It hardly mattered. Battle School would not take him with such an injury.
Then she saw the adoration in the eyes of the children, the way they called him Papa and looked to him for approval. Few adult men were good fathers. This boy of--what, eleven? twelve?--had already learned to be an extraordinarily good father. Protector, provider, king, god to his little ones. Even as ye do it unto the least of these, ye have done it unto me. Christ had a special place deep in his heart for this boy Achilles. So she would test him, and maybe the leg could be corrected; or, failing that, she could surely find a place for him in some good school in one of the cities of the Netherlands--pardon, the International Territory--that was not completely overwhelmed by the desperate poverty of refugees.
He refused.
"I can't leave my children," he said.
"But surely one of the others can look after them."
A girl who dressed as a boy spoke up. "I can!"
But it was obvious she could not--she was too small herself. Achilles was right. His children depended on him, and to leave them would be irresponsible. The reason she was here was because he was civilized; civilized men do not leave their children.
"Then I will come to you," she said. "After you eat, take me where you spend your days, and let me teach you all in a little school. Only for a few days, but that would be good, wouldn't it?"
It would be good. It had been a long time since Sister Carlotta had actually taught a group of children. And never had she been given such a class as this. Just when her work had begun to seem futile even to her, God gave her such a chance. It might even be a miracle. Wasn't it the business of Christ to make the lame walk? If Achilles did well on the tests, then surely God would let the leg also be fixed, would let it be within the reach of medicine.
"School's good," said Achilles. "None of these little ones can read."
Sister Carlotta knew, of course, that if Achilles could read, he certainly couldn't do it well.
But for some reason, perhaps some almost unnoticeable movement, when Achilles said that none of the little ones could read, the smallest of them all, the one called Bean, caught her eye. She looked at him, into eyes with sparks in them like distant campfires in the darkest night, and she knew that he knew how to read. She knew, without knowing how, that it was not Achilles at all, that it was this little one that God had brought her here to find.
She shook off the feeling. It was Achilles who was the civilizer, doing the work of Christ. It was the leader that the I.F. would want, not the weakest and smallest of the disciples.
Bean stayed as quiet as possible during the school sessions, never speaking up and never giving an answer even when Sister Carlotta tried to insist. He knew that it wouldn't be good for him to let anyone know that he could already read and do numbers, nor that he could understand every language spoken in the street, picking up new languages the way other children picked up stones. Whatever Sister Carlotta was doing, whatever gifts she had to bestow, if it ever seemed to the other children that Bean was trying to show them up, trying to get ahead of them, he knew that he would not be back for another day of school. And even though she mostly taught things he already knew how to do, in her conversation there were many hints of a wider world, of great knowledge and wisdom. No adult had ever taken the time to speak to them like this, and he luxuriated in the sound of high language well spoken. When she taught it was in I.F. Common, of course, that being the language of the street, but since many of the children had also learned Dutch and some were even native Dutch speakers, she would often explain hard points in that language. When she was frustrated though, and muttered under her breath, that was in Spanish, the language of the merchants of Jonker Frans Straat, and he tried to piece together the meanings of new words from her muttering. Her knowledge was a banquet, and if he remained quiet enough, he would be able to stay and feast.
School had only been going for a week, however, when he made a mistake. She passed out papers to them, and they had writing on them. Bean read his paper at once. It was a "Pre-Test" and the instructions said to circle the right answers to each question. So he began circling answers and was halfway down the page when he realized that the entire group had fallen silent.
They were all looking at him, because Sister Carlotta was looking at him.
"What are you doing, Bean?" she asked. "I haven't even told you what to do yet. Please give me your paper."
Stupid, inattentive, careless--if you die for this, Bean, you deserve it.
He handed her the paper.
She looked at it, then looked back at him very closely. "Finish it," she said.
He took the paper back from her hand. His pencil hovered over the page. He pretended to be struggling with the answer.
"You did the first fifteen in about a minute and a half," said Sister Carlotta. "Please don't expect me to believe that you're suddenly having a hard time with the next question." Her voice was dry and sarcastic.
"I can't do it," he said. "I was just playing anyway."
"Don't lie to me," said Carlotta. "Do the rest."
He gave up and did them all. It didn't take long. They were easy. He handed her the paper.
She glanced over it and said nothing. "I hope the rest of you will wait until I finish the instructions and read you the questions. If you try to guess at what the hard words are, you'll get all the answers wrong."
Then she proceeded to read each question and all the possible answers out loud. Only then could the other children set their marks on the papers.
Sister Carlotta didn't say another thing to call attention to Bean after that, but the damage was done. As soon as school was over, Sergeant came over to Bean. "So you can read," he said.
Bean shrugged.
"You been lying to us," said Sergeant.
"Never said I couldn't."
"Showed us all up. How come you didn't teach us?"
Because I was trying to survive, Bean said silently. Because I didn't want to remind Achilles that I was the smart one who thought up the original plan that got him this family. If he remembers that, he'll also remember who it was who told Poke to kill him.
The only answer he actually gave was a shrug.
