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worth; she never talked about her life before the Family, but I'd learned
enough about her to make guesses that got me hot and sick and furious at my
helplessness before her pain. She was a dancer who could madden a crowd, men
and women alike. I watched her dancing once and I hurt so much for her I never
went again. That dance was a cry for help so desperate, so hopeless& ah well,
she used to say she didn't know what all the fuss was about and she certainly
came back into the Family space so cool and unconcerned I never got it
straight in my head whether she was just performing or she'd learned like most
of us to deny the thing that hurts. We went running through the jungle like
large gray rats. The Law Mother knew well enough what we were up to when we
volunteered and scolded us apart and together for playing the fool with our
lives, lives that belonged to the Family and weren't ours to squander, but we
earned pay-points for the Family and favored status among the Contractors and
much good will, so she never forbid us our games. There was something else.
More than once we brought back rare and beautiful orchids. The Worao claimed
half the price for them, since it was their fields we raided, but even with
that the Family had gelt to buy luxuries undreamed of before our games, so no
one cried foul and forbid us. But certainly no one encouraged us quite the
opposite. My bodyfather reddened my butt each time I got home late and glared
unhappily at Qessara who led me astray and my uncle-father who taught me
juggling and games of chance scolded me for endangering myself and my
auntmother who taught me my letters tried to reason with me and with Qessara.
But reason and pain and shame have little effect on the crazy and I had that
infection from Qessara. And nothing serious had ever happened and like all
children who are tenderly raised, I had a bone-deep conviction that nothing
bad would happen.
This went on until I was fifteen and Qessara past twenty. During that year the
disappearances began to increase in tempo until it was a loud staccato thrum,
staccato from the empty spaces where Crew, hire-crew, and Contract Crew used
to stand. The edict came down, bristling with dire punishments for those who
ignored it. No more children on the service ways, not for any reason.
Something prowled the jungle out there, a demon with an everdemanding gut.
Only the passengers knew nothing of the fear that tightened around the rest of
us. I heard the whispered stories and was afraid, not so much for myself as
for Qessara.
There was a Sound. It was a sigh like wind through grass, seeping into crew
quarters and ours. It first it seemed such a harmless even rather pleasant
sound. It teased at us, seemed to whisper secrets just beyond our ability to
hear. The Worao Captains sent SP crew into the ways, armed with laser snappers
and flamethrowers, but the Sound was everywhere; the ways wound for stads and
stads. Those that came back saw nothing but plants too soggy to burn. Those
that didn't come back who knows what they saw. The High Captain withdrew with
the Worao Elders to see if they could worry out a way of clearing the Insul
without crippling the ship. There things stayed while the Worao argued.
Skeen interrupted the story. "To appreciate the problem the Gancha Family
Worao faced, you should know that were the ship Chiar Frawa set down on top of
us, it would not fit between the mountains, not half of it, not a tenth of it.
Were you to ride across it at twenty stads a day, trading horses every ten
stads to keep up the pace, it would take a thousand days to ride across the
widest part of it. Just to clear a small segment of the Insul, that area
between the meddashell and the serviceways, would be like trying to sweep all
the dirt off the plain. You see? Right. So back to Tibo and his story."
Page 50
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On the fifth day of the Sound, Qessara was so jittery she couldn't sleep or
eat. I watched her closely because I was afraid she'd do something even I knew
was stupid. I followed her to the dance space. I hated all the folk who came
to see her, hated them for sucking at her terror and desperation; it was like
they were one huge beast feeding on her. When her dance was done, they called
her back and back to dance some more until she was exhausted. Abla and Jerron,
two of our cousins, had to carry her back to the Family space. I went to do my
part of the Family Act and forgot about her for a short while because the
brother and sisters who worked with me would make my life unlivable if I
messed up. Besides, I was the best tumbler of them all outside my bodyfather.
I had my pride.
When our part was done, I hurried to Qesarra's cubby. She wasn't there. I
stood by her mussed bed and wondered what to do. The Sound went on and on. We
were all used to it by now, we tuned it out, but I started listening to it
because it was somehow different. Focused. I began to feel it working inside
me, looking for a hold on me. And then I knew where Qessara was. All the
grishes to the serviceways were warded now, those anyone knew about, with
alarms to bring Worao SP running if anyone tripped them. I let the Sound catch
me and lead me. There had to be a grish no one knew about or why did folk keep
disappearing. I tried to close off everything but the will to follow. I didn't
want the Sound to dump me or take me somewhere Qessara wasn't. I was frantic
not knowing how long Qessara had been gone, but I tried to look casual as I
moved through the family cubbies and the Green Space, where the Families grew
vegetables, where children played among the waterbins. There were some
younguns there with an Amamother keeping an eye on them; she frowned and
looked worried when she saw me. I grinned at her, waved, and hurried on. Old
Amamothers were apt to have intuits at the most inconvenient times and I
cursed chance for letting one get a look at me now. As anger flared in me, the
Sound seemed to retreat like I burned it. I forced the anger back and tried to
calm myself. I succeeded enough that the Sound grew complacent and teased me
along faster. It was a grish close to the Green Space, hidden when a new
waterbin was moved in. There was just enough room to squeeze around the bin
and slide the panel back.
There was a dukkurbox by the grish, dusty and old but it had to have what I
needed. I closed my eyes and let my hands work the latch; there was an alarm [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]