“Set your rump on a bed, Kati; I’ll get them,” Lank said, already on the way to the door. “They were going to go bathe while you were gone, but they should be back by now.”
What the other patrons, or the staff of the Inn thought about the hoots of laughter that emanated from the room during the next half-hour, is not on record. Although, there were likely some comments to the effect that the off-worlders were kind of crazy, but they sure knew how to have fun.
*****
“If the information in these pages is complete, there has been no large change in the revenue brought in by the Klenser rentals in the last few years,” Roxanna said to Jorun.
She had finished going through the papers of figures that Jorun had given her.
“There’s a slight rise, but it seems to be the result of the Government having raised the prices since their costs have also gone up—transporting the Klensers, for example. My conclusion is that if the Four Hundred Families have a lot of new Interstellar Credit to spend, they must be getting it from somewhere other than the Klenser Service.”
“Hmm. Well, that’s what I wanted to know.” Jorun crinkled his brow. “It’s a start anyway, knowing that they must have a new Credit source. Although it’s probably going to be difficult to find out what it is, if they’re determined enough to hide it.”
“What were you planning to do with the information, if you find it?” Roxanna asked, practically enough. “They won’t turn their ill-gotten gains over to fund the Revolution, will they?”
Jorun grinned at the mild jest.
“No, they won’t do that,” he replied. “Our neighbour, Hector Carmaks, who, unlike most of the Exalted, supports the aims of the Underground, has said that he found out while discussing galactic politics with some off-worlders, that if the Vultairian Government is in clear violation of Federation laws, the Federation can, and will, take action against it. One of the Underground factions in the Capital City succeeded in doing some digging in the archives there—don’t ask me how—and found that, in the past, there have been a number of Federation Investigations into Vultaire. The Oligarchs always managed to finesse things, to make it look like the Klensers are humanely treated and so forth. But if we can find something truly against Federation Law, and prove it, we could demand our rights under the Federation Charter.”
“Surely slavery is against the Federation Charter,” Roxanna objected. “They’re guilty as hell of that.”
“Can you prove it?” Jorun asked.
“I don’t know.” Roxanna sighed. “Given enough time and the opportunity to make the case—I mean, I’m sure the word of witnesses like myself, Ingrid, the green girls and all the rest of us at the brothel must count for something. But if I can’t talk to anyone who’ll listen....”
“That’s just it. The Exalted are not going to let you or the other off-world slaves tell your stories to Federation Investigators. Still, Hector thinks that the Federation is our best hope, considering the stranglehold that the Four Hundred have on the economy, and how they have succeeded in keeping the general population fighting among themselves, and ‘ignorant’—Hector’s word, not mine.”
“Jorun, should you be trusting her with all that information?”
One of Jorun’s “Aides”, a young man who had been eyeing Roxanna suspiciously ever since day one, had come in while they were talking, and now broke into the conversation, glaring at them.
Roxanna burst into laughter. She couldn’t help it, although she well knew that it would only serve to annoy Keros further.
“What in heaven’s name do you think I’d do with the knowledge?” she asked him between cackles. “Do you think that I’m going to run to the nearest hilltop and flag down a passing flit, and spill everything I’ve found out while I’ve been here, to its Exalted pilot? Come on, really?”
“Keros, the idea is rather ridiculous,” Jorun agreed, apparently holding back laughter himself. “Aren’t you forgetting that our people helped Roxanna escape slavery? Slavery in a brothel owned by the Exalted?”
“Yeah, but what do we know about her?” Keros asked stubbornly. “She’s an alien from who knows where. How do we know that she’s not totally twisted, and wants to destroy us all?”
“I’m afraid that you’re crediting me with destructive powers way beyond my dreams,” Roxanna said, stifling giggles. “Granted, I’ve one of those translation nodes in my neck, just like the ones the Exalted have, but only because the slave ship’s Captain, Gorsh, whose minions snatched me from my home, saw fit to so equip a whole roomful of his captives. It does help my brain to work better and faster, and my memory is amazing, now, compared to what it used to be. But still—I mean, look at me! I’m tiny compared to you, Keros; you could grab me and stuff me into a sack without me being able to stop you!”
