Rediscovery (24 page)

She made contact with one almost immediately; that it was one of the star folk she had no doubt, for the mind was crowded with bewildering images of machines, awash with concepts with strange names like
computer,
and
corticator; meteorology
and
astrogation.
She discovered quickly that the girl was the one Lorill had spoken of last night, the one who had been wedded that very day.

Leonie could not keep contact for long, however, for the girl’s mind was not only full of those alien words and concepts, but of other things, equally alien to a virginal Keeper candidate.

Perhaps bedtime had not been a good time to try to reach for a contact…the girl’s mind was full of her love, and of her new relationship with her now-husband; fleshly and sensual images that troubled Leonie, and frightened her a little, too.

For all her “accelerated training,” Leonie was not sufficiently experienced to sift through the girl’s thoughts for the ones she wanted. Too many other things kept

intruding, and it soon became obvious that the girl was waiting—quite eagerly—for her husband to come to bed.

This will never do,
she decided, and broke off contact. Better the mind with which she had communicated before, the one of the musical instruments. At least
that
one was more like Leonie’s—she had gotten an impression of a kind of Tower or construction over which the virginal woman ruled. Something—white as bone, or ivory. There might be alien concepts there, but there would be no disturbing sexual images.

It was easier to find the woman’s mind than she had thought it would be. Leonie

seized the thoughts, and used them to bring her closer. And once she had made contact, she found much to challenge and interest her. For one thing, the woman was one of the strange kind; glancing in the mirror, her unknowing host had been revealed as darker of skin than any human Leonie had ever seen.

That was no great matter; Leonie had been reared on tales of the
chieri,
although she had never seen one of the creatures. Ysaye—the name came to her after a little discreet prodding —seemed human enough in her thoughts. Virginal, yes, and likely to remain so—men did not interest her, and neither did women. But to Leonie’s delight, she learned that Ysaye
was
a kind of Keeper, a Keeper of knowledge, and her Tower (Ysaye thought of it as an “Ivory Tower”) was one of those
machines,
one that stored and brought forth information at a speed that dazzled Leonie. In Ysaye’s mind, she found out how much information that was, and the very idea left her gaping. Why, all the libraries in all the world could not hold a tenth of what this
computer
held!

Nor was that all; the computer seemed to be the key to vast stores of other things.

It could even play music, as if by magic, without musicians…

So great was Leonie’s delight that she came very near to revealing herself to

Ysaye.

The woman was selecting music for the computer to play for her to go to sleep

by; curious, Leonie lingered, and listened to some of it. She was awed and thrilled by something called
Mozart,
and it seemed to her that the strangers might have a great deal to offer if they could produce music such as that.

As Ysaye relaxed, Leonie examined the random memories that came into her

mind: a sun much brighter than her own, and blazing white, a single cold white moon.

Shadowy trees over a lake, and the sunset flight of strange, beautiful rose-colored birds, fluttering up from the lake…

The work that Ysaye was doing, the Keeper of her computer-Tower…

To Leonie’s surprise, she worked with men on equal terms. Well, perhaps she

should not have been surprised, for that was the case in the Towers Leonie knew as well, and so would she when she was a little more experienced. And the wealth of knowledge that had been available to Ysaye was amazing, the more so when she realized how

humble Ysaye’s descent was. Almost poverty-stricken. And yet, she had been given all this learning, even to instruction in music, the pleasure of the rich, as Fiora had pointed out.

Discovery of Ysaye’s origins in poverty destroyed any compunctions Leonie

might have had about rummaging through her mind or memory. Even though Leonie

had already taken the first of the
laran
oaths given to telepaths—to enter no mind unwilling, and never save to help or heal—to her way of thinking, the oath could hardly apply to one such as Ysaye. The woman was both an alien and not of Leonie’s caste.

Besides, she told herself, since Ysaye knew nothing of this searching, no harm

was done.

Even if she knew, she’d probably be only too willing,
Leonie told herself.
How
could she not be? She serves knowledge; and I am learning of her and her people.

Learning more than enough to be certain that what Lorill had been told was true; these people were from another star.
Terrans,
they called themselves.

Ysaye was falling asleep at this point, and Leonie slipped easily and softly out of contact, resolved to throw her influence with her father and the Council in favor of these star folk. They had a great deal that was useful, and more that was simply desirable.

And Ysaye was more like to Leonie than nearly anyone else she had ever

encountered. Perhaps—even more than her twin.

Word came at last from Empire Central. The situation had been debated, and the

verdict was in; Cottman IV had been given a status by the Terran Empire, and against all hope, it was one that pleased both Elizabeth and David and Captain Gibbons—though
not
Ryan Evans. Elizabeth Lorne took a certain enjoyment in Evans’ sour face when the verdict was posted.

Not Closed—which meant that everyone would have had to wind up projects,

collect anything of Terran origin, pack up, reenter the ship, and leave. But not Open either, which would have left the natives and the fragile world at risk of damaging exploitation. Instead, the world had been granted the seldom-used designation of
Restricted.
MacAran had expressed some surprise when he’d seen the status, and so had Britton, who had muttered something about “never in my time…” In fact, it was so seldom used that Elizabeth had not been aware that it even existed, and had to look it up.

What she found there made her feel like cheering.

A Restricted world was one with severe limitations on the amount of trade and

contact that could be made with the natives. Terrans would be permitted to build a spaceport,
if
the natives agreed, and were prepared to deed them the land. But any and all trade agreements had to be initiated by the natives, were subject to approval by the local native government, and all movement of Terrans outside the spaceport and the Trade City that would be built around it was forbidden except by express permission of the natives.

