Carrot decided she would sleep that night with her window shutters latched.
4.
Several days later on a sunny afternoon, Matt and his fellow travelers (aka medical support team) returned from their rounds of the villages in the region. A small girl was picking berries by the roadside, and when she saw them she scattered her basket and fled to the village. A moment later, the trail was clogged with cheering villagers. It seemed all Fish Lake turned out to welcome them home.
Matt accepted the hugs and back slaps with a smile, recalling with amusement that psychological testing had once designated him as 'introverted.' You feel drained by human contact, the psychiatrist had pronounced. Matt had tended to agree, in that in his Earth days, being in groups made him feel more alone than when he was by himself. But a new planet had introduced him to a new kind of people. People who were simpler, yet deeper – more serious, yet more joyful. With their quaint customs such as actually listening to what the other person was saying and thinking of what to say before opening their mouths, Matt often felt energized in their company.
Nonetheless, as Matt mingled with the greeting crowd, Ivan, who was monitoring Matt's physiological indices, commented, “Matt, you appear to be experiencing trepidation.”
“I wonder if all this support will last,” Matt subvocaled in response. “It's a law of physics, what goes up must come down.”
“That is not the case if the object exceeds escape velocity.”
“Once again you have caused an analogy to break down,” he murmured. He surveyed the crowd and didn't see any of the faces that had accompanied him from Rome – or one person in particular.
“She's likely at the training field,” Tret replied, when Matt inquired. “Don't worry, she hasn't forgotten you. You're all she complains about!”
Before Matt could ask what he meant, Senti, the healer-midwife, burrowed through the crowd.
“Welcome home, Matt,” she said in her always calm voice. “I have a patient for you. I believe he feels more pain than he reveals.”
Matt excused himself from the celebration and followed her to the clinic. A small child reclined with a splint on his leg. Matt guessed him to be about twelve Earth years old.
“So you are the Wizard,” the boy said flatly.
“You can call me Matt. What's your name?”
“Bok, of Cod Cove. I grant you permission to examine my injury and heal it if possible.”
“Uh, sure.”
Matt unwrapped the splint. The size of the bruise took him aback, although he had seen worse in his travels. He composed himself and pressed palm to shin. Ivan's microscopic manipulators penetrated into the damaged tissue and an augmented-reality pop-up window in Matt's vision provided a 3D view of the injury.
“This is a serious fracture,” Matt said. “How did you get it?”
“Flying a kite.”
“Well, that's one kite I wouldn't want to tangle with in a dark alley.”
“What's an alley?”
“Not important.” Ivan's micro-tentacles knitted the splintered bone, realigning tissue and restoring nerves. After a few minutes, Matt asked: “How's your leg feeling now?”
Bok wiggled it. “All right.”
Matt removed hand from knee. “That should do it. Go easy on it. No more kite flying for a while.”
From Bok's demeanor, it appeared that kite flying was his reason for existence. “How long?”
“About a week. Also, I'll be leaving again shortly, and I don't know when I'll return, and if you get injured again you'll have to be healed the old fashioned way. Which takes a long time and isn't fun.”
Bok nodded slowly. “You are going in the airship to the other side of the world.”
“Eventually, but I was thinking of another medical tour before winter sets in.”
With Bok dispatched, Matt traded medical information with Senti. She reviewed the recent list of patients and ailments encountered at the clinic during his absence, then they checked over her inventory of natural and Ivan-synthesized remedies. She must have noticed his attention drifting, for she said, “Something troubles you, Matt.”
He shook his head. “I wonder if I'm cut out for medicine. The worst part of every tour is revisiting the older people. Their bodies are always breaking down and I don't have the equipment to rejuvenate them. All I can do is patch them up, and there's more to patch every time I see them. If I leave Britan on a long mission, I know some of them will die before I return.”
She patted his shoulder. “The death of any patient is always hard for we who have chosen the vocation of healer. But if it were up to me, I would that you postpone your trip. And I'm sure Carrot would be pleased too.”
