Ambrov Keon

by Jean Lorrah

  “I do,” Sergi replied quickly. It was his place as First Companion until a Sectuib was named.

  “Carre’s respects, Naztehr,” Dina said formally. “How is it that you have not yet named your Sectuib?”

  “Nedd’s heir—” Risa began, but subsided when Sergi placed a hand on her shoulder.

  “Nedd’s heir was unnamed at his death,” Sergi explained. “The reason you are here is the same reason we have had no time to discuss this matter in-householding. Keon accepts Carre’s respects, and extends a grateful welcome. Dina, your presence relieves a critical situation. Thank you for coming.”

  The woman warmed to his sincerity, and accepted Triffin as escort to the dining hall. Dina had risked traveling without her own Companion so as not to add to Keon’s surplus of Gens. Sergi foresaw a contest among Gevron, Kreg, and Triffin at the end of the month as to who would give her transfer, for Dina was a channel of Nedd’s ability or better.

  When she had gone, Risa turned to Sergi. “Why did you stop me from saying that Litith is carrying Nedd’s heir?”

  Litith gasped. “Oh, Risa—no! I didn’t know you thought I would oppose you as Sectuib. Please forgive me for not realizing sooner.”

  Risa stared blankly at Litith. “What do you mean?”

  Sergi said, “The office of Sectuib is not hereditary. Upon the death or retirement of the Sectuib, the best channel in the householding assumes the title. In some cases there may be a dispute as to who is the best channel, but otherwise....” He let the statement trail off, hoping for a positive response.

  But Risa said, “There is no reason to assume Nedd’s child won’t be as good a channel as he was.”

  “There is no guarantee that his child will be a channel at all,” Litith responded. “The child’s selyn-consumption rate is higher than that of a renSime—but not a channel of your abilities, Risa. I might carry a Companion like Sergi—they often consume as a lesser channel would.

  “But whether or not my child is a channel, Keon cannot wait twelve years or more to find out. You have been sent in our time of Need. I will pledge to you gladly. You have been Sectuib in all but name since Nedd’s death.”

  Risa had paled during Litith’s speech so that her new-sprung freckles stood out in sickly contrast. “I can’t!” she said in a choked whisper. “Find someone else—Rikki, Loid, anyone!”

  “Risa, Keon needs you!” Litith insisted.

  Risa gripped the edge of the desk as if to keep from falling. “Then...I will have to arrange it so that Keon does not need me anymore. Tigues pay their debts. I will pay mine, I vow—but no more, Litith. No more!”

  * * * * * * *

  RISA SET ABOUT PAYING HER DEBTS WITH A VENGEANCE. The more interdependent Keon and the community of Laveen, the safer the householding. The steel mill would bring money into the area. Men like Tannen Darley, with strong ties to the householding, would become the local representatives to government—and make changes that would make life easier.

  And Risa would be free.

  The future she envisioned was to live in Laveen, channel to local people who did not want to kill. The local juncts found channel’s transfer acceptable when it meant they could augment freely. Darley’s Pen was well supplied; no one had to risk raiding. Keon’s channels stripped selyn from the surplus Pen Gens as demand grew, and the Gens simply produced more.

  The mill was not on Keon’s land, but on a large wooded area between the town and the householding, a sort of no man’s land between the two communities. Now they cleared the forest, building the first of the mill’s buildings, selling some of the wood to a paper mill for ready money, and turning the rest into charcoal for the blast furnace.

  With bunkhouses going up and the brick foundations of the furnace laid, the dream took on substance. Tannen Darley brought some business acquaintances from Lanta to observe. When they saw an investment likely to bring in a solid return, they, too, sacrificed principle for profits.

  With the money from the new investors, Keon Steel hired more laborers, and work proceeded faster than ever. The blast furnace would be ready for operation by autumn.

  Life was good in Laveen that summer. Between planting and harvest, the farmers earned extra money building the mill. Every evening Verla’s and the other saloons were full of happy people with money in their pockets. Verla laughingly told Risa that she was now earning more with less work—and left Ambru in charge in the slower daytime hours while she joined one of Keon’s classes to learn to read and write.

