by Karen Lord
They accepted Ixiaral’s greeting with infinitesimal attention – a nod, a half-hearted wave, a brief mumble – but they examined Rafi with terrifying closeness. The little confidence he had managed to preserve shrank to nothing under the regard of those alien eyes which were judging him by standards he could not guess at and was sure he did not meet. He tried not to look uncomfortable, failed and stared at his feet instead, awkward and bitterly chagrined at his failure.
The group of women silently sunned themselves and watched him get flustered. After a slight pause, one of them said with devastating kindness, ‘But he is still young.’
Ixiaral gently loosened Rafi’s grip on her scarf and took it away from him, which made him feel both embarrassed and naked. ‘Revered Dean Suyanahaneki of Academe Maenevastraya, Revered Controller Devunalhaneki of the Credit Exchange Bureau, and my respected superior and Patrona whose name I am not yet allowed to speak. I present to you Rafidelarua of Cygnus Beta. Forgive his appearance. I may have kidnapped him somewhat.’
The women laughed. They did not sound malicious, but neither did they sound as if they were taking him seriously. Rafi noted that Ixiaral had not introduced that same one who had commented on his age, and he further noted with tired cynicism that she was the youngest out of all of them, Ixiaral included. Something made him look a little more closely, and he began to see that, unlike her named and titled colleagues, her leisure was studied. She glanced frequently at the other three women to match her reactions and pose to theirs. They did not return her glances, but the Dean and the Controller looked occasionally to the Patrona. The Patrona kept a quiet, steady gaze on him.
‘What was he doing?’ the Controller asked.
‘Wallrunning on one of the Academe’s Walls,’ Ixiaral replied.
‘Is he any good?’ enquired the Dean.
‘No, ma’am, not really,’ Rafi answered, raising his chin and looking at her with a small smile.
Her face changed from coolly amused to mildly impressed, and then, with a speed that made him blink, to flirtatious mischief. The curve of her mouth never changed. It was all in and around her eyes, from smoothly supercilious through to laugh-lined warmth and a hint of an eyelash flutter. She looked old enough to be his grandmother, and she was probably older than that, but in that moment he was mesmerised by her eyes.
The Patrona spoke at last. ‘Do you know why you are here?’
‘Because you have prior claim over Academe Surinastraya? Is this because I spoke to Tshalo?’
He flinched as they laughed again in earnest. Ixiaral tried to suppress a smile.
‘My son, but not of my line. A youthful indiscretion,’ explained the Dean, and her eyes no longer looked alluring but narrow, tired and disappointed. ‘No, it has nothing to do with him.’
‘You met Ixiaral twice by chance on two worlds. It would be a missed opportunity not to make something of it.’ The Patrona was cautious at first, but then she spoke more directly. ‘According to tradition, you took food from her hand and spoke together. There was no one to witness it, but her word is good and I will confirm it if needs be. But of course there are other reasons. You saw Ixiaral on Cygnus Beta at a time when she was known to be on Punartam. If you know our secrets, we may have to make you one of us.’
‘Who is “us”?’ Ixiaral asked sweetly. ‘I see three overlapping interests represented here.’
The Dean crossed her hands before her protectively. ‘Not me. He already has shelter in one Academe, a nexus in another and protectors in a third. Let us broaden his horizons. What do you think, Dev?’
The Controller glanced at the youngest woman, who had neither spoken nor been spoken to since that first comment, and shook her head. ‘I must wait and see for a little longer.’
The Patrona mused, ‘I believe I will do the same. I can see there could be mutual advantages, but it also cannot hurt to take time to assess the situation thoroughly.’
‘Are there many Sadiri pilots at Academe Maenevastraya?’ Rafi asked abruptly.
There was a sudden, tense silence. The Patrona was the first to recover. ‘There are several Sadiri at Maenevastraya. Some of them are pilots. Perhaps you should pose that question to your fellow-Cygnian Lian.’
Rafi decided to be honest. ‘There’s something about you that reminds me of the Sadiri.’
