The Rowan

by Anne McCaffrey

  Moria stopped mid-spate and stared at the young Prime. ‘I don’t recall you having a tan, Rowan?’

  ‘Oh,’ and the Rowan opened one eye drowsily to regard the older girl, ‘I’ve always tanned easily.’

  Now that, my girl, is coming on too strong! Lusena said, for once bending the Talent’s rule not to communicate telepathically.

  You might even say I was doing it up too brown, Luse? and, eyes closed, the Rowan smiled ever so slightly.

  That evening when the girls had settled to sleep, Lusena opened the line to Purza.

  ‘I think she’s a spoiled snob of a prig,’ the Rowan was saying to her pukha. ‘She apes mannerisms and pretends to be far more mature than she is. Trouble is, Purz, she believes she’s acting properly. Acting is exactly what she’s doing. Acting. Silly bouzma!’

  Lusena wondered where the Rowan had acquired that term until she remembered that some of the cargo handlers around the Tower facility came from mixed cultural backgrounds. The Rowan had been eavesdropping again.

  ‘Emer’s OK and Talba’ll do whatever she’s told,’ the Rowan went on, more musingly than critically. ‘I’m glad I’m not Moria’s kid sister. She’d be a pain in the arse! Yes, yes, I know that’s cant language and Siglen would have a fit. But she’s not here and I am, and Moria would be a pain in the arse!’ A giggle came through clearly. ‘And I got a better tan than she has and it took me a lot less time and perspiration at no cost. Imagine having to smear such expensive gunk on my skin. All I had to do was alter the absorption level of the epidermis. Simple! I wonder how tan I should get! Don’t be silly, Purza! Pukhas don’t need tans. You’d scorch your fur and blow all the circuits.’

  That sentence caused Lusena some intense cogitation. In the mention of its circuits, was the Rowan accepting the fact that the pukha was only a therapeutic device? But by being concerned that ‘you’d scorch your fur’ was she attributing some degree of anthropomorphism to it? Animals did not tan: humans did. Use of the pronoun implied a recognition of the pukha as an entity. Her conversations with it indicated a subliminal response – her alter ego speaking through the pukha? So far there had been no conflict with established ethics and morals.

  Although constant discreet psychological testing revealed that the Rowan was basically a well-adjusted personality, the continued dependence on a pukha, which was usually abandoned once a child reached adolescence, could indicate a possible instability. A proven instability, even a suspected one, might put the quietus on any hope that the Rowan would make Prime. Lusena couldn’t bear to think of the procedures that would ensue should the Rowan be considered an unstable Talent.

  Not that dependence on a pukha was a real cause for alarm. Lonely children of ten had imaginary friends – it was a healthy development stage that should be passed through without trauma. The Rowan’s pukha had certainly been a boon to the child and to her preceptors. Once the holiday was over, Lusena decided she would have to discuss a weaning process with the Medical Officer.

  The next day dawned so bright that Lusena immediately arranged for a sail down the coast to a sea garden where the girls could safely indulge in some underwater exploration. Moria fretted during the short training session because she’d ‘done all this sort of thing so often before’.

  Turian, the instructor, was handsome and far too intelligent to respond to Moria’s coy attempts at flirting on the trip down. He pinned her with a cold stare and remarked that in his experience it was those who didn’t listen to safety precautions who invariably made the mistakes underwater.

  Once they had all submerged and were following Turian through the sea gardens, Lusena lightly touched the Rowan’s thoughts and felt the girl’s utter delight and pleasure in the experience. The Rowan was a strong swimmer. Clear, bright water was unlikely to summon memories of minta-stained mud.

  It was exceedingly unfortunate that it was Moria who was caught by the sting-sheet which Turian had particularly warned them all against. It was equally unfortunate that the Rowan was closest to her and remembered the first-aid measure. She rubbed Moria’s stings with handsful of sand. (And that had been done kinetically though Lusena hoped she was the only one who noticed that at the moment of panic.) When the Rowan began the metamorphic massage which Lusena had taught her as being useful in reducing shock, Moria complained that the Rowan was deliberately bruising her feet. The accident put an end to the expedition and was, when Lusena reviewed the week later, the beginning of the trouble.

