by Audrey Faye
It was like straddling the top of a really wide, rumbly mountain. I held on tight with my knees and wished deeply for a proper tether. “This is a secret plot to leave my bones out rotting in some grassy field, isn’t it?”
“No.” She smiled over her shoulder. “But that would’ve been a good idea.”
Fixers sometimes died on assignment, but I refused to be remembered as the one who expired while riding a four-legged senior citizen. I held on tighter with my knees, and then grabbed for anything my hands could reach as Dusty sped up.
Janelle leaned over and snagged one of the leather steering straps as we roared by. “Whoa, easy there, big guy.” She looked over at me and rolled her eyes. “If you grip that hard, you’ll be halfway around the planet by lunch, and you’ll never walk again. Our horses are all trained to respond to pressure commands from your legs. Relax.”
That sounded about as smart as letting go of a digger drill’s handles. “If I do that, what keeps me attached to this creature?” The ground was a seriously long way down.
“Unity. Balance.” She glanced sideways at me, still holding on to Dusty’s steering line, her face full of mischief. “Isn’t that what you KarmaCorp people are all about?”
I snorted and tried to relax my knees. “Not usually quite this literally.”
“That’s better.” Janelle studied me with the eyes of an experienced teacher. “Relax your lower back, let it roll with his motions.”
I did, and instantly felt better. “Ah. It’s just like a digger drill.” Go with the motion instead of fighting it.
“I’ll take your word for it.”
I wished she’d take my word for a few more things. “This is a really strange way of getting around.”
“There are weirder.” She smiled and looked out at the horizon. “Is it strange to travel so much? I’ve never lived anywhere but here.”
I envied her sense of roots—ones I would likely never have. My life’s work was to go wherever KarmaCorp sent me. “Lots of watching the walls of a tin can and knowing you could die at any minute.”
Which made what I was doing now feel a little more sane. Horses probably didn’t crash into too many asteroids. I stopped staring at the ground just in front of Dusty’s nose and dared to look up.
The visual music of the grasslands hit me all at once, wide-open majesty as far as the eyes could see. Greens and browns and rich yellows, an aching tapestry that made me want to touch and dance and breathe and fly all at the same time.
They were an orchestra of song, these grasses. The large melodies of scale and grandeur, the tiny whispers of the individual blades and their feathery tops. The ones brushing against our feet set tiny ripples in motion, word of our passing traveling over the planetary skin. Just like miners in a drill shaft, there would always be the vibrations of a neighbor to keep you company.
It made me feel oddly homesick.
Which was foolish. Most digger-rock kids would run screaming from a big, sunny field of grass. I surely had, more times than anyone on Stardust Prime probably cared to remember. It had taken Tee’s eternally patient father to teach me to appreciate wide-open spaces under the sun.
He would love the magic of this place.
I dropped my gaze back down to the safety of Dusty’s brown-and-gold neck. I was still way out of sorts if I was missing both the mining rock of my childhood and the familiarity of my trainee years. Both had gotten under my skin plenty when they’d been my real life. A mission in disarray was no reason to be wishing for years that hadn’t really been all that good or that simple.
It had never been easy to be a cog.
Janelle let go of Dusty’s steering line, reached into a bag behind her leg, and pulled out a couple of apples. “Hungry?”
I was, but I wasn’t sure I could spare any hands at the moment. Both of them were tightly wrapped in the long hair on Dusty’s neck. “Maybe later.”
She shrugged and dropped one back in the bag.
I looked at her two free hands suspiciously, attention solidly back in the present. “Shouldn’t somebody be holding on to the steering devices?”
She looked puzzled and then picked up the line lying loosely on her horse’s neck. “Oh, the reins? These are mostly for emergencies and beginners. Our horses are all trained to leg commands. My brothers and I used to jump on bareback without any equipment all the time.”
That sounded like descending a shaft without safety tethers. “And where are your brothers buried?”
