Kingdom of Cages (47 page)

I don’t give a grass rip who Nan Elle and her gang don’t like.
Teal clenched her fists as she strode up the boardwalk.
I’m getting out of here. I’m finding Dad and I’m telling him everything. We’ll see how these people like it when the Authority
finds out what they’ve been doing.

We’ll see how Chena likes it when Dad finds out what she’s been doing.

Chena would come looking for her, but Teal wouldn’t go back. She’d tell the constables Nan Elle was a poisoner. She’d tell
everyone. She’d babble like a baby to everyone who would listen about what Elle and Chena had been doing, about how they didn’t
give a piss in the wind what she wanted to do, or what she thought, or felt. They were ready to hang around here until somebody
came to rip
them
open. Well, she wasn’t. She was getting out of here in one piece. So what if Nan Elle stole her money? She had things to
sell. She was getting out.

They could try to stop her. Let them just try.

Teal had expected the tailor to live on the edge of the village, like Nan Elle did, but he kept his place right in the center
of town, only a couple of turns away from the market and the whorehouse where Chena’s lover-boy worked.

Wonder if she’s saved up enough money for him to lay her down yet.

The tailor shop looked like most of the other buildings—a few blocks of stone, a door, and a window all set into the face
of a grassy dune. The door stood open just a little.

Teal didn’t let herself hesitate as she stepped over the threshold into the dim and cool shop smelling of old fish and dust.
After the blaze of the summer day, Teal had to stop a minute to let her eyes adjust. When they did, she saw a bare room made
of packed earth and sandstone. A few sealed baskets stood near the left-hand wall, and a set of crates made a kind of counter
in front of a dark doorway that led deeper into the dune.

Teal stood in the gloom, uncertain what to do. Then she heard the scuff of footsteps coming through the doorway. A moment
later, a patch of shadow turned into a square man with dark, almond-shaped eyes and pale skin and apple cheeks. He looked
her up and down, as if checking for flaws.

“You buying or selling?” he asked. His voice was soft, almost gentle. Maybe this wouldn’t be so hard.

Don’t let him snow you.
Teal cleared her throat. “Selling.”

Again, his sharp eyes swept up and down Teal’s body. “You don’t look half old enough. Who owns you?”

“Nobody,” answered Teal immediately.

The man chuckled and laid his hand on the makeshift counter. “Sorry, girl, but on Pandora, somebody owns every one of us.”

“No,” Teal snapped. “The ones who think they own me are liars. I’m on my own.”

“I see.” He nodded once, thoughtfully. “On your own and from Off-shoot.” Teal touched her tattoo self-consciously. “What would
you have to sell me?”

Teal swallowed.
Say it. It’s no big deal. Just say it.
“Eggs.”

He cocked his head. “Well, they’d be fresh.” His eyes glittered. “But forgive me if I don’t believe that no one would care
if your young body got violated. Who’s your family?”

“My dad’s in the Authority,” said Teal. “I’m trying to get back to him. My mom’s dead.”

“Look.” He laid his other hand on the counter and leaned forward. “If you want to conduct any trade, I am, at the very least,
going to have to have your name.”

Teal licked her lips. She tried to think of some way to argue, but the man had already straightened up and was looking back
toward the interior door with a sour expression on his face. If she didn’t give him an answer, he would leave, and she didn’t
know where else to go. “Teal Trust.”

“Trust?” His head whipped around and his eyebrows inched up toward his hairline. “As in Chena and Helice Trust?”

“So?” Teal shrugged.

“Nothing.” His fingers drummed on the counter. “What you have is valuable, but also dangerous. You’re asking me to risk getting
the attention of a Pharmakeus. They do not like my kind.”

Teal shrugged again. “You don’t want what I’ve got, I’ll just go somewhere else.”

“Normally, I’d tell you to do that,” he said matter-of-factly. “But there is someone on their way here who will pay me very
well for what you’ve got. Good timing.” His smile seemed genuinely approving. “But for the risk and bother, I’d need at least
a hundred.”

Again, Teal shrugged. “If that’s what you’ll take.”

