The Children of the Sky (78 page)

“Woodcarver’s?”

“No, they’re Deniers and the lowlife Tines that Nevil hires. We got a couple of minutes. I can get you out of here.”

As he spoke, the rest of Wretchly had come rushing in from their listening posts. Now they were clustered around her, silently pushing and pulling her toward the carriage. When she still resisted, Wretchly stepped back, his heads cocking indecisively. “Cripes. My boss knew this would happen. Can’t you see? He set you up.”

Maybe, and so what?
Jo looked up one more time. From here she could see the top of the path Wretchly had pointed to. It ended at a panel, quite thin and weak-looking compared to the walls around it.
Scriber’s brother is up there.
In the early years, she had wondered about that nameless brother, wondered if he ever knew what became of Scriber, or if that estranged pack would even care to know. If Flenser was right, Tycoon had really really cared. The lie Vendacious had told him had propelled a decade of history. Vendacious had murdered Scriber and turned that into a monstrous coup. The old rage rose up in Johanna, what she had felt ever since Vendacious had escaped execution and then escaped imprisonment.
This must not stand.

“Get to someplace safe, Wretchly.”

“Good. C’mon!” said Wretchly. Then as she started up the ladder: “Aw, cripes.”

She glanced down, saw him clustered around the base of the ladder, one of him starting up toward her, the rest all looking at something out of sight behind her. Three looked up, waving their heads, but not daring to call aloud. Then the one on the ladder tumbled back to the heather, and she heard all of him rushing away.

From above, the little-girl voice continued on, wailing with words Jo couldn’t quite make out. Surely the distress was an illusion. And yet, Tycoon deserved to learn how close his brother had come to greatness, how his special crazy goodness had gotten him killed.

She was at the top of the ladder. She swung to the side, reached out to touch the wood panel. It was tacked on with temporary pegs. She could smash right through. She hesitated, let the rage give her strength. Somewhere there was a voice in her head, but it wasn’t the voice of caution; that was still tied and gagged. The Mad Bad Girl of Starship Hill was in charge.

Ravna climbed down the stairs and stood in the soaking heather. The airship’s carriage was seated thirty centimeters into the heath. The main hull was only a few centimeters above their heads. They were in the ship’s shadow, mostly out of sight of the welcoming crowds. Even here the daylight was awesomely bright and cheerful and familiar.

The gunpack urged them to follow Zek and Tycoon. Ravna took a step or two, unsteady after all the low ceilings. As she stepped out into direct sunlight she stumbled and would have been crawling again if Jef hadn’t had an arm around her. Together they staggered a few steps more, then stood straight for a moment, reveling in having the space to do so.

Cheers came on the wind. Ravna turned. The ground crew had retreated. Except for Tycoon’s entourage, the nearest people were thirty meters away. The cheering was coming from the Children and Best Friends. And Ravna suddenly realized they were cheering Jefri and herself.

She gave them a wave back and then gunpack pushed at their legs, urging her and Jefri to catch up with Tycoon. Their progress across the field was slow, partly because of Ravna’s unsteadiness, partly because the hummocky heath was an ankle-twisting obstacle course.

None of the Children came running out to meet them. They were staying behind low barricades. Several older Children—Nevil’s people—were keeping the more enthusiastic from rushing onto the field. All for the safety of the public, no doubt. A lot had changed since she was kidnapped.

Tycoon’s party turned across the bow of his airship and walked in stately splendor toward the midpoint of the stage. Ravna and Jefri hobbled along behind. Nevil’s voice was audible even from here. Of course, he was using his power with
Oobii
to advantage: “… and the attack this morning must not get in the way of our meeting here. Peace is finally within our reach.…” she heard him say. But his voice was mainly focused on the crowd, and she lost the rest of the words.

Nevil was standing behind a high lectern at one end of the stage. Three humans were with him, and two packs, one wearing crowns. Downhill, beyond the stage, Ravna had a view of
Out of Band II
in all its iridescent splendor. Nevil had positioned his stage so that all the participants were within the field of fire of the ship’s beam gun. With his admin authority, Nevil figured he could kill anyone here, pack or human. He could burn the meadow clean if he wished. Was Nevil really capable of such monstering?
I better assume so.
In any case, it was his top threat against anyone who truly knew him.

