Chapter Seventeen
Ran-Del looked out the flyter window at the roof of Francesca’s house. No matter how many times he rode in one of her flying vehicles, he could never completely forget the sight of the burning hulk on the flyter pad the day Stefan Hayden had died.
This time the flyter dropped down smoothly, sliding through the unseen barrier of the force field as if it weren’t there at all. The pilot cut the engines at just the right second, and the machine set down as gently as a day bat landing on a branch.
Francesca was waiting when he came down the ramp. She looked him up and down as if four days spent in the Sansoussy Forest could have changed him somehow. Or maybe it was the Sansoussy clothes she was scrutinizing so closely.
“Welcome back,” she said as he came near.
Welcome back, not welcome home. She was being diplomatic. He stooped to kiss her cheek. “Thank you.”
“How are your grandparents?”
“Fine.”
She looked down at the two bags he carried, the one she had given him for his clothes, and the one that held his grandmother’s gift. “Did you remember to leave your grandparents the portable com?”
“Yes.” He hefted the other bag. “Grandmother sent you a present, too.”
A waft of gratification escaped her. “Really? What is it?”
“A baby blanket.”
She burst out with a laugh. “Not very subtle, is she?”
“She wove it herself.”
Francesca gave him a sideways glance. “Well, it’s probably just as well to think about that. We do need to start a family soon.”
Ran-Del said nothing. Even after six months he still struggled too much with being married to welcome the idea of fatherhood.
Francesca waited until they were almost to the house to give him the news. “Your warehouse man called yesterday. I told him you were away but that you’d be back today. He said to come by, if you can.”
Ran-Del glanced at the sun. “It’s late. By the time I change clothes and walk there, it’ll be too late to do any work today.”
“This one time,” Francesca said, “you could take a skimmer.”
Ran-Del thought back to his brief time in the forest, and how easily he had gotten tired when he ran to his mother’s village. “No, I’ll walk or I’ll run.”
Francesca gave a small sigh. “Still a Sansoussy?”
“Always.”
He changed to his city clothes, left his other things in their bedroom, gave Buster a quick pat, and set out for the warehouse. By the time he got there, the whole crew was straggling across the pavement toward Benjie’s.
Georges laughed when he saw Ran-Del. “Too late, wild man. We’re finished for the day. Come along anyway. I’m buying the first round.”
Janis was cleaning off their table when they walked through the door. “Right on time,” she said, with her usual detached manner.
Georges hooked a hand through Ran-Del’s arm. “Come over here, Ran-Del. I want to talk to you.”
The warehouse owner led the way to a small corner table. Janis raised her eyebrows in surprise as the two of them sat down alone, but she said nothing and instead took drink orders from the other Rangoon employees.
“So, Ran-Del,” Georges said conversationally, “out of town for a few days, were you?”
Ran-Del nodded. Was Georges asking for a reason? Perhaps he thought Ran-Del was working somewhere else.
“Anything urgent?” Georges asked.
“I went to see my family.”
“Everything okay at home in the forest?” Georges prompted.
“Yes.”
Georges smiled. “You don’t make it easy to make small talk, do you, Ran-Del?”
Phrases that used words he knew in an unfamiliar way perplexed Ran-Del even more than new words. “What is small talk?”
“It’s what the Sansoussy don’t do, apparently,” Georges said with a faint grimace. “I asked you once, and you never answered me. What’s a Sansoussy doing here in Shangri-la?”
Ran-Del hesitated. What had brought on this bout of prying? One reason he liked working for Georges Rangoon was that the man had never been overly inquisitive. “Working for you, Georges.”
Georges gave him an intent look. “You only work for me one or two days a week, at most. You came looking for a job, but you must have something else lined up because you couldn’t live on what I pay you.” He nodded at Ran-Del’s city shirt and trousers. “Your clothes aren’t flashy, but I handle enough goods to know first quality when I see it, and you’re never short of cash here at Benjie’s.”
It wasn’t a question, so Ran-Del felt no need to answer. He was still sitting silently when Janis came up and set a steaming cup of tea in front of him and a glass of cold beer in front of Georges. Both of them said thank you.
Janis flashed a quick smile and was gone.
