The Unicorn Girl

by Anne McCaffrey

  When all three girls were finally asleep, the lower floors of the house were dark, the lights in the hall and gardens dimmed. Acorna rose stiffly.

  “I wonder what’s happening? We shouldn’t have left. What if he poisoned them?”

  “Calum and Rafik were with them,” Gill pointed out. “I don’t think the Piper was prepared for violence…at least I hope not. I’ll be very annoyed if Calum and Rafik got a chance to beat the living daylights out of him and I didn’t get my share.” He gently disentangled Jana from his coat and beard and laid her down in her cot, brushing a gentle kiss against her forehead.

  “Has been no violence,” said Delszaki Li, appearing at the entrance to the suite in his hover-chair. “Has been some serious negotiation, but all is resolved peacefully.”

  Hafiz, behind him, was wearing the beatific smile of a man who has just sold thirteen blind and lame camels for a bale of Illic silk.

  “If I could ever feel sorry for that bastard,” Calum said, “I would now. Anybody caught between Hafiz and Delszaki…” He whistled. “I just hope you two gentlemen don’t team up and form the Harakamian-Li consortium. You’d be ruling the galaxy in no time.”

  Hafiz and Delszaki glanced at one another. “Interesting idea,” they said simultaneously.

  “Uh-oh,” Gill murmured to Acorna, “I think we’ve created a monster. Come on. Let’s leave the kids to get their sleep and find out what kind of deal these two cut with the blessed baron.”

  Once more in Mr. Li’s study, Acorna listened intently, but the results of the negotiations were not entirely satisfactory to her. The price of Baron Manjari’s cooperation was their silence. If he was allowed to retain his social position, if no whispers of his peculiar habits and his extra sources of income got out, then they would find that all official constraints on Maganos Moon Base would be quickly removed. Furthermore, Manjari Shipping would subsidize the lunar colony by providing free transport for all materials brought to the moon and all minerals mined there in the next five years.

  “Must give to get,” Li said patiently to Acorna. “If we destroy Manjari, have no hold over him. If we keep silence, can ensure success of lunar colony, make safe place for children.”

  “It’s logical,” Calum said.

  “But not satisfactory,” said Gill.

  Rafik grinned. “Well, think about this. The baron just lost three-fourths of his income—or will, when we take all the bonded children away—and his shipping company is going to be in the red for five years, if Maganos is as productive as I expect it to be. And he won’t be able to tell the baroness and that ratty daughter why they’re suddenly broke. Does that help?”

  “It’s a start,” Gill allowed.

  “We will finish,” Li said softly, “when children are all safe. Old family motto: ‘The best revenge is revenge.’”

  “I have some ideas,” Acorna said.

  “You,” Hafiz informed her sternly, “will stay out of sight until we have the necessary permits. Remember, you’ve been poisoned. You’re extremely ill and your life is despaired of. You may even have to die for a while.” Acorna looked shocked and then smiled. “That’s right. We don’t want Manjari tempted to have another try at you.”

  Baron Manjari was hardly able to conceal his rage and fury after leaving Delszaki Li’s party. Indeed, he hardly bothered to conceal it. His wife and daughter had learned from long and painful experience how to survive his dark moods. The baroness thought he was angry because she had eaten too many sweets again, the girl because she had been chasing after that blond miner instead of making a push to attach somebody who could be a useful business connection for Manjari Shipping. The baroness babbled nervously. Kisla sulked, but stayed well out of range of her father’s hand; she had had to explain away too many bruises as “accidental falls” already. That, she considered, was the price she paid for the money that had put her through nav training and now paid for the collection of top-of-the-line fliers and small spacecraft she enjoyed for her private use. She couldn’t actually work as a space navigator; that would be beneath her family’s status. So she accepted the baron’s heavy moods, occasional casual blows, and tight hold over her allowance as the inevitable inconveniences of life. And she controlled what she could control: the flight patterns of her ships, and what she put into her body, and how much fear she displayed when her father went into one of his black spells. She despised her mother, who stuffed herself with sweets and then apologized that she “couldn’t help it,” almost as much as she despised the baron himself. At least she had some discipline, Kisla thought.

