Necessity's Child (Liaden Universe®) (25 page)

“I think,” he said slowly, “that, yes, Mother, it is a solving. I—”

She raised her hand. “Enough. If you wish, we will speak more fully on the matter later. For now, I have promised a speedy decision.” She turned her head deliberately and met the girl’s eyes, held the contact for a slow count to six, then returned her regard to Syl Vor.

“Your sponsorship is commendable, my son. I accept Kezzi as your sister. On condition.”

“Condition?”

That was the girl herself, stepping up to Syl Vor’s side, her eyes wide and the pulse in her throat beating a little quickly.

“Not, I think, an onerous condition. Merely a time limit. You are accepted, Kezzi, with fullness and with joy, as Syl Vor’s sister.”

“But for how long?” That was Syl Vor.

“Three months, local.” She picked up the envelope she had prepared from the desktop.

“Kezzi, come here, please, child.”

She obeyed, stepping lightly, and Nova remembered to smile into that set face as she extended the envelope.

“I have taken the liberty of writing to your grandmother to explain this small custom of ours. Please take it and place it in her hand immediately you are returned to her.” She paused, and added, giving each word weight: “I make this request as your mother.”

Kezzi’s mouth sagged, then firmed. Excellent. The child did have wits.

She took the envelope in a hand not so grubby as formerly and bowed her slight, quaint bow.

“I will deliver this to my grandmother,” she said, and the promise carried the ring of truth.

“Excellent. I will then bid you good-day, Kezzi-daughter, and remand you to the care of your brother and of Mr. Golden. They will see you home. I expect that you will complete whatever home study Ms. Taylor has assigned. On the morrow you will be attentive at school, and strive to learn as well as you may. If your grandmother permits, you will please come home with Syl Vor tomorrow after school.”

“Yes,” Kezzi said in a low voice, and added, quickly, “Good-day.”

“Syl Vor, you and Mr. Golden will come back immediately after you have seen Kezzi safely to her kin. I will inform your tutors that your study hours have been set back an hour. You will attend to them when you return. Dinner will also be set back an hour.”

“Yes, Mother.”

* * *

Kezzi walked down the hall between Mike Golden and Syl Vor yos’Galan Clan Korval. The thought at the top of her head was that she was being let go. And once she was back among the
kompani
, she would never
ever
venture into the City Above again. She would stay below, and work in the gardens with Memit, or in the steam shop with Pulka. She and Malda would run up and down the ramps for exercise, and she would, she would—

“Wait,” Syl Vor said. “Kezzi, here.”

She blinked out of her thoughts, and stared at the thing in his hand—a pen.

The
pen, she remembered suddenly. The very pen that had caused her to give her true-name to
gadje
and be taken into their family—for three months? No. No, she would not. She would return to the
kompani
. She would never—

“
Take
it,” Syl Vor snapped, and she looked at him, irritated.

“Why? It is yours, you say, and leave bruises on my wrist in proof.”

His cheeks darkened somewhat, but he held the pen out still. “You said you needed it. You’re my sister. What’s mine is yours. If you need it, take it.”

Need it? She never wanted to see it, or him, again. But it seemed plain that the quickest way back to the
kompani
was to take the pen from his hand and slip it away into the pocket that carried his mother’s letter to the
luthia
.

“I have it,” she said.

“Now that bidness is all caught up,” Mike Golden said, forcefully, “let’s go. I don’t like the idea of making Beck hold the dinner all that long.”

* * *

She led them toward the shops, thinking that, if Malda had done as she had asked, surely there would be someone along the streets of the City Above, watching for her with sharp Bedel eyes. If Malda had
not
done what she had asked, or if he had been caught . . .

No. She wouldn’t think of that.

And, indeed, she had no need. Scarcely had they come into Commerce Street, and before Mike Golden could ask any inconvenient question, there came a high-pitched bark, and here was Malda himself, streaking down the sidewalk, dodging between
gadje
legs.

Kezzi fell to her knees and opened her arms. From ten steps away, he leapt. She caught him, hugging his wriggling body to her, laughing when he licked her ear.

“Ah, yes, yes! Bold and brave . . .”

“Sister,” a voice interrupted their reunion, soft, but insistent. Well-known. Udari.