  All who worked for Keon Steel were entitled to free education for their children. The classes filled. Most of the newcomers had been held back all their lives by illiteracy. Perhaps they told themselves that they would leave the “perverse” influences of the householders after they got a nest egg together—but attitudes changed with time and exposure...and the freedom of augmentation.

  Three times that summer changeover victims were rushed to Keon—children whose parents accepted their determination never to kill. Two others were held at home, killed once—and then walked out on their families, determined to disjunct.

  So far as Risa heard, no local children who turned Gen were killed or escorted across the border. But three were brought to the householding by parents who dared to go on loving them.

  In late summer, the first mining expedition returned to heap red soil mixed with Ancient metal into a manmade hill to feed the furnace. Explosions echoed through the hills as a quarry was blasted out and a hill of white limestone grew beside the red. The furnace rose. They were ready to set the firing day, the day they would complete the blast stoves, the crucible furnace, and the shops where the steel would be turned into salable goods.

  The mill was considered an extension of the householding, even though it was a separate legal entity under the papers Risa and Tannen Darley had registered with the territory government. On the grounds, Keon’s Gens were treated as if still inside householding walls. Soon they were treated the same way in town, although Risa was not conscious of it until one day when she was called to help one of Zabrina’s employees, who had been attacked by a horse in Skif’s stable.

  “It was my own bloody-shen fault!” gasped the woman, Jasteen, when Risa hurried into the back room of Zabrina’s saloon to zlin her injuries. They were bad—a broken leg, several cracked ribs, and a dislocated shoulder. Still, a Sime would heal quickly once the bones were set.

  “Just lie still,” Risa said. “How could a horse do this to you?” A Sime should have been able to augment to duck even a horse’s flying hoofs.

  “I was stupid—I believed Skif!” Jasteen replied in frustration. “He said the horse was broken, and I just went right into the stall, never thinking— Oh, that lorsh! I knew it was too good a horse for him to afford; should have known there was something wrong!”

  “Hush, Jassie,” said Zabrina. “Risa’ll fix you up.”

  Risa asked, “Do you have any fosebine?” She and Sergi were in town on other business, and she was not carrying her medical kit.

  “Naw—the gang in here last night cleaned me out. I’ll go down to the Pen; Tan always keeps some on hand.”

  But Zabrina did not return, and Jasteen’s pain increased as her wounds swelled; the longer they waited, the harder it would be to set the bones and the more it would hurt. “Sergi,” Risa said, “run over to Verla’s and see if she has fosebine. I don’t want to try this without it.”

  Without thinking, Sergi walked out into the saloon. It was only when she heard the words, “Hey, fancy Gen—where ya think yer goin’ all by yerself?” that Risa realized what she had done. There were transients around—and malcontents who either wouldn’t work or wouldn’t behave around householders.

  But before Risa could reach the door, at least three different voices had responded, “He’s with me!” She reached the doorway in time to see her bewildered Companion standing in the middle of the saloon while three local Simes placed themselves between him and the troublemaker at the bar. Others edged the
ir chairs out, ready to join the fray.

  Prence Raft was one of Sergi’s defenders. “You plan to spend much time around here,” he told the man at the bar, “you gotta learn the local rules. Any householding Gens in Laveen—you just consider them escorted. Understand?”

  There was a murmur of assent from the small group of local Simes. The offender stared at them, his nager radiating disgust, but he was outnumbered. He turned his back on them, and ordered another porstan.

  Prence turned to Sergi. “Want me to come with you?”

  “It appears,” Sergi said incredulously, “that that will not be necessary, thank you.”

  Once they could dose Jasteen with fosebine, which both Sergi and Zabrina brought back, it was easy enough to set the woman’s fractures and start her healing. That was not the surprise of the day; Keon’s channels had long since become healers to the entire community. But on the way back to Keon, Risa reached across from her horse to take Sergi’s hand. “You’re not imprisoned behind Keon’s walls anymore,” she said.

