Pandora's Genes (34 page)

Zach stared at Will. Things must have changed more than he could imagine. The old woman he had known would rather have seen Will’s empire crumble than have him marry. And Will himself . . . .

But Will was on his feet. “It’s getting late,” he said. “There’s all the time in the world to talk about this. For now, we have a great deal of serious eating and drinking ahead of us. So no more business, and no more questions. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

“By the way,” the Principal added, stopping so suddenly that Zach nearly bumped into him. “I have questions too, brother. And I’m expecting the answer to one of them tomorrow.”

For an eerie moment Zach had the feeling that Will already knew everything, but the Principal’s face immediately relaxed into a smile of anticipation as they approached the banquet hall.

Zach awoke the next morning with a taste in his mouth like poison-bat wings and a fierce throbbing headache. For a moment he thought he was back in prison and opened his eyes expecting to see damp stone walls. Instead he saw curved wooden panels and glass-paned windows framing an overcast sky. He couldn’t think where he was, then realized that he was lying on a couch in the Principal’s office, where he dimly remembered coming after the banquet. The Principal himself was sprawled across his desk, snoring loudly. Curled against his ankles, its face buried in its paws, was the striped fox-cat baby the Principal called Napoleon. When Will had first shown him the animal, Zach had been astounded – both at the thought of a fox-cat living tamely indoors and at the idea of Will taking on the care of a pet. At the feast last night, though, he could see that Napoleon suited Will’s playful side as it scampered about the room, chasing stray morsels of food and attacking unguarded ankles. Watching Will with the animal, Zach again had the feeling that Will had changed in ways beyond his understanding.

It had been a wonderful party, taking Zach back in memory to the early days of Will’s rule, when optimism and youthful exuberance had made every victory a cause for excitement and celebration. In those days Will had given banquets often, sparing no expense in honoring an achievement in battle or the consolidation of some new service for the growing District, like the first founding of a school for literacy. Though Zach had never been as gregarious as Will, he had always enjoyed the chance to talk, joke, and sing with Will’s generals, soldiers, healers, and teachers. The formal occasions for banquets had grown fewer over the years, but Will had never lost his delight in playing the host, laughing and drinking with his men as if he were one of them, and not the Principal.

The banquet was held in the large dining hall that the Principal used for festive occasions. Its faded blue walls and carpet were illuminated by dozens of fish-oil lamps hanging from brass fixtures on the walls. Two long, beautiful, polished pre-Change tables were covered with embroidered cotton cloth and set with bowls of flowers, dining implements, and pitchers of wine and brew. Women for hire and serving boys circulated with trays of cheese, bread, fruits, and meats, while a musician played product ballads on a piano that was said to be hundreds of years old. At first Zach had felt shy and somewhat intimidated by the crowd of noisy, boisterous men, many of whom he had never before seen; but after the Principal had pressed on him several cups of new-grape wine, he had begun to relax and then to enjoy himself. Ralf, Red, and a dozen others had repeatedly taken his hand or embraced him, some of them sentimental from drink, and all genuinely glad to see him. He had never considered how many people had missed him – and how much he had missed them. He had taken a great deal of ribbing about his clean-shaven face and short gray hair. There had been much drunken laughter and song; in fact, they had all behaved and felt like small children, which, of course, was the point. Last night the Principal had seemed happier and less driven than Zach had ever seen him.

That happiness would have to end soon. Today. Zach couldn’t put it off any longer.

He pulled himself to his feet and stretched, thinking that he desperately needed some water. Then he noticed that someone, probably the ever-thoughtful Robin, had placed a tray containing a large pitcher of water, and another of fruit juice, just inside the door.

The baby fox-cat opened its eyes and stretched, then jumped off the desk to rub at Zach’s ankles, asking to be let out with a plaintive “
Mowr
?” Smiling, Zach quietly opened the door, then picked up the tray.

He heard a groan as he finished his second cup of juice, so he poured another and brought it to the Principal.

“Great deena,” said the Principal. “I feel as if I’ve been dead for a week.”

“You look it too,” said Zach. He handed him the juice.

