The Enigma Score (15 page)

The two acolytes were lounging in the courtyard, obviously waiting for him, Clarin, predictably, with a gray-furred crystal mouse – so called because its normal habitat was among the crystal presences – running back and forth on her shoulder.

‘Private business,’ Tasmin said, trying to be more annoyed than he actually was. Now that the time had come, he was having a fit of nerves, and the false hostility in his voice grated even upon his own ears.

‘No, sir,’ said Clarin, apparently unmoved as she pocketed the mouse. ‘You’ve told us all about it, and we need to go with you. We can help you find Lim Terree’s manager or agent or whatever he is.’ She was saying no more than the truth. In the long evenings over the campfire, they had learned more about one another than any of them would have shared in the stratified society of the citadel. They were almost family – with the responsibility that entailed.

Tasmin, suddenly aware of that responsibility, found that it made him irritable. ‘I can do that alone.’ Could he? Did he want to?

‘You might be set upon, Master. We’ve inquired. It’s best for Tripsingers to go in company, so the Master General of this citadel has ordered.’ Jamieson was factual, a little brusque, avoiding Tasmin’s eyes. With sudden insight, Tasmin realized the boy was not speaking out of mere duty and would be wounded if he were rebuffed.

He took refuge in brusqueness of his own. ‘I hope you two haven’t been chirping.’

‘Master Ferrence!” The boy was hurt at being accused of being loose mouthed.

Jamieson’s pain shamed Tasmin for his lack of courtesy, and he gritted his teeth. ‘Did you get a car?’

‘Yes, sir. That greenish one over there.’

‘Looks well used, doesn’t it?’ The vehicle appeared to have been used to haul hay, or perhaps farm animals; it sagged; the bubble top was scratched into gray opacity.

‘Well, there were only two to choose from, and the other one was pink.’ Jamieson gave him a sidelong glance, assaying a smile of complicity, still with that expression of strain.

Tasmin flushed. Did he have the right to reject friendship when it was offered? Was he so determined upon his hurt he would hurt others to maintain the appearance of grief? He reached out to lay his hand on Jamieson’s shoulder, including Clarin in his glance. ‘If you’re so damned set on being helpful….’ Tasmin had already made a few calls from his room, locating one of the backup men Lim had had with him in Deepsoil Five and obtaining from him the name of Lim’s agent. ‘We’re looking for a man named Larry Porsent, and we’re supposed to find him in the Bedlowe Building, Eleventh Street and Jubilation Boulevard.’ Under his hand, Jamieson relaxed.

The streets were scarred with new and half-healed trenches; the building they sought was under construction with the first two floors occupied even while all the turmoil of fabrication went on above. They dodged hod carriers and bricklayers and representatives of half a dozen other construction specialties as they climbed the stairs to the second floor.

‘When do you suppose they’ll start putting lifts in these buildings,’ Jamieson complained. ‘I’ve done nothing in this city yet but climb stairs. They’ve got Clarin and me in dormitories five flights up.’

‘They’ll put in lifts when lift mechanisms are defined as essential,’ Tasmin said indifferently. He had been given a pleasant suite on the second floor of the citadel, overlooking a walled garden. ‘Or when there gets to be enough demand to fabricate them locally. Right now, it takes tenth place behind a lot of other needed supplies like medical equipment and farm machinery and computers. There’s the office.’

The name was painted in lopsided letters on a raw, new door. Inside they found the tenant crouched on the floor, trying to assemble a desk. He was a short, plump man with a polished pink face that gleamed with sweat and annoyance as he tried to fit a part into a slot that obviously would not hold it. ‘Larry Porsent,’ he introduced himself, clambering to his feet with some difficulty. ‘What can I do for you.’

‘I’m Tasmin Ferrence.’

‘Yes.’ There was no indication the man recognized the name.

‘I’m Lim Terree’s brother.’

The man scowled. ‘I’ll be damned. Really? I didn’t know he had a brother. Didn’t know he had any kin at all. Except his wife, of course, and the kid.’

‘Wife!’

‘Well, sure. You mean you didn’t know? Well, of course you didn’t know or you wouldn’t be surprised, right. I’m kind of slow on the launch today. Not my day. Not my season, if you want the truth. Perigee time. Lim’s death just about finished me off.’

‘He was a major client?’