The Patrona’s stern face relaxed into an almost-smile. ‘Some of my dearest keys are Sadiri. I may introduce you some day if our networks grow together.’
‘Patrona—’ He was not sure if that was the correct address but somehow ‘ma’am’ felt insufficient. ‘Patrona, tell me, who is my nexus?’
That started them laughing again, except for Ixiaral, who looked very embarrassed.
‘Well,’ said the Patrona, quickly sobering, ‘that is partly what this meeting is about. You have presented yourself . . . after a fashion. You are young, but you have potential. Ixiaral is your nexus, of course. I will confirm it. Don’t disappoint her.’
She turned her gaze to Ixiaral and her voice hardened. ‘Be sure that he learns his duties and appreciates his benefits. He may wear any minor variation on the Maenevastraya theme, but keep him clear of accoutrements for now. We will wait and observe. Train him well.’
At last she spoke to the quiet woman who had not been introduced. ‘Hanekivaryai, walk with our friends as they leave.’
A flash of anger passed briefly over the young woman’s face, but she quickly suppressed it and went calmly and politely to escort Ixiaral and Rafi to the entrance foyer. Rafi kept expecting her to reveal something important, but she was there for courtesy, not information, and she did her duty and left them to sit for a while and adjust to the dimmer light before venturing out once more into the Twilight Metropolis. Rafi did not dare speak openly until they were alone in a transit bubble.
‘Why didn’t you introduce me to that other woman?’ he asked.
Ixiaral looked sorrowful. ‘I avoided saying her name out of kindness. I wish the Patrona could have done the same.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Rafi admitted. He was beginning to feel sleepy and wondered how many hours he had been awake. It was still too easy to lose track of Standard hours on Punartam.
Ixiaral began to say something, then looked at his nodding head and unfocused eyes. ‘Another time,’ she said softly.
He fell asleep before they reached the elevator to Academe Surinastraya.
*
When he woke up, back in his own bed at the Academe’s living quarters, he had a hazy memory of stumbling around the green, fatigue-drunk and disorientated, in a vain attempt to find Ntenman. He sat up slowly, feeling the aches and agonies of too much vigorous exercise after long idleness, and was hit in the face with a vambrace.
‘Come on, get ready. I have to take you to Wallrunning training in less than an hour.’
Rafi grabbed the vambrace, primed to swear at Ntenman or perhaps throw it back, but then he realised what he was holding. ‘This is a proper vambrace!’
‘Yes! None of those little wristy bands the amateurs use on Cygnus Beta. And I got you handguard extensions because novices like you tend to lose your little fingers in the micrograv fluctuations of a pro-level Wall.’
‘Where did—?’
‘I got them for you. You owe me. Don’t worry, we’ll sort it out later.’
‘I haven’t eaten. I have to freshen up—’
‘You do that too often. It’s not like a bath, you know. You have to let it go for a few days, give the algae time to establish itself for full effect.’
Rafi gave Ntenman a look of tired disbelief but privately made a note to get more detailed information on the scour-and-steam process just in case it was no joke.
‘If you must eat before going on the Wall, eat this.’ Ntenman gave Rafi a coiled ribbon of some compressed organic matter which smelled sweet and salty and looked rich with fat. ‘But not too much. You don’t want to unsettle your stomach.’
There were only two Standard days left unti
l the full light of sunrise, but Rafi found himself almost irrationally resentful at the combination of natural darkness and artificial light. It galled him even more to know that when the long day finally began he would likely spend two Standard days outside rejoicing in the light, three Standard days acting as normal and the rest indoors as much as possible, complaining about the world being too bright. When he told Ntenman as much just before they took the fall down the emergency chute, Ntenman let out a great hoot of laughter that echoed eerily up the hard walls of the empty shaft, and Rafi could not help laughing in turn.
‘Give it a couple of months,’ Ntenman told him after they bounced out of the bodycatcher and strolled onto the green. ‘By the time you get back to Cygnus Beta you’ll be complaining about the speed of the sun and the tyranny of the twenty-four-hour clock.’