  The baron, brooding over the insults he had just suffered, was all but unaware of his womenfolks’ feelings. They were afraid of him; good, they would not question him. Not now, anyway. Even if he had to retrench and retire to the country for a few seasons, his wife would be afraid to ask what had happened to their lavish income. Kisla, though—Kisla would raise hell when she found out that he could no longer support a hangar full of private small craft for her personal amusement. He would have to find some way to shut her up…. If it came to that!

  But then, Manjari thought, what were the odds that Li’s insane plan would succeed? He would have to ensure that official blocks to the development of Maganos Moon Base were removed, but that did not mean the project would be a success. If Li never managed to get the lunar mining facility in operation, his own expenses in providing free shipping would be minimal. And Li would never make a go of the moon base, because he meant to staff it with the bonded children of Kezdet. Children who had been well trained to hide themselves whenever anybody unknown to their supervisors came to a compound.

  Let him collect a few strays, Manjari thought. Much good it will do him!

  The system on Kezdet was too well entrenched, the children too well trained in fearful, unquestioning obedience, for any one man to overthrow it. That pathetic Child Labor League had not even managed to keep schools going near the factories to teach the children their letters and numbers. Literate, numerate workers could read their contracts and calculate their indebtedness and their wages. Couldn’t have that sort of nonsense. Manjari hadn’t even had to quash the schools himself; a word here and there in the ears of the factory owners most directly affected, and buildings were torched, teaching-vid machines wrecked, maybe a young idealist beaten up or “accidentally” killed from time to time to warn anybody else who might have such ideas.

  So Li would make his gesture and collect a few stray children, and he would think himself triumphant for a little while…and finally he would understand that his plan would not work, could not work. The children would never trust a stranger.

  As for that deformed girl who was getting some sort of reputation as a miracle worker, who might have been a figurehead for organized resistance—she would be dead by morning. By this time the slow-acting contact poison would make her feel headachy and sleepy. She would go to her bed and fall into a sleep from which she never woke, and by the time her body was discovered, the traces of poison would have dissipated.

  Manjari was almost relaxed by the time his personal skimmer reached the heavily guarded compound where his family and servants lived in walled luxury. He need not worry overly much. All he had to do was wait…oh, and dispose of those three children. Without his witnesses, Li could prove nothing. And children were fragile; they died every day in the mines and factories of Kezdet. It should be easy enough to get rid of those three. Better to wait a little while, though, until Li thought himself quite safe.

  Thirteen

  As good as his word,” Judit said the very next afternoon, as the sheets of permits from every reluctant inspector streamed from the printer.

  “Is not good his word,” Mr. Li said. “Is good as his fear of disclosure. That works well for men such as this baron commodore. Is there all that are necessary?”

  “I think so,” Judit said, scanning the first sheets. “Pal’s doing something on the other unit, though. Nothing from the baron; just a routine legal se
arch, he said.”

  Rafik reached for the last one to emerge from the printer and worked backward, moving toward her as he glanced at the official permits, mumbling about which department and what sector and which quadrant. Then he gave a burst of laughter as he cavorted about, wrapping himself in the sheets and tearing some of the peripheries with his antics.

  “Stop it, Rafik, oh stop it. You’ll ruin them and we’ve waited for long to get them,” Judit exclaimed.

  “They came?” Gill burst through the study door, Acorna behind him and the three girls following her like the train of a bridal gown.

  “We got ’em!” Rafik held the sheets up over Judit’s head, wheeling around. “We got ’em! For once, the baron commodore is as good as his word.”

  “His word is not good,” Mr. Li repeated, but he was beaming. “His fear is.”

  Judit slapped at Rafik, trying to get him to surrender the rest of the permits. Gill reached up and deftly nipped them from Rafik’s hand. He delivered the slightly creased sheets, pressing the wrinkles out, into Judit’s eager grasp, and she went back to the console.

