by Clayton, Jo;
Vettok, Vesset Gather, Yasyony. Youngest child (only male) of the Historian Estrinevok and the Seeker Trontalevok; neither parent much interested in their children; Trontalevok refused to suckle any of them, gave them out to nurse (all the nurses were indigent young males, dependent on scholarships and the stipend they were paid to grow blood nipples; this service gained them the patronage of both scholars so there was no lack of applicants for the position). The two elder daughters proved gifted beyond the ordinary, one has become a noted dancer, the other is gaining a reputation as an innovative technician, already has five patents bringing in enough royalties to keep her for life if she chose to retire. Vettok has shown flashes of brilliance in several fields but grows bored too rapidly to bring to fruition any of his schemes. Occasionaly hallucinates. This may be due to drugging, his parents have wrung him out more than once. For the past two years he has been drifting, not doing much of anything, calling on his parents when he runs out of credit.
Jatsik, Sully Gather, Eggettak. Parents wealthy farmers, vineyards, winery, tannery producing top class leathers, highfarms with large herds of prime juhlammas, the annual clipping brings in a healthy count of bales of the finest fleece. Father is Hemm of Jassery, you have to be top level management to afford the product of his looms in your living areas. Jatsik is the oldest child, there is another son and a daughter. He was groomed from cubhood to take over for one of his parents, according to his talents and interests, but something went wrong when he was a tweener. The circumstances are not clear. Eggettakkers are a closemouthed bunch even among their own. Outsiders haven’t a prayer. Whatever it was, Jatsik left the mountains and has been a rootless wanderer since, picking up a living however he can. Has been in minor trouble a number of times, usually excessive roughness in his sexual habits, sometimes verging on violence; however, he has never come close to damaging his occasional partners. It seems he’s unusually strong and has a hasty temper. Evidence taken indicates the females involved have no fear of him, they just think he should have some manners pounded into him.
The oversize viewscreen on Workhorse’s bridge was divided into six hexagonal cells, each cell a bright image showing what one of the suspects was doing at that moment. Zelzony scowled at them. “None of them doing a thing they haven’t done a thousand times before. You’d think with all this brouhaha going on it’d be an ideal time for whoever it is to pick another victim.”
“Depends on how addicted they are to their feasts of pain.” Picarefy’s voice was a bit thinner than usual, she was being extended near her limits, working with Zelzony, keeping an eye on Tibo, recording his deals, checking on Rostico Burn, keeping miniature bombers armed with nonlethal darts flying around over him so she could pull him out of anything he stepped in, labeling her conversations with the Seekers and routing these to dumps so she could sort through them later, keeping an ear out for signals from Virgin and Hopeless. “And there’s a measurable chance,” she said, “that the six we’re watching have got nothing to do with the killing. Calm, calm, Zem-trallen. I don’t think that’s likely.”
“All-Wise, I hope not.” The words exploded out of Zelzony, their force a result of her own secret doubts. She flipped a hand at the divided screen. “A more worthless lot …”
“What did you expect? Contented successful Ykx with well-integrated personalities?”
Zelzony slapped at the back of the chair she was standing beside. “Hai! Nothing. Nothing. I expect nothing.”
“That’s what you have so far.”
Zelzony’s head jerked up and back, she clamped her lips hard over the words that rode her tongue. The voice was casual, no touches of sarcasm or mockery, but the words flicked her where her soul was raw. She looked toward the doorway, would have sold that battered soul to be out of here. She glanced at the screen, blinked and forgot her anger. “Two of them, who are they? They’re meeting.”
“Hmmm.” Picarefy scanned her inputs, dropped four of the cells and magnified the two concerned; each had two Ykx and the same background though seen from slightly different angles. “You have there one Eshkel and one Laroul, mmm, together outside Laby Youl Gather. Let’s have a listen.”
Zelzony started, steadied herself. Moving with stiff care, she circled round the chair and lowered herself into it.