Her laughter seemed to amuse the grasses. “You were one of those safe and well-mannered kids, huh?”
That was almost as big an insult as calling me a dumb flatlander. “Nope. Total hellion.”
“Really?” She tilted her head, regarding me with interest. “I can see that in you.”
That pleased me more than it should. I looked around and grinned. “It was never this scenic, though. Or as high up.”
The music of Janelle’s laughter tugged at my Talent. Calling to friendship—and to foolishness.
Giving in to temptation, I picked up the whispering harmonies of the grasses around us and wove them into Dusty’s amiable, simple melody. The soothing rhythm of clopping feet, rolling yellow-green waves, and a planet’s breath—accompanied by the slightly off-key notes of the woman holding on for dear life.
My mount flicked his ears back and forth.
Janelle smiled. “He likes it.”
Great. I was the best Singer in the quadrant—and I was singing to a horse.
I dialed up my Talent a notch. Might as well knock Dusty’s socks off. I added the subsonics gingerly—trainee school hadn’t covered horses, and I didn’t want this one deciding to leave me in a ditch somewhere.
His ears twitched faster. I hoped that was a good sign.
Janelle rode easily as I sang, amused by the horses and by me. And when I finished, she gave me a long, slow look. “I’ve been doing some thinking.”
I pulled some of my brain out of composing sonnets to a horse. “That sounds serious.”
She looked carefully away from me, eyes scanning the horizon. “I’m reconsidering my position on Devan.”
Ease fled.
She took a bite of the apple in her hand and eyed me. “I’m wondering whether you and that singing of yours might have had anything to do with it.”
I gulped and told the truth as best as I knew it. “I don’t think so.” That I’d tried didn’t count—it hadn’t worked. My Talent had blown up in my face. And I hadn’t smelled so much as a whiff of interest from either of them before it had.
She raised an eyebrow. “You promised not to mess with my knickers.”
I looked down pointedly. “They still seem to be on.”
She contemplated me for a while, and then she sighed. “It’s too easy to forget that I need to be careful with you.”
I wished, hard, that she didn’t need to be. “I’m sorry.”
“I think you are. That doesn’t make this any easier.”
I tried to offer her what I could. “Singers work with what already exists.” If I’d gotten anywhere, it had been because something in her was willing to shift.
She raised a dubious eyebrow.
I wasn’t remotely in the mood for a debate about Fixer ethics. “Look. The two of you are as stubborn as space rocks. If you think I’ve managed to lead you around by the nose, then go ahead and think it.”
Some of the clouds on her face cleared. “You’re easier to trust when you’re pissy.”
Dammit, why did I have to like these people? “He’s a really good guy.” I had no idea whether I was speaking as Fixer, friend, or woman who yearned.
“Yeah.” She glanced over my way again. “You got me thinking, asking whether it would be good for my home and the people I love.” Her cheeks flushed a little. “That’s probably a really unromantic reason to be considering this.”
The lines of duty and personal entanglement tightened around my throat. My Talent was hearing clear, steady
truth in the words. She really was considering it. And it wasn’t whiffs of magic and starlight in the DNA of her new notes—it was the leaning of a heart who cared deeply for her home and her planet and was willing to consider possibilities. A woman weighing the greater good, even if she could only sense it dimly.
I hadn’t lied to her, then—my Talent hadn’t swayed her. But maybe the words of a friend had.
Nausea rose in my throat, unbidden and harsh. She was shifting, moving in a direction I could use. My Talent could see the way.
It was my heart that wavered.
16
The invitation for late-morning tea on the terrace had been phrased as a request. I was quite sure that it wasn’t one. Today wasn’t going to tread lightly, no matter what my pounding head might prefer.
I tottered after the slight woman who had fetched me out onto the terrace, stumbling over invisible bumps on the perfectly smooth floor. Staying on Dusty had been an experience. Getting off him had been sheer hell. My legs were making it clear that they intended to complain for at least a decade.
