Mahogany trinrose, p.17
Mahogany Trinrose, page 17
“Yes. The Heil’ro—our word for the ghost people.”
“Ghost people?”
“How do you call them?”
“Ghost people,” repeated Ercy. Yes, if there were more Gens with transparent nager, surely they would be called the ghost people.
Joeslee nodded, seemingly satisfied her language problem was under control. “I am sorry my plan did not work. I am sorry you got hurt. I wished you no bad.” She put out her hand again, saying, “I will help.”
Ercy let herself be helped into the bathroom, where she found a note from Hal in his oddly disciplined script, propped up against a tea glass with some white powder in the bottom. Next to it was a glass for Joeslee with a note from Bett.
“What does the writing say?” asked Joeslee.
“Well,” said Ercy, filling the glasses and stirring with one tentacle. “It says to drink this stuff whether we want to or not.” Handing one glass to Joeslee, she said, “Don’t taste it. Just take a deep breath and gulp it all down at once.” Ercy demonstrated.
Lips compressed, Joeslee poured the medication down the sink. Ercy was too stunned to think of stopping her. How am I going to handle this? Leave the problems of the students to the staff? But something in her went out to the lost gypsy girl. “Joeslee, this isn’t a prison. Nobody here means you any harm.”
With a dark, calculating look, Joeslee turned and left the bathroom. Ercy forced herself to turn on the shower and proceed as if nothing were amiss. Toweling herself dry, she came back into the room to find Joeslee sitting dejectedly on the end of her bed, still clad in yesterday’s grungy pajamas, her hair a matted mess. She sat with her feet turned inward, soles facing each other, and for the first time, Ercy saw the scars. They tried to burn her—in changeover.
Suppressing a shudder, Ercy drew her bathrobe around her shoulders and sat cross-legged on the floor at Joeslee’s feet. “It must have been horrible.”
“I just wish it were over.”
“It is,” assured Ercy, touching the scarred feet with one handling tentacle. “They’re healed now; you’re safe.”
Joeslee gave her a sharp look, zlinning. “You—you could lie to me and I would never know.”
“I wouldn’t lie to you, Joeslee.”
“Then he hasn’t told you. But he’ll find a way—they know how to do ma—accidents.”
Ercy had such a distinct impression that Joeslee had started to say “magic” that she almost laughed. But the girl’s pullback from that word held a texture of awe that made Ercy ask, “Who could possibly have any reason to harm you here?”
Joeslee snapped, “Why else would a Heil’ro be here? They don’t work for the Tecton!”
“Hal!?” She didn’t dare laugh. She cast frantically for some counter-argument. “He’s been here almost a year!”
“They have a way of placing themselves conveniently among events.”
Hal does have that knack, all right.
“Joeslee—” You can’t tell a paranoid she’s being ridiculous. “Joeslee, what possible reason could Halimer Grant have to want to do you harm?”
“Harm? He will murder me!” And then she fell silent as if regretting what she’d said.
Ercy took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. Her father would have to know about this. “But why?”
Holding back tears, she said, “It is between my tribe and the Heil’ro. B-but I am the last of my people—” Tears spilled down her cheeks though her features remained wooden.
The radiating loneliness wrenched at Ercy until she couldn’t stand it another moment. She sat on the bed beside Joeslee and circled her with her arms. The girl resisted. Then in total despair, she melted against Ercy, crying openly.
When it abated slightly, Ercy made a dangerous decision. “Joeslee—will you swear to keep a secret if I tell you something of the very—very—very private business of Zeor?”
Her face in her hands, Joeslee zlinned Ercy, gradual calm coming into her nager. Almost hungrily, Joeslee nodded. “I promise never to tell anyone—even if they torture me.”
“No one will torture you—but--Joeslee, I—I would be Sectuib in Zeor now, except that they—they accused me of witchcraft for trying to grow a mahogany trinrose.”
“You mean you summoned the Heil’ro to help you grow the magic flower?”
“No—no!” said Ercy before she thought about it.
“Then he is here after me! But why would you tell me this?”