There was a faint hissing sound, then the distant crashing of the ocean and a whine of a sharp wind, the squawks of unseen seabirds, the crunch of sandals over small pebbles. Eshkel and Laroul walked on parallel tracks a double arm’s length apart, not looking at each other nor talking together. After a moment Picarefy collapsed one of the cells and let the other fill the screen.
The two Ykx kept walking until they reached the lip of a rutted cliff that dropped steeply to a thick crescent of sand and rumpled blue water streaked with a webbing of foam. Still ignoring each other, they spread small rugs over a pair of boulders and sat looking out over the water. Laroul cleared his throat. “I’ve got three good ones. One of them is nursing a girl cub, a cousin, for his uncle who is on loan to the Kinravaly, has been since before the cub was born, he’s a mathematician. The boy is taking the cub to see her father day after tomorrow, going to wingride. The plan he filed has him crossing the Channel to the north coast of Oldieppe, hop from Gather to Gather on no set schedule, cross the Narrows to the Tail of Itekkill and work his way up to the Kinravaly Reserve.”
“All that way alone with a cub?”
“The child’s mother is unwell, nothing serious but she’s going to be in the care center for a fortn’t or two. With the number of wingriders going north to volunteer or witness the embarkation of the colonists, she thought it would be a good chance for the father to see his cub.”
“A cub. I like it.”
“Have you heard from Peeper yet?”
“Just a note. Said he’d be down soon as he could slip away. Sulleggen has been a real bitch. Kinravaly keeps her stirred up till she bites whoever says word one to her. That old sow who’s trolling for colonists has been touring Marrallat; Sully hates that too, but she figures she’s going to get rid of the creeps making trouble for her so she goes with the flow. Got her private lice imaging the crowds so she knows who’s where. When the sow leaves, Sully’s bound to make a lot of folk unhappy.
“Want to hear about the other two?”
“Why not. Have to tell you, you’ll go some to top the combo of the kid and the cub, but you’re the host this time.”
“Turn it down, I can’t hear more of this.” Zelzony rocked back and forth, moaning, her eyes squeezed shut.
Picarefy continued to record, but shut off the sound and faded the image to black and white ghosts shifting and gesticulating in silence. She waited until Zelzony had calmed enough to speak, then she said, “What do you want to do?”
Zelzony forced herself to lie back in the chair, she uncramped her fingers and flattened trembling hands on the chair arms. “The worst thing, the most nauseating thing is … is the way they were talking, so … so … so …”
“Banal?”
“That and juvenile, it’s as if they stopped developing when they were early tweeners. Eshkel is coming up on firsthundred, he left his fertile time years ago. Laroul is about half his age, but long past his tweens. Listen to them. Think about what they’re saying. I can’t … I don’t … I … I …” Her hands fluttered in short angular movements, her shoulders hunched up as her body tried to say what she’d couldn’t find words for.
“They don’t fit, do they, the bodies you’ve had to look at and that pair of zeros. You expected the evil to match its manifestations.”
“I suppose I did.” Zelzony laced her fingers and rested her hands on her stomach. “They make those deaths seem so futile. The final insult to the dead.”
“I’m recording image and sound. Can you use that to convict them?”
Zelzony closed her eyes. “No. I’ve only seen what you chose to show me. No no, I do believe it, but it could be argued you’re faking the whole. Especially the part a
bout Peeper. Do you know who that is?”
“I assume someone close to Sulleggen.”
“Her youngest son. We have to see him in the act of torture, that’s the only way we can do anything about him.”
“Ah. You’ve got an ethical problem here.”
“Oh, yes, I do know that. A cub, a nursling cub.” Not that boy, not that cub, especially not that cub. I’m not going to talk about that. “If it was just the tweener boy, it would be bad enough. I can’t let that go on, I have to stop them. But if I intrude myself, this triad backs off and we lose them. They won’t stop, they’ll just be more careful with their leavings. We have got to let them take their victim and start working on him or her; we have got to have eyewitnesses and imager prints to back them. Not the cub, though. Not that baby.”