Ran-Del decided to take the offensive. “What brought this on, Georges?” He lifted his cup, savoring the warmth in his hand, the familiar spicy scent. “I’ve worked for you for months without your feeling a need to ask me these things. What’s happened to make everything different?”
Georges sipped his beer and studied Ran-Del over the top of it.
“Arno turned in his notice a few days ago,” he said abruptly. “His wife’s father offered him a place in a shop in Eden. He’ll be gone in three days.”
What did that mean? Ran-Del waited.
“Sheesh,” Georges grumbled. “You should have been a therapist. You sure know how to milk a silence. Do you want the job or not?”
Ran-Del was surprised. “You mean work for you full time?”
Georges nodded. “Yup, same hours as the others. You’d start at a journeyman’s rate, because technically, you’re new, but you’d go up to full scale soon if you can pass the written test.”
Ran-Del sat silently. The offer tempted him, but he had other obligations now. “I’m sorry, Georges. I can’t promise to be here every day. I have other commitments.”
“Another job?” Georges’ curiosity came through clearly.
“Not exactly.” He should explain. Georges would only be more and more curious until he did. “My wife needs my help occasionally.”
Georges’ eyes gleamed brightly as his curiosity ripened. “I spoke to your wife when I called yesterday. Nice looking woman. What does she do?”
“She runs the House of Hayden.”
Georges opened his eyes wide as he lifted his glass. Clearly this answer intrigued him. “She works for Baroness Hayden?”
“She is Baroness Hayden.”
Georges almost choked, and beer ran down his chin. “What?” He mopped his chin with a napkin.
“My wife is Baroness Hayden,” Ran-Del said. “Sometimes she needs me to escort her to business meetings.”
Georges stared at him as if Ran-Del had suddenly begun to speak gibberish. “Are you serious?”
Ran-Del frowned at being doubted.
Georges shook his head slowly. “Of course you’re serious. You’d never think up a joke like that one.”
“Why is it so difficult to believe?” Ran-Del asked, curious himself. He felt more comfortable in the city now, but there was no denying he still had a lot to learn.
Georges snorted. “You may have learned to sit in a bar and order tea like you know what you’re doing, but you’re still the same wild-eyed primitive I hauled out of the Jordan. The House of Hayden is a big deal, Ran-Del. You can’t tell me your wife isn’t filthy rich. Why the hell do you bother to work here?”
Ran-Del considered. “I suppose she is rich. She has two large houses and many people work for her. But that doesn’t make me rich. I work for you because I need to earn money and this was something I could learn to do.”
Georges still stared at him. “I remember now,” he said suddenly. “It was in the news bulletins some months ago—right about the time you first came here looking for work. Francesca Hayden got married the same day her father was killed—an outsider, not som
eone from a Great House. Everyone called it part of her last ditch attempt to stave off a takeover, but the bulletins focused more on the assassination and the business deal than who she married.”
Ran-Del nodded confirmation. “Yes.”
Georges grinned. “Well, what do you know? For once, the rumor mill was right. I always thought the stories about Baroness Hayden marrying some unknown barbarian were pure fabrication.”
Ran-Del felt his face go cold at this description. He put his hand on his knife.
Georges curled his lip. “Don’t you go sticking me with that thing, Ran-Del. All you’d do is prove me right and make a lot of bother for the Baroness. She’d have to pay poor Clara a huge chunk of hush money to get you off the hook.”
“The Sansoussy are not barbarians.”
Georges lifted his eyebrows. “Oh, yeah? Do you call it civilized to reach for a knife just because someone insults you?”
Ran-Del could feel his temper rising. “Do you call it civilized to insult someone just for being different?”
Georges grinned. “Cool down. Go soak your head in a bucket if necessary. I know I insulted you, and I apologize. I was just trying to make a point—and maybe to test you, a little.”
Ran-Del frowned at this. Georges suddenly reminded him of Stefan Hayden. “Test me for what?”
“Temper, maybe. Or perhaps I mean control. Don’t worry about it; it’s not as if you passed.”
Ran-Del gave an angry exclamation. This was becoming too much like an interview with Baron Hayden to be comfortable. “What makes city people so certain their way is better?”