“Have you seen her?”
“You'd best try Ravencall. She all but lives there these days.”
He slumped. “Then I'll have to distract her from a hundred other guys.”
“Poor Matt. You really don't know how to talk to a girl your own age, do you?”
“I knew how to talk to Carrot just fine, in Rome. Now it's like we're always being pulled apart.”
“And so you shall be, by your separate missions.” Senti sighed wistfully. “There is an old story told around the village fire about two lovers who must part for the sake of duty to their countries, and the man compares their feelings to a 'hill of beans.' Yes, enough food to feed a village for a year – that's how important love is!”
Matt arose heavily. “I'll check the training field.”
The road had cleared of well-wishers and he made rapid progress to the field. It was all but empty. Geth was practicing with an ax against a stump, and responded, “I haven't seen Arcadia for a while. Matt . . . do you think that she will ever forgive me for caring for her and for my country both?”
The ax slammed so hard that it scattered chips for meters. Matt bowed and headed for the base, where after an enthusiastic welcoming by the workers he entered the hangar and reviewed the airship refurbishment status with the supervisor. As he signed the test op approval forms, a pair of large eyes set in a small face blinked from clipboard level.
“Since you won't let me fly kites,” Bok said, “can I go on the airship? I could join the crew.”
“We've already got a crew,” Matt replied.
“I could be your cabin boy.”
“I don't need a cabin boy.” Matt suppressed an urge to rant about an economy so primitive that even children were impressed into servitude. “And with all the dangerous stuff laying around here, this is not a safe place for a child. What are you doing in the hanger anyhow?”
“Archimedes said I could be here.”
“I'll have to talk to him,” Matt snapped.
To Matt, it seemed like Archimedes was always attempting to undermine his authority these days, as if Matt didn't already know how precarious his position was as a teenager-in-terrestrial-years leading a project of grown men. But many Britanians saw Archimedes as Roman and would never accept his leadership. Anyhow, to exploit a child just to get back at Matt – well, this was a new low.
As Bok was escorted out, Prin and Andra entered the hangar and greeted Matt with effusive hugs. Prin quickly resumed his pose of unflappability and launched into a recapitulation of project status, which Matt was already aware of. It was difficult to stop Prin once he got rolling.
Andra waited for her husband to run out of breath. “I've someone for you to meet, Matt. A new recruit, a very quick learner. I've never seen anyone pilot so well, better even than Geth.”
“As good as yourself?”
“You might be surprised.”
“That's great, but what we really need are navigators, mechanics – “
“She's a star at everything. You'll see!”
Before he could reply, Andra waved at the doorway. A young woman approached. She was almost as tall as Matt and though not much older, her hair was so light that it almost seemed gray, a color that matched her well-tailored clothing. She met Matt's gaze confidently, but wit
h none of the awe that so many recruits demonstrated upon first encountering the Wizard. Matt sensed uneasily that of the two of them, he was the one who was more intimidated.
Puzzled at his own reaction, he interrogated himself: was it because she was attractive? He felt that Carrot was prettier, so that wasn't it. Still, there was something about the set of her eyes, the cut of her bangs and the curl of her chin, that evoked unease. And – a sense of recognition, though he wasn't sure why.
Andra made introductions: “Matt, this is Savora. Savora, this is Matt.”
Savora bowed deeply. “An honor to meet the Wizard.”
Matt returned the bow. “Uh, good to meet you too.”
Andra continued: “Savora appeared at our classroom door the day you departed on your most recent tour. Her father is a merchant and she's been to Londa where she's been tutored in math and science Well, it was late in the semester and I didn't want to take any more students, but she insisted that I test her – and she's been at the top of every class ever since. Truly heaven-sent, I've already placed her on First Crew roster! By the way, Matt, what do you think of her uniform?”
