Pandora's Genes (23 page)

Evvy flinched at the thunder, covering her ears with her hands.

The Principal smiled. “If you can see it and hear it, it won’t hurt you,” he said. He sat on the table casually. I see the rain has driven away your customers. Have you learned anything yet?”

Evvy smiled ruefully. “That people don’t like to follow instructions.”

The Principal nodded, looking more sober. “Perhaps I’ll have to increase the reward,” he said. “This is too important to leave to chance.”

His voice sounded sad. She looked up, and at that moment there were several flashes of lightning in a row. The Principal seemed to flicker in and out of existence with each one. Evvy felt that a direct connection had formed between their eyes. The lightning stopped, and the Principal parted his lips as if to speak but said nothing. After a heartbeat, Evvy lowered her eyes.

They sat and watched the rain for a few more minutes. The black clouds were rolling quickly to the east, leaving a shining, eggshell-white sky behind them.

“Who would have thought you would come to the Capital?” the Principal said abruptly. “Who could have guessed your work would be so important?”

His voice was hoarse, and again Evvy was surprised at the sadness in it. But the next moment he leaped up and smiled. “I must get on about my business,” he said. “Thank you for the shelter.”

The summer heat was already turning the wet ground steamy as the Principal strode down the marble steps, flanked by his men. Almost immediately the lines began to re-form, and when Lucky and Lucille returned, the girls resumed their questioning.

“How many brothers do you have?” Evvy was asking a red-faced young woman. Her attention was so focused on recording the answers accurately that she didn’t realize anything was wrong until she was suddenly seized from behind. The woman she had been interviewing screamed, and the patients scattered in terror.

Strong, thick arms gripped her tightly around the chest, pinning her own arms to her sides. Behind her, she could hear Lucky whimpering. All at once a clean-shaven man with curly blond hair leaped onto the table and began shouting to the crowd, who had been prevented from fleeing by armed men at the entrance.

Daniel and his men were fighting, but they seemed badly outnumbered. Over their yells, the blond man shouted: “Do you know where you are? This is a temple to science. These women are scientists. They are asking you to contaminate yourselves. They are asking you to join in their unholy crusade to spread the evils of the Change.” Many of the clients stopped trying to escape and turned to look at him. Evvy heard murmurs of anger beginning to spread.

“Don’t believe their lies!” the man shouted. “Tear up their notes! Destroy their instruments! Don’t let them cause another Change!” He took the day’s stack of filled-in questionnaires and ripped them into pieces, scattering them about the room.

“No!” cried Evvy. She struggled with her captor, trying to pull herself free. Now some of the members of the crowd, as if infected, had begun to tear the remaining notes and smash the wooden instruction boards and instruments. Lucky was sobbing, pleading with the man who held her.

“Don’t listen to this man!” Evvy called out. “He is ignorant! This is your only chance for survival—” A rough hand was clapped over her mouth, cutting off her words. Now the crowd began to turn to her. She heard someone shout, “Godless scientist!”

For the first time since this had started, Evvy was afraid. She shrank back, seeing the hatred and madness on the faces of the men and women she had only recently been trying to help. She struggled desperately, but her captor only gripped her more tightly.

A fire was now flickering in front of the statue, the crowd feeding it scraps of leaf-paper and wood. “Kill the scientists!” came a cry. Two large, dirty men with crazed looks on their faces began walking toward her, and Evvy shut her eyes in terror. The next moment she was released, so suddenly that she pitched forward onto her hands and knees. She turned and saw the man who had captured her lying on his side, his head cut nearly from his neck. Above him stood the Principal, his face white as ash, his features twisted in rage. He was shouting orders to armed men who had appeared around him. Before Evvy could move or say anything, the Principal pulled her to her feet and pushed her toward another man. “Guard her with your life!” he cried, then turned and matched swords with an invader. The Principal’s man held Evvy with one arm, the other hand on his sword. He pulled her close to a pillar, away from the fighting.

The Principal was shouting like a madman, his sword everywhere. As if in a dream, Evvy saw blood spurt from the chest of one man, the shoulder of another. The sharp sound of metal on metal mingled with screams of anger and fear. The man who was guarding her took a blow on his forearm and staggered a moment, but he did not let go of her; a moment later the Principal struck down the attacker. Nearly as suddenly as it had begun, the noise and confusion had disappeared, except for some distant shouts outside the building and the moans of injured lying on the slippery floor.