‘He was damn near my only client. He wanted all my time, and I gave it to him. Would’ve worked out fine, too, if he hadn’t gone crazy. I mean, since you’re his brother and kin and all – these your kids? Nice lookin’ kids. Why in the name of good sense would a man take every credit he’s saved up in ten years and spend everything he’s got settin’ up a tour of the dirt towns! You can’t make that pay. Everybody knows you can’t make it pay. I told him. I told his wife, Vivian, and she told him.’ He ran both hands through his thinning hair, then thrust them out as though to beg understanding. ‘Why would a man do that?’

‘You mean, the tour to Deepsoil Five wasn’t a financial success?’

‘Hell, man, no tour to the dirt towns is a financial success! They’re always a dead loss. Only time we do ’em, ever, is if BDL banks ’em for us. I mean, any of us, any agent, any performer. BDL pays it out every now and then, just for the goodwill, but there’s no audience there. How much can you make, stacked up against what it costs to get there?’

Jamieson asked, ‘You’re telling us that Lim Terree used his own money to pay for the trip?’

‘Everything he had. Down to the house and his kid’s savings fund. And since you’re his brother, I can show you a few bills that didn’t get paid if you’re interested in clearing his good name.’

Tasmin shook his head, dizzied by this spate of unexpected information. ‘Lim had a very expensive comp on his wrist when I saw him last.’

‘He did, indeed. And I wish I had it now. That was a gift, that was. Guess who from? Honeypeach herself. The Governor’s lady.’ He spat the word. ‘Poor old Lim couldn’t sell it or he was dead. He couldn’t lose it or he was dead. All he could do was wear it and try to stay out of her bed. People that upset Honeypeach end up buried. She’s a crystal-rat, that one. Teeth like a Jammling, and she wanted to eat him.’

‘Terree’s wife,’ Clarin said, sympathetically aware of Tasmin’s confusion. ‘Where would we find her?’

‘You’ll find her at home, such as it is, over the fish market, down at the south end. Or you’ll find her in the market, guttin’ and scalin’. She and the kid have to eat, and Lim sure left her without the wherewithal. She left a registered job with the Exploration records office to have Lim’s kid, and they sure won’t take her back….’

‘I may have some other questions,’ Tasmin said, shaking his head. ‘Right now I’m too confused by all this to know. We can find you here daytimes?’

‘If I can make it through the next few days, you can. I’ve got a few comers lined up. One of ’em’s bound to break orbit. None of ’em are Lim Terree, though, I’ll tell you that. He was a genius. A damned genius. He could do more with a music box than any other three people. If you find out what made him crazy, I wish you’d let me know.’ He dropped to his knees and began working on the assembly once more, oblivious to their departure.

In the car there was a careful silence. Tasmin was trying to fit what he had just learned into the structure he had postulated, and it did not fit. A penniless Lim Terree. A man who had told the truth when he said he hadn’t the funds to help Tasmin with their mother’s needs. Why?

‘Do you know where the fish market is, Reb?’

The boy flushed with pleasure. Tasmin seldom addressed him by his sobriquet. ‘Clarin and I studied the city map for a while. I think I can find it.’

He did find it, after several false turns, although finding a place to put the car was another thing. The market was long and narrow, extending across the length of the fish farms and the fleet moorings. The wares on display included both native and farmed out-system fish, finned and shelled and naked skinned. Though Jubal had a paucity of land life – a few small animals like viggies, a few birdlike and insectlike creatures – its shallow oceans burgeoned with species, and the rainbow harvest made up most of the protein needs of the human inhabitants. They struggled through the crowd toward the south end of the market, asking as they went for Vivian Terree.

Tasmin knew her as soon as he saw her. She was so like old pictures of his mother that she could have been related by blood. That same triangular face, the same deeply curved and oddly shaped mouth in which the lower lip appeared to be only half as long as the upper one, giving her a curiously exotic appearance. That same long, silvery hair – though Vivian wore it braided and pinned to keep it out of her way. Lim must have been attracted by that unbelievable resemblance.

‘Vivian?’ Tasmin asked.

She pushed a wisp of hair from her forehead with one wrist, keeping the bloody fingers extended. Her other hand held a curved knife. ‘Yes?’

‘I’d like to talk with you, if you have a minute.’

‘I don’t have a minute. I don’t have any time at all. They don’t like us having conversations while we’re supposed to be working.’ Her face and voice were so full of worry and pain there was no room for curiosity.

‘I can wait until after work. My name’s Tasmin Ferrence. I’m Lim’s brother.’