The Principal drank it in one long swallow, then hopped up and began to gulp from the water pitcher. When he had finished, he upended the pitcher and poured the remaining water over his head.

He shook his head like a wet mount, then smiled sheepishly. “A little better,” he said. “Some party, eh?”

“Thank you,” said Zach.

“No thanks required. Loosen up a little, like you did last night. I never heard you sing so well – or so loudly. Did the Traders teach you to warble like that?”

“As a matter of fact, in a way they did,” said Zach.

“You could have a new career as a minstrel. Though I have no intention of letting you leave my side again. Perhaps we’ll just invite selected patrons to hear you and fatten the tax rolls—” He stopped as there was a knock at the door. “Ah,” he said. “Yes?”

Robin stuck his head in. “Good morning. The women from the Garden are here, sir.”

“Good. Make them comfortable. Zach and I are going to my private quarters to bathe and change. Have breakfast sent to us there.” He turned to Zach and added, “If your stomach feels anything like mine, breakfast isn’t an appealing thought. But I insist on it. We’ll get some meat back on you yet. Then afterwards, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

As Zach waited in the Principal’s office for the Principal to return with the emissary from the Garden, he tried to puzzle out Will’s strange manner. He had hinted more than once that he wanted to question Zach about matters that were obviously troubling him; he knew that Zach had a great deal to tell him about the Traders; yet he was taking as the first order of business a meeting with a representative of the Garden. Most likely, Zach decided, this was simply a courtesy. The Principal knew how deeply interested Zach had always been in the Garden’s work, and perhaps too he wanted to show off the latest developments.

He heard the Principal’s voice in the hall. “I’m sorry if I alarmed you. I wouldn’t have sent for you if it weren’t very important. I’ll explain everything later. But now I want you to meet someone.”

The Principal preceded his guest into the room, then turned, watching as she walked in. His face was expressionless. Zach followed his eyes to the door.

Zach knew her immediately, although she was a grown woman now, and taller. But the same grace and beauty, the same astonishing plum-colored eyes, gave Evvy the charismatic presence she had possessed as a young girl. His mind swirled with a hundred thoughts: surprise, shock that she was here with the Principal, and joy at seeing her alive and unharmed. He half rose from the couch, holding his breath.

It took Evvy a moment longer to recognize Zach, and at first she looked simply puzzled. She glanced quizzically at the Principal, whose face was now fixed on Zach, then again at Zach, and suddenly she became absolutely motionless. Her mouth parted and the color drained from her face. “Zach,” she whispered.

She took two uncertain steps toward him, then abruptly sat in the nearby armchair, staring at him.

“Evvy,” said the Principal, “this is my brother Zach. Zach—”

Zach sat back. “I know her,” he said.

The Principal leaned against his desk, his arms crossed carelessly in front of him. “Yes,” he said, “I can see you do. And I suspected as much.”

Zach sank into the cushions and forced himself to look at his brother. The rage he had been expecting was absent; in its place was a look of bewilderment, and something else. Zach realized it was sadness, which colored Will’s voice when he spoke again: “Very well,” he said. “Now it’s time for me to ask questions. I’ve long suspected that you were captured while you were defending her. But now I want to know how it happened. How did Evvy get to the Garden, and why did she never tell me who she was? What really happened five years ago?”

A
S HE LAY AWAKE THAT
night, Zach reflected that it had been the most painful afternoon of his life. Never would he forget the puzzled, trusting look on the Principal’s face when he had to answer: “I was not defending Evvy when I was captured. I was taking her to the Garden.”

“Zach, no—” said Evvy, but he went on.

“I betrayed you, Will. This is what I have been trying to tell you.”

“Betrayed me?” The Principal looked bewildered. “What are you taking about?”

For a moment Zach thought he might yet take back his words, but it was too late. The Principal’s face began to change with understanding, and Zach continued. “I did not intend to bring Evvy to you,” he said. “Not then and not ever.”

