicy than it looks.” Jax squeezed Bain's shoulder, his fingers brushing against the collar of his shirt.
Bain flinched, feeling a thin piece of paper slide down his collar. He nodded at Jax and tried not to watch as the man slowly hobbled across the lobby, leaning on his cane.
Back in the room, Bain hurried to put down the platter of skewered, steaming meat, and slipped the paper out of his collar.
“Jax met me in the lobby,” he explained, and held the paper out to Sister Marnya.
“I wondered,” she said, nodding. She unfolded the paper and glanced over it. For a long moment, Sister Marnya stood perfectly still, then she closed her eyes and crumpled the paper. “Jax was supposed to come up to our room this evening,” she said, opening her eyes again. “This says he lost us today. He was led astray by a decoy."
“But—” Bain felt sick. He understood the danger even before his mind could comprehend what trouble the words meant. “If there was a decoy, someone knew who he was watching and what we looked like."
“Exactly.” She crumpled the paper into a tighter ball, until it nearly vanished into a microscopic, hard lump in her fist. Her lips formed a trembling smile, then it vanished a moment later. “Jax says he was wrong, arguing against us playing mother and son and staying overnight. He thinks your presence was what saved me. The Shadows aren't ready to make moves with witnesses or loose ends that will lead to questions."
“I don't understand.” He sat down at the table and rested his elbows on the edge.
“The Shadows know I don't have a son. Therefore, I must have borrowed you from someone. That someone will ask questions and raise a fuss if you aren't returned, unhurt. They aren't strong enough—or arrogant enough—to risk raising those questions.” She sat slowly on the end of the bed closest to the table and looked at the crumpled paper in her hand. She frowned.
“You're going to send me back to the ship, aren't you?” he guessed.
“I should—"
“But Jax just said my being here protects you, right?"
“Right.” Marnya nodded slowly. Bain could tell from the troubled curve of her mouth, the darkness in her eyes, and the little wrinkles forming between her eyebrows, that she wasn't quite convinced.
“I want to help. I'll do anything I can to help you and help the Order."
“Thank you, Bain.” She reached out and squeezed his hand. “I can't ask you to risk your life for me."
“You don't have to ask.” Bain shivered inside at the idea of being in that much danger.
“I promised Lin I'd take care of you."
“Lin would agree with me!” At least, Bain hoped she would. After all, Lin had taught him how much Spacers owed the Order.
“How soon until the Shadows either decide to ignore the problems, or they figure out a way to take me without harming you?"
“We'll stick really close together, then.” Bain turned his hand around under hers and returned the clasp. “Lin says we only get into trouble when we don't work together."
“You're risking too much, Bain. I can't—"
“You're risking just as much. They can only kill me once, right?"
“Perhaps.” She shook her head. “Bain, you have no idea what they can do to you."
“Jax can protect us, can't he?"
“What if they're strong enough to take Jax out?"
“I'm not afraid to die. Lin and I went hunting Mashrami with the Rangers, and we could have been killed then, too. Lin told me to pray a lot, and she said we had to do it. We had to risk ourselves to help other people because that's what Fi'in wants. She said if we don't help fix problems, that's just as bad as making the problems in the first place."
Marnya shook her head. She closed her eyes tight enough to make wrinkles all around them. A few big tears squeezed out f
rom under her eyelids and her shoulders started shaking. Bain held tight to her hand, wondering what he had said wrong. Then a few choked sounds escaped Sister Marnya. He thought she was crying, until he realized she smiled—even if it was crooked. That sound was laughter.
“Bain, when you grow up—” she gasped. “If you live long enough to grow up, you are going to be a great, good man, and do great, good things. The Commonwealth will never be the same. I pray Fi'in I live long enough to see the changes you make.” Sister Marnya tugged her hand free and wiped the laughter tears off her face.
“Oh.” He thought a moment. “Does that mean we're going to stay here and keep working?"
“Yes!” She burst out in more choked laughter and then surprised him when she reached out and hugged him. After a frozen moment, Bain hugged her back.