“Hmm. Selyays. How far can you trust her?”
“Far enough.”
“Talk to her. Skeen can fly you down in a skip, get you to Government Reserve in three hours if she hurries.”
Zelzony hugged her arms across her broad flat chest, fur standing up along her spine; she knew she was going to accept yet more help from these aliens, but she needed a moment to gather the will to say so. She sighed and with the sigh, relaxed. “What time is it?”
“Five of your hours to sundown this meridian, let me see, seven hours till sundown in Government Reserve, Yasyony.”
Zelzony pulled herself out of the chair, glanced at the ghosts walking across the screen. “Keep following them. If Peeper shows his face, make sure you get him, voice and image. Can you make a copy of the record, one I can take with me and show Selyays?”
“Certainly. Won’t take more than a breath to do, so you can call for it when you’re ready to leave.”
“Thank you.” The words came out thickly, with a reluctance she couldn’t suppress. She nodded and went stalking out.
Selyays was a smoky blue, with a blue tint to the crystal of her eyes. She was in her thirdhundred but looked less than half her days; tall, lanky, never pretty even when she was a child, a moment after meeting her everyone forgot what she looked like in the warmth of her smile, the intelligence and humor in those brilliant eyes, the extraordinary voice that made the harshest of words like organ music. Even as Kinra, she spent part of every day with gifted children, coaching them in singing. Her lifemate was a mathematician and a near hermit, speaking to perhaps a dozen Ykx a year beyond his immediate family. He was her second such, link-riting with her a number of years after her first mate was caught in a freak storm and dashed to earth by a windshear.
The page led Zelzony into a light airy room where mirrors danced lumen lines into sculptures that changed position as the angle of the sun changed and gradually acquired a flush as it sank toward the horizon. One of Selyays’ proteges came in with a pot of iska and some wafers; she smiled shyly at Zelzony, put her burdens down on a long low table between two curved couches. “The Kinra will be here soon, she is finishing a conference with a group of Remmyos, it was planned some weeks ago, she hopes you won’t be offended by the wait.” The words poured out in a rush, her voice sounded richer, more mature than her appearance suggested. Even shaking with nervousness, it was a lovely voice.
With a pass of her hand, Zelzony brushed away any idea of irritation. “Of course not, young friend. Selyays had no warning I was coming and my visit is not so urgent I expect her to drop everything to meet me.”
The tweener ducked her head in a sketch of a bow, then hurried out, moving with an awkward grace that made Zelzony smile. She crossed to the couch that faced the entrance arches, put her impedimenta on the table and poured herself a cup of iska, noting absently that her hands were shaking now there was no one to see it. She took the folder filled with prints and began leafing through them, it was like tonguing a sore tooth, she couldn’t stay away from these horrors, sick as they made her.
“Zem-trallen.”
Zelzony got to her feet. “Kinra.”
“You didn’t bring the alien?”
Zelzony bowed. “As you see.” She was amused at this oblique way of informing her the Kinra was aware of how she’d got to Yasyony. “Perhaps we might be alone?” A small gesture indicating the pages and others hovering by the arches leading into the room.
Selyays widened her eyes, but didn’t comment on the request. With a gesture of her own, she dismissed her attendants, then settled herself on the couch across the table from Zelzony. “You don’t ordinarily make mysteries, Zem-trallen.”
“I don’t ordinarily have occasion. Kinra, will you please examine these prints, read the accompanying notes and the summary of conclusions.”
Selyays took the folder and opened it. When she saw the first image her face went still with shock. Her head snapped up, she stared a long minute at Zelzony, then she lowered her eyes to the folder and began reading. The prints rustled as she turned them, examining each with blank-faced care, reading the notes clipped to them. When she came to the last, the image of the mutilated cub, her face didn’t change but the folder shook. She set it on the table and took up the summary. Zelzony had sketched in the steps she’d taken, including a list of witnesses to suicides, the names the Data Retrievers had teased out of record clerks, the movements, the matchups, the results of investigations as to where the Ykx culled from the two lists had been during the days just before the victims were reported missing, the list of those cleared for one death or another, the final six who remained. She put the summary on top of the folder and sat for several minutes gazing at the list of six and the notes beside the names. Finally she sighed and looked up. “Is this all?”