“I—”
“You will help me with your magic?” asked Joeslee.
“I have no magic! There’s no such thing as magic!”
“You have shared your secret with me,” said Joeslee, hardly seeming to hear Ercy. “I will share our secret with you—because I am the last.” And as she spoke, there was such a lifting of an intolerable burden that Ercy just let her go on. “We had two Heil’ro with us, claiming travel shelter. It was ours to protect them. But where we camped, far from here, but also desert like this, there was a storm, and a flash flood came, breaking houses in town but not the small land on which we camped. The Heil’ro magic, you see. The town people saw, too, and came to kill us all. We failed to protect the Heil’ro. And since I am the last, he is here to take my life because we failed our obligation.”
“No, Joeslee, Hal came here to work—he gave me First Transfer—he—he—”
“Then you will be able to protect me. You have given me your secret—I have given you mine. Tell me what to do, and I will do it,” she said in serene capitulation.
Oh, no, now what? “Well, the first thing is to get cleaned up and dressed and start attending classes. We’re going to have to talk about this, but there’s no time now.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Digen,” said Sels, “I tell you, that man handled Ercy as if it were a standard emergency drill he’d been trained to.” He stretched out his tentacles, making an emphatic grasping gesture. “I’d like to know what you intend to do about him. His papers still haven’t come through, have they?”
Digen, Sels, and Bett were waiting in Digen’s office for Im’ran. Digen shuffled through the newest stack of papers on his desk. “Hal’s papers don’t seem to be here yet. I can’t put Ercy’s qualification papers through until I have the serial numbers on Grant to validate her as a First. I’d like to get my tentacles on the lorsh who misfiled….”
“Digen, suppose his papers weren’t misfiled? Suppose he’s not a Tecton Donor at all?”
Digen stopped his shuffling to stare at Sels. The hypothesis had been dormant in Digen’s mind for months, but only now did he realize it. “If he isn’t Tecton,” said Digen, “then what is he?”
“I thought you might know,” said Sels flatly.
“He’s not Distect,” said Digen. “There’s nobody alive who could say that as positively as I can.”
“But if he’s not in fact Tecton,” said Bett, “then he’s here under false pretenses.”
Digen looked at his Gen sister and chuckled. “There’s no way anyone could pretend to be a Donor—let alone a Tecton Donor. Just zlin the man,” he said to Sels, “and tell me you have any real doubts.”
Sels nodded, conceding that point. “We were all there when he gave Ercy First Transfer—but, Digen, it wasn’t just perfect. It was too perfect—somehow.”
“Several people have mentioned that to me,” said Bett. “People who had normal experiences in changeover were hit just as hard by Ercy’s experience as those who had never had the benefit of a normal breakout and transfer.”
“Nobody who witnessed her changeover,” said Digen, “will ever deny that this is her House.”
“Maybe,” said Bett. “But just try to pin Grant down on anything having to do with Ercy or Zeor!”
“Try to pin him down on anything having to do with himself!” added Sels. “Why won’t he talk about his training?”
“Isn’t that nager of his enough?” asked Digen. “Have you ever seen a Sime walk by him without a second glance? The Tecton prohibits personal attachments between channel and Donor. If I were a Donor with that kind of attraction for Simes, I wouldn’t dare say anything about myself for fear of triggering a personal interest I couldn’t handle.”
Bett said, “Digen’s right. All that should be known of any Donor is name, order, and Proficiency Rating. That Tecton custom has saved me from some nasty situations.”
That was true, thought Digen, zlinning her. She had provided First Transfer for Digen, qualifying him, so he knew her characteristics very well.
“It makes me uncomfortable when you zlin her like that,” said Sels. “Shouldn’t Im’ be here by now?”
“I’m sorry,” answered Digen, turning his attention from his sister. “Actually, it isn’t the same between Bett and me since you came along, Sels. I don’t know if it’s your lortuen or my orhuen—or both—that’s changed it. We were a lot closer when Bett was my First Companion, only then we had to be so fanatically careful not to create a dependency…. I think now, without that tension, it’s easier between us.”