“Who said it was better?” Georges said equably. “I’m sure the Sansoussy way works better in the forest.” He tapped his index finger on the table forcefully. “All I’m trying to point out is, you’re not in the forest anymore, Ran-Del. For some reason you don’t want to tell me, you came here to Shangri-La to live. You should try a little harder to fit in. Get mad if you want to; just don’t go for the knife.”
Ran-Del could see some merit in what Georges said. He made himself calm down a little before he spoke. “So I’m a barbarian.”
Georges leaned back in his chair and laughed. “I don’t think you are, actually. I think in many ways the Sansoussy must be more civilized than the rest of us. You’re right that different isn’t necessarily better or worse, it's only different.”
“Thank you,” Ran-Del said, pushing back his chair, “and thanks for the tea, Georges.”
“Hold on,” Georges said, laying a hand on his arm. “Don’t rush off so fast. Do you want the job or not?”
Ran-Del was surprised. “I told you, I can’t promise to be here every day.”
Georges made a noise with his tongue against his teeth. “I’ll make allowances. You can bring a note from the Baroness anytime you need to be off the next day.”
“But I won’t always know ahead of time—” Ran-Del began to explain.
“It was a joke,” Georges interrupted. “Don’t be so damned literal. Just call me when you need time off.”
“Why?” Ran-Del said. “Why would you hire me when I can’t make the same commitment someone else could? I can’t read very well, either.”
Georges grinned at him. “Maybe I really like the idea of having Baroness Hayden’s husband toting boxes in my warehouse. Or maybe with you, at least I know what kind of screw-up I’m getting instead of maybe getting something even worse off the street. Do you want the job or not, Ran-Del? I’m getting tired of asking.”
Ran-Del pondered. The Sansoussy never liked to do anything in a hurry. On the other hand, who knew how long Georges would wait? And time spent at Georges’ warehouse was more tolerable than time spent in the Hayden compound. “Yes, I want the job, Georges. Thank you.”
“Great! You can start next week. Just one thing, though—you have to stick with the reading. If you’re going to work for me, you’re going to learn to read.”
Feeling coerced, Ran-Del frowned. “Why is it so important?”
“Because I like you.” Georges grinned, easing Ran-Del’s sense of constraint. “I already hauled you out of the Jordan once because you couldn’t read a warning sign. I don’t want to have to do it again.”
Georges was right that reading was a skill he needed. Why should he argue just to prove he had a right to be wrong? “All right. I’ll stick with it.”
“We’ve got a deal, then!” Georges said, offering his hand.
Ran-Del shook it with due solemnity.
Georges picked up his beer. “You going to tell them?” he asked, jerking his head sideways at the table where Thelma, Guillermo, and the others sat.
Ran-Del was puzzled. “They’ll find out soon enough, won’t they, when I show up for work?”
“Not that.” Georges waved a hand impatiently. “They already know I was going to offer you the job—or if they don’t, they’re idiots. You going to tell them who you’re married to?”
Somehow Ran-Del didn’t like the idea. Georges’ reaction had told him that his coworkers might well treat him differently once they found out his circumstances. “Do they need to know?”
“No, I suppose not. You got a problem if I tell Clara about it? I don’t like to keep secrets from her. She can keep her mouth shut when it’s necessary.”
“I don’t mind. Can I go now, Georges, or do you have more questions you need answered?”
“Well,” Georges said, “since you mention it, care to tell me how you happened to meet Baroness Hayden? I have trouble imagining her hiking in the forest.”
“It’s not her idea of fun.” Ran-Del wasn’t ready to reveal the details of his history to Georges yet, but on the other hand, he was reluctant to lie outright. “Her father introduced us; it was an arranged marriage.”
Georges’s skepticism radiated as clearly as his earlier curiosity. “Her father and your folks set it up, and you two got married?”
Ran-Del nodded.
“How long did you know each other before the wedding?”
“A month or so.”
Georges shook his head. “Well, I knew the aristocracy went in for that kind of thing, but I never heard of the Sansoussy being so absurd.”
Ran-Del smiled. “Testing me again?”
“Maybe. You did better that time.”
“Don’t do it too often,” Ran-Del said, getting to his feet. “I like you, too, and I’d hate to draw your blood.”
Georges grinned at him. “Don’t forget to be on time, wild man—if you can read a clock that is.”
Ran-Del didn’t mind the joke. He had a job.
The Sixth Discipline Page 62