There would be no unescorted roaming about the countryside. There would be no

leeching away of native resources, like hardwood forests, or the few metals this poor planet boasted. There would be no chance for Evans to find something he could

purchase cheaply here, and get its weight in credits off planet. Should he find such a thing, some of the fair profit, at least, would go to the native supplier. Granted, the native involved might be as great a schemer as Evans, but at least it would
be
a native, and some of that profit would trickle down to the planet itself in the form of taxes and outlay.

As far as Elizabeth was concerned, it was the best of all possible situations. The restrictions on
her
would be few—or even none at all. She and David were welcome everywhere in Caer Donn and Aldaran’s castle and grounds; as a musician she was fairly certain she would be welcome anywhere on the planet. But people like Ryan Evans, who grated on most of the natives, would probably find themselves limited to Terran-held ground. It was extremely doubtful that Evans would find anyone willing to initiate a trade agreement that would not be challenged by the Terran Legate. Perhaps that strange friend of Kermiac’s, the one who called himself Raymon Kadarin, would be willing to help him, but Evans’ general contempt for most of the natives made it unlikely that anyone else would be his partisan.

Captain Gibbons and the crew, of course, would be getting a larger reward and

finder’s fee, since the planet could support both limited trade and a spaceport. So the Captain was happy, and Elizabeth had a notion that he might have been the one that had suggested Restricted status in the first place. Though he would have earned more if the planet had been posted as Open, Elizabeth knew that Captain Gibbons was too ethical a man to put credits first.

And meanwhile, as everyone else prepared the spaceport and settlement,

Elizabeth and David could start that family, long hoped-for, long discussed…

As soon as the status was posted, she had gone to Aurora to have her

contraceptive implant removed. When the doctor asked whether Elizabeth’s plans for children shouldn’t wait until she had adjusted to her new environment, Elizabeth had replied that she had already waited three years, and that was long enough!

Besides, once confirmation of the status came, Captain Gibbons went at once to

Kermiac and was closeted with him for half a day, negotiating for the Empire, while Lorill Hastur cooled his heels, all unaware of what was transpiring inside the Castle. By the time he learned, it was too late. Negotiations were complete, and the new Terran spaceport and Trade City would rise—on Aldaran lands.

Lord Aldaran gave his permission and deeded over his property, in return for

concessions to which Elizabeth paid scant attention. So far as she was concerned, the important part was that construction began at once on the new settlement and the spaceport. As newly-wedded
and
starting a family (as signaled by the removal of the implant) she and David were entitled to the first single-family dwelling scheduled to be built. Elizabeth had heard what had happened to others who waited “prudently” to begin their families when a settlement opened; they got put at the end of the line, and as other needs of the port and port city came up, their requisitions got lower and lower priority.

She even knew of couples who had been forced to spend the first year with their new child in a single-room apartment in Married quarters! That, she was determined, was not going to happen to her—or to David!

She and David had gone off today to see how far work was progressing on their

house. Terran machines supplied the construction materials fabricated from native raw materials, and Terran plans, modified to suit the area, were being used, but it was native workers who were constructing the buildings under Terran supervision. The new

settlement was rising on raw ground just outside of Caer Donn. The Terrans had set up the beginnings of a village there, with Married and Single dormitory-style housing for those who would be staying when the ship lifted, and the Lorne house was the first entirely private dwelling. They had already constructed a biology lab, a language lab and school (David Lorne’s special project), and several other simple wood frame buildings, which would serve as Empire Headquarters until the usual imposing Government HQ

could be constructed. That would be quarried of native stone (“We have no shortage of that,” Kermiac had said humorously) once the weather improved and the quarries could be opened again.

The native builders had been supplied by Kermiac of Aldaran; they were glad of

the work at this slack season of the year and seemed to have no problems working for the Terrans. The Terrans had agreed to pay them in raw metals and metal tools, and an exchange system had been worked out which seemed to please everyone.

Elizabeth nestled against David’s shoulder, and sighed happily. Their new house

rose a full three stories, and would easily qualify as a mansion on Terra. Here, it was simply a large house, and the sole concern would be how to heat it all. And for Terran technology, that was scarcely a problem. “We could never have had a house like this back home. Big enough for a dozen children, if we want them.”

“Big enough for all your instruments, you mean,” David teased. “I’ve seen that

collection you’re amassing. And I have no doubt that somewhere you’ll find a native craftsman who’s willing to try to copy our instruments! Next, I suppose, you’ll be wanting a piano!”

She laughed at him. “Of
course
I will, if I can find someone to build it!” she retorted. “They already have harps; what’s a piano, after all, but a harp in a sounding-box?”

“You’re shameless,” he told her.

Kermiac of Aldaran had been pleased to find this work for his people, so much so that no one, not even Elizabeth, could find any reason to think that her fellow Terrans were “exploiting” the native labor force.

“The skilled craftsmen have no work at this season,” he had said. “And for the

unskilled pool of workers—so many of the small farms in the hills have been run

together for raising sheep in the last generation, and there is really no work for many of the farmers. They will be happy for the work, and if you will agree to teach them a trade at the same time…”

It was easy enough for Captain Gibbons to fulfill that promise. By the time these buildings rose, the local labor pool would be well-skilled in everything from

brickmaking to wiring. Interesting, that few natives knew anything about brickmaking, here where there were materials for both the bricks and the kilns. Perhaps it was because stone was so plentiful—but once they realized how superior bricks were to stone, the natives who had been trained to make them would find the demand high.

The natives knew what materials were available; they could advise the engineers

designing the sewage system for this particular climate. The tools with which they were paid were in painfully short supply at Aldaran, and if the rest of the world was as metal-poor as this northernmost Domain, were probably in short supply everywhere else as well.