She stared at him, her eyes gradually filling with tears. The knife hand trembled, as though it wanted to make some other and more forceful gesture. ‘Damn you,’ she said in a grating whisper. ‘Damn you to hell.’

In his shock, Tasmin could not move. Clarin stepped between them as though she had rehearsed the movement. ‘Don’t say that, Vivian. I don’t know why you would say that. Tasmin was only a boy when his brother left home, and he doesn’t know any reason for you to say anything like that. See. Look at his face. He doesn’t know. Whatever it is, he doesn’t know.’

The woman was crying, her shoulders heaving. Tasmin straightened, looked around to meet the eyes of an officious and beefy personage stalking in his direction. He moved to meet this threat. ‘Are you the supervisor here?’

The man began to bluster. Tasmin drew himself up. ‘I am Tripsinger Tasmin Ferrence. I am on official business for the citadel. I need to talk to this woman, Vivian Terree, and I intend to do so. You can either cooperate or I can report your lack of cooperation to the citadel. The choice is entirely up to you.’

The bluster changed to a whine, the whine to a slobber. Tasmin left him in midcringe. ‘Clarin, find out where we can talk.’

Vivian led them out of the market and around to the rear where a flight of rickety stairs took them to the second floor. The tiny apartment was as splintery and dilapidated as the stairs, with narrow windows that did nothing to ventilate the scantily furnished two rooms or ameliorate the overwhelming stench of fish.

The baby was playing quietly in a crib. A boy child, about two or a little older. He turned to look at them curiously as they entered, holding up his arms to his mother. ‘D’ink.’

‘Lim’s son?’

‘Lim’s. Of course.’ She filled a cup and held it to the baby’s lips. ‘Little Miles.’

The name came as a shock. Named after their father? Lim’s and Tasmin’s father?

‘Lim didn’t live here?’ Tasmin fumbled.

‘We
didn’t live here. We had a house, a nice house, on the rocks over the bay. There was a little beach for Miles to play on. Lim borrowed against it.’

Miles? ‘You lost it?’

‘I guess I never really had it.’ She turned on him, glaring. ‘We would have had it if he hadn’t done that crazy thing. He borrowed against the house. Against everything we had. A hundred-day note. Due and payable at the Old Moon. He was dead by then.’ She leaned over the child, weeping.

Tasmin looked at Clarin, pleadingly.

‘Let me take the baby out on the stairs,’ she said to Vivian. ‘You and Tasmin need to talk.’ She went out with Jamieson, and he could hear them playing a rhyme game on the landing while the sea birds shrieked overhead.

‘Vivian. I don’t … I don’t know why Lim did that. His agent told me about it. I don’t understand it.’

‘He had to get to you.’

‘To me? I hadn’t even seen him in fifteen years! I wrote to him and he didn’t even answer!’

‘You wrote to ask him for money. Why should he send money to you!’

Tasmin bit back the obvious answer, controlled himself.

‘Vivian, I don’t know why. Mother was in need; I thought Lim was making it with both hands.’

‘Let your damned father take care of her!’

‘He died. Years ago. Not long after Lim left.’ After Lim had left, Miles Ferrence had almost seemed to court disaster.

She was shaking. ‘Dead?’ She got up, moved into the next room. Tasmin could hear water running. In a moment she returned. Her hands and face were wet. She had washed off the fish blood. ‘Dead?’ she asked again.

‘Why does it matter?’

‘I suppose it doesn’t, now. Everything he went through. Trying to prove himself to that rotten old man!’

‘You didn’t even know him!’

‘I know about him.’ She began to weep again. ‘He was … he was terrible. Oh, God, he hurt Lim so.’

‘Well, Lim hurt him.’

‘Later. Later Lim hurt him. Later Lim tried to. To get even a little. Because it didn’t seem to matter. Poor Lim.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘How old are you?’ she asked suddenly, eyes flashing.

‘Thirty-two.’

She counted, shaking her head. ‘Lim was thirty-seven, almost thirty-eight. He was only twelve when it happened. So, you were only seven. Maybe you didn’t know. I guess you didn’t.’ She bent forward, weeping again.

‘Vivian, please. Talk to me. I don’t know what happened. I don’t know what you’re saying. Yes, my father was a very unpleasant person sometimes. Yes, I think he was harder on Lim than he was on me because Lim was older.’

‘Hard! I could forgive it if he’d just been hard.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’d like to understand, but I don’t. I just don’t.’