She blinked up at him, Malda ecstatically licking her chin.

“Brother?”

“We were worried,” Udari told her, his eyes flicking twice—to Mike Golden and to Syl Vor.

Kezzi sniffled, and came to her feet, holding Malda close.

“These are Mike Golden and Syl Vor yos’Galan Clan Korval. They were bringing me to family,” she explained. “I have a letter, for grandmother.”

Udari’s face altered; he looked at Mike Golden with courtesy.

“Your care of my sister is appreciated, Mike Golden. She is safe in my hands, and I will take her even now to our grandmother.”

“’Preciate it,” Mike Golden said in that particular tone of voice.

She turned to face him. “This is my brother Nathan, Mike Golden. I will go with him.”

“Right you are.”

“Anna,” Syl Vor said, then. She turned, and he reached out to touch her sleeve lightly, and with a wary eye on Malda.

“I’ll see you in school, tomorrow,” he said. “All right?”

She stared at him, the pen and the letter like stones in her pocket.

She had the measure of his stubbornness now; he would not go until he had an answer. Until he had the answer
he wanted
. That was well, then.

“All right,” she said.

“That’s set firm, then,” Mike Golden said briskly. “C’mon, Silver—we both got work to do before this day is over. ’Night, Anna. Nathan. Good you happened by.”

He put his hand on Syl Vor’s shoulder, and the two of them walked off.

Kezzi looked to Udari, who nodded.

“Come,” he said. “We must find Rafin and Rys, and then deliver you, O daughter of surprises, to the
luthia
.”

They turned as one, Udari moving quickly. At the first turn toward the
kompani
’s gate, they met Rafin, who asked her roughly if she were harmed.

“No, I’m well,” she told him.

“Must you carry the dog?” he asked then, and she swallowed against the hard lump in her throat.

“I want to.”

“Some burdens are no weight,” Udari agreed, and looked to Rafin. “Where is our brother Rys?”

“He was at the end of his strength, and bade me leave him, saying he would catch us, when he had rested.”

“You left him alone?” Udari’s voice was harsh.

“He would have it so,” Rafin replied, frowning. “I swore that we would return for him.”

“Yes,” said Udari, and on that word leapt into a run.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

The child sat on the hearthrug, her head bent, and Silain’s shawl tucked around her. The dog, her faithful friend, was asleep with his head on her knee. It seemed that the child must be asleep, too, worn out from her adventure, but the
luthia
saw the hand resting on the dog’s side move in a slow stroke.

Well, then.

Silain sat on the rug next to the child and put her hand on the drooping shoulder.

“What time,” she asked softly, “does school begin tomorrow?”

“I don’t know,” Kezzi answered.

“That will make it difficult to attend.”

Kezzi stirred and looked up.

“I’m not going to school,” she said. “I’m going to stay here, in
kompani
and never go to the City Above again.”

“You are Droi’s apprentice,” Silain pointed out mildly. “You must go to the City Above, to perfect the art of the cards.”

Kezzi bit her lip.

“Of this other thing,” Silain persisted, though it struck her to the heart to badger the child when she was so tired. “Did you say to your brother that you would see him tomorrow, at school?”

Kezzi sniffed. “Who tells the truth to a
gadje
?”

“Does a sister lie to a brother?”

“I am
not
his sister!”

“Did you tell me that he gave you the pen, from brother to sister?”

“Yes.” Black eyes were wary, now.

“And you received the pen, as the sister of your brother. It is done, and sealed. Tell me what we owe our brothers, and our sisters, and all of the
kompani
of Bedel.”

“Truth,” Kezzi whispered, “kindness, food, air.”

“And what do you owe this boy, your brother?”

Kezzi stared at her, eyes wide and shocked. “
Luthia
. . .”

“What do you owe your brother, Kezzi of the Bedel?” Silain repeated, implacable.

There was a long silence before the child bowed her head and whispered.

“All that I would have myself.”

“So, then.” Silain extended a hand and touched the child’s knee.

“After all,” she said, “it was foretold.”

Kezzi blinked at her, and Silain smiled.

“Do you remember, when I asked you to dream for me? In the darkness, you found a most marvelous pen . . .”