The rest of me didn’t have that long. I needed to get my shit together, preferably in the next three seconds. The Inheritor would be seeking an update, and the last thing I needed right now was him getting a sniff at the current state of either my assignment or my heart.
Emelio turned his head slightly as I came into view. “Good morning, Singer. I trust you slept well.”
It was a simple pleasantry. I tried not to growl—or to mention that I’d already been up for hours. “Your hospitality has been exemplary, thank you.”
He indicated the chair beside him, positioned to look out over the sweeping vistas below. I sat gingerly, letting my eyes follow the swaying dance of the grasslands—and had to grudgingly admit they were better from horseback. Even if I wasn’t going to walk right for days.
A server quietly removed plate covers and filled glasses on the trays beside us. Apparently this was more than a cup of tea.
“I had the staff bring us a late breakfast, as I haven’t had a chance to eat yet.” He smiled and unfolded his napkin. “And I’ve been told that you are fond of our bacon.”
I suspected he’d been told a whole lot more than that. “Very much so.” Just the smell of it was mellowing out the drumbeat in my head some.
“Tell me.” Emelio picked up his fork, the dictionary definition of casual elegance. “How have you found our planet so far?”
I told the absolute truth. “The grasslands are glorious.”
“They are.” I could hear his pride—and his curiosity. “Have you watched them only from windows and balconies, or have you let the grasses brush your fingertips?”
A test—dumb flatlanders never went outside. “My grandfather used to say that until you’ve touched the rocks of a planet, you haven’t really landed.”
“He sounds like a wise man.”
He’d been kind to a small child with a fierce temper. “He died when I was six.” And at his request, been buried under a pile of rock.
“You miss him.”
It hadn’t been phrased as a question. I swallowed down the old, aching hurt—it wasn’t relevant here, and I didn’t need to give these people any more hooks into me than they already had. “I assume there’s a reason you asked me to join you this morning.”
He inclined his head slightly. “My wife and I are curious as to how your assignment is progressing.”
I had a shredded heart and a chink in Janelle’s brick wall that might actually help me get the job done, and both were making me sick to my stomach. None of which I intended to say to the man whose son was next up on my to-do list. “I imagine Evgenia wanted to be here to ask me that herself.”
He paused, fork in mid-lift. “You’re very direct.”
I might have been born somewhere else, but I’d earned my digger-rock DNA fair and square. We had a strong preference for straight lines. “I don’t enjoy wasting time.”
“You would find my upcoming day very frustrating, then.” He smiled. “I don’t know what you’ve seen on other Inheritor planets, but here, we’re quite informal. Once or twice a month, we hold open hours for the citizens of Bromelain III to contribute their thoughts and ideas and to air minor grievances. I will be in the hall of hearing this afternoon, listening.”
He was right—I’d rather kill myself with a dull spoon. I also assumed this conversational tangent wasn’t accidental. “Will Devan be joining you?”
“Often, he does.” Emelio refilled my glass of orange-colored juice that tasted of the tropics. “But when I peeked in earlier, those waiting are mostly the gray hairs, so today will be my turn. The older generations appreciate my own gray hair.”
So much for a good excuse to hide in my room for the rest of the day. If Devan had been tucked away and inaccessible, I might have been able to justify it. “I imagine the ritual is pleasing for all of you.”
He glanced at me as he topped up his own glass. “It’s a way of life that is probably difficult for you to understand.”
Fixers understood duty well enough—the comfort and the hell of it. “My roommate’s from a family that has lived on Stardust Prime for ten generations. They’ve served KarmaCorp since it was formed. It gives them purpose and pride, and a place in the universe.” Becoming a Singer had done the same for a blonde demon child who hadn’t thought she mattered.
Emelio looked at me carefully. “I am Inheritor because I wanted to serve my people, and I believe deeply that stability at the top is a big part of what serves them.”
