Catspaw

by Joan D. Vinge

  Braedee put me into a mod with Jardan and sent us on to the family estates, somewhere inland. “I’ll be in touch,” was all he said before he let me go and slipped like a fish back into his own world. And then I was alone with Jardan, and my thoughts. She didn’t say anything for a long time, gazing out at the red/gold/green world flowing by below us. Somehow I’d expected it to be blue, because blue was what it was on the Federation Seal, the logo all the FTA’s Corpses had worn back in Quarro’s Oldcity. In the distance behind us the ocean reflected the sky, as blue as I’d always imagined, but below us the land looked like it was on fire.

  Jardan wasn’t impressed. Her mind was far ahead of us, already trying to deal with the hundred different scenarios of disaster and humiliation she was sure she was bringing back with her. Earth was just something you stood on, to her.…

  I made myself stop reading her with an effort. While one part of my mind was staring slack-jawed out the window at the scenery, another separate part was always tracking her, gathering in the random images that floated on the surface of her thoughts … feeding on her reality. The world around me was alive again; the solid human flesh, hers and everyone else’s, that had been invisible to my mind for the last three years was suddenly there again—breathing, thinking, feeling.

  It was hard to remember now that for most of my life I hadn’t used my Gift, hadn’t even known I was a telepath. My mother was Hydran. When I was barely old enough to know what was happening, somebody had murdered her in an Oldcity alley. I’d felt her die, and survived it, but it had burned out my psi. After that I’d been alone for years, living like a deadhead, without even the memory that once I’d had someone who cared about me. I’d spent most of my time drugged into oblivion, hiding from the life I’d lost, and the living death I’d ended up with instead. Then the FTA had come along looking for psions and jerked me out of the gutter. Dr. Ardan Siebeling had put my mind back together and taught me how to use it. And Jule taMing had taught me why it mattered. And then the FTA had used us for pawns in a power game, and I’d killed a man, and died all over again. Only this time I remembered what I’d lost.

  Now I had it back again. And knowing I couldn’t keep it only made having it that much sweeter. I wanted to touch Jardan with my mind: Share, give … let her know the mystery she was blind to. Make her feel what I felt when I looked out the window at this world—the emotion too deep to put into words that didn’t sound stupid. All words turned stupid and clumsy when you could share someone else’s mind, and simply know.…

  She looked up at me suddenly, her dark eyes sharp with guilt/anger/suspicion. “Are you reading my mind?”

  “What? No—” I lied, picking up the red heat of her resentment without even trying. Wondering if I’d really slipped that much. But I realized then that I hadn’t let her feel it, hadn’t let my control slip—it was only her own deadhead’s fear suddenly catching fire, afraid I was hearing what she thought of me.

  “Braedee said he gave you drugs, so you could—”

  “I’m not using them yet,” I said, as calmly as I could. If I told her the truth I knew she’d panic, and we were alone way the hell up here in the air. God only knew what she’d try.

  She glared at me, but I saw/felt her easing up, relaxing a little.

  “Don’t worry. I won’t read everything you think anyway. I have to really concentrate on it. And I’m not that good.” It was true. I wasn’t much good. Not like I used to be … and it wasn’t just that I was out of practice: the stuff Braedee had given me wasn’t much good either. There were drugs on one of those customized dreamdots to block the chemical reactions I called pain and terror and grief that my memory triggered every time I used my Gift; and there were drugs to deaden the traumatized response centers that short-circuited my psi every time I even tried to get that far. But I already knew that if I pushed too hard, I still hit a wall. Even with two patches. They weren’t strong enough. Braedee didn’t want me as good as I could be; that made me too dangerous. If that was how it was going to be, I didn’t see why he wanted me at all. Maybe fear just made him stupid, like most people.

  I’d tried his mind, in spite of his warning—but carefully. He was burglarproofed, all right, for all kinds of electromagnetic snooping. Even psi energy might trip something. Maybe not; but I wasn’t curious enough about him to get myself killed finding out. I looked out the window again. “I never thought I’d see Earth. I didn’t think it would he like this.”