* * * *
Some time long after midnight, Bain woke from a sound sleep, thinking he had heard his mother call him. He lay still a long time, feeling his heart race in his chest. His sheet and thick, woven blanket felt damp and hot. When he reached up to touch his face, Bain found it covered with sweat—and the blanket pulled up over his face. Sighing, he pushed it aside and rolled over.
The windows hung open with the shutters folded back and the curtains pushed aside. The light from all four of Antebio's moons spilled in through the windows. Sister Marnya sat on the end of her bed, looking up through the windows. The moonlight painted her silver with a touch of blue around the edges. Bain lay still a long time, until his heart grew quiet and returned to a normal pace and the sweat dried off his face and he felt cool again. He watched her.
She sat so still, she could have been carved from solid moonlight, with her knees drawn up to her chest and her chin resting on her knees. The light removed all the lines from her make-up and took away the hair dye. For a long moment, Bain could believe she was nearly his age—then he blinked and she looked old, older than the stars, despite her lack of wrinkles.
“Don't you feel good?” he asked in a whisper.
“I'm fine.” She turned and smiled at him. “I'm just thinking. When you get to be my age, you only need as much sleep as you want."
“Huh?” Bain suspected he shouldn't try to figure out what that statement really meant. “How old are you?"
Marnya laughed, at the same moment he realized that wasn't a very polite question to ask.
“Sometimes I feel older than the Commonwealth, older than spaceflight, and sometimes I feel so young I don't even know my own name or where I was yesterday.” She shrugged and turned back to gazing at the moons. “This stop is different from the others,” she continued. “I'm out here to check on the reports I've received back on Vidan, yes. But, I'm also here to meet with my spies. The Shadows are hunting us, so we have to hunt them, too. I'm supposed to meet one of my hunters here. She hasn't appeared yet, and that worries me."
“Maybe she doesn't know you with all that make-up, and me pretending to be your son,” Bain offered.
“Maybe. Remember this, Bain, when you're a grown man and in charge of many people: being a leader doesn't mean you can tell everyone else what to do. It means taking responsibility for everyone, looking out for them and taking care of their problems. It means going hungry, so everyone else can eat. It means going without sleep so everyone else can rest. It means wearing rags in the dead of winter so no one else will be cold."
“We are all Fi'in's handiwork, so we are all Fi'in's children. Everyone is our brother and sister, and everyone is our mother and father, and everyone is our son and daughter,” Bain whispered.
“That's very wise."
“It's part of the oath the Free Traders make their students swear in training."
“I wish everyone would be taught that oath. The Order would have a great deal less work to do if everyone believed that way.” Sister Marnya turned her head to smile at him. “Go back to sleep, Bain. We have a great deal of walking to do in the morning."
Bain grinned and nodded and rolled over and pulled the sheet over his head again. As he slowly drifted off to sleep, he heard Marnya humming softly in the moonlight. He didn't recognize the tune, but he tried to remember it so he could play it later on his harp. Somewhere in the middle of the song, he fell asleep.
* * *
Chapter Twelve
When Bain went down to the main hall of the inn the next morning for fresh bread, he saw Jax sitting in the shadows, waiting. He wore a dark brown cape with a billowing hood that barely revealed his face. The big man tugged back the hood enough for Bain to see his face, half-hidden in the shadows. He crooked a finger, beckoning for the boy to come to him. Bain nodded and pointed at the cart full of cloth-wrapped bundles of hot, fresh, flat loaves of bread. It filled the entire room with a sweet, warm perfume that doubled his morning hunger. Bain hurried over to the woman tending the cart and bought two loaves with one small triangular coin. He wrapped them in the cloths Sister Marnya had given him and tucked them under his arm to keep the wrapping sealed and warm. Then he scurried across the nearly-empty room to where Jax sat near the door.
“She said we have to be extra careful today,” Bain said as he reached the big man. “Hey!"
Jax grabbed him by his wrist, leaped to his feet and hurried for the door. His big hand held hard to Bain's wrist. It hurt after only three steps. Bain stumbled and nearly went to his knees. He lost his grip on the bread.
“Wait!” he yelped.