Savora gave a fashion twirl, and Matt replied self-consciously, “Very, uh, nice.”
“Savora made the outfit herself,” Andra said. “She's quite the seamstress. She's made uniforms for all of us.”
“I realize shirt and pants are considered peasant's dress,” Savora replied. “However, they are quite practical for activities aboard a ship.”
“I appreciate all your effort,” Matt murmured. He was preoccupied with a vision of Carrot walking in just then and seeing him staring at Savora's figure. In suppressed panic, he gazed aside.
Prin interjected: “Matt, the Leaf has sent an observer.”
“An observer?”
“A colonel named Krobart. He wants to meet you and fly in the ship. I know you're tired from your journey, but I'll have to lay off workers soon unless our funds are replenished, and we're not going to receive more funding from the Leaf unless Krobart gives approval.”
Matt frowned. “Ral said that the Leaf promised full support.”
“Oh yes, in the beginning they were quite in awe of us. We bring tons of silver and a ship that can fly! However, now they realize they hold all the silver and by attaching conditions to the funds, they might gain control of the ship too.”
“Prin comes from a senatorial family,” Andra said. “He knows about these political stratagems.”
“Stratagems!” Prin snorted. “More like children's games! Everywhere you go, the world is under thrall to petty political games fit only for the most childish – instigated by men who end up ruling the world because only they are vulgar enough to stoop to such ignoble tactics!”
“Yes, dear,” Andra said soothingly. “If only Carrot had talked to you before entrusting her silver into the hands of strangers.”
“Archimedes' silver,” Prin said softly. “Matt, shall I make arrangements for a demonstration flight? Is tomorrow morning not too soon?”
Matt bowed consent, and then the pair asked about his medical tour. During the conversation, he was aware that Savora quietly watched his face. Becoming the object of female interest was an aspect of life on Ne'arth that he was still getting used to, but Savora's attention was distinctive. Not exactly rapturous, he assessed. More like inquisitive. It reminded him of how the scientists had inspected him when he had been introduced at the Council of the Moon.
Intending to see Carrot before dark, Matt excused himself. Savora caught up outside the hangar.
“Matt,” she said. “I'd like to have your body measurements so I can make you a uniform.”
“Actually, I don't need a uniform,” Matt said. “I'm happy with my jump suit.”
She eyed the neon blue jumpsuit with a twisted expression. “It's a bit, well, to be frank, garish. You were thinking of blending in, weren't you?”
“What do you mean?”
“When you take the airship to the other side of the world, there will be people and societies over there, and some of them may be hostile to your mission, and you may not want to stand out as much as you will while wearing that . . . garment.”
Matt hadn't considered that angle. The jump suit was self-cleaning and just the right amount of bagginess for mobility and comfort, which was why he wore it every day. Yet, she was right, the color and style did stand out in a crowd. That was a good thing in Britan where his 'Wizardliness' was enhanced by self-promotion. Maybe not so good in places where a Wizard could be greeted with suspicion and hostility. Still . . . .
“Maybe your clothing would be considered odd where we're going,” he said. “If you were in Rome, people would stare because you're not wearing a robe.”
“I'll make you a robe too if wish. Now, can I measure? It won't take more than a moment.”
There was something about the firmness of her voice, he automatically complied. She stretched a cord of evenly-spaced knots along the length of his sleeves and glanced at the markings.
“When do you plan to leave?” she asked. “To the other side of the world, that is.”
“Well, we have more flight testing to do, so I'm not sure.“
She wrapped the cord around his waist. “The ship is ready. Your main concern is weather. The Western Sea is uncrossable in winter.”
“It's not that I want to delay.”
“Of course. So much depends on it. Your brother may be the only one who can stop the Romans.”
He's not my – but Matt had surrendered that battle long ago. Though their extensive gossip network assured that virtually every Britanian knew of every detail of every conversation he'd had on the island, they still hadn't grasped the concept of an 'archival clone.'
