The Silver Ship and the Sea (6 page)

I didn’t get back to the science guild the next day either. Everyone worked together to protect the harvest and finish repairing damaged buildings, fences, barns, and pipes. So I dragged through bagging flour at the mill, my leg stiff, my head running over and over the conversation I’d overheard the night before. No wonder Nava had such a terrible time with us. I knew the emptiness of losing a father. Twice over. But how did that change the rift between her and me? Between Nava and all of us? The long day brought me no answers, just hands sticky with sweat and flour.

As soon as the end-of-shift bell rang, instead of walking home across the river to Artistos, I went behind the mill and crossed to the open space behind the wood shop and the smelter. The freight yard had already emptied out. The buildings were squat and utilitarian, metal or stone with no decoration.

The data networks ensure little privacy exists in Artistos, but we had adopted the freight yard as a relatively quiet place to meet. Here, the data net and warning bells nestled far out in the edge of forest, to avoid false alarms triggered by the normal activities of loading and unloading ore and cut wood, of moving materials, and so on.

Raw trunks of golden brown near-elm lay neatly stacked to dry along one fence. Large bins of reddish iron ore and black coal stood near the smelter. I walked across the open space, and pushed
through the low branches of a tent tree on the far side, left standing for a shady lunch spot. Three long flat benches with no backs sat halfway between the trunk and the curtain of diamond-shaped foliage.

Minutes later, Bryan parted the long branches, stepping over and squeezing my side so hard I yelped. “Watch out—I’m bruised.” I laughed up at him, wrinkling my nose. “You smell like the hebra barns.”

He smiled down at me, but his soft brown eyes looked worried. “I heard about Jinks. And I saw Legs’s gash. Are you all right?”

“A little shaky.”

I stepped back and rolled up my pants leg. He looked me over, his eyes widening as he noticed the many tiny grass-cuts and then the tip of the long cat scratch. “You look pretty beat-up.”

“It will heal.” And it would. We
altered
healed fast.

“So how’s Joseph? Was he hurt yesterday?”

I pursed my lips, seeing the darkness that haunted Joseph’s eyes, the way it lifted just when he climbed on Legs. “Actually, until the paw-cat attack, we had a pretty good day.” We sat side by side on one of the benches, close, but not touching. “Tom was with us, and he was kind to us both. And later, when the paw-cats nearly ate us, he may very well have saved us both.” I shivered, remembering. “But Nava got mad at him for it afterward.”

He raised an eyebrow. “For saving you?”

I sighed. “Not exactly. I think she’s depending on Tom to get Joseph back to work, and I suspect a paw-cat encounter didn’t seem like just the thing to convince Joseph to overcome his fears.”

“Ahhhh…” He stared up at the top of the tree. Points of sunlight fell between the leaves and danced on his cheeks. “And what do you think will?”

I shook my head. “Did I tell you Kayleen and I saw Jenna a few days ago? She told me to heal Joseph because he’s the
key.
But she didn’t suggest what he’s the key to.”

Bryan looked thoughtful. “It must have something to do with the way he reads data.” We’d often wondered why we six had been designed with the particular gifts we had. Stories of the war told
us many of our parents appeared more
altered
than we were. There were tales of marksmen who could kill from great distances, of whole camps able to outrun and outhide and outshoot the original humans. One story told of two men with six arms each, another of a human who ran on all fours and used both hands and feet as weapons. Campfire stories, but they made us wonder why we seemed so normal.

Bryan paced, looking a bit like a paw-cat himself. “She probably meant the key to figuring something out. She uses riddles to goad us into learning new things. Remember how she tricked Kayleen into trying to beat Joseph at data stream games?”

As if on cue, Kayleen stepped through the low-hanging branches. Bits of hay stuck in her hair and mud and hay caked the sides of her long shoes. Her feet were outgrowing them again. Eric, the shoemaker, would tease her about having to make a new shoe last already. No one on Fremont had feet as long or agile as Kayleen’s.

She stretched. “What a day. Mom made me count everything in two whole harvest sheds, and all the while people were bringing things in and rearranging everything. I had to count the corn bushels twice to get it right.” She flopped down on a bench without taking a breath or pausing. “I had to climb both hay shelters, too—the hebra grass hay and the timothy. I heard about your adventure—I’m glad you’re okay. Did you hear the roamers are on their way? I brought some twintree fruit and water. And you two look cozy. Where’s Joseph?”