The eyes narrowed. “What would you want in return?”

“I want to get back to Athena Station, and I’m going to need money to keep me going once I’m there.”

He pursed his pudgy mouth. “Risky and expensive. I’d have to alter your chip. Make you look nineteen so you’re legal to travel
on your own. Are you worth it?” His eyes flickered back and forth, weighing the risks against the gain. At last he straightened
up. “Two hundred and you go back to the station.”

Teal felt a small thrill inside her, a combination of fear and elation. She’d done it. She should have done this years ago.
“Okay.”

The man looked bemused. “Okay, then. We’d better get started right away.” He stepped aside and gestured through the darkened
doorway. Teal screwed a holding plate over her nerves and walked through ahead of him.

The door led to a set of unlit stairs heading down into the earth. Teal steadied herself with one hand on the earthen wall
and walked slowly down. She tried to tell herself to be calm, but she flinched at every little breeze that touched her skin.

At the bottom of the stairs waited one cool room lit by a single battery-powered light. Assorted crates and baskets lined
the walls. The place smelled of dust, damp, and stale spices. Teal couldn’t see any other doors.

“Now what?” she asked, trying to sound like she didn’t really care. She’d been expecting a lab, or something like it, a monitor
bed at the very least.

“Now”—the man opened a basket and rifled through its contents, which seemed to be dried beans—“you go to sleep. When you wake
up, it’ll be all over.”

“What?” The word burst out of Teal.

The man lifted a small box made from different-colored slats of wood from the beans. The slats turned out to be movable. He
slid them in a couple of different directions, Teal couldn’t quite see how, but the box opened and he pulled out a drug patch.

“The less you know, the better for all of us.” He held out the patch. “It goes on your neck.”

“But…”
But I don’t know if I can trust you. I don’t know what you’ll do to me. I don’t even know your name. You could do anything.
You could kill me, or sell me to the hothouse, or anything.

The man just stood there, holding out the patch to her.

And if I don’t? What am I going to do? Go back to Chena? She’ll lock me in my room and tell me how it’s for my own good and
how we can’t get ourselves out of here alive because we’ve got to try to get back at the hothousers.

Teal held her breath and took the patch from the man’s fingers. She peeled the safety sticker off the back, slapped it onto
the left side of her neck, and held it down until it stuck.

“You may want to sit down.”

Teal sat. She barely reached the floor before a warm rush of dizziness overwhelmed her. She heard a sharp crack and realized,
distantly, her head had fallen back against the wooden crates. Her body had gone away from her, and she couldn’t seem to care.
She thought her eyes closed, which was strange, because at the same time, she was sure that she could see the man leaning
over her, touching her throat, riffling through her clothes, running a reader over the chip in the back of her hand, grasping
her face in his hand and turning her head this way and that, looking for something.

On some level, she was also vaguely aware she wanted to protest these things, but none of them really touched her in the distant
place she had gone. Each second they seemed farther away. Her consciousness ran toward the darkness as great as the wide black
sky. There was nothing to worry about there. Not the fact that she was being laid down, and her clothes removed, nothing.
Soon, there was only darkness and the comfortable knowledge that she was finally, truly on her own.

As usual, Lopera Qay kept them waiting. Dionte watched Basante prowl the confines of the bare red rock cave that Lopera used
as a reception chamber. Basante never liked being out of the complex. He felt a combination of guilt that he might do something
to disturb Pandora, and distaste at being at the mercy of an uncontrolled and unthinking environment.

In truth, she could not blame him for his restlessness. She did not want to be here either. She needed to be in the complex,
tracking the progress of Tam’s new Conscience. She needed to understand why Aleph was becoming so balky. She needed to continue
her work with Father Mihran and the Senior Committee. Four committee members were scheduled for Conscience examination and
adjustment in the next ten days. She needed to be there for those, to ensure such adjustments were made that would start the
potential for tighter bonds between themselves and her, the rest of the family and the city-mind, and to be sure she had the
perceptual balances properly adjusted.