"Don't like it when somebody holds out on us."
Sergeant nudged him with a foot.
Bean did not have to be given a map. He got up and jogged away from the group. School was out for him. Maybe breakfast, too. He'd have to wait till morning to find that out.
He spent the afternoon alone on the streets. He had to be careful. As the smallest and least important of Achilles' family, he might be overlooked. But it was more likely that those who hated Achilles would have taken special notice of Bean as one of the most memorable. They might take it into their heads that killing Bean or beating him to paste and leaving him would make a dandy warning to Achilles that he was still resented, even though life was better for everybody.
Bean knew there were plenty of bullies who felt that way. Especially the ones who weren't able to maintain a family, because they kept being too mean with the little children. The little ones learned quickly that when a papa got too nasty, they could punish him by leaving him alone at breakfast and attaching themselves to some other family. They would eat before him. They would have someone else's protection from him. He would eat last. If they ran out of food, he would get nothing, and Helga wouldn't even mind, because he wasn't a papa, he wasn't watching out for little ones. So those bullies, those marginal ones, they hated the way things worked these days, and they didn't forget that it was Achilles who had changed it all. Nor could they go to some other kitchen--the word had spread among the adults who gave out food, and now all the kitchens had a rule that groups with little children got to be first in line. If you couldn't hold on to a family, you could get pretty hungry. And nobody looked up to you.
Still, Bean couldn't resist trying to get close enough to some of the other families to hear their talk. Find out how the other groups worked.
The answer was easy to learn: They didn't work all that well. Achilles really was a good leader. That sharing of bread--none of the other groups did that. But there was a lot of punishing, the bully smacking kids who didn't do what he wanted. Taking their bread away from them because they didn't do something, or didn't do it quickly enough.
Poke had chosen right, after all. By dumb luck, or maybe she wasn't all that stupid. Because she had picked, not just the weakest bully, the easiest to beat, but also the smartest, the one who understood how to win and hold the loyalty of others. All Achilles had ever needed was the chance.
Except that Achilles still didn't share her bread, and now she was beginning to realize that this was a bad thing, not a good one. Bean could see it in her face when she watched the others do the ritual of sharing with Achilles. Because he got soup now--Helga brought it to him at the door--he took much smaller pieces, and instead of biting them off he tore them and ate them with a smile. Poke never got that smile from him. Achilles was never going to forgive her, and Bean could see that she was beginning to feel the pain of that. For she loved Achilles now, too, the way the other children did, and the way he kept her apart from the others was a kind of cruelty.
Maybe that's enough for him, thought Bean. Maybe that's his whole vengeance.
Bean happened to be curled up behind a newsstand when several bullies began a conversation near him. "He's full of brag about how Achilles is going to pay for what he did."
"Oh, right, Ulysses is going to punish him, right."
"Well, maybe not directly."
"Achilles and his stupid family will just take him apart. And this time they won't aim for his chest. He said so, didn't he? Break open his head and put his brains on the street, that's what Achilles'll do."
"He's still just a cripple."
"Achilles gets away with everything. Give it up."
"I'm hoping Ulysses does it. Kills him, flat out. And then none of us take in any of his bastards. You got that? Nobody takes them in. Let them all die. Put them all in the river."
The talk went on that way until the boys drifted away from the newsstand.
Then Bean got up and went in search of Achilles.
3
PAYBACK
"I think I have someone for you."
"You've thought that before."
"He's a born leader. But he does not meet your physical specifications."
"Then you'll pardon me if I don't waste time on him."
"If he passes your exacting intellectual and personality requirements, it is quite possible that for a minuscule portion of the brass button or toilet paper budget of the I.F., his physical limitations might be repaired."
"I never knew nuns could be sarcastic."
"I can't reach you with a ruler. Sarcasm is my last resort."
"Let me see the tests."
"I'll let you see the boy. And while we're at it, I'll let you see another."
"Also physically limited?"
"Small. Young. But so was the Wiggin boy, I hear. And this one--somehow on the streets he taught himself to read."
"Ah, Sister Carlotta, you help me fill the empty hours of my life."
"Keeping you out of mischief is how I serve God."
Bean went straight to Achilles with what he heard. It was too dangerous, to have Ulysses out of the hospital and word going around that he meant to get even for his humiliation.
"I thought that was all behind us," said Poke sadly. "The fighting I mean."
"Ulysses has been in bed for all this time," said Achilles. "Even if he knows about the changes, he hasn't had time to get how it works yet."
"So we stick together," said Sergeant. "Keep you safe."
"It might be safer for all," said Achilles, "if I disappear for a few days. To keep you safe."
"Then how will we get in to eat?" asked one of the younger ones. "They'll never let us in without you."
"Follow Poke," said Achilles. "Helga at the door will let you in just the same."
"What if Ulysses gets you?" asked one of the young ones. He rubbed the tears out of his eyes, lest he be shamed.
"Then I'll be dead," said Achilles. "I don't think he'll be content to put me in the hospital."