  But his impervious nager told her that he was not as pleased as she was by the day’s events—probably because Risa saw it as a step toward leaving Keon’s walls forever. He would come to accept it, she decided. He was dedicated to Keon’s virtue of freedom—but perhaps anyone’s first true taste of it seemed bitter after a lifetime behind walls.

  * * * * * * *

  AS THE SUMMER DREW TO A CLOSE, Keon Steel began hiring permanent employees. All required training, for there had never been a steel mill in the territory before. Even Sergi had no practical experience with a full-scale mill, but he knew more than anyone else—and anyone who could not accept a Gen as boss was eliminated from consideration.

  The atmosphere in the community shifted again as those who were turned away flooded the saloons to voice their complaints. A few local farmers who had not worked on or invested in the mill joined them, Tripp Sentell among the most vocal. Some of the new employees resigned.

  The camaraderie of the summer disintegrated under the impact of hundreds of juncts never before exposed to Sime/Gen cooperation. Many had made a long trek to seek work, and now their pockets remained empty. Petty thievery became a nuisance.

  If those who would not work under Keon’s conditions had moved on, the problem could have been contained. But they had no place to go. A few found work on harvest crews, but most just hung around town, making trouble.

  Risa’s frustrations increased on all sides. Despite Dina’s presence she was back at the work-work-work routine of last winter, because those Simes building the mill needed extra selyn. The new business increased her paperwork, filling every minute, it seemed, when she was not channeling.

  Her two reliable supporters were too busy to help, Tannen Darley snowed under with tax and Kill records for the hundreds of newcomers, and Sergi too busy with the mill to be with her, even after her turnover. There was a Companion in the second bed in her room any time she was scheduled for a few hours of sleep—but it might be anybody now. Sergi was there with her only the last day before transfer. Afterward, he hardly eased her into post-syndrome before rushing off to solve some problem with the rolling mill.

  When Risa reached turnover the last month of summer, Rikki approached her. “Risa, you’re not going to like this, but please think before you bite my head off. I’ve scheduled Triffin to give you transfer this month, and Kreg next month.”

  She nearly panicked, but maintained control. Once the mill was in operation new problems would take up Sergi’s time. She managed to say as much to Rikki, forcing intellect to overrule emotion.

  He smiled. “That’s the spirit. Both Triffin and Kreg need a transfer with a channel of your capacity to bring them to the peak of their abilities.”

  “Why bother?” Risa asked. “We’re overflowing with Companions.”

  “We won’t be low on channels forever. At least five kids close to changeover age are possible channels. We cannot afford not to train Kreg and Triffin while they’re young. And it’s not good to rely on only one Companion, Risa. You have had Sergi for a whole year now. While you’re healthy and in control, accept someone else. That way you’ll be able to if you must in an emergency.”

  He went on to explain that the second month would be harder than the first, which was why he had scheduled her brother for that time.

  Triffin was eager and solicitous, a bit awkward at times, but dependable and steady. Risa was glad of the opportunity to get to know her better. One day this girl, born in a Genfarmer’s stock Pen, might marry her brother. That was certainly a change in the world...but only the world inside Keon’s walls.

  Their transfer was nothing like what Sergi gave her emotionally, nor did Triffin have Sergi’s speed. Yet she had plenty of selyn and good will, and Risa was left content enough. It was still better than any Kill she had ever had—and if she had come to Triffin instead of Sergi as her first experience of transfer she would have been overwhelmed by the pleasure of it.

  As Triffin was overwhelmed. The girl’s pale blue eyes sparkled as she whispered, “Oh, thank you, Risa! It’s never been as good with the other channels. I’ll envy Kreg next month...and Sergi, that he has this almost every month.”

  Sergi was odd Companion out that month, Loid taking his field down to keep him in synch with Risa. But he obviously missed giving transfer, and the few times Risa saw him she suspected that his frustration stemmed as much from being unfulfilled as from last-minute problems with the mill.