The Principal continued to look at Zach, not moving. Then he swallowed and turned away. He walked to the window and stood with his back to the room, looking out at the clouded sky. Zach watched him helplessly, then turned to meet Evvy’s gaze, but she too turned away and he felt suddenly alone in the room. He was dizzy, as if he were imagining or dreaming everything that was happening. The Principal continued to stand with his back to them, and Zach could see his shoulders move as he took deep, slow breaths. He had done this since he was a child whenever he was hurt or challenged; he had once told Zach that it calmed him and gave him time to decide what action to take.

“You have done more harm than you know,” said the Principal at last. He turned back, his face set in tight lines, and addressed Evvy. “It’s him, isn’t it?” he said. “He’s the one you love?”

Evvy nodded.

“I’ve known it all these years.”

“Will,” said Evvy, “for a long time I’ve suspected that you knew, but—”

“Be quiet!” said the Principal. Evvy sat back as if she had been slapped. Zach could only stare at the two of them. Something beyond his understanding had happened between them, and was happening still.

Now the Principal turned to Zach, and Zach could see the famous rage building beneath the composed surface, waiting to explode. But when he spoke, his voice was calm. “I never would have believed it,” he said. “I’ve thought many things, I’ve known for a long time who Evvy was, and yet I never suspected, never dreamed—” He broke off. “Anyone else,” he said finally. “Anyone but you.”

“It didn’t happen the way you’re thinking,” said Zach.

“And how am I thinking?”

That I and Evvy . . . that Evvy and I . . .”

“The girl’s in love with you. She’s told me so often enough, she just never mentioned a name.”

“Will, please,” said Evvy. “Zach is telling the truth. He never touched me, he never knew that I loved him, and he never loved me.”

Zach listened without understanding. The news that Evvy had loved him all these years was as bewildering as the fact that she was here now.

“The deenas take it,” said the Principal suddenly. He sat heavily at his desk.

Evvy rose and approached him. “It happened over five years ago,” she said. “It’s ancient history now.”

“Sit down,” said the Principal. He turned to Zach. “Tell me what happened.”

“What happened was this. Evvy saved my life. I came to know her and realized that I could not turn her over to you.”

“Knowing that your refusal meant you could not return to the Capital?”

“Yes.”

“Knowing that I depended on you? That you were turning your back on everything we had worked for together?”

Zach swallowed. “There was no choice.”

“You left the feathered lyre and those other things as a decoy, then, so that I would think you had been captured or killed.”

“Yes.”

“Didn’t you consider how it would affect me to hear of your death?”

Zach didn’t answer. Nothing he could say would make the Principal less bitter. The Principal looked at him again, then at Evvy, and back at Zach. His eyes still held more puzzlement than anger. He spread out his hands.

“Couldn’t you simply have returned her to her family and come back without her? It wouldn’t have been the first time you refused to carry out an order.”

“I considered that. But I felt she would have a better life among the women of the Garden. Her family was poor and nearly starving, and, besides, they had sold her.”

Evvy was looking at the floor, tears silently slipping down her cheeks.

“That raises another point,” said the Principal. “Evvy, do you know that legally I still own you? I paid a lot of metal to your parents for you.”

“I’ve always known it,” said Evvy.

“Then Evvy is not—” Zach started to speak, then fell silent, not sure what to say, not knowing if he wanted an answer.

The Principal understood him. “There is nothing between me and Evvy,” he said. His tone was flat and final. After a moment, he spoke again. “Ah, Zach. If only you’d thought to trust me, as I always trusted you. Didn’t you know that if you cared so much for Evvy’s well-being, I would never have harmed her?”

“The compulsion was always stronger than you. You would not have been able to stop yourself—”

“No, Zach!”

At last the anger was there in his face and in his voice. The Principal rose and leaned with both palms outstretched on the desk, his arms trembling as he faced Zach. “It wasn’t what I might do to Evvy that concerned you, brother. It was what you yourself might do. You were in love with her but couldn’t admit it. That’s why you betrayed me. And that’s why you conceived the romantic notion of taking her to the Garden. You didn’t have the courage to take her for yourself, so you delivered her to the one place where no other man could ever have her!”