Leethe had clapped his hands over his eyes again, but that wouldn’t block out the smell. "Just end it, woman, and I’ll tell you."
Ara snapped her fingers. The scene vanished, replaced by Ara’s pleasure garden. The soft tinkling of the fountain and pleasant birdsong contrasted almost ghoulishly with the horrible images that had been there only moments before. Kendi’s blindfold and earplugs evaporated. He blinked reproachfully at Ara and started to speak, then silenced himself under her heavy glare.
"The records, Manager Leethe," she said levelly. "And don’t even think about leaving the Dream and not returning. I’m very good at whispering, and I have your scent."
Leethe lowered his hands. His pudgy face was pale above the scarlet kimono. "I told you I’d find them for you, and I will."
Ara conjured a chair for him and he dropped heavily into it. Kendi perched on the lip of the fountain next to Ara. Ara wondered if he noticed how the dynamics of her relationship with Leethe had changed. They were on Ara’s turf now, and Leethe was sitting with his head lower than hers on a chair she had created. All of these were signs that Ara was in charge. She made a mental note to point this out to Kendi later as an example of Dream protocol.
Leethe closed his eyes, reaching out of the Dream to someone else—a records person, Ara assumed.
"I’ll need dates," Leethe said. "And names."
Ara gave him Cole and Dorna’s names and the date of their sale. Leethe opened his eyes.
"I thought you were looking for one person," he said. His tone was petulant.
"He has an accomplice," Ara told him. "Hurry it up."
Leethe shut his eyes again. A few moments later, he drew a deep breath and stood up. "Cole and Dorna Keller were both sold to one Mr. Barry Yaree, a human on the planet Trafalgar. He’s a legal coordinator there, and his Silent slaves provide communication among circuit judges because Trafalgar is a low-tech world that doesn’t allow artificial long-distance communication."
"And where can I find Mr. Barry Yaree?" Ara said.
"He usually creates a tropical beach for his turf," Leethe explained. He described it further, and as he spoke, a pattern began to form in Ara’s mind. Eventually she received enough of Leethe’s thoughts to find Yaree in the Dream.
"Thank you, Manager," she said when he was done.
Leethe vanished from his chair without further comment, leaving overlarge ripples and tears in his wake as a parting shot. Ara let the garden resettle before turning to Kendi.
"What was with the blindfold?" he demanded.
"There was no need for you to see it all again," Ara said.
"You don’t have the right," Kendi said levelly. "You’re not my mother."
"That’s correct. I’m your teacher. And it’s a teacher’s duty to prevent harm to her students, both in the Dream and out of it."
"You don’t blindfold me in the Dream and you don’t stop up my ears," Kendi said. The anger in his voice was clear. "I’m not a slave, and I have the right to make my own choices about what I see and hear. If you don’t think I should see something, then I’ll leave. Horses and slaves are blindfolded. People are not."
Ara opened her mouth to refute this, then snapped it shut. "Point," she conceded. "I’ll remember that next time."
Kendi looked surprised that she had given in. He nodded. "So what’s next?"
"We’re going to talk to Barry Yaree."
Barry Yaree happened to be in the Dream. He was a tall man, well over two meters, with an unruly shock of red-blond hair. Ara barely came up to the waist of his bathing suit. Behind them, a tranquil tropical sea lapped at a perfect white beach beneath a warm, benevolent sun.
"I remember those two," Yaree told them. His voice was oddly high and flute-like. "The girl was pliant enough, but her brother—what a lying little sack of trash. Lazy, mouthy. No matter how carefully we trained him, he couldn’t seem to get into the Dream. And he was always giving us headaches. Broke stuff, stole, kept trying to get the female slaves into bed. Finally one day he actually grabbed my wife’s rear end. I had the little shit beaten and then I sold him. He didn’t seem to care. I kept the sister around for another year or so, then got a good offer and sold her, too."
"He never got into the Dream?" Ara said. She was already developing a crick in her neck from looking so far up.
Yaree shook his shaggy head. "Not once. Went through a truckload of drugs and cost me a pretty set of credits, too."
That was strange, Ara mused. Cole must have gotten in later, then. Or had he been faking the fact that he couldn’t get in? "Did you change their names?" she asked.
