The Children of the Sky

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.”

“You lie! Give her over!” roared the eightsome.

Nevil damped his audio so low that Ravna could barely hear it: “Are you crazy?” he hissed. “Look, she’s dead. I can get you the body. Just—”

Jefri lunged at Nevil. “You murdering—” Nevil’s friends tackled him before he could do Storherte harm. Tycoon dropped down and lumbered around the fray, gobbling at the gunpack. That pack backed off, shifting its firearms so they weren’t pointing at Jefri.

As Jefri was bundled off down the stairs, there was a momentary clear area around Ravna, and an unrecognizable voice whispered in her ear: “Watch the wall beside me.” Ravna’s head jerked up. Woodcarver? Maybe. Flenser!

Tycoon’s heads came up too. He walked across the stage, heads questing toward Flenser and Woodcarver. Had he heard Flenser?

Now what Ravna heard was the sound of splintering wood. Part of the wall popped a centimeter out. There was a crash and another and another.

Tycoon flinched back. The wooden panel fell to the stage and … Johanna stepped into the sunlight, carrying a sturdy timber. She was out of breath, her violet eyes wild—and she was very much alive. She dropped the timber and spoke to the eightsome, who stood jaws agape before her. “Hei, sir. I am Johanna Olsndot.”

Now that he had his hate’s desire, Tycoon hesitated. He stepped back, milled around almost like some of the newbies Ravna had met in the circus. Or a killer savoring the moment.

Jo dropped to the deck before him and tilted her head back, imitating a submissive singleton about as well as a human could.

Jaws snapped on either side of her throat. Tycoon jostled himself as members at the rear tried to get at her. Two of him grabbed Johanna’s arms and began dragging her toward the vacant right end of the stage. “We talk before you die,” he said.

“But—” Nevil started after them, then stopped, apparently realizing that unless he wanted to start shooting, things were totally beyond his control.

As Johanna was dragged across the stage, Woodcarver’s puppies jumped down and pushed something across the deck to Flenser. Two of Flenser slid it toward Tycoon.

Maybe it was reflex, maybe it was curiosity, but Tycoon grabbed the object. It was some kind of book, the style that Tines had “hand” printed before the Children landed. It was very old, or it had been through a fire. The pages were black and curling, held together by metal hoops. Ravna got just a glimpse before Tycoon surged around the book. He was completely motionless for a moment, then resumed his march to the far end of the stage.

Zek had watched all this silently, nervously moving out of the way when necessary. Now he stood still for a second, as if listening. Then he gobbled something desperate and negative and ran across the stage toward Tycoon. Ritl followed a second later.

Tycoon was having none of it. He swiped claws at Ritl and hissed at Zek, “Back! This is my vengeance.”

No matter how determined Vendacious might be to spy on Jo’s last words, poor Zek was in no position to enforce that will. Both singletons backed off.

The confrontation between Johanna and her would-be executioner might be short, but it was not going to be private. The two were in full daylight at the far end of the stage, visible to most of the audience and everyone on the stage. Ovin Verring and the Linden boys rushed the front stairs, backed by several others. Nevil’s friends had been drilling; they used their staffs to knock the kids down the stairs. Wilm was helped up by his brother; their group tried again. Now the crowd was mixing together, fighting in places. Others just stood, watching in horror.

Nevil was watching in horrified fascination, too. But he was also mumbling to … Oobii? Ravna edged closer to him. Nevil’s audio was not fully damped. He glanced at Vendacious’ airship and his voice raised a fraction, though still barely audible. “So is this worst case or not?”

His eyes flickered sideways, noticed Ravna’s approach.

Nevil’s goons were over by the stairs; there was something she could do! “It’s coming apart, Nevil,” she said. “Tell Vendacious that—”

Nevil’s mouth twisted in contempt. “Shut up. I have ship’s admin authority, remember? I can burn you down where you stand.”

Maybe. Ravna found the presence of mind not to correct him—at least, not with the truth. Instead: “Burn me in front of all these people? I think not.”

Nevil glared back, but after a moment gave an angry shrug. He looked around, probably for some thug to drag her off. Alas for Nevil, they were all still busy. If she could just get a little closer to him.… Concentrate on Nevil. She turned away from the nightmare at the other end of the stage and walked casually toward him.

“Stay back!” Nevil hissed at her. His gaze swiveled back and forth between Tycoon and Ravna. He was waiting for some kind of signal; till then—well, it was fortunate for him that the crowd couldn’t hear him now. Nevil was rattled. “You bitch. You suppressed everything Straumer. Even the fools who love you puke at what you believe.” He nodded in the direction of Tycoon. “If you hadn’t kept dividing us kids, I wouldn’t be allied with these barbarians. Because of you, even more people may have to die. Now stay back or I will burn you down!”

Across the stage, Johanna had risen to her knees. Blood stained her sleeves; four pairs of jaws hovered near her throat. The charred book lay on the ground right ahead of her knees. Two of Tycoon had opened it and a third was reading the text—a classic Tinish posture. A fourth snout tapped at the text while the rest beat questions down upon her.

What is that book anyway? thought Ravna.

Johanna seemed to know. Her head came down and she pointed into the manuscript, then gently raised a page and pointed at something beneath. The ones holding the book looked up at her, and the rest of the creature’s heads came together around Jo’s face.

Flenser and Woodcarver had crept off their perches, but Tycoon hissed them into silence. Zek paced anxiously just outside that same threat zone. Shrouded in his radio cloak, Zek must be hearing even less than Woodcarver and Flenser. He turned away from Tycoon and ran—staggered—back toward Nevil and Ravna. He cringed as if from invisible blows and collapsed at Nevil’s feet. “I can’t hear what Tycoon is saying,” he said. This was Vendacious talking, but the communication channel was in such pain that the voice stretched across several octaves, almost unintelligible. “You tell me what they are saying!”

“Huh? I can’t get near enough to hear.” Apparently Nevil didn’t know how to use the HUD for such snooping.

Maybe Vendacious realized that; his voice became a fraction calmer, but full of crazy surmise: “You. Ravna animal. You always were the smarter. Show Nevil how. Tell me what they are saying. Stop this or I’ll kill Amdi, first one piece then all the rest—where you can see.”

Zek writhed in pain on the deck before them, one small singleton relaying terrible threats. Nevil stepped back from the creature, uncertain.

It was the best chance Ravna was going to get. She took three paces toward Nevil and launched herself at him. As a physical attack, the collision was pitiful, but she held on, shouting into his face: “Ship! Usurp, usurp!”

Nevil’s fists punched into her, sending her flying back. The crash hurt as much as the fists, and for a moment she couldn’t breathe. She looked up. Nevil was pointing at her, mumbling to himself. Nothing happened. Nevil jabbed his hand again.

And still Ravna lived. Oobii would be paying close attention now. She struggled for breath, finally gasped out, “Ship! Delete all Nevil authority. Delete—”

As she spoke, Nevil’s eyes went wide. Now he was ground zero. He scrambled back, then turned and ran down a backstage stairway, out of Ravna’s sight—and Oobii’s.