“I keep wondering if anyone here in Molock has any idea who we are,” Latibor mused.
“No,” she reassured him, more out of habit than conviction. “You know they don’t. We’d smell suspicion in a moment. This business has nothing to do with who we are. Danny’s being chosen for this new rite of theirs was pure chance. When he got to be three, his name went in the pot with all the other three-to five-year-olds. We had no business being here, that’s all. We had no right to risk a child in a place like this.”
“It wasn’t that bad until recently. And you wanted a child,” he murmured, nostrils flaring as he watched the guard move slowly away. “You wanted a child.”
“We wanted a child,” she corrected him gently. He liked to think he was more reasonable about it than she. “Oh, Latibor, we talked about it, remember, when we came here. We thought we’d find out everything there was to find out and get out. We thought we’d be out of here by a year ago. Statistically, we thought we could risk it.”
He made an apologetic grimace. She was right. He’d wanted a child as much as she had. They hadn’t thought about having children when they’d offered to come to Molock. The old woman, Jory, had said she needed information, and as without Jory there’d have been no Cafferty, no Latibor, they owed her. But once they were here, settled into the joyless life of the place—they had wanted a child.
“Funny,” he said in an unamused voice. “Other people’s risks are statistical. When it’s your risk, your own child, it isn’t statistical anymore.”
“We should have been out of here by now,” she said hopelessly, telling him what he knew. “If we’d been able to reach Jory … If we’d …”
“Unfortunately, Jory isn’t answering our messages just now.” This worried him too. When he couldn’t reach the old ones, he always felt less secure.
“Quick,” she whispered. “The guards are going into the hut. Help me over the gate.”
Her face swaddled in a dark scarf to keep it from showing in the faint light from the guardpost, Cafferty climbed over the gate and reached up to accept the sleepy child, sliding him into the sling on her back before she half scuttled, half crawled across the expanse of bare gravel, taking advantage of the shadows thrown by parked vehicles. Latibor stayed at the gate, checking his belt for the knife, for the short, heavy club. The guards wouldn’t come this way, but if they did …
With their customary arrogance, the people from Tolerance had left the vehicle unguarded, never dreaming anyone might take advantage of that. Cafferty hoped they’d been careless enough to leave the cargo door unlocked, as well, and that it would make no noise when opened.
Hope was fulfilled. The cargo door slid noiselessly. She crept in, found a small crevice behind a pile of boxes, and pointed it out to the drowsy child, who crawled in with his little mattress pad while she piled the packaged food and drink behind him. In anticipation of this moment, they’d been playing this hidey-hole game for days. So far as Danivon knew, he was merely playing the game again. He knew how to curl up in his blanket and go to sleep, how much of the food to eat each day (drugged food, so he would be placid and quiet), how much to drink, how to find a hidden place to go potty. He knew not to cry out loud, and that he mustn’t be found for some time. That was the purpose of the game, not to be found. If he played well, he would win something extra special.
Danivon knew numbers and colors and his name and the names of many ordinary things, but no words or names to connect him to Molock, not the name of the place or the names his parents used. He’d been kept away from other children. He’d been told the name of the place was Duffy danty boddle bock, for if he knew the real name of this place, he’d be brought back.
Cafferty kissed him, her face wet with tears. She took the medallion from around her neck and placed it around his, whispering that he must keep it always. She slipped out of the cargo hold and shut the door, then crawled away, unable to stop sobbing. When she came to the dark gate, Latibor helped her over, and they stumbled off down the road toward the place they’d most recently called home. From there they would head for the river, leaving a clear trail the first part of the way. If they were followed, they’d be followed there. No one would think of looking here until it was too late.
They were halfway down the road toward the city when they heard raised voices and the slam and heave of metal. The inspection vehicle rose with a whoosh of air and moved away into the night. They didn’t stop to watch it go. They’d done all they could.
Inside the ship, Zasper set the controls to return the ship to Tolerance. The technicians muttered and yawned and retired to a sleeping compartment, gabbling incomprehensibly to one another in a jargon Zasper neither understood nor cared