Bett said, “Sels is getting too frantically possessive even for a lortuen mate. Just ignore it, Digen. You and I know where we stand.”
At that point, Digen and Sels turned toward the door, zlinning Im’ran’s approach. As the other Gen opened the door, Bett said, “It’s about time, Im’. Where have you been?”
Im’ran just shook his head, going to Digen. “You shouldn’t be out of bed, Digen. Mora is having fits….”
“I’m sick of being sick,” said Digen. “I’m not going to lie down and turn senile waiting to be declared well. Let’s get to work.”
Im’ran took a chair beside Digen, adding his steady nager to the crosshatched interference patterns in the room. Soon, even Sels was steadier, and Digen found the nagging pain in his head was gone.
“All right,” said Im’ran, “what’s this about Ercy?”
Digen gave Im’ran the new, slender file on Ercy, flipping it open to Sels’ report on the previous night’s happenings. “And they did a thorough scan on her this morning in the clinic. She’s fine, except for some stress signs.”
“Stress?” muttered Im’ran, reading through the report. They all waited while he absorbed it and looked through the lab reports. “I don’t understand. What did happen between Ercy and Joeslee? I thought I’d seen almost everything connected with transfer, but this….”
Bett said, “I didn’t get there until after the excitement was all over, but I did see Ercy burning up with fever and twenty minutes later almost normal. You tell me what happened, Digen.”
“I wasn’t even there,” said Digen, looking at Sels.
“I put all the facts down on paper.”
“The facts don’t seem to tell us much, do they? I called this conference because I don’t know what to make of them. Sels, let’s have some impressions, intuitions, feelings, anything you can add to the facts.”
Sels looked around at the three others in the room. “We’re all Zeor, and Firsts. Shen, we all have four-plus Proficiency Ratings. I don’t think I’d say this where anyone else could hear. Digen, I don’t think it was entirely a selyn transport phenomenon. While it was happening, I was in augmented motion, intent on getting them apart. But for just those few instants, Digen, that room became cold. Then Ercy’s body produced more waste heat than the selyn consumption could account for. Now you name a selyn transport effect that can explain it.”
Digen shook his head. “We have to have more than this to go on if we’re going to ask the theoreticians about it.”
Sels shrugged. “You asked for impressions. Here’s one for you. I haven’t the vaguest idea what happened to Ercy. But I’m convinced Halimer Grant knows.”
“We’ll ask him,” said Bett.
“I did,” said Sels. “Flat out. He evaded so smoothly I don’t even recall his exact words.”
“Maybe if I ask him,” said Bett, “Gen to Gen, as it were, he’d be more willing to give of himself.”
“I doubt that,” said Sels, “but you can try. I’ll tell you one thing: he’s disturbed. I’ve never seen him so—”
Digen and Sels simultaneously zlinned the approach of the crystal nager of Halimer Grant. Digen motioned Bett to open the door and Sels to move aside so he could get a direct reading on Grant.
“Come in, Hal,” called Digen. “Perhaps you can help us.”
“Help you?” asked Grant, closing the door behind him. Sels shoved a chair out for the new Gen.
Grant sat, his nager blending lucidly into the room. “I’m always glad to help,” he said, “but I came to ask a favor.”
“Oh?” said Digen. Grant had never asked for anything before. “Ask ahead, I owe you a few.”
Grant looked toward Sels. “I’m glad you’re here because it concerns Ercy.” He turned back to Digen. “Controller Farris, I want to be removed from Ercy’s case.”
Digen zlinned Sels, his eyes on Bett. Im’ran asked, “Why?”
“I would have come this morning,” said Grant, “but I couldn’t think of an acceptable answer to that question.” He lowered his gaze, his nager closing up around him until he was in the room, but not of it. Digen hadn’t zlinned that effect since he’d first met the man.
“I did say I owed you a few—and I meant it. I suppose I could assign Bett to Ercy—”
“Digen!” said Sels. But Digen held up two tentacles, gesturing for silence.