Yaree nodded. "To Jack and Jill. I thought it fit."
"Who did you sell them to?"
"A private slave dealer on Traveler III," the woman said. She had improbably blond hair, dark eyebrows, and a body that was slowly going to seed. Her turf looked like the grand ballroom of a fairy tale castle. "I was actually a little sad to see him go."
"Despite what he did to the cat," Ara said.
"Well, nobody’s perfect." The woman shifted position on the throne she occupied. Her long blue dress, slit high up the side, revealed a fair amount of leg. "The little devil was insatiable, too."
"Sorry?" Ara said. Beside her, Kendi shifted uncomfortably.
"He wanted it morning, noon, and night," the woman said in a wistful voice. "Couldn’t even bend over to adjust my stockings without him popping up behind me, the cutie. Hung like a donkey, too. God, what a time I had with him."
"And still you sold him," Ara said, unsure whether to laugh or be sick. Kendi stared.
"Well, you can only take so much," she said. "I mean, the cat was one thing, but the third time he set the greenhouse on fire—well, enough was enough. If you see him again, tell him I said hello."
"Of course," Ara said faintly. "What did you change his name to, by the way?"
"Little Tadpole." The humanoid lizard stuck out a long tongue and licked its own eyes. "But I call all my new slaves that, and he may not remember it. I only had the little creep a couple weeks."
"Why is that?" Ara asked.
"He kept yanking off my daughter’s tail," the lizard said. "Thought it was the most hilarious thing. I punished him, but he didn’t seem to give a shit. And his discipline was null. Couldn’t even get the bastard to meditate for ten minutes. No wonder he was such a bargain. He ain’t trainable, you ask me."
"Who did you sell him to?"
Ara sighed as she and Kendi crossed the border into his Outback. They should leave the Dream long enough to take food and bathroom breaks, but Ara didn’t want to stop just yet, not when they had some good momentum going.
"He must have been lying," Kendi said as they walked over sand and stone. The walking was a concession to Kendi’s teleportation nausea. "All of his owners said Cole couldn’t reach the Dream, but he obviously did."
Ara nodded. "Cole couldn’t do what he’s been doing without a lot of practice. Sheer power can accomplish a lot, but it can only take you so far, and he’s shown a hell of a lot of skill. I’m willing to bet he lied about not being able to reach the Dream, then started hoarding the drugs from all the ‘extra practice’ his owners made him do so he’d have a handy supply for when he
really
went in."
The Outback sun lay hot and heavy on her back and Ara began to wonder how long this trail would go on. This set of drugs, her second, was starting to wear off, and she didn’t want to get a third hit—it would make her head-achy and out of sorts when she finally left the Dream. Her solid body was getting hungry, and the feeling was manifesting in her Dream body as well. Kendi was also looking tired and uncomfortable. It was growing difficult remaining civil to people who bought and sold Silent like cows or sheep. Still, she didn’t want to give up. Every moment it took to find the killer was another moment closer to the time when he would murder someone else.
The next person on the list of Cole’s owners was Betta Drew, a small, dark woman about as tall as Ara, though she was bone-thin and much older. Her hair was white and her teeth protruded. Her turf was a stark white room with three hard-backed chairs. The ladderback pressed uncomfortably against Ara’s spine, adding to her current discomfort. She was going to have to leave the Dream soon and give it up for the night. A glance at Kendi told her that he was remaining at her side by sheer will alone. She was tempted to tell him to leave, then decided not to. As he had pointed out, she was not his mother, and if his drugs wore off completely and he were yanked out of the Dream—well, being left flat on his back for a day or two would be a lesson he wouldn’t forget in a hurry and it would keep him out of trouble.
"That one!" Betta spat. "I’m sorry I ever laid eyes on him. Backtalker, mouthy, lazy. And a destructive streak. My dog disappeared a week after he arrived, and I’m sure he was responsible, though I can’t prove it. Worthless, too—couldn’t get into the Dream no matter how many drugs I gave him."
"Did you change his name when you bought him?" Ara asked. "I’ll need to know so I can keep tracking him."
"I always change their names," Betta said irritably. "Easier to keep them docile. Good psychology. All my slaves take my last name."
"And his first name?" Ara prompted. The headache was growing and her stomach growled. She would have to leave within the next few seconds. Kendi shifted uncomfortably on his chair.