  “I’ll enter them into our records, and send timed and dated confirmations to the respective departments,” she said.

  “My, there were a lot needed,” Acorna said, moving with her three shadows to observe Judit as she dealt with the necessary procedures. “How much longer must I stay dead?”

  “But you aren’t dead, Lady Acorna,” Khetala said, confused.

  “I am as far as the Piper is concerned, sweetie pie,” Acorna said, hugging Khetala to her side. Chiura crept in under her arm, as well, while Jana was content to stand within arm’s reach. “Did you not help Hassim hang the mourning banners?”

  “Is not to let the little ones out of the house!” Mr. Li exclaimed, anxious.

  “Hafiz, Gill, and Calum were with them all the time, and they were crying most piteously.”

  “Kheti pinched me,” Chiura said, rubbing her bottom.

  “All I had to do was think of Siri Teku’s whip and I could cry for weeks,” Jana said, rather proud of her performance.

  “But won’t I have to be buried?” Acorna asked.

  Hafiz shook his head. “Cremated as befits the first wife of the scion of House Harakamian,” he said, grinning. “I shall carry the urn with me to repose next to that of my son on my ship when Rafik and I return to Maganos tomorrow. And you, little ones,” and he patted the heads of the three little girls, “will be among my baggage: the very first to enjoy the hospitality and safety of the Li Moon Mining Company.”

  Khetala clung more closely to Acorna, and Chiura sniffled.

  “But I shall be carrying you,” Gill said, wagging a finger at them, “and I want not a whimper, a tear, or a gasp from you when you are supposed to be miners’ clothing in my sacks.”

  Jana giggled at playing at being “clothing” and even Kheti smiled, for all three girls loved Uncle Gill.

  “But you can’t tell stories to clothing?” Chiura asked, her eyes wide with regret.

  “Who says I can’t?” Gill responded, scowling fiercely, and she giggled as he swooped down and tickled her neck with his red beard.

  “I’ve work to do and must concentrate,” Judit said.

  “Is, after all, office-study,” Mr. Li said, trying to look severe. “Rafik must now call suppliers A to M to be sure they have received permit. Judit do M to Z.” He clapped his hands together to suggest urgency.

  “Come, girls,” Acorna said. “We must pack the clothing just so in the sacks.”

  Li’s assistants quickly learned that there was no hope of keeping Acorna safely in the house while they completed the long task of collecting bonded child laborers from Kezdet’s factories, mines, and brothels. Without Acorna, they could not even begin; the children had been too well trained to hide when strangers approached the compound, and what with the recent rumors of a horned goddess coming to liberate the children, most overseers were more stringent.

  After the first frustrating day, Judit and Pal conferred with Delszaki Li. As Calum, Rafik, and Gill all reported the same inability to get children to come out of hiding, Li reluctantly agreed that Acorna might go with them the next day.

  “But she is not to waste energy with too much healing,” he instructed. “Is already long task, one person to visit all places. If she exhausts herself with healing every child, will never complete the work. I send medical team with you.”

  “I’m not worried about Acorna burning herself out,” Gill said, “as much as I am about the baron. If she starts collecting children from the factories, you know, he’s bound to notice she’s not dead.”

  “And we went to so much trouble with the funeral banners!” Judit sighed.

  “Will speak personally to Baron Manjari,” Li said. “No trouble there. But you watch Acorna!”

  And, with those somewhat contradictory reassurances, they all went together on the second day. Acorna was eager to go to Anyag first, but Calum had overnight produced a revised skimmer schedule showing the optimal path to allow them to clear mines and factories sequentially while making the best use of their skimmers. Anyag was far from first on the list.

  They began at the Czerebogar carpet-weaving factory, where on the previous day Pal had found only empty sheds, quiescent looms, and vague talk from the supervisor of some kind of holiday for the workers—all adults, of course!