“Don’t give him any ideas, Roxanna,” Jorun laughed. “You’re too valuable to be stuffed into a sack by anyone, and Keros will just have to get used to seeing you around!
“Did you have a message for me, Keros?”
“Yeah.” Keros stared at Roxanna sullenly as he spoke. Clearly he had hoped that Jorun would dismiss Roxanna before listening to him, and just as clearly Jorun had no intention of doing so. “A runner from Bouldertown has arrived at the Base and wants to speak with you.”
“And where is he, or she?” Jorun queried.
“In the dining area. The kitchen staff are feeding her, and watering her, too—with beer.” It was clear from Keros’ tone that he did not approve.
This time Roxanna kept her guffaws to herself but she noticed that Jorun was carefully not looking in her direction. Perhaps later they could have a good howl at Keros’ expense.
Jorun dug out a watch from his pocket, and checked it.
“It’s almost supper time,” he said. “We may as well head for the dining area, and if the runner’s message is not for my ears alone, we can get her to spill. Unless she has some important news that Hector wants me to know about right away, it probably is something that touches everyone. In that case, the sooner we can spread the news, the better.”
Roxanna glanced at her work place at the table. The papers were in reasonably neat piles, and her chair was pushed in. Good enough; she was ready to leave for the day. Sira and Cathe had asked her to come to what they called “The Circle” this evening, to talk and argue, to tell stories, to recite poetry, and even to sing songs, if they were able to scare up a rhyele player from among the Base inhabitants. Musical instrumentalists were scarce, apparently, and sometimes Roxanna sorely missed the sing-alongs she and Ingrid had conducted on Captain Gorsh’s slave ship even after Katie, their originator, had left. The children who had made up the majority of the captives, had loved those sing-alongs, as had Ingrid and Roxanna. So far, Vultaire had seemed a rather musically bereft world, and Roxanna had wondered about that, although she had not had the chance to pursue the topic. There had been too many other things to talk about.
Membership in The Circle had been a welcome development. It made her feel that at least some of the Vultairians had accepted her presence at the Base. Up until the day when she had found out about the Klensers, she had spent most of her evenings in Jorun’s office, doing whatever calculations or translations he wanted from her. It had made her feel useful, but had been dull for someone as young as she was. Jorun obviously liked and trusted her, but he was a middle-aged man whose passion was to expand the reach of the Underground. He had been delighted when Sira, Cathe, and the Circle had begun to dominate Roxanna’s evenings.
“You can get the work here done during the days,” he had told her, when Sira and Cathe had come to invite Roxanna into The Circle. “It’s important for you to spend time with our young people. And it is important for them to spend time with you!”
*****
Base inhabitants were trickling into the eating area when Roxanna, Jorun, and Keros arrived. The tables and chairs had been set up for the evening meal, and the dishes that the “kitchen patrol” had prepared for
the entire population, had been laid out in covered platters on a long table by the wall. People were filling plates with food, and finding places to sit. There was a beer keg on the counter separating the kitchen from the dining area, and an urn of herbal tea beside it, alongside a large assortment of mugs. The beer was good, Roxanna knew, from having sampled it on occasion. It was brewed on site by several Base residents who had at one time worked for a brewery. The Circle Members had hinted that there was a story behind their arrival at the Underground Base, but so far Roxanna had not heard it. There had been so much to talk about during The Circle evenings that time seemed to slip by, and many topics of interest were left to languish, undiscussed. The story of “The Brewery Boys”, as The Circle referred to the beer makers, was one of these.
The Bouldertown runner was a woman in her thirties, tall and thin even for a Vultairian. She was packing in a large supper and sipping from a mug of beer at a table’s end, with one of the kitchen workers chatting amiably with her. When Jorun, Roxanna and Keros approached, the worker rose from her chair and offered it to them.