  If Moria was somewhat mollified by being taken up in Turian’s arms and jetted back to the sloop, it didn’t help that he treated her like a silly, thoughtless adolescent. Fuel was poured on her wounded pride when he complimented the Rowan on her quick thinking and apt use of first-aid measures.

  Lusena perceived that the Rowan was surprised at praise from any quarter and shrugged it off, but Lusena could tell the girl was pleased. Unfortunately, Moria noticed, and affected a little squeal as Turian, his expression worried, rubbed lotion on the long, thin sting welts. Also unfortunately, Moria proved to be one of the nine out of a thousand who had an allergic reaction to sting toxins and Turian cranked up the engine to get the girl to hospital with all dispatch. The others took turns applying cool sea-water compresses to the malevolently swollen flesh. Moria had good reasons now to moan.

  ‘I think she did it on purpose,’ the Rowan confided to Purza that evening after Moria had been treated and then sedated. ‘I don’t know what she’s trying to prove, except that she’s real silly, because Moria’s no match for the woman Turian’s living with.’

  Lusena was a trifle surprised that the Rowan had dipped into Turian’s mind that way. Or maybe she hadn’t. Turian had allowed her to take a turn at the sloop’s helm on the return voyage. They had been deep in discussion which might have covered more than the mechanics of powered sailing. The Rowan seemed to elicit information from a wide range of personalities.

  ‘Moria’s stupid,’ the Rowan remarked to the pukha, ‘but she’s determined not to be limited to childish activities. Maybe I should warn Lusena to watch out. No? You don’t think I should. Yes, I suspect you’re right. Lusena doesn’t miss much, does she?’ And the Rowan giggled sleepily, for that moment very much a young girl.

  That was the end of that evening’s monologue. And Lusena had been warned. Moria was much improved the next day but quite genuinely not up to much activity. Though the inflammation was reduced, the welts were raw and red. Moria quickly became bored with her invalid state and Lusena suggested games. If Moria won she avidly wished to continue but once she started losing, she wanted to try something else. Emer and Talba were amenable, so was the Rowan during the morning. But, after lunch, in a partnered computer game which Moria and Emer lost to the Rowan and Talba, Moria accused the Rowan of cheating!

  ‘You couldn’t win by that much of a score unless you were cheating somehow. Talba’s no good at this, so how could you possibly win?’ Moria complained in a carrying snarl which brought Lusena instantly into the room.

  None of the girls knew that the Rowan was Talented. That had been one of the reasons Lusena had picked children who hadn’t previously met the girl.

  ‘Talba is so good at Fighter Pilot,’ the Rowan replied, putting a comforting arm about the younger girl. ‘You’re just not able to adjust to having a partner: you want to dominate and you don’t win this game by dominating.’

  ‘You did cheat! You did!’ Moria screamed, her face reddening and the sting marks turning dark suddenly. Talba stared at them, horrified.

  ‘Oh, you’re really quite stupid, you know,’ the Rowan said in a tone that bore a strong resemblance to Siglen’s. ‘There is no way to manipulate the components of this program from an external source and there’s absolutely no point in cheating in a childish game.’

  Moria stared at her, too infuriated to do more than stutter. Then abruptly she got control of herself, her color abated, and she leaned forward in an ominous threatening posture. ‘How do you know there is no,’ and
then her tone and accent mocked the Rowan’s cool speech, ‘way to manipulate the components of this program from an external source if you didn’t try?’

  The Rowan stared at her with contempt and pity, and then she took the distressed Talba by the hand. ‘C’mon, we’ll go for a walk on the beach until certain tempers calm down.’

  Lusena recognized that as a suggestion out of her own book but she decided to deal with Moria now, and comfort Emer, who was as upset as her sister. ‘Rowan is quite accurate, Moria, that there IS no way to cheat at Fighter Pilot. It’s a matter of cooperation and fast reflexes.’

  It was possible, Lusena thought optimistically, that the drugs had had an adverse effect on Moria to make her act in such a volatile manner. Before the evening meal, she was contrite and managed a creditable apology to the Rowan on those grounds. The Rowan accepted – unfortunately almost too casually, for Moria hated to admit she might be in the wrong to a younger person – and appeared far more interested in the dinner menu.