Except perhaps for me,
thought Ravna.
Oobii
was smart enough to recognize a human face. And Nevil, by putting this scene in its line of sight, had guaranteed that
Oobii
could see
her
. If it recognized her … She leaned against Jefri, letting him steady her. She looked at the ship and said softly, “Ship! Give me a milliwatt of red if you hear me.” Her voice was whipped away in the breeze. Jefri himself didn’t seem to hear her.

As they walked on, Ravna stole an occasional glance at the ship. There was no sign, no red glint. Okay, that had been a long shot.

Tycoon had reached the edge of the crowd. Nevil’s guards made way for them, keeping humans and packs away from Tycoon and Zek and Ritl. Ritl? The singleton trotted along like an official part of the delegation.

Now that Tycoon was past the barricades, some of the younger Children pushed forward, eluding both Nevil’s guards and other older kids who tried to stop them. Tycoon shied back slightly, then walked forward, not showing the loathing he must feel. He actually acknowledged the greetings with something like cordiality. He was doing better than most of the first-timers she’d encountered in the circus.

Zek lagged back from Tycoon and spoke to Ravna and Jefri with Vendacious’ voice. “Remember remember, up in the sky.”
Yes, Vendacious and Amdi up in the sky.
The other airship drove along, heading into another turn.

Then she and Jef were in the crowds. The kids closed in, arms outstretched to both of them. Some shied back when they saw her face, others kept coming. She hugged one or two, even as the gunpack’s snouts were pushing at her knees.

Closer to the stage, she noticed something new. On one side, she saw people like Wilm and Poul Linden, who had never approved of Nevil and company. On the other, were those who had avoided her after the vote. The human world had split into camps, a civil war waiting to happen. They all looked uneasy, shying away from Tycoon. Some flinched when they saw Ravna’s face.

“What did they
do
to her?” she heard one of the Children say.

Ravna continued forward, trying to smile, biting back the things she wanted to shout to everyone. Today she wore an invisible muzzle.

Timbered steps led to the top of the stage. The risers were high, more for humans than Tines. That would be Nevil making a statement about human superiority, obliging Tycoon and his Tinish company to scramble up the steps.

The stairs reached a platform, still twelve steps short of the main stage. Three older Children stood at the top of the stairs, all Nevil’s pals. Strange, none of them was Bili Yngva; had there been a falling out? The three stepped back a little nervously as Tycoon clambered heavily toward them. Ravna heard a little of the indignant hiss that Tycoon cast their way. Zek and Ritl climbed up after him, followed by Ravna and Jefri.

She gave Nevil a hard glance, then noticed that he was wearing the remaining head-up display—a link to
Oobii
. For a moment her gaze caught on the device’s crystal facets. Then she forced herself to look away.

Flenser was sitting nearby, looking indolent and relaxed. He gave Ravna a friendly, ambiguous nod. To the right of Flenser, past a sound baffle, was Woodcarver. All her heads were turned to look at Jefri and Ravna. The pack was a picture of tense alertness. And anger. There was the Puppy from Hell, perched on one member’s shoulders. But wait … a
second
puppy was shyly looking up from between the legs of another member. The Queen had become eight!

Ravna stepped out onto the platform, moved a little way around Tycoon. Woodcarver shifted slightly apart, and Ravna heard her whisper:
“What of Pilgrim?”

Ravna gave her head a little shake.

Nevil’s voice boomed over the crowd. “Let us welcome Tycoon, come all the way from the East Coast. Unwise policies of the past set us against people who would be our friends. Today we unite against those who bring violence upon both our peoples. Today—”

The words were misleading nonsense, but his frank openness was almost what Ravna remembered. Almost. Even though Nevil hadn’t been kidnapped and chased through wilds, the guy had lost some weight. The time since he had grabbed power had not been kind to him. That had been true even before Ravna’s kidnapping. Apparently things had not improved since. And what was this about an attack earlier
today?

Nevil carried on for a while longer. In the crowd below the stands, there was some milling around, especially among the opposition, but no one walked away and no one shouted objections. Nevil had control such as Ravna had never dreamed. “So the agreements Tycoon and I sign today will return those who have been taken from us”—he waved graciously at Jefri and Ravna—“and begin a technological alliance for prosperity.”