To Rafi’s newly cynical eyes, the festival on the green had a slightly jaded atmosphere. People moved with less energy and cheerfulness than the previous day, as if they too had done all they could to endure the long night and were more than ready for sunrise. Or perhaps it was simply the character of the new shift and the truly festive were now in their work mode, tucked away in offices below-ground or in the tower, waiting for the hours to turn so they could go and reclaim the green from their sluggish colleagues and kin.
When they got to the Wall, there were a few players and wouldbe players milling about in front of the screen. Rafi was pleased to see some bleary eyes and wide yawns in spite of the bright light that overhung the area, brighter than the last time when the players were lit up and on show.
He raised his hand in a non-committal greeting and tried not to let the awkwardness he was feeling show on the surface. Everyone there looked as if they were meant to be there. There were thick-bodied, heavyset boys who would be perfect as pivots or tippers; extra-tall, lanky types who could be ladders, slingers or hookers; small, wiry boys as quick-moving snakes; and one truly massive individual who could only be the team anchor. And then there was Rafi, a common if there ever was one – too short to be a ladder, too tall to be a snake, too skinny to tip, pivot or anchor and too weak to sling. Maybe, if someone else held him securely, he could hook, but he could barely run all the levels without tripping, and he still lost all sense of up and down when the Wall began to tip. He imagined that people were looking at him curiously, perhaps wondering if he was there to watch.
‘Rafidelarua.’
Rafi spun around instantly, recognising the voice behind the screen, the voice in the dark that commanded with timbre and tone rather than volume. Now he had the chance to see the face of the person who had chosen to remain in the shadows.
‘I am Baranngaithe.’ He was a small one, probably a retired snake, and his voice was all out of proportion to his body, but when he gazed up at Rafi with an expression that was as assured as his voice, Rafi bowed his head, raised his greeting hand and mumbled something he had never tried before – the traditional Wallrunning phrase from junior to elder. ‘I am your child, Revered Baranngaithe.’
Baranngaithe chuckled. ‘Not yet, but soon. In the first light of next sunrise we shall bind you to our blood, but till then you may still run with us. Do you know who I am?’
Rafi did not. He was still unable to do that double-tasking most Punarthai did, listening to their channel and having a conversation simultaneously. ‘You were Ntenman’s coach?’
‘Yes. I am the coach for four teams of Academe Surinastraya and a consultant coach at other Academes. I am also a nexus. You can train with my team, learn to run the Wall and carry yourself creditably, but as for the rest, there are few things worse than one nexus teaching another. When two come together, one must be the centre and the other the satellite. This can only be avoided by giving each their own sphere, and that is what I shall do. You will learn from a colleague of mine at Academe Maenevastraya. She is Syanrimwenil, and she has been involved in the logistics arm of the Galactic League for some time.’
‘But . . . she is not a nexus?’ Rafi spoke calmly but he felt an inner pang of excitement. The name was familiar. He was certain he had seen it on his aunt’s list when he scanned it for Hanekis and Mwenils after his talk with Lian.
‘She is . . . inactive. Don’t worry. She understands the nexus mentality and philosophy better than anyone.’
‘This is . . . I owe you much credit, Revered Baranngaithe. How may I serve you and pay my debt?’
Baranngaithe smiled. ‘Work hard. Fulfil your potential. We will talk of service after you have been trained.’
*
Rafi learned two things during training. First, he had not yet fully adjusted to the Punartam atmosphere; second, a weaker planetary gravity made no difference to the gravity settings on a Wall. Baranngaithe liked to run high gravity during training runs. Rafi understood the warning about losing little fingers – the dreaded shear was a real danger during a fast tip and higher gravity speeded up both tips and falls. And yet, because the focus was on form and not scoring, it was in some ways easier than running with the Lyceum team – not physically easier, not at all, but more structured, more predictable and thus easier for the mind to control the body. He noticed some older women and a few men watching them train with a keenness that went beyond mere spectating, and Ntenman explained to him that they were likely game strategists, come to see whether a Wallrunner with excellent form could be enticed away to a commercial team, even for a short stint.