  Today, as soon as Acorna stepped out of the skimmer, pale children began collecting silently in the central compound. They seemed to come out of nowhere, from cracks in the walls, from shadows. The supervisor cursed them and told them to get away, that they had no business in his factory. The children seemed not even to hear him. They moved slowly forward until they encircled Acorna. The nearest ones reached timidly to touch her with cut and bleeding fingers.

  “It is Lukia of the Lights,” one whispered.

  Others repeated, “Lukia! Lukia!” on rising tones until the word became a song of praise circling the courtyard.

  “My brother,” a ragged girl said. She pushed a taller boy forward, guiding him with both hands. “Can you give back his sight, Lukia of the Lights? He had an infection of the eyes and we had only water to wash them, but it was not enough.”

  Acorna caught her breath on a sob, but before she could reach out to the boy, Rafik had gestured for a med-tech to see to the lad.

  “The infection is reversible, with proper treatment,” the tech said. She straightened and glared at the overseer. “You would have let the boy go blind for want of a five-credit jar of antibiotic ointment! I am ashamed to be of Kezdet. But I did not know,” she said to Acorna, “one hears whispers, always whispers, but I did not know…I did not want to know.”

  By the time the flight of hired skimmers, led by Pedir, had collected the last of the children from the Czerebogar Carpet Factory, the medical technicians hired by Delszaki Li had all volunteered their services, just as the skimmer pilots had done after a little encouragement from Pedir.

  At Tondubh Glassworks, the news of Acorna’s visit to the Czerebogar factory had preceded them. They were met by a furious Dorkamadian Tondubh, threatening to obtain an injunction from Judge Buskomor against any attempt to remove workers who were legally bonded to work for the glass factory in payment of their debts.

  “I wouldn’t even try,” Pal said pleasantly. He ruffled through the papers he had been printing out from the com unit two nights earlier. “I recently performed a routine legal search. We have here…no, that’s the Vonzodik statement…ah, here we are. This is your sworn statement, attested by palm-print before Judge Buskomor himself, that no children under the age of eighteen are employed by any Tondubh concern. Clearly,” he said, looking at the children who had come out, as at Czerebogar, when the word of Acorna’s visit spread, “these children, being well under eighteen, do not work here and hence cannot possibly be bonded to you.”

  Acorna looked at him with delight. So this was what Pal had been quietly working on! How clever he was! Bu
t she didn’t have a chance to tell him so just then; children in filthy rags and clean, nearly new, cheap sandals were pressing all around her.

  “You came back, Lady Epona,” one of them breathed.

  “Epona, Epona,” the others repeated in a low rhythmic chant that filled the compound and echoed from wall to wall until Dork Tondubh covered his ears and made no more protest against their removing the children.

  The skimmer pilots were busy through the day, flying loads of thin, pallid children from east of Celtalan to the spaceport, where Judit and Gill awaited them. When the first children were brought in, Judit gave a triumphant glance at Baron Commodore Manjari’s portside manager.

  “Now do you believe that there are passengers to transport to Maganos?” she demanded. “Where’s the transport the baron promised?”

  “I see you want transport,” the manager said, “but the baron din’t tell me nothing about laying it on. ’Sides, our ships are all busy with real cargo.”

  “Call him,” Judit said.

  The manager grinned and spat to one side. “Told you, lady. I din’t have no orders, and I don’t have no ships.”

  Gill took the man’s arm.

  “I strongly advise that you accede to the lady’s request,” he said. The tone was mild enough, but there was something in the look of his blue eyes—not to mention the size of the hand grasping the manager’s arm—that suddenly made using the portable com unit to page Baron Manjari seem like a very, very good idea.

  When Manjari answered, Judit took the com unit.

  “You were told that ships would be required today to shuttle passengers to Maganos. Will you honor your undertaking, or…shall Mr. Li honor his promise to you?”

  The Baron Commodore refused to believe that Judit and Gill really had passengers for Maganos until the manager confirmed their statement. Very shortly thereafter his personal skimmer touched down at the Manjari private pad.

  His face first turned gray when he saw the crowd of waiting children, then slowly suffused with color as he grasped the meaning of their chatter about the lady whom some called Lukia and others Epona.