“Do you want another mug of beer, or anything else, before I go?” she asked the runner.
“No, I’m good—for now, at least,” the runner replied with a grin, her eyes lighting on Roxanna whom Jorun directed into the chair the kitchen worker had vacated. He settled across the table from her, and Keros sat down beside him, still with a sullen air.
“If she needs anything, Keros here will be glad to fetch it,” Jorun said, winking at Roxanna.
Roxanna stifled a giggle while the tall woman next to her looked at all three of them in turn, and then grinned broadly.
“I’m perfectly capable of fetching and carrying for myself, just like everyone else here,” she said. “So you can relax, Keros.
“I’m Santha,” she then added to Roxanna, her grin widening, if that was possible, “and you must be the off-worlder, Roxanna. The one that rode in a cart hidey-hole all the way from the Capital City, to escape a brothel. And who has a mind the equal of any of the Exalted.”
“Santha, I’m not sure I like the way word travels around here,” Jorun objected. “We’re trying to keep Roxanna safe.”
“Oh, nobody’s going to rat on her to any Exalted outside of the Carmaks, so don’t worry about that, Jorun,” Santha said brightly. “But she might have an interest in the news that I’m bringing.”
“Well, let’s hear it. I’ll admit to a certain amount of curiosity myself,” Jorun said. “I wasn’t expecting any messages, and you don’t look like anything dire has happened, so I guess I don’t have to wait for your words with trepidation.”
“No, you need not fear my message, Jorun. I am, as a matter of fact, a bearer of good news.
“This came from Carmakville,” Santha added. “It was brought by a Rivertown runner, who had it from a member of the Carmaks Family, who had flitted there on some minor errand, and passed on the word at the same time. A Troupe of musicians has arrived in Carmakville, and they’re an interesting bunch. Four off-worlders, and two Vultairians. The Vultairians are a sister and a brother. The sister plays the rhyele and sings ballads—as well as joins in other songs that the group performs—and the brother plays drums, off-world drums, quite competently apparently, and sings with the others. But, and this is the odd thing, the boy is a Wild Klenser, and the group have been hiding him from the Exalted by having him play music with them!”
“How old is this brother?” Jorun asked.
“The obvious question,” Santha laughed. “About fifteen or sixteen by the look of him, I was told. His sister is two or three years older and had kept him hidden from the Warrion Family in Port City since he started showing Klenser traits. But then the usual happened, he went off to help with a cleansing while his sister was away at her singing job, and one of the Warrions got a look at him. It would have sealed his fate except that the off-worlders with whom his sister had been performing, wanted to take a tour of the hinterlands, putting on shows in small towns along the way to earn their keep. The Troupe bought one of those carts that has a hidey-hole, and stuffed the Klenser in there until they were off Warrion territory. They then let him out, taught him to play the drums, and made him a part of the group.”
“Hid him in plain sight, in other words,” Jorun said, raising his brows.
“Yeah. According to what I was told, they figured that as long as the boy was behaving more or less normally, and the Warrions weren’t around to recognize him, he’d be fine. And apparently he is, and even has got to be a pretty decent musician, at least for a beginner!”
“And he’s been able to behave like a normal person?” Jorun asked. “He’s not falling asleep, or into a trance in the middle of the performances?”
Santha shook her head.
“Apparently not. But he comes from a musical family, so maybe music comes naturally to him, and he doesn’t have to struggle with it.”
“And you heard this from the Rivertown runner, who had it from a Carmaks Family member?” Jorun asked.
“Actually, no, not all of it,” Santha replied, with the air of being precise. “When the Troupe came to Ithcar, they travelled to Carmakville via Rivertown, and they put on a performance there. They were keen to go to Carmakville, apparently, and knew that the Carmaks were the one Family among the Exalted of this continent whose sympathies lie with the Ordinary Citizens, rather than with the Oligarchs.”
“That is interesting,” Jorun mused. “I wonder where they got the information?”
Santha shrugged at that, apparently having no answer.