  “What were you expecting?” she asked, after a long minute. Her voice was almost pleasant with relief.

  “Blue…” I stared at the lavender-blue mountains rising up ahead, looked down again at the trees. “Not all these colors.”

  “A world isn’t all one kind of thing, you know.”

  I looked back at her. “I guess not,” I said, thinking of Ardattee of Oldcity, and Quarro. Mine had been.

  Her face hardened over again as she met my eyes. She broke my gaze. Her glance flicked over the new me, dressed in a high-collared shirt, a loose, belted green jacket and pants. They were plain but expensive, and they fit like they’d been made just for me. Maybe they had. There was a Centauri logo on my sleeve: branded. “Why is your hair like that?” she said.

  I almost reached up. “Braedee told me to fix it.” I’d used the tube of gel he’d given me on it, making the curls stand up in spikes. It was something I remembered was going around Oldcity just before I left.

  She sighed, more like a hiss, and murmured, “Scum.” I settled deeper into my seat and didn’t try to find out which of us she meant. She didn’t say anything more, and neither did I.

  It wasn’t much more than half an hour from the time we left the Centauri fields until the mod began to lose altitude again. That meant we’d probably come three hundred klicks or so. I’d been surprised at how much open space there was, this close to the urban corridor that hugged the eastern coastline. I’d seen a handful of lone houses, and towns that didn’t look anything like the few combine claves I’d seen other places. But then, Earth wasn’t like other places, and the combines didn’t run it. It was hard to believe that nobody wanted to live here. But most people went where the money was. Only people who already had money could survive on a world like this.

  The mod drifted down into the arms of a steep-walled valley. If it was autumn up on the mountainsides, it was still summer in the valley’s bottom; it looked like it was carpeted in green velvet. I could see estate houses lying along the silver road of the river that ran the length of it, each one larger and more expensive than the last. “Which one is the taMings’?” I asked, finally breaking the silence.

  “All of them,” she said. “The entire valley is their private estate.”

  I shook my head. “Is it big enough?”

  “They have many others—here on Earth, on Ardattee, all through their network.” She didn’t even bother to glance up. Her voice was dull; her hand rose to touch the logo at her throat that wasn’t Centauri’s.

  I grunted.

  The mod landed softly in the courtyard that had been widening below us. The yard lay behind a building that looked like it had grown up out of the soil, part of the overgrown mass of trees and shrubs that surrounded it. It was all stone and wood. Small windows, their glass crosshatched into half a dozen tiny panes, watched us silently as we got out and stood together on the cracked, ancient flagstones. The long shadows of late afternoon lay across the yard, but the air was sweet and warm, without the chill I’d been expecting. Here the trees were still a fresh green; flowering vines climbed trellises and spilled over a high stone wall. A stooped old man in a baggy coat was patiently and almost soundlessly trimming a hedge with a hand-guided lightstick. He glanced up at us half-curiously, and went back to his work as Jardan nodded at him. For a moment the clenched-fist way she’d held herself ever since I’d first seen her eased. She’d come home, at last, standing in this yard.

  “This place looks like it’s been here forever,” I said.

 
“For five hundred and eighteen years.” She answered without thinking about it. Then she looked at me, and the fist clenched again. “This is Lady Elnear’s private residence when she is on Earth, which is most of the time these days. Each family member maintains his or her own estate house, as they choose. I live here too; so will you.”

  With a click and a hum the mod lifted again behind us, going off obediently to some outbuilding, where it wouldn’t spoil anybody’s illusions. You could almost believe it was five hundred years ago, pre-space, another age. There was no trace of any security anywhere, although I knew that on the way in the mod must have cleared half a hundred snoopscans that were backed by measures which would have taken us out if we’d failed any of them. The more money and privacy you wanted, the harder a shell you needed. Some things probably hadn’t changed in a lot longer than five hundred years.

  Jardan started toward the house entrance, up the wide stone steps that led onto a vine-walled porch. I shouldered the bag with the few things Braedee had forced me to take, and followed her.