"I named him after the very first slave I ever owned," Betta said. "Now
there
was a hard worker."
"The name?" Ara said, barely civil.
"Drew, of course," Betta said. "Jeren Drew."
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
We can’t all be Silent, nor should we want to be.
—Daniel Vik
Kendi swallowed. It took all his concentration to hold onto the Dream. His drug dose had to be almost completely gone by now, but he didn’t want to leave. He felt light-headed and flimsy, as if he might vanish at any moment.
"Jeren is Cole?" he said incredulously. "He’s Dorna’s brother?"
"He must have lied about his age," Mother Ara said. "Jeren said he was barely twenty, but Cole Keller is twenty-four. My god."
They were in Mother Ara’s pleasure garden again, and Kendi was glad of it. Betta Drew’s sitting room was a nasty place, and Betta herself, a slave owner to the core, had made Kendi’s skin crawl.
"All life—I just remembered," he said. "Jeren sometimes calls Dorna ‘Sis.’ We all thought he was joking with her by pretending to call her ‘Sister Dorna’ when she wasn’t actually a Sister yet."
And that one woman said Jeren was hung like a donkey,
he thought,
just like Jeren told me he was. I thought he was kidding.
"It was a joke, all right," Mother Ara muttered, and for a moment Kendi thought she was replying to his unspoken words. "He’s been playing with us from the beginning—pretending to learn meditation, then pretending that he had only just made it into the Dream. I—" Mother Ara paled and put a hand to her mouth.
"What’s the matter, Mother?" Kendi asked.
"Oh my god," Mother Ara said in a voice so choked Kendi could barely understand her. "The night after I freed the lot of you, I peeked in on you while you were sleeping to see how you were doing. Jeren was sleeping so soundly that I actually checked his breathing. Later I found out this was when Iris Temm was ...being killed. He was killing her right in front of me, and I didn’t do a thing."
"You didn’t know," Kendi pointed out.
"I should have known," Mother Ara said softly. "I’m a Mother, almost a Mother Adept. I should have spotted the fact that he wasn’t asleep. I didn’t even look through his possessions. He must have had a dermospray on him. I should have known."
"You wanted to give us privacy," Kendi told her, shaken by her agitation. "You had no reason to think it was ...one of us."
Mother Ara didn’t look convinced, but she said, "We have to move. Kendi, you leave the Dream and call Inspector Gray. I’m going to backtrack along Jeren’s owners and see if—oh, hell. This means I’m going to have to leave and come back, and it’ll be my third dose today. Well, there’s nothing for it."
Kendi found his hands were shaking and he was getting dizzy. "Look, I’ll get out and call the Guardians, then come back in and help you. We need to talk about this."
"You don’t have to—" Mother Ara paused. "Well, all right. Another person might make this easier, and you already know what’s going on. I’ll meet you back here in half an hour." And she vanished. Kendi shut his eyes. Another wave of dizziness washed over him, making it hard to concentrate. His body drifted like a feather on the wind.
If it be in my best interest
, he thought,
and in the best interest of all life everywhere, let me leave the Dream
.
He opened his eyes on Mother Ara’s guest room, a small space with a simple bed and night stand. It was dark outside. The meditation spear was firmly under his knee, and he carefully came down off it as another wave of dizziness hit him. Mother Ara had warned him that letting his drugs wear off and yank him out of the Dream would leave him debilitated, possibly for days, but the dizziness was his only symptom. He must have just made it.
Ben poked his head into the room. "I thought I heard someone moving around in here. How did everything go?"
"I have to go back in again." Kendi reached for the dermospray that sat on the night stand with shaking hands. "Listen Ben—you need to call Inspector Gray, and quick. He needs to find Jeren."
"Jeren?" Ben said, surprised. He leaned against the doorjamb. "Why?"
Kendi sat on the bed and quickly explained. Ben’s expression went from puzzled to skeptical to amazed. Kendi abruptly wished that he could draw Ben down beside him, have Ben put an arm around Kendi’s shoulders. Ben looked comforting and solid after the slippery, shifting Dream, and Kendi wanted something to hold onto. Ben was also sensible and reliable, someone who could be counted on to do the right thing instead of taking stupid risks like Kendi.