I could hear the strength of his belief running deep and unshakeable below his words. The man might have a big ego, but he had a servant heart. “I bet it works better when the Inheritor isn’t an asshole.”
Emelio chuckled and regarded me with real warmth for the first time. “I believe that was a compliment, my dear.”
It had been. This mission would be a lot easier if I didn’t like so many of the people involved. Even ones who were skillfully trying to herd me. I picked up my glass and took a sip of the orange froth. “Did you always want to be Inheritor?”
“I did. Which is fortunate, as I was an only child.”
That wouldn’t have been the intention—Inheritor families tried to have lots of fodder for future leadership roles. “You didn’t feel pressured?”
“Of course I did.” Emelio’s eyes were dark and calm over the top of his glass. “But that is entirely different than being forced. I imagine that’s something a Fixer might understand.”
He was tricky, and definitely trying to herd me. And he was right. KarmaCorp didn’t allow Talents to roam free in the world—but the choice to serve had been mine. Last night, my soul had lost sight of that. “A choice made under pressure can still be a choice.”
The Inheritor bowed his head graciously, and kept silent.
A man who knew when to quit. A case very well made—and one that had tapped, with finesse and skill, into my own sense of duty. Inheritors weren’t the only ones who served, or the only ones who gave up much to do so. “Thank you. This has been an interesting breakfast.”
“Ones with my father usually are,” said a dry voice behind me.
My head ramped back up into drumbeat overdrive.
“Good morning, son.” Emelio’s equanimity didn’t shift a hair. “Join us for brunch?”
“Is that what this is?” Devan pulled up a chair and helped himself to some of the bacon on his father’s plate. “No wonder there’s none of this in the breakfast room.” He grinned at me. “It’s apparently all being routed to our honored guests.”
The Inheritor forked the last of his bacon in a neat defensive maneuver. “And to those of us who will be working hard today.”
“My day will be pure pleasure.” Devan smiled at me. “My mother would like you to see more of Bromelain III. I’ve come to offer my services as tour guide.”
I caught the traces of surprise on Emelio’s face—and his bemused acceptance. Clearly, he hadn’t
known that his wife had machinations underway as well. He nodded blandly at his son. “That sounds like a wonderful idea.”
I wasn’t nearly as easy to herd as they all thought. I opened my mouth to say so—and then changed my mind. The next step in my assignment was clear. I had one crack for my drill. I needed to find another.
Waiting wasn’t going to make looking for it any easier. My heart would mend back on Stardust Prime in my favorite ancient gel-chair with one of Tee’s brews in my hand—and that wasn’t going to happen until I got my job done. Sometimes you had to dig, ready or not. I pasted on a smile, met Devan’s gaze, and threw my battered self to the wolves. “That would be lovely, thank you.”
He grinned and stood up. “I’ll get transpo ready and meet you downstairs.”
I took a last swig of my tropical juice and breathed my spine straight. Just one small crack—that was all I needed to find. And then I could go home.
17
I was stark raving mad. I told myself so at least six times as I made my way over to the crushed-rock landing pad where a glittering silver b-pod waited. It was late model, real glass, and cost about as much as every transpo on my home rock put together.
The Inheritor Elect traveled in style.
I got a further shock when I stepped inside and discovered Devan at the helm. This size of cruiser generally came with a pilot, and a good one. “You’re flying?”
“Sure.” He grinned at me. “Unless you want to—Tameka says you’ve got a good hand with a stick.”
Nobody put a ship like this into the hands of a near stranger. “For all you know, I’ve never driven anything bigger than a beetle.” The littlest b-pods were dead simple to fly—most four-year-olds on a digger rock could manage well enough.
“Tameka keeps Nijinsky tuned pretty jumpy.”
I’d noticed. Good pilots liked their rides to be really responsive. The rest of the galaxy just wanted their transpo to head where they aimed. “Miners like their rigs jumpy—keeps us alive.”