  It was dark inside. The pupils of my eyes didn’t work as well as they used to. But they worked well enough; after a minute my panic eased. I followed her down a hallway that smelled like oiled wood, up more creaking stairs, along another hall. The house was larger than I’d thought. We stopped in front of a closed door, and she glanced at me. I stood there, waiting, but the door didn’t open. She pushed me aside and opened it by hand, looking at me as if I was stupid for expecting it to open itself, like every other door I’d ever seen that wasn’t in a slum. “This will be your room.”

  I looked past her through the doorway. A bedroom … I could see the bed. The bed, inside its forest of carven wood, was large enough to sleep four, easy. The room itself seemed to go on forever, filled with bureaus, tables, chairs, and things I couldn’t name. Only the desk/terminal in the window alcove didn’t look like it had been there as long as the house had. The rug was dark and dense under my boots as I moved across it, and patterned like a kaleidoscope with jewel-bright flowers. The ceiling was at least three meters high. I put my bag down on the bed; the bed jiggled, full of jelly. I sat down beside my bag on the smooth, cool surface of the covers, suddenly feeling more than a little lost. Jardan was still in the doorway. I forced a smile. “Well … it’s cramped, but I can stand it.”

  She didn’t react; no sense of humor at all. She touched an inset in the wall beside the door. “If you need anything, this gives access to the housekeeping programs. There is also a small human service staff.”

  I nodded.

  “Any questions?”

  I shook my head.

  “Perhaps you’d like to rest—”

  “No.” I stood up. “Let’s get it over with.”

  Her face pinched. “All right then … You may come with me to meet the Lady.”

  Her doubts were screaming silently at me. They weren’t any louder than my own as I followed her out of the room; but anything was better than staying behind alone.

  Lady Elnear was sitting by herself on a sun porch. The light streamed in through the tall windows around her, golden and green. She was painting a picture on a lightbox: the view from the window, half-hidden in vines. It wasn’t very good. And it wasn’t what I’d expected.… I wondered what I had been expecting.

  She turned as she heard us enter. I saw the sad, sagging face I’d seen in the holo, the awkward body, the plain clothes. And then she smiled, as she saw Jardan—and suddenly she was another person. She had the most beautiful smile I’d ever seen. Like the sun, it made you blind to everything else. “Philipa, you’re back.” And then she saw me. The smile disappeared. “And this is … the young man. The one Braedee sent to watch me. Jule’s friend.” Even her voice had an odd quality: almost quavering, musical and uncertain all at once. It warmed just a little as she said Jule’s name. She was staring at me, trying not to. “The telepath.”

  Because she was looking at me, I nodded. Jardan gave me a sharp poke in the side. “Yes, ma’am,” I said. “Lady. I’m Cat.”

  “Cat—?” She raised her eyebrows, waiting for the rest of it.

  “Just ‘Cat.’” I shrugged, glancing at Jardan. “Ma’am.”

  “Oh.” She smiled, but it was false this time. She knew she should offer me her hand, a peace gesture; but she couldn’t quite make herself do it. Like maybe I’d give off sparks when she touched me; like being a psion might be contagious.

  I put out my hand: not a peace offering. More like a dare.

  She took it. Her hand was strong and warm. “I’ve never met a … Hydran before.” But she had to say that.

  “Half-Hydran,” I said, letting go. “Half human.…” Most people had never met a halfbreed either; because most humans would rather have a brainwipe than a cat-eyed freak for a son. Once humans had been glad to know that they weren’t alone in the universe. That time was long past, now.

  Her colorless cheeks reddened a little. “Please forgive me if I seem … awkward, and self-conscious. It isn’t personal. It’s just that being in the presence of a telepath is not something that I’m used to. It will take a little time.…” She stepped back, her hands helpless at her sides.

  A lifetime probably wouldn’t be enough. I only shrugged again, trying to shake loose the invisible weight that pressed down harder and harder on my shoulders.

  Jardan moved away from me to Elnear’s side. She whispered something I couldn’t hear: she was telling Elnear that I was a cripple without drugs; that I couldn’t read them at all right now.