  Sometimes the Rowan could be extremely adult in her attitudes and perceptions, and then revert to childlike indifference. In this instance, she ought to have used more empathy with Moria, and didn’t. Lusena caught the expression on Moria’s face and maintained a stronger presence when all four girls were together.

  Moria was able to swim the next day and that evening they all went to the amusement park. The amenities for young people included a carousel which enchanted the Rowan: horses and biffs and lionets and catarons and two amazing sea creatures that even the attendant could not identify. But the outside circles of beasts rose up and down with the motion of the carousel and if a rider caught ten of the brass rings, he won a free ride.

  Moria insisted on riding just behind the Rowan who caught every ring she reached for. The mechanism did not recharge fast enough for Moria to acquire one. She changed places on the next ride but she was not as agile as the Rowan. By now Lusena was aware of the tension and watched both girls closely. The Rowan was not using her kinetic ability to catch rings, of that Lusena was positive: the girl was simply more deft, with excellent timing so that it didn’t matter if her cataron was up or down or midway, the Rowan collected a ring with each circuit.

  Nothing would do then but for Moria to insist they go onward to one of the other rides.

  ‘Rowan’s got enough rings to do two free circuits,’ Emer pointed to the rings Rowan played with, her index fingers touching and her hands tipping the roll of rings up and down.

  ‘Oh, I’ll go on if you want to,’ and with that the Rowan tipped the rings into the collection maw. ‘Where will we go next?’

  Why her willingness should infuriate Moria, Lusena couldn’t understand. The rest of the excursion was somehow colored by Moria’s seething fury which communicated itself to Emer and Talba. The Rowan seemed oblivious.

  ‘That girl wants for manners,’ the Rowan told Purza that evening. ‘She made Emer and Talba miserable and Lusena’s worried. Should I find out what’s bothering Moria? No? Well, I know it’s not done but I really don’t want to spend the rest of my holiday appeasing that old bouzma. I have to do that all the time with Siglen. If I just … No? I can’t? Even to lighten up our holiday? Can I not just lean on her a bit when she gets particularly antsy? Just a little! It’d make things a lot easier all ’round. OK! I promise. Just a little!’

  Most of that night went by sleeplessly for Lusena as she reviewed the conversation. The Rowan had clearly displayed an understanding of Talent ethics. Leaning wasn’t a violation exactly, not even a genuine intrusion of mental privacy, Lusena conceded: a little leaning often did a lot of good and she had applied leans on the Rowan in her early years. It was the most minor of infractions of the basic Law but she would monitor the Rowan. Talents, particularly Primes, had to be so careful of their interactions.

  The Rowan did lean on Moria the next morning at the first note of petulance. It was adroitly done, Lusena thought, and it certainly did improve the atmosphere at the breakfast table. The morning was spent pleasantly in swimming on their private beach. The Rowan was careful to keep her ‘tan’ slightly less bronze than Moria’s and to comment wistfully that she would never attain the lovely shade Moria had acquired.

  That evening Lusena took them all to a concert in the open air amphitheater, a re-creation of an ancient structure with brilliant acoustics. The program was varied, suiting many tastes in a vacationing public. At the conclusion, an announcement indicated that the last group would be playing dance music at the Regency.

  Naturally Moria begged to be allowed to go. ‘Who needs a partner? There’s sure to be some unaccompanied boys wanting to dance. I just know it. There were hundreds in the audience. Oh, please, Lusena. The others can sit and listen. Emer adores this group anyway. She wouldn’t mind. And if Rowan’s never been to a dance, this would be an intro. Please, please.’

  Moria might come from a sophisticated household but Lusena did not believe her parents would condone her attendance at a hotel dance no matter how the girl pleaded. So she flatly refused and took the girls home. Moria coming up with more and more reasons why they should attend. Lusena was so worn out by her whining that she almost leaned on the girl herself and wondered why the Rowan didn’t.

  Lusena was startled then, two hours later, when the Rowan knocked at her door

  ‘She’s gone!’