“Ercy’s had what amounts to a Householding upbringing, hardly knowing anyone but relatives. If she’s to be prepared for Tecton work, she should have some early training from outsiders.”
“I have sincerely done my best,” said Grant. “But—”
“What’s changed? As far as I can see,” said Digen, tapping one tentacle on Ercy’s file as he held it in his fingers, “she has recovered completely from last night’s incident. It was a curious business, but essentially trivial.”
Grant looked him in the eye, his nager unreadable even to Digen, and said, “You understand what happened?”
The question was so neutrally inflected, Digen couldn’t divine any implication from it.
Bett said, “We want to know how much you understand of this.”
Grant said, “I was hoping you would explain it to me. If it’s something known in Zeor but not for outsiders….”
Shen! thought Digen. The man was diabolical.
Sels said, “When we were talking to Joeslee, you indicated some knowledge of the gypsies. How did you come by that?”
“I only know what I’ve read. They have a closed society and don’t tolerate strangers. Joeslee is distressed at being immersed in a strange culture. It’s best not to call her down for bad manners when she’s actually displaying good manners by her own customs.”
“Would you say,” asked Digen, “the gypsies are a hobby of yours?”
“No.”
“Do you have any hobbies?” asked Bett.
“I am a Donor Therapist,” answered Grant as if that were his hobby.
“Your knowledge of the gypsies,” said Digen, “may contain a clue to tell us something more of exactly what happened last night.”
“My knowledge, such as it is, is superficial and general, only from books.”
Sels said, “Joeslee’s emotional state at the time she attacked you was a mass of contradictions. Today, she seems perfectly rational. And this morning, when we went over her in the clinic she showed no stress to her selyn systems from her contact with Ercy. Whatever happened, she gave worse than she got—and to a Farris channel, too.”
“Can you account for that?” asked Bett.
“No.”
“I have a theory,” said Digen. “Ercy is a known quantity. I have sixteen years of detailed records on her, and she’s a Farris. Between the three of us, we’ve quite a bit of personal expertise on what can be expected from the Farrises. None of this knowledge seems to apply to this situation. Joeslee, however, is an unknown quantity….”
Sels picked that up. “The gypsies keep pretty much to themselves. Nobody even knows where they came from. I vaguely recall hearing they have a social structure resembling the early Householdings, but I also read somewhere that nothing anthropologists have recorded about them is really valid, because they shun all outsiders.”
“I don’t remember,” said Im’ran, “that I ever met a channel of gypsy stock working for the Tecton. They must be awfully rare.”
“Or,” added Bett, “a Companion of the gypsies. There are all manner of legends about the power of the gypsy Companions over ordinary mortals.”
Come to think of it, thought Digen, both Grant and Joeslee did have blond hair, though Grant’s was a painful white-blond that made Joeslee seem dark by comparison. Other than that, they didn’t look anything alike. Digen realized that he rarely focused on Grant’s physical features. It was the nager that captured the attention—a white-blond nager, transparent as a ghost. A nager like that would surely have created legends back in the old days.
When Grant didn’t seem motivated to comment, Digen asked, “What do you know of the gypsy Companions?” This time, Digen focused on Grant’s nager with all his sensitivity.
Grant said, “I’ve read that, in most tribes, the channels and Companions both remain in virtual seclusion.”
Digen concluded that if Grant was lying, he was too skillful for detection. But he suspected that Grant was merely sticking scrupulously to the truth while being deliberately uninformative.
“I think,” said Digen, “for the moment, we’ll go with the theory that the odd occurrence was caused by Joeslee, though it affected Ercy. On that theory, there’d be no reason to remove you from Ercy’s case, Hal. Unless, of course, you had some other reason for asking?”
“Are you going to separate her from Joeslee?”
“I think we’ll wait awhile and see what happens. Faron and I considered very carefully, and we think Ercy is best for Joeslee. And Joeslee should be a good, sharp example to Ercy of what she’s going to face in the outside world. If it’s going to cause her problems—well, she’ll have to learn to cope with problems.”