Before I could respond, Joseph answered her last question himself by following her in. “Hi. Chelo, how’s your scratch? I brought some salve.”

“Thanks.” My cheeks flushed red as I stripped out of my shoes and pants, leaving only my underwear and a shirt barely long enough to cover them. Kayleen blinked and said, “Wow. That’s no scratch. You can walk with that slice in your leg?”

Joseph spread Paloma’s plant oil ointment over the cut, his fingers gentle against my torn skin. The salve sent fiery tingles deep into my leg, and I bit my lip against the pain, not wanting
to cry out. It was hard enough to be the center of so much attention.

Bryan looked politely away while I struggled carefully back into my pants. “Well, no running for you today. Did you and Joseph figure out this key business yet?”

I sighed. “I haven’t told him about it yet. I didn’t want to mix it in with yesterday’s trip.”

Joseph flashed me a disgusted glance and I said, “Well, I was going to tell you. I just…I thought you’ve been getting enough pressure. The way Nava’s always on you.” I sighed and sat down carefully, looking Joseph in the eyes. “Jenna surprised me and Kayleen the day we were working gate five, trying to remesh the data nodes, right after the paw-cat came in. She told us to get you back in the data nets, that you’re ‘the key.’ She was really insistent, and seemed to think we should know what she meant. She didn’t say anything else useful.”

Joseph lay down on one of the benches, staring up at the roof of the tent tree. His lips tightened in a stubborn frown. “I don’t ever want to go back to riding the data nets.”

I took a twintree fruit from Kayleen’s stretched-out hand. “I know. But we need your help. Kayleen just can’t do it all herself.”

“Artistos did fine before we got here.”

“Tom said the same thing, but he also said we all pull together.” That was a colony rule. And ours, as well. Anyone violating the rule earned sharp tongues and difficult tasks from whichever guilds-master they served. “The nets have been much stronger since you started helping. Your work matters.”

Joseph kept his eyes on the graceful belled canopy of the tent tree. His jaws were locked tight. He was silent a long time, and then when he spoke his voice was soft and halting. “I know. But I don’t think I can anyway. Not now. I can’t relax enough.” He turned toward me. “I used to hear the data all the time, and I haven’t been able to since…”

“Could your system be burned out?” Kayleen asked. “Sometimes when I try three flows, I go deaf to the net for a while. Did such a big flow of data hurt you? Maybe you just need time.”

Joseph turned to her and put a hand out for a piece of twintree fruit. “Thanks. I don’t hear the nets, feel them, like I used to. I don’t want to.” He tossed the fruit carefully from hand to hand, like a ball, yelping once when a sticker penetrated the fleshy pad of his ring finger. “Don’t you understand? I couldn’t help them. Any of them. I heard them die and there was nothing I could do.” Tears glistened in the edges of his eyes, and he swiped the back of his free hand across them and turned his face away from all of us, gazing up at the green diamond leaves.

A minute passed before Bryan spoke into the quiet. “They would have known that. They knew you loved them. But what would Steven and Therese want you to do? They spent every waking hour worrying about everyone’s safety and needs, and now Tom and Nava are doing the same.” He paused, his brow furrowed. “Nava’s hard, I know, but you can adjust. I’ve had to. The Smiths resent me, but I still do what I need to do. And they do, too. It’s just harder.”

Joseph pulled the outer rind off in one strong twist of his wrist. The sour-sweet smell of fruit permeated the still air. “I like the kind of work I’m doing. It feels good to see something physical get done, to lay a pipe, and see water going through it. I feel better.”

It was a lie. He hardly ever smiled anymore. He just worked, and came home, and went to his room.

Kayleen practically spoke for me. “All right. I think Jenna meant something important. You’re the strongest one of us in the nets. I can’t do what you do. And Jenna doesn’t seem to be able to either. I don’t think she can feel data at all. She’s like Chelo. She has other gifts.”

Bryan said, “We don’t know that. We only know what we can observe, and what she tells us. Which isn’t much.”