The child’s eyes widened. She snatched at her pocket and pulled the pen out, staring, even as her fingers caressed it.

“Four colors,” she whispered. “Green . . . red . . . blue . . . black.”

She looked up, lips parted.

“But—why?”

Silain shook her head. “Why we are given to glimpse one thing out of all that might be seen, not even the
luthia
know for certain. It does seem that we are allowed to see those things which will . . . weigh heavy in our lives.”

“A pen?” Kezzi asked, her brows drawing together.

“Or a boy,” Silain said, serenely. “Time will teach you what and why. Now, of this other thing: You will attend school tomorrow, as you promised your brother. Afterward, you will go with him to pay proper respect to your mother, and to perform any work she asks of you. Also, you will give her my letter, which I will write tonight.”

“Yes, Grandmother,” Kezzi said, looking again at the pen in her hand.

After a moment, she looked up. “How will I learn when school opens?”

“You will ask your brother Torv if such a thing lies in his knowledge. Go now, and when you come back, we will drink tea together, and talk about tomorrow.”

* * *

Ms. ker’Eklis had pushed his math lesson—had pushed
him
, allowing shorter and shorter time for consideration of the problems she posed. The last three . . . he had simply answered the first thing that came into his head. When the questions stopped coming, he sat shivering in his chair, as if he had extra adrenaline to work off, while she went through his responses, marking off three with her pen against the screen.

“This, this, and this. For the first two, you will produce the correct answer; I will expect to see all of your work. For the third, which is correct, I will see the work, also.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, his voice shaking.

She gave him a sharp glance. “You will also complete the next module so that we may review it together at our next meeting.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said again, slightly stronger this time.

“That is well. Have you any questions regarding today’s exercises, or the self-tests?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Very good. I will meet you at the usual time on the day after next. I do not expect you to be late.”

Syl Vor sat up straight, hearing a scold.

“I hadn’t expected to be late today, ma’am,” he said, wishing his voice wasn’t so shaky. “Necessity . . . intervened.”

“So I learned from your mother.”

Ms. ker’Eklis rose, and Syl Vor scrambled to his feet to bow respect to the teacher.

“Good-day,” she said coolly.

He held his bow until he heard her close the door, and her steps receding down the hall. Then, he straightened, fast and hard, and spun into a tight dance that was all kicks and jabs; knees, elbows, shoulders, hands, feet, spinning and ducking to avoid the walls and the corners and the furniture, and collapsing all at once on his back on the bed, arms and legs wide, panting, his hair sticking damply to his forehead, heart pounding.

In this position, the ceiling was his view.

The ceiling of his sleeping room at ho— at Trealla Fantrol had been painted with flying dragons. He had used to stare at them sometimes and pretend they were playing games—tag, see-you, and Jump-in. Of course, he had been very young, then.

At Jelaza Kazone, the nursery ceilings were painted with stars in strange constellations, ships, and geometric shapes in bright colors. And of course the ceilings, and the walls, and the floors at Runig’s Rock had all been grey stone.

Here at his mother’s house, there was a garden on the ceiling. There were many flowers, in a confusion of colors, and a number of low bushes with prickly looking dark leaves. Under one such shrubbery was a furry creature with longish ears that Syl Vor thought might be a rabbit. There were birds in another—one each of blue, red, and yellow—and purple berries.

Something hit the bed by his head, making the very softest of thumps. He turned his head slowly, and met Eztina’s eyes. There was a little rumple in the fur of her forehead, as if she was worried to find him here on top the blankets, sweaty in the aftermath of his dance, and staring at the ceiling.

“Good afternoon,” Syl Vor said softly, and added, because Eztina would of course be interested in such matters, “I have a sister.”

Eztina blinked, leaned close and snuffled the sticky hair at Syl Vor’s temple.

“That tickles. My sister’s name is Kezzi, but that’s only for the House. For the street, her name is Anna Brown. She has a dog, and an older brother whom she called Nathan.”

Eztina put her nose on his. Hers was cold, and her whiskers tickled.

“Stop that!” He moved his arm, got a hand clumsily under her belly and lifted her to his chest. She stood where he had put her, each foot weighing more than she did.