  ‘Who’s gone?’ Lusena exclaimed inanely. ‘Why? Were you peeking?’

  ‘I didn’t need to, not with her climbing down the trellis and making a lot of noise,’ the Rowan said. Then, looking Lusena straight in the eye, went on. ‘She was also broadcasting as loud as if she’d Talent. She doesn’t like me, you know.’

  ‘Moria’s at a very difficult stage in adolescence,’ Lusena felt obliged to explain.

  ‘Well, she’s NOT an adult. She’s far too silly and she could get in a lot of trouble at the Regency. The boys she wants to attract were popping junk at the concert. They won’t know one end from another by now.’ The Rowan paused, concentrating, scowling. ‘They don’t. She’ll be in big trouble if she meets them. She’s wearing gauzes.’

  ‘How much of a headstart does she have?’ Lusena zipped herself into the nearest clothes to hand.

  ‘You should catch her on the main road. Unless she gets a ride but I don’t see any vehicle going her way along that road.’

  A very sullen Moria was retrieved. When she quite accurately blamed the Rowan as her informant, Lusena did her best to center Moria’s thoughts on her willful disobedience, detailing the consequences of such irrational behavior. Moria smarted under the lecture, though when Lusena mentioned that the boys at the concert had been popping, the girl did pause thoughtfully.

  ‘I’m not a parent, Moria,’ Lusena said sternly, ‘but I am in charge and you are grounded!’

  When Moria raised her head challenging that authority, Lusena leaned and Moria’s eyes widened with surprise.

  ‘You’re a Talent!’

  ‘It runs in the family,’ Lusena remarked drily. ‘Or doesn’t your father ever mention his?’ Moria stared at Lusena as if she’d sprouted wings or horns. ‘The more fool he,’ Lusena muttered and gestured firmly for Moria to get into her room. ‘You’ll be staying there tomorrow!’

  Because she intended to enforce that punishment, the original plans for the next day had to be altered. Lusena said that Moria would be keeping to her room and neither Emer nor Talba questioned it, completely ignorant of the early-morning episode. The Rowan announced that she wanted to swim as the waves looked energetic enough to surf on.

  Lusena joined them later, having checked that Moria was still deeply asleep. She kept in touch with the girl’s mind when she did wake, listening to the grousing and complaining as Moria ate the meal left for her and idled about the room. Lusena caught a glimpse of her on the balcony, observing the others down on the beach and then the girl withdrew, her thoughts most uncomplimentary and her resentment aimed at the Rowan. Lusena wondered if she would have to send Moria home premat
urely. The holiday had been arranged for the Rowan’s benefit – not Moria’s.

  The Rowan had caught the knack of riding the rolling combers back to the beach. The sea was rough but not overly so and there was no undertow on this beach so when the girls clamored for Lusena to join them, she did so, keeping a light touch on Moria’s mind.

  They were all riding the crest of one large wave when Lusena heard the Rowan give a terrible shout. There was a look of agony on her face so intense that Lusena probed to find out what had injured the girl. But the pain was psychic. Frantically propelling herself through the comber, the Rowan staggered on to the beach and started running for the house, mentally broadcasting a shout that nearly deafened Lusena.

  DON’T! YOU CAN’T! YOU MUSTN’T! YOU’RE KILLING HER!

  Shrieks now came from another source – Moria!

  ROWAN! YOU CAN’T, YOU MUSTN’T DESCEND TO HER LEVEL! Lusena tried to free herself from the wave, was tumbled about roughly and came up, gasping for breath. She wasn’t kinetic but somehow she was on the path with no recollection of having reached it and running as fast as she could toward the house. She saw the Rowan on the balcony outside her room and then a final shriek from … Lusena could not immediately identify the source but the pain came from an anguished soul.

  Panting with exertion, she finally reached the Rowan’s room. Moria was crouched in one corner, knees drawn up to her head, her arms wrapped over it, whimpering in jagged little cries. The Rowan stood in the center of the room, her face a mask of grief, of unimaginable sorrow as she stood, clutching the Purza’s head, its fur shorn in hunks about her, its dismembered limbs cut into many pieces.