Rafi doubted he could interest them, especially after he fell into the bodycatcher and vomited up the small breakfast Ntenman had allowed him.
He returned to quarters, cleaned up and collapsed in bed for a nap, and naturally woke up ravenous. He was scheduled to have a meal with Ixiaral at Academe Maenevastraya, but first he was going to use the directions Baranngaithe had sent to his channel, directions that would lead him to the retired nexus. He told Ntenman where he was going, but offhandedly and last-minute so that he could override Ntenman’s protests that he needed to come along and make sure Rafi did not get lost.
‘At least take the below-ground route,’ Ntenman advised. ‘There’s too much nonsense going on during the long night outside of the Academe walls.’
Rafi did not query further. There could never be enough ‘recycled sunlight’ to cover the entire Metropolis, and after almost nine Standard days of night he was feeling spooked at the mere idea of going beyond the safe, well-lit places. He followed his directions carefully and arrived at the work section of Academe Maenevastraya, a place that looked nothing like the government offices and university lecture halls of Cygnus Beta. It looked slightly like a Zen garden, but greener and twisty with soundproof nooks, paths for walking and thinking, and large tables at intervals for group meetings. People listened to their audioplugs or spoke messages destined for their colleagues’ channels. Rafi wondered for a moment why there was no such thing as a slate or handheld to be found, but then he realised that even the research was being dictated, the exquisite verbal control of the Punarthai ensuring that any transcription would be as clean and coherent as anything typed by a Cygnian. That made him think of Dr Daniyel and how she was doing, and whether she still needed to lean on a comm and handheld to get her work done.
He was feeling thoroughly homesick by the time he found the niche where Revered Syanrimwenil was waiting, an emotion that would prove to be extremely unhelpful as their conversation unfolded.
She was elderly; her dark hair was greying throughout, tied back but shorter than the usual masculine style. Her body was soft in a way that told of years spent sitting in quiet niches rather than walking and thinking, and yet there was something to her that reminded him more of Ntenman’s mercurial energy than Ixiaral’s gravitas. She barely glanced at him as she waved him to sit on a mat opposite her. He puzzled at her distraction for a moment, then realised she was listening to her audioplug channel. It appeared to contain more information on him than was comfortable.
‘Hmm. Your father. A man who wants a peaceful life, a loving family. No
fretful babies or troublesome toddlers allowed. But I wonder what it was like when he started to feel you push back. Did you fight? Was it a tug of war, and if so, was it your mother or your sister who served as the rope? Or perhaps you crashed antlers together until one day you won?’
Rafi was speechless. He sat down and tried to steady the sudden shaking in his hands, placing his palms flat on the floor so that he would not hit an old woman.
‘You protected your sister but you didn’t know how to protect yourself,’ Syanrimwenil continued ruthlessly, still not looking at him. ‘And now you’ve left your sister and your mother. It must have become tiring, looking out for them constantly.’
Rafi blinked and inhaled sharply, now both angry and upset.
‘But you were their nexus. There were genuine bonds between you, however snarled and tainted they were. Strange that your therapists did not realise that. Instead of treating your sister and your mother solely for your father’s abuse, they should also have been weaning them from dependency on you—’
‘Stop it!’ Rafi shouted.
The background buzz in the sector dipped for a moment as heads turned and people stared at his breach of etiquette, but Syanrimwenil waved a hand gently to dismiss their concern.
‘I am done,’ she said, with no regret in her voice. ‘Now, as I have looked at your soul stripped bare, it is only fair that I offer a little of myself in turn. You did not ask, not by eyes or voice or attitude, and that makes you one of the most courteous Terrans I have met. But yes, I am a woman who was once a boy. Furthermore, I am that special oddity, a boy who was never a Wallrunning nexus but became a corporate nexus straight away. Naturally the two facts are related. Did you know that men were once barred from acting as corporate nexus?’