The Principal, his tunic splattered with blood, his face dark and coarsened, stood in the center of the clinic, sheathing his sword. Daniel, bleeding badly from wounds to his head and thigh, approached him, then opened his hands in a gesture of appeal. He was, Evvy saw, weeping. “It was men in my guard that let this happen,” he said. “They must have been spies or converts.”

“It was your responsibility,” the Principal said, his voice as tight as his lips. “I can no longer trust you.”

Daniel sank to his knees. “I resign my commission at once,” he said.

The Principal struck him across the face, knocking him to the floor. “You haven’t that right! I relieve you of it! You will be punished!”

Her guard had released her, and Evvy realized it was over. She stood dumbly looking at Daniel, who was slowly struggling to his feet, his face streaked with tears and blood. Then she remembered. “Lucky—” she said, starting to look around for her friend.

“She’s dead,” said the Principal. His voice had become very quiet. Evvy looked at him, not understanding at first. Then she heard a howl of mourning, and recognized Lucille’s voice.

“They would have killed you too,” the Principal said. “It was only luck that my mount went lame. I would have been outside the Capital when this happened.”

Evvy stood a moment in shock. “Our notes—” she said.

“All destroyed. Instruments, notes, records – all gone. All that work for nothing.”

Evvy felt cold. She looked at the floor, slippery with blood, and at the overturned table. The Principal’s men had begun covering the bodies. She started to turn to where Lucky had been just before the attack. The Principal moved quickly and stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. She looked at him, the dark curls stuck to his forehead with sweat, and felt she had known him her whole life.

“You’re a brave girl, Evvy,” he said. The words pierced the cloak of shock she had pulled over herself, and she began to tremble. The Principal pulled her head to his chest and patted her shoulder while she sobbed into his tunic.

T
HE MEETING ROOM WAS SMOKY
 – the fire wasn’t drawing properly – and the Principal repeatedly cleared his throat as he talked. The old woman – incredibly, still alive – lay in her room, too ill to be here. Katha was pacing the polished floor, irritation showing in every line of her face and every gesture.

“I say it’s too dangerous,” she repeated. “We’ve already lost one scientist. Are you trying to destroy us?”

The Principal looked just as annoyed as Katha, but spoke calmly. “It will be as safe as I can possibly make it,” he said. “But the real work can’t go ahead as long as the leader of the Traders is at large. He must be stopped.”

“Let your own men stop him, then,” said Katha. “I refuse to risk any more women.”

The Principal took a deep breath, and then another. When he resumed, he spoke very distinctly, as if explaining something to a child. “I agree that the ultimate solution is to have my men do all the testing. But it will take time to train them – as you yourself pointed out. In the meantime, it’s vital for the testing to resume – both to preserve the work already done, and to lay a trap.”

Katha shook her head impatiently. She walked over to the fireplace, then squatted and peered into it, as if the answer to the dispute were responsible for clogging the flue.

Evvy, watching from a cushioned chair opposite the windows, sighed. She thought that the Principal and Katha were a great deal alike; neither seemed able to give in, even on a small point. In this case, though, the Principal was right: the screening must continue. Katha was a good leader, but she didn’t fully understand the importance of the scientific work. She was far more interested in the logistics of running a community. She could probably, Evvy realized suddenly, lead the District every bit as well as the Principal.

Katha stood again and, her back to the smoking fire, began to speak. “You are the Principal. You control all the wealth and resources of the District. I can’t believe that you are unable to capture the leader of the Traders.”

“Nevertheless, I can’t!” the Principal shouted, then again breathed deeply and went on. “My men arrest every Trader they find preaching openly. We have yet to gain usable information from any of them. We can’t discover anything about this man. I’ve posted a reward for him. The man who catches the Trader leader will have more metal than I do. My men bring in Trader after Trader, some of them even claiming to be the messiah. But always – they’re the wrong man.”

“Perhaps your men are more in sympathy with the Traders than you suspect,” Katha said.