But she also could not let Basante meet with Lopera alone when she did not have a clear idea of what that meeting would be
about. Their summons had been curt and most uninformative. Lopera had no doubt done that on purpose.

As she expected, Basante reached the inner door and found it locked, as usual. He turned to Dionte, all righteous indignation.
“I fail to see why she insists on making us wait and wasting everyone’s time.”

“She gets to display that she has power over two people from the hothouse,” said Dionte, taking care to keep her voice mild.
“It is not something many villagers get to experience.” She smiled at him, trying to radiate calm. Basante’s Conscience was
probably giving him trouble. This was definitely not a place where a good member of the family should be.

The clanking of a mechanical lock cut off any further conversation. The interior door opened and Lopera Qay strolled in. Lopera
was always very careful never to let Dionte and Basante see her in a hurry. Further power games. Dionte let them all pass.
After all, Lopera was performing a crucial and dangerous service for them. They could allow her some games.

“Your timing’s good,” said Lopera, folding her arms and leaning one shoulder against the rough rock wall.

“Your message was both urgent and enigmatic.” Dionte spread her hands. “How could we refuse?”

“I hope nothing has happened to your trust,” said Basante irritably. “Although I can’t see what would be so important that
you would have to call us out. It is not easy for us to get here, you know.”

The corners of Lopera’s mouth curled up. Dionte stared. That expression meant something. What was it? The sensation of forgetting
something incredibly important staggered her.

Sly. It was a sly smile that spread across Lopera’s face. How could she not know that, even for a second?

“Funny you should use the word ‘trust,’ ” Lopera was saying. “I called you here because we seem to have one of your Trusts.”

“What?” exclaimed Basante.

Instantly Dionte laced her fingers together, activating her internal systems. Her implant had picked up on the word “trust”
and had accessed the appropriate information.

High probability that the rain forest intruder was Chena Trust, as predicted by Basante, but she has been reported safely
returned to Off-shoot and Basante file secured pending future requirements.

Subfile personal notes: With C. Trust becoming more active, increasing attention needed to keep her out of hands of opposition
(access family meeting notes 25-20-2073). Becoming harder to rationalize leaving her in village (access Constable report 25-27-2073
and Bas-ante personal report). May have to preemptively sequester (access preliminary action notes).

No reports on Teal Trust (most recent constable report awaiting input and assimilation), but increased communication between
Elle Stepka and various contacts in village Stem (files available and fresh information pending) observed from time of rain
forest infiltration.

Outside her, she heard Lopera saying, “Young Teal wants to go back to Athena. She’s come to us for help.” Lopera’s smile became
positively indulgent. “Do you want her?”

All annoyance vanished from Basante’s face and his eyes shone with eagerness. No, Dionte corrected herself, greed.

“Perfect,” he breathed. “This is perfect. We can work with her here. I can direct the experiments remotely. Dionte, if you
can shield communications and set me up…”

Possibilities flitted through Dionte, directed by her Conscience and her instincts. She smelled scents of warning and imagination,
creativity and fear. Her ears rang with inner voices, both imagined and remembered, whispering to her, only to her, with their
wisdom and possibilities. So much information, so many ideas, dizzying with their speed and intensity, opening her up, making
her alive, truly alive to the world, to her responsibilities, to the future, the true, good future that lay before them, that
lay in the voices and possibilities surging through her.

And for a moment she had not been able to understand the smile on Lopera’s face. Dionte shivered.

But Basante was rambling on and giving orders to Lopera, who wasn’t even looking at him. She watched Dionte. Lopera knew where
the decisions lay; she always had. An isolated villager she might be, but she was not stupid. She was skilled and she was
practical. That was precisely why Dionte had chosen her to keep Eden. This memory and caution came to Dionte, and she knew
she would have to choose the immediate future and speak it into being before Basante got too carried away.

“No.” Dionte broke her connections and waved away whatever Bas-ante had been saying. She would catch it up later from the
recording her Conscience would have made. Her ways of understanding were shifting. That was all. All was well. She could still
do what she needed to. “Help her go. Help her hide so that we hothousers cannot possibly find her.”