  Kreg joined Risa the day after her transfer. It was good to have time with her brother; they hadn’t had a family talk in weeks. On her turnover day, despite her protests, Rikki scheduled her for afternoon and evening off. “And I mean off,” he insisted. “No working on the books or going down to help with the steel mill. Kreg, you try to get some food into her, and then make her lie down. Put her to sleep if she won’t be still.”

  Knowing her brother would try just that—and almost curious enough to see if he could—Risa let herself drift at his command. They ended up in her room, drinking tea and eating apples while Guest purred on Risa’s lap. “I’m going to ask Triffin to marry me,” Kreg said suddenly. “Maybe next spring. I think she’d like a real wedding feast—she’s never had anything like that. I don’t know if she’d want to celebrate her establishment day, like they do here—’cause on her day they put chains on her and sold her to a dealer.” He shuddered. “Oh, Risa, I’m so glad you made me come to Keon!”

  “So am I, Kreg.”

  “Then why won’t you pledge? This is home! You love Sergi. Why not marry him? We’ll have a double ceremony!”

  “I’ll consider it,” she replied, “once we don’t have to live behind barred gates. I can’t live chained, Kreg—any more than Triffin could. She fought and won the right to live. But it’s not enough, not for her and not for you.”

  “But we choose it,” Kreg insisted. “Triffin and I could go into Gen Territory—where Gens live behind locked doors for fear of raiders or berserkers. Come on, Sis—life can’t be perfect. But we keep making it a little bit better.”

  “Dad always said that,” she said, remembering, seeing once more the image of their father in her brother.

  “Dad was right,” Kreg asserted. “I’ve thought a lot about it, Sis. I think he’d approve of what you’ve done. I know he’d approve of the steel mill!”

  “I’m not so sure he’d approve of a Gen running it.”

  “He’d approve of me,” Kreg said positively. “Risa—I can feel your Need now. And I can ease it. If Dad could see his children complementing each other that way—oh, Risa, I know he’d approve.”

  But Kreg and Risa were not fated to have their transfer together. A few days later, Rikki was waiting when Risa finished one of her transfer sessions. He handed her a note, saying, “This just came for you.”

  The message was in Tannen Darley’s bold scrawl: “Risa—Susi is in changeover. I can’t move her. Come at once—please! She trusts you. Tan.”

 
“Kreg—go saddle our horses while I get a medical kit,” Risa instructed.

  “Wait!” Rikki exclaimed. “Risa, our best channel can’t be spared for one child in changeover! It’s much easier to shift my schedule—”

  “I’m going, Rikki. Put that on your schedule.”

  “Shen it, I know Darley’s your friend, but—”

  “Yes, he’s my friend. I would go for that reason alone—but he is also the best friend Keon has in Laveen. If his child dies because we couldn’t free the channel she trusts for a few hours, Keon is a lorsh in the basest meaning of the word: someone who would abandon a friend in changeover! Now get out of my way and go fix your shidoni-be-damned schedule!”

  Risa and Kreg arrived to find Susi already in the last stages. Her father looked up with worried eyes. “She keeps passing out,” he said. “I’ve never seen a changeover go so fast—and she’s so helpless. Zlin her selyn drain—”

  Risa zlinned the unconscious child. She had depleted much of her energy, but the new tentacles were forming nicely in their sheaths along her forearms, and her selyn systems—systems!—were already clearly delineated.

  “Tan—it’s perfectly normal,” Risa assured him. “Susi is a channel.”

  “A...channel?”

  “That’s why it’s going so fast. Her systems are developing normally. All we have to do is keep her from using up her last selyn before breakout. Kreg—you come over here now, and take Tan’s place. Control the fields—we can’t have any sudden disruptions—”

  “Risa—you want me to—?” Kreg was bewildered.

  “She has to have First Transfer from a Gen to develop her best potential. She couldn’t do better than you, little brother.”

  “But—what about you?”

  Risa shrugged. “Rikki won’t be pleased. Sergi will.”

  It didn’t take long for Kreg’s joy at the opportunity to serve First Need to overcome his reluctance. He carefully edged onto the chair by the bed as Tannen Darley vacated it, then zlinned Risa. “You and your brother—?”