She knelt and measured his inseam. She didn't physically touch, she kept an appropriate distance, but it was disconcerting to Matt because he knew that a typical Britanian woman would have registered some hesitation. Savora treated it as just another measurement.
“Done!” She arose and gave a direct look. “It is very important for you to cross the Western Sea as soon as possible. Before the weather changes.”
Savora sharply strode away, leaving Matt with the afterimage of penetrating, dark eyes.
“Ivan,” he subvocaled. “Do you notice anything about Savora? I realize that's vague, but . . . anything?”
Ivan replied, “I did not detect a mentor.”
“There's something about her. Like I already know her.”
“She bears a strong physical resemblance to your friend, Synesthesia.”
“She does?”
“Here is a comparison.” Ivan provided a pop-up window in Matt's field of vision, displaying images of the two women. Hair styles were slightly different, but yes, the eyes – the same intensity.
Matt willed the window shut. “The Star Seed Project membership genome files were used to create the planetary gene pool. There's even that woman at Fish Lake who looks like Mom. So I suppose it had to happen that I'd meet someone on this planet who looked like Synth.”
“You are nonetheless troubled by the coincidence.”
“She's looks like Synth, she's smart too, and her personality is like Synth, in that she's so . . . . “
“Bossy?”
“What? No! Where did you get the idea that Synth was 'bossy?'”
“Several mutual acquaintances have made that or similar comments to you. 'Bossy' was the term your friend Random used in reference to Synesthesia.”
“Synth wasn't bossy. She didn't try to force you to do what you didn't want to do. She just was really smart, so she'd figure out what you wanted to do and tell you before you had time to think of it yourself.”
“That explanation resembles a passage from an entry that she posted on her blog. Would you like the exact wording?”
“No thanks, but I agree with her. Kind of. Anyway, what troubles me is that you'd think that after centuries of genetic mixing, the genes for her looks would detach from the genes for her
brains and personality and they would all go separate ways and it would be statistically unlikely for them to reunite again in the same person – and even more unlikely that I would ever meet that person. I realize I'm basing this on just one meeting, but for Savora to be so much like Synth – well, it's improbable.”
“Matt, do you suppose it is possible that Savora is in fact your friend Synesthesia?”
Matt had considered the possibility, but he shook his head. “Ivan, by now, Synth is a cloud of pure energy – or whatever it was Ascenders were trying to be. And since she quit the Star Seed Project, how would she even get to Ne'arth?”
“We have been gone many centuries from Earth. Perhaps there have been improvements in interstellar transportation. Perhaps she traveled by wormhole stargate or hyperdrive starship.”
“Let's not get into fantasy. Besides, you would have informed me if there was a scent match, right?”
“It is possible that Synesthesia could have altered her scent for purposes of disguise.”
“If Synth came to this planet and wanted me to know it was her, she would tell me, and if she didn't want me to know, she would have taken a completely different form so that we'd never guess.”
“Matt, as your neural implant matrix, I am obliged to ask personal questions about your emotional state in order to better serve.”
“You're going to ask whether I still have romantic feelings toward Synth.”
“Yes, Matt.”
Matt grinned. “Well, she's smart and pushy – but I've met someone who's smarter and pushier.”
“Noted. Matt, do you wish to resume your search for Carrot this afternoon?”
Even while talking about Savora, in the back of his mind Matt had been thinking about Carrot; indeed, he realized, it was almost as if he had talked so much about Savora in order to avoid thinking so much about Carrot. He wasn't quite sure, however, as to why.
“I don't know what to say to her yet,” Matt concluded. “It's like I want to see her so badly, that I'm afraid to see her. Does that make sense?”
“According to my psycho-therapeutic application, your feelings are confused about the nature of your relationship and the confusion is resulting in fear of saying or doing something wrong, and your response to the fear is procrastination and avoidance.”
The Witches of Ne'arth (The Star Wizards Trilogy Book 2) Page 6