As he spoke these last few words, Nevil edged back from the lectern. Tycoon was eight, and each of him was a heavy critter. He could project implacable purpose better than anyone Ravna had met on this world—and now he was gliding toward the lectern. The only thing that saved Nevil’s dignity was that Tycoon’s approach was out of sight of most of the audience below.

Nevil cut his loud voice and leaned down as if to speak courteously to the pack. He jerked a hand at Ravna and Jefri. “Why was it necessary for you to bring
them
here?”

“As proof of my goodwill,” said Tycoon.

“Then you should have brought the young ones.” Another quick glance at Ravna. “This—this Ravna, is just trouble.”

Tycoon’s heads bobbed in a grim smile. “She can be useful.”

Nevil’s mouth turned down. He stared blankly for a moment. He might be speaking to someone, but the words were inaudible to Ravna.

Zek had followed close behind Tycoon. Now he pushed awkwardly through the eight and spoke softly to Nevil. It was Vendacious’ voice. The tone was placating: “It’s okay. Deal as before. My colleague here is too forward.”

Tycoon gave Zek a hard bump. “I am not forward and you do not speak for me.” Then he advanced, forcing Nevil away from the lectern. He hopped up on himself, leaning against the lectern. Now the pack was in pyramid posture, visible to all. And even without mechanical aid, his words boomed: “I am Tycoon!”

So much for Tycoon’s promise to avoid human speechifying. The voice that sounded across the meadows belonged to a frightened little girl. It was Geri Latterby’s voice, but transformed by the force and arrogance of Tycoon’s personality. “Nevil Storherte says we all want peace. He wants peace. I want peace. We will have war if you do not make things right!”

People reacted very differently than they had to Nevil’s smiling nonsense. There was shouting. A woman—it was Elspa Latterby—screamed: “Geri? Geri! Give her back…”

Tycoon had their attention. “We can’t make up for all the bad things, but you and I
will
make up for what we can. Or we will have war.” He gobbled something at Zek. A moment later, Vendacious’ airship spun up its engines and coasted across the sky to hang just west of the stage. Nevil watched the ship’s progress with an unbelieving expression. He was talking to someone again.
Oobii
? Vendacious? But the starship held its fire.

Tycoon waited for the shouting to die away. Then he said, “I will give you back what can be returned. We bring you wealth, now, and in future trade. In exchange, you will give me access to
Oobii
. And most important, you give me the human who murdered half of me! I want Johanna Olsndot. I want her here. I want her
now!
” As he spoke, Tycoon’s heads turned this way and that, jaws snapping.

Everyone on the platform seemed frozen in horror. Well, everyone except Flenser. He had hunkered down, but his heads were weaving and bobbing. He was enjoying this with the sort of shameful joy that mayhem brought out in him.

Nevil eased around Tycoon, back to the lectern. He must be truly rattled, because for the first time Ravna could actually see him figuring up the odds, deciding what to do to stay on top. When he spoke, his voice was somber and tense. “My friends, we’ve known of this demand for several days. Tycoon has cause for making the demand.”

“Tycoon kidnapped our children!” came a voice from the crowd, but wind-whipped and faint. Nevil didn’t quite have the audio control he had aboard ship, but the wind and the open air was almost as effective.

“Tycoon is reasonable to ask for a human wrongdoer no matter how much she was beloved by me, by us.” Nevil seemed to choke up. Beside her, Ravna could feel Jefri trembling, his gaze alternating between Nevil and the airship above. There were limits, and Jef was being pushed well beyond his.

After a moment, Nevil found his voice again and continued, as if struggling against tears. “I was very close to Johanna all my life. Infatuated, I see now. But I loved her, and as much as she was capable of it, I think she loved me. Now … well, the proof that Tycoon has provided and her own unguarded words to me … It means I was wrong in my love and my trust. I’m sorry.” He paused, turned toward Tycoon, whose pyramid still topped his own height. When Nevil continued, his voice was firm and statesmanlike. “Sir, however just your demands, they stand moot. Johanna Olsndot has been missing for some tendays.”