“That’s just it!” he said, now standing himself. “That’s it exactly. Even my generals are beginning to think this man is somehow supernatural. It’s gotten to the point where I can’t be sure of anyone. The only way I’ll slow the spread of this religion is to capture their messiah and prove he’s just as human as the rest of us. And the only way I can capture him is to draw him into the open again – to the clinic.”

“What you have just said proves your plan isn’t safe. As you just admitted, you can’t be certain who among your men is a Trader spy and who isn’t.”

The Principal looked weary. “That’s not altogether true. I have a few close aides that I trust absolutely. And they will guard the clinic.” He sat again, then went on. “Here is all I ask. Let me have two or three scientists, for just enough time to train a small group of my men in the testing procedures. Two days a week only we will operate the clinic. If the trap doesn’t work after a few weeks, I’ll abandon the idea.”

Evvy thought Katha looked very confident as she shook her head, her long blond hair sweeping across her back. “I can’t ask any of my women to take that risk,” she said.

Evvy curled her hands into fists. Katha hadn’t even listened. She was opposing the Principal just for the sake of opposition. It was as if winning her point were more important to her than saving the human race, Evvy closed her eyes a moment, remembering the screams, the slippery feel of blood on the floor, and the smell of death. She remembered Lucky, her enthusiasm and sparkling eyes, and remembered how she had looked in death, with all that energy stilled. She swallowed, then opened her eyes and stood.

“I’ll do it,” she said.

The Principal and Katha both turned and gaped at her. Gunda half rose. “Evvy, you don’t have to—”

She continued, fighting to keep her voice calm. “I know I don’t have to. But I know how important it is. And I’ve been to the Capital. I’ve already seen the worst thing that could happen. I think it would be easier for me than for anyone else.”

There was a moment of silence, then Hilda stood. “I’ll go too,” she said. “Evvy can’t train the men by herself.” Two more women rose, including Lucille.

“Lucky belonged to all of us, as a Daughter of the Garden,” she said quietly, “but to me she was, above all, my child. I know she would have wanted me to carry on the work, so her death will not be lost. I will go too.” Lucille had lost weight since Lucky’s death, and had become more taciturn than ever, but Evvy thought tonight she was beginning to look herself again, with a hint of Lucky’s sparkling animation in her gaunt face.

“There are four volunteers,” said Gunda into the silence. Katha stood in the center of the room, a frozen statue of fury, looking from one woman to another.

The Principal’s face was unreadable. Evvy prayed that he would hold his temper now and keep his triumph hidden.

“I forbid this,” said Katha.

“You can’t do that,” said Hilda. “And you know it. If it comes to a council vote, we will go. Don’t split the Garden. You know what we’ve been working for all these years. It has to be done.”

Katha stood still another moment, her entire body rigid. Evvy sensed that she would kill the Principal if she could, and that her feelings came from something more than the present dispute. But she wouldn’t split the Garden. She crossed to the window and sat.

“Very well,” she said. “But for safety, I insist that our own guards go along.”

The Principal nodded. “That’s an excellent idea. Your soldiers can be trusted completely, and I know they’re well trained.”

Evvy relaxed. The Principal was not going to provoke Katha further and was being generous besides. She felt a sense of exultation floating lightly above her fear. She looked at the Principal and saw gratitude in his eyes.

The three scientists and six soldiers from the Garden were given rooms in a wing of the Principal’s own House. At the Principal’s strict order they were not allowed beyond his walled yards and went outside only armed and under guard.

Evvy, Hilda, and Lucille began immediately to train seven of the Principal’s men, most of whom had been recruited from among his literacy teachers and healers. An exception was Daniel, the former general, who had become subdued and sober since the Trader attack and seemed determined to atone for his tragic mistake.

Although all the men could read and write, none were trained in the mathematical skills they would need, and Evvy found that teaching them these skills consumed most of her time. She enjoyed the classes, which were conducted in a thickly carpeted parlor with polished wooden furniture and gently curving walls. The Principal’s men were eager to learn, and good-natured, laughing more easily than did the women of the Garden. They treated the women kindly and with respect, and fussed a great deal over Baby, who generally observed the proceedings from atop the mantelpiece, her water-colored eyes alert and surprised-looking.