I frowned, picturing Jenna standing with the dead paw-cat strung over her shoulder like a flour sack. “The first year we lived here, they hunted her. They would have killed her if they could have. I was only five, but I remember how much they hated her. Who knows what she hides, or why?”

The entrance bells chimed. Kayleen glanced at us, then proclaimed, “The roamers!”

Grins split all of our faces. Liam and Alicia. Story Night and then Trading Day. The deep tones of the gather-bell rang next, calling us to town.

Joseph and Kayleen jogged back ahead of us. Bryan stayed with me, walking by my side. I appreciated the kindness; my leg truly wasn’t up to anything more than a slow walk. He linked an arm with mine, supporting me, and the pleasure of walking with him made up for not being in town before the roamers reached the science guild hall.

As we crossed the Lace River, the sun touched the roamers’ wagons in Little Lace Park, illuminating bright yellows and oranges, colors chosen to show in satellite photos against the greens and grays of Fremont, so we could visually track them. The wagons looked like gaudy flowers from this distance. I stopped briefly, leaning on the bridge rail, watching the painted wagons, the tethered hebras, the few brightly dressed roamers who were still closing up, hurrying to town like we were.

By the time we reached the guild hall, we had to press in through a crowd. Culture guild servers passed among us. Old Chub and his wife, Kiki, bent but still moving, slowly carried trays of roasted djuri, leavened bread, and fresh corn. Chayla, who lost a hand in the war, balancing trays of slim glasses filled with the traditional wheat beer of Story Night. We were offered all the food we could fill our plates with, and one glass of beer each. Long rectangular tables filled the hall. Someone had brought in shiny green redberry leaves and lacy cream-colored saw grass tufts to decorate each table. I spotted Kayleen and Joseph protecting two empty seats for us near the front. Holding our plates and glasses carefully in the jostling crowd, we made our way up to them.

As we started eating, I leaned in to Kayleen. “Have you seen Alicia or Liam?”

She pointed to the stage. “Liam’s been moving around backstage, but he hasn’t stopped long enough for me to get his attention.” The
roamers were the colony’s eyes and ears, wandering the continent for two things: scientific exploration, and foraging. The colony grew Earth-and Deerfly-based food. The roamers had learned, sometimes the hard way, which native foods humans could eat, like twintree fruits, and which would make us sick or give us fevers. They studied native plants and animals. Every year, they brought back djuri meat and dried nuts and seeds and fruit that they traded for corn, wheat, hay, chickens, and goats.

They also brought back stories. The whole town came, hungry for the feast and the knowledge.

The leaders of both bands of roamers milled about the stage, bright and gaudy in their best ceremonial dress, wearing red necklaces for the East Band and gold ones for the West Band. The band’s names had nothing to do with directions; I’d heard they were based on two universities back on Deerfly (we only had one university here, run by the science guild in the cold hall every winter, the lessons culled from databases and roamer papers).

Before we finished half our meal, I spotted Alicia sitting with her adoptive parents, Bella and Michael, at a table on the far side of the room from us. She saw me, but looked away, avoiding my eyes. Her long dark hair lay in tangles across her shoulders and she wore thin, old clothes.

I forced my attention back to my food, wishing I could just walk up and talk to her. Her family treated her like a prisoner of war. She joined community events, but they kept her by their side. Our contact with her had always been limited.

Liam had it better, maybe better than we did. Although we didn’t know much about his gifts, he had a reputation for inventing useful tools, and seemed well respected. He had been adopted by Akashi and Mayah, the leaders of the West Band. Akashi kept him busy, so maybe he just didn’t have time to sit with us.

One of the old women who ran the culture guild clapped for people to clear tables. I tipped my glass and finished the last of the beer, enjoying the warm feeling the rare treat left in my stomach.
The babble of conversation in the room trailed off. People shifted chairs to find the best view of the stage. Children up to about ten years old settled on the floor in front of the stage, giggling and whispering among themselves.

Akashi walked up to a microphone at the end of the stage. He was tall and slightly bent in around the shoulders, probably fifty or more years old, and his gray hair hung in a long braid behind him. He wore a red and black performer’s costume, with white and tan beads and shells sewn into the shoulders and along the hem of his loose pants. His dark skin showed the kiss of sun and wind over an olive complexion. His dark eyes sparkled with warm pleasure. Even the children quieted as he cleared his throat.