  “Yes I can,” I said. “I lied to you.”

  Her head snapped up, her eyes cold with fury.

  Elnear put a hand on her arm, gently but firmly. “Temper, Philipa,” she murmured. She looked at me as if she expected an explanation.

  “Centauri hired me to help protect you,” I said. “I can’t do you any good unless I use the drugs. I figured the sooner I started doing my job, the better. If you can’t deal with that, it’s your problem.” I looked at both of them, frowning. “But if somebody was trying to kill me, I’d damn sure be glad of anything that made it harder to do. Ma’am.” Might as well be the tough guy. It was better than being the freak.

  Elnear nodded, but their faces didn’t change much. Elnear led Jardan past me. Her hand was still on Jardan’s arm, as if she didn’t trust us that close to each other. “Come, Philipa, it’s nearly dinner time. I have to dress. They’ve asked me to join the family at the Crystal Palace, and I can hardly refuse again. Will you keep me company?” They went on out of the room together, talking softly, as if I wasn’t even there.

  I stood where they’d left me. I watched them get smaller and smaller as they went down the hallway, leaving me there without a word, not even looking back. Only I was the one getting smaller and smaller, being swallowed up in the suffocating emptiness of the silent house; so that by the time they came back again, I would have disappeared.…

  (I didn’t ask for this either!)

  They spun around together as my sending caught them from behind; gaped at me, with their hands pressed to their heads. For a minute, neither of them moved. Then Lady Elnear started back down the hall toward me. Jardan caught at her hand, but Elnear shook her off and kept coming. When she reached the doorway she stopped again. Her baggy sleeve slid down her arm as she caught at the white-painted wood for support. She stood there, still staring, her free hand still pressed to her head. “Come with us,” she said, finally. “Of course you should come with us to dinner. You should meet the family. You are my new aide.…”

  It took me a second to believe I’d heard it; another to make myself move. When I reached her side, she was as surprised as I was. We began to walk together. Up ahead of us the hall was empty.

  “What are the terms under which Braedee hired you?” she asked, as if she hadn’t even noticed that Jardan was gone. I told her. “I’d have the contracts run through a legal advisory program, before you agree to anything, if I were you,” she said, her face expre
ssionless. “One can’t be too careful.”

  “I will.” I nodded. “I know.” And smiled.

  She smiled too, just a little, looking straight ahead.

  FOUR

  THERE REALLY WAS a Crystal Palace. It looked like something carved from ice, lit up from the inside, and it stretched out along the darkening riverbank, admiring its reflection. Earth’s sun had slipped down behind the western mountain, and the valley was blue with evening by the time we stood on the palace steps. It reminded me a little of the combine centers in Quarro, but it was built of glass and iron, had to be at least as old as the house where Elnear lived. She’d told me it had been transported to this valley from somewhere else on Earth, like most of the buildings here … anything that caught a taMing’s fancy down through the centuries, and had a price. Some people collected antiques; the taMings lived in them. Looking up as we went in through layers of splintered light, I felt my senses go into overload. This was a private home.… This was a dream; nobody lived like this.

  I followed a few steps behind Lady Elnear, not because Jardan had told me those were the rules but because I didn’t know what the hell else to do except follow somebody. I felt like I was walking through a minefield. Elnear was dressed in a long, loose sack of a tunic over leggings, wearing ropes and ropes of jeweled necklaces. She didn’t look elegant, but at least she looked rich. Jardan walked beside her;

  I knew it had taken a good half hour for Elnear to get her to come out of her room after I’d mindspoken them. Elnear hadn’t mentioned what I’d done, or even warned me not to do it again. She treated me exactly like a new assistant, explaining, suggesting, pointing things out as we rode up the valley. She didn’t do it because she liked me; she did it because she disliked unpleasantness. She was good at keeping the things she felt off of her face. It was all part of the games they played in her world. She had no choice, and so she pretended I was normal. Considering all the choice I had, I was grateful she was a good player.