Jax turned around and snatched Bain up around his waist. Four more steps took them out the door. There was no one in the street that early in the morning. Everything was a haze of cool, gray shadows and mist with a faint tinge of gold along the rooftops, where the rising sun tried to burn through.
“What are you—” Bain stopped short, the breath knocked out of him when Jax broke into a run. His jolting steps dug his arm into Bain's stomach in a fierce, fast rhythm.
Bain hung face down in the curve of the man's muscled arm. He tried to twist around to at least see where they were going. That earned him a hard slap on the back of his head; hard enough to make him dizzy.
This is wrong.
Fear fought with his dizziness and the sick feeling twisting through his stomach. Bain knew Jax would never grab him that way. Jax would never hit him like that. The only conclusion was that this man wasn't Jax.
Bain swallowed hard, trying to force down the feeling that something tried to come up from his stomach. He jerked one hand free and rubbed at his throat.
The warm, smooth feel of his collar link under his fingers startled him. Now Bain felt stupid, too. How could he have forgotten his collar link? He pressed his fingers against it.
The soft beep of acknowledgment sounded loud over the thudding slaps of the man's running footsteps. Bain cringed.
“What was that?” the man growled.
He definitely wasn't Jax. His voice was low and rough and sounded like he had gravel in his throat.
He stopped and dropped Bain so the boy landed crooked and twisted his ankle. Bain stumbled, falling against a wall behind him. He hit the ground; filthy stones and wet debris, bits of rotting fruit and stalks of plants and mud.
“Bain?” Ganfer's voice had never sounded so wonderful before. “What is it, Bain?"
“Ganfer, I'm—” Bain yelped as the man grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked him to his feet. For three painful seconds, Bain hung by his hair, the toes of his boots nearly ten centimeters from the ground.
The man looked like Jax with his long face and bald head and dark skin. His mouth was a sneering frown; his eyes tiny and bloodshot; a long scar ran down one side of his face, turning it into a lopsided wreck. He glared at Bain in those three seconds, then reached into his pocket with his free hand and brought out a dirty rag. He slapped it over Bain's face and shoved the boy against the wall behind him again.
“Ganfer!” Bain tried to shout through the damp, sour-smelling cloth. He took a deep breath to try to shout again and immediately the world started spinning around him. T
he air grew thick in his lungs. Bain closed his eyes and felt himself start falling a long, long way.
Somewhere far away, the man who looked a little like Jax started laughing.
* * * *
Bain woke slowly, feeling like he was rising to the ceiling while falling down a corkscrew. His stomach wanted to twist inside out—and his head felt the same way. He hovered in darkness, and wondered if his brain could throw up and empty itself of sickness as easily as his stomach. Bain knew he would feel better much sooner if he could do that.
Then he smelled the dirty damp of wet rock under his nose and the sour smell of rotting straw. He tried to open one eye. It didn't want to open. It felt like someone had dripped glue into his eyes while he slept. Maybe Toly Gaber was on this planet and had caught up with Bain.
That doesn't make any sense. Bain tried again and this time managed to get his eye open.
He lay on his side in a pile of something that felt like damp, thick stalks that crackled softly when he moved. Movement right now consisted of breathing. Bain tried to brush the stickiness off his eyes and realized his hands were tied—to his belt, in front of him. He blinked a few times and his eyes focused better, showing a dark room all around him. He felt a wall at his back, and somewhere on the far side of the room—was it big, or was he still sick and everything looked wrong?—a door hung open a few centimeters. A faint, blurred strip of light tried to sneak into the room. A long line of pale, watery gold spilled across the floor and didn't show him anything.
“Bain?” Ganfer's voice came through the collar link, so soft, at first Bain thought he only imagined the ship-brain had spoken. “Bain, can you hear me? My sensors show you are awake now."
“Yes.” He choked. His throat was so dry he could hardly make a sound. “Yes, I can hear you."
“Good. Lin says I must be quiet when your captor returns, but I want you to know I am listening."
“Can you find where I am?” Bain whispered. The effort to speak made him feel dizzy. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths, fighting the feeling.
“I have already found you. They are on their way in to retrieve you right now."
The Lady And the Order [Sunsinger Chronicles Book 4] Page 13