“The Rivertown runner told us in Bouldertown that the performance that the Troupe put on was a great show; lots of fun. There was a juggler among them, and they did a lot of what they called sing-alongs—songs that the audience could easily learn, and join in the singing—a couple of them, especially, were really good at teaching the listeners the words to the songs, and then encouraging them to sing along with the performers.”
“I had a friend who was good at that,” Roxanna sighed.
“You’re going to get the opportunity to decide if these people are as good at it as your friend was,” Santha said, grinning. She turned to Jorun, her grin growing wider. “This is the part of the message that comes from Hector Carmaks. He’s sending the Musical Troupe here. He thinks that the Klenser will be safer with us than in Ithcar, and that you can use what the Vultairian brother and sister have learned from these off-worlders. He doesn’t want the Base folk to get bored out of their minds, you see!”
“And the off-worlders?” Jorun asked.
“They’re planning to take their act to the Capital City. Hector has spoken at length with them and they are quite keen on seeing the Seat of our Government. A Carmakville rhyele player/ballad singer is joining them to replace the Vultairian girl who wants to remain with her brother.”
“They’re keen on seeing the Capital City? In spite of how Hector has no doubt slagged it to them?” Jorun’s eyebrows had shot up again.
“Well, well, well.” He looked very thoughtful. “If they’re coming to drop off the Klenser and the rhyele player, I guess I’ll get a chance to talk to them. I’m assuming that they, like Roxanna here, have an excellent command of our language, and there will be no translation problems.”
“Apparently that’s the case. The runner from Rivertown did not mention any language problems. As a matter-of-fact, he mentioned that when they performed, they would sing off-world songs in the original language, and then follow that with a Vultairian version.”
“Which means that they have translation nodes.” Roxanna fingered the cranberry-sized lump under her left ear.
“Would other worlds equip their travelling musicians with translation nodes?” Keros asked scornfully. “If our Exalted gain their enhanced brain powers from such things, rather than from genetic superiority, they seem to be worth limiting to the upper classes.”
“We don’t know how other worlds run themselves,” Jorun objected. “
I haven’t been to Port City but Hector has, and he has mentioned that the off-worlders there are very good with languages. For all we know, everyone outside of us in the Federation is equipped with the nodes.”
“I can’t tell you,” Roxanna said, “since all I’ve seen of the worlds outside of this one and my own, is the slave ship and the Slave Market where the Vultairian Exalted couple bought my friend Ingrid and me. But, for what it’s worth, at the Slave Market everyone seemed to be able to communicate with everyone else, except for those of the slaves who were, I believe, left nodeless deliberately.”
She shuddered, recalling the Slave Market. It had been an experience so degrading that at the time she had been glad to have been quickly picked up by the couple who had bought her and Ingrid. With an effort, she put the memory aside.
Jorun saw the expression that flitted across her face, and distracted her by suggesting that the three of them, Roxanna, Keros and himself should eat, and thereafter make room for other diners. Santha pointed out that she had told all that she had to tell, adding for Roxanna’s benefit that Cathe had invited her to join The Circle that evening.
“I promised Cathe that I would try to sing the couple of songs that Ric, the Rivertown runner, taught me,” she added. “Of the ones that the Troupe sang at their Rivertown performance.”
She emptied her beer mug and collected her dirty dishes while Roxanna and Jorun headed for the serving table. Keros looked injured when Jorun asked him to save their places until they returned; he could get his food after, while Jorun saved his seat. The eating area had filled up, and many of the diners greeted Santha; she clearly was a well-known, and well-liked visitor. A few, on seeing Keros near the end of the first table, with Jorun and Roxanna in the vicinity, made the correct assumption and hurried over to speak to Keros, asking him about the news that Santha had brought. This cheered up Keros; he got to be the first person to spread the word. Not even that pesky little off-worlder was there to share the lime-light. At least not until she had collected her meal and a mug of herbal tea; Keros sneered at her habit of drinking tea instead of ale.
On Assignment to the Planet of the Exalted Page 30