The child broke down crying, which set another to wailing, and soon it was a choir of boo-hoos, with Achilles shaking his head and laughing. "I'm not going to die. You'll be safe if I'm out of the way, and I'll come back after Ulysses has time to cool down and get used to the system."
Bean watched and listened in silence. He didn't think Achilles was handling it right, but he had given the warning and his responsibility was over. For Achilles to go into hiding was begging for trouble--it would be taken as a sign of weakness.
Achilles slipped away that night to go somewhere that he couldn't tell them so that nobody could accidentally let it slip. Bean toyed with the idea of following him to see what he really did, but realized he would be more useful with the main group. After all, Poke would be their leader now, and Poke was only an ordinary leader. In other words, stupid. She needed Bean, even if she didn't know it.
That night Bean tried to keep watch, for what he did not know. At last he did sleep, and dreamed of school, only it wasn't the sidewalk or alley school with Sister Carlotta, it was a real school, with tables and chairs. But in the dream Bean couldn't sit at a desk. Instead he hovered in the air over it, and when he wanted to he flew anywhere in the room. Up to the ceiling. Into a crevice in the wall, into a secret dark place, flying upward and upward as it got warmer and warmer and . . .
He woke in darkness. A cold breeze stirred. He needed to pee. He also wanted to fly. Having the dream end almost made him cry out with the pain of it. He couldn't remember ever dreaming of flying before. Why did he have to be little, with these stubby legs to carry him from place to place? When he was flying he could look down at everyone and see the tops of their silly heads. He could pee or poop on them like a bird. He wouldn't have to be afraid of them because if they got mad he could fly away and they could never catch him.
Of course, if I could fly, everyone else could fly too and I'd still be the smallest and slowest and they'd poop and pee on me anyway.
There was no going back to sleep. Bean could feel that in himself. He was too frightened, and he didn't know why. He got up and went into the alley to pee.
Poke was already there. She looked up and saw him.
"Leave me alone for a minute," she said.
"No," he said.
"Don't give me any crap, little boy," she said.
"I know you squat to pee," he said, "and I'm not looking anyway."
Glaring, she waited until he turned his back to urinate against the wall. "I guess if you were going to tell about me you already would have," she said.
"They all know you're a girl, Poke. When you're not there, Papa Achilles talks about you as 'she' and 'her.' "
"He's not my papa."
"So I figured," said Bean. He waited, facing the wall.
"You can turn around now." She was up and fastening her pants again.
"I'm scared of something, Poke," said Bean.
"What?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know what you're scared of?
"That's why it's so scary."
She gave a soft, sharp laugh. "Bean, all that means is that you're four years old. Little kids see shapes in the night. Or they don't see shapes. Either way they're scared."
"Not me," said Bean. "When I'm scared, it's because something's wrong."
"Ulysses is looking to hurt Achilles, that's what."
"That wouldn't make you sad, would it?"
She glared at him. "We're eating better than ever. Everybody's happy. It was your plan. And I never cared about being the boss."
"But you hate him," said Bean.
She hesitated. "It feels like he's always laughing at me."
"How do you know what little kids are scared of?"
"Cause I used to be one," said Poke. "And I rem
ember."
"Ulysses isn't going to hurt Achilles," said Bean.
"I know that," said Poke.
"Because you're planning to find Achilles and protect him."
"I'm planning to stay right here and watch out for the children."
"Or else maybe you're planning to find Ulysses first and kill him."
"How? He's bigger than me. By a lot."
"You didn't come out here to pee," said Bean. "Or else your bladder's the size of a gumball."
"You listened?"
Bean shrugged. "You wouldn't let me watch."
"You think too much, but you don't know enough to make sense of what's going on."
"I think Achilles was lying to us about what he's going to do," said Bean, "and I think you're lying to me right now."
"Get used to it," said Poke. "The world is full of liars."
"Ulysses doesn't care who he kills," said Bean. "He'd be just as happy to kill you as Achilles."
Poke shook her head impatiently. "Ulysses is nothing. He isn't going to hurt anybody. He's all brag."
"So why are you up?" asked Bean.
Poke shrugged.
"You're going to try to kill Achilles, aren't you," said Bean. "And make it look like Ulysses did it."
She rolled her eyes. "Did you drink a big glass of stupid juice tonight?"
"I'm smart enough to know you're lying!"
"Go back to sleep," she said. "Go back to the other children."
He regarded her for a while, and then obeyed.
Or rather, seemed to obey. He went back into the crawl space where they slept these days, but immediately crept out the back way and clambered up crates, drums, low walls, high walls, and finally got up onto a low-hanging roof. He walked to the edge in time to see Poke slip out of the alley into the street. She was going somewhere. To meet someone.
Bean slid down a pipe onto a rainbarrel, and scurried along Korte Hoog Straat after her. He tried to be quiet, but she wasn't trying, and there were other noises of the city, so she never heard his footfalls. He clung to the shadows of walls, but didn't dodge around too much. It was pretty straightforward, following her--she only turned twice. Headed for the river. Meeting someone.
Ender's Shadow Page 4