“No.” Zelzony picked up the leather case before her, began undoing the buckles. She coughed, cleared her throat. “I was fighting shadows, Kinra. For two years. Then the aliens came. The Kinravaly suggested I ask them for … for help since they came from a more violent society.” She swallowed and went on, speaking quickly, flatly, all emotion excised from the words. “They suggested …” she wasn’t about to tell Selyays about talking to a machine, a thing, “gathering the names of Ykx who kept turning up as witness verifiers of suicides and comparing these with the names of Ykx who had improper access to records of young folk seeking permits to travel.” She drew the player from the case, pulled the earphones from their slot, set them on the table, unwrapped a tiny brownish seed. “Look at this. Gently.”
Selyays took the seed, rubbed her finger over it. “Ah. It bites.” There was a drop of blood on her fingertip. “Burr. So?”
“Keep it a moment. Let me see if I can work this.” She fiddled with the machine, pushing buttons with awkward care. “There. Look at the screen.”
A small image, clearer than any mirror. The room, everything in front of Selyays’ hand, a full half circle, was there in the screen, the other couch, Zelzony, the light sculptures now flushing blood red as the sun set, everything was there. Selyays eased the seed off her hand and put it on the table. “A transmitter,” she said softly. “Bohalendas spoke of this, he had some … ah … com sets he called them, but they were much larger.” She looked from the tiny seed to the player. “The purpose of this show?”
“The aliens gave us a number of those seeds. As you saw, they have sharp hooks. They were placed on the harnesses of the six and everything these Ykx have done since has been recorded and reviewed.”
“Ah! Zem-trallen, I don’t know about this.…”
“The Kinravaly was informed and she gave her approval, with the proviso that every record not directly concerned with the deaths be destroyed once we have the killers.”
“Yes, I see. I also see that the Kinra and Kinravaly are going to have to draft laws controlling such spying, if contact is maintained with the Beyond-the-Veil. However, that’s for later, isn’t it. What have you got to show me?”
With the same tooth-clenched care, Zelzony changed the setting on the player and showed Selyays how to put on the earphones. Then she sat back and waited while the player went through the meeting of Eshkel and Laro
ul, then the additional bit, the meeting of Peeper with them and their gloating over the images of the victims.
Selyays slipped off the earphones and set them on the table; she straightened and shuddered, eyes closed, teeth clamped on her lower lip until blood came. The shuddering eased, she exploded out a breath, sucked in another, opened her eyes. “Fiuli and Tissa. MY Fiuli and Tissa.”
Zelzony nodded. “I saw that.”
“Did you tell Kilenc?”
“No. I came to you first. There is a knotty ethical problem here.”
“Yes. I see.” Selyays nodded at the player. “You can’t use that to prove anything.”
“Right. We have to see them doing these things, we have to have image prints to back up the witnesses, so we have to let them take a victim and hurt that person. And Tissa is your grandson’s daughter and Fiuli is your granddaughter’s oldest son. If you save them, you are condemning another Ykx’s child to torment. I’ll tell you this, Selyays, if it were just the boy, I would not be here. But a nursling, no. We’ll go in as fast as we can, once we have the evidence. I think we can get to them before they do serious damage, but I can’t be certain of that. So many things could happen. No one can prevent the working of chance.”
Selyays rubbed her hands together and stared at the objects on the table without really seeing them. “They have to be stopped,” she said finally.
“Yes.”
“Why are you here? Tell me why you’re here.”
“Because I don’t know enough about Laby Youl to protect Fiuli and Tissa without warning the killers.”
“Ah!” Selyays pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. “How long do I have to think about this?”