The Children of the Sky

and shoulders shot. The unhappy twistedness of his limbs was evident, and the faint tremor in his hands. The boy stared up at the giant image, then clapped in surprised glee.

Nevil smiled back at him, then looked out at the crowd. “How many of you remember Timor as he was back at the High Lab? I do, even though he was scarcely four years old. His mother and father maintained our legacy bootstrap logic—honorable work, and they did it well. They had every reason to believe their son would be just as steady.” His voice fell. “But that was not to be. Instead, our situation here has nearly killed him.” He paused and looked out again at his audience, and spoke with sober determination. “This is not a burden to be borne, not by Timor, not by anyone.” The words brought a cheer.

In the tendays that followed, Ravna Bergsndot played this part of the meeting over and over in her mind, and marveled at the patchwork way the facts breached her preconceptions, and puzzlement yielded to understanding. She remembered standing, waving for Nevil’s attention, trying to guide him back where she thought he’d been going, to talk about improved coldsleep facilities.

But Nevil had already moved on, riding the approval that seemed to come from all directions. “So yes, that is something we must surely vote on. But even that is only a symptom of the systematic problem we must cure. For whatever reason, there’s been too much secrecy. The Executive Council should not be meeting in private. Perhaps there should be no Executive Council at all. I would give up my place on it.”

Several in the audience had stood to speak. Nevil stopped and gestured, “Jefri?”

Jefri stood arms akimbo. His voice was angry, and he never quite looked at Ravna. Amdi had hunkered down around him with only a head visible here and there. “You want the one thing to vote on? It’s not whether we have an Executive Council or whether you’re on it, Nevil. The real question is whether we’re going to have a megalomaniac nut case running us all into the ground!”

For a moment, there was true silence. For a moment, perhaps everyone was as shocked as Ravna. Then Gannon Jorkenrud was on his feet, shouting loud support for Jefri. But others were on their feet, too. Wenda Larsndot and Gannon Jorkenrud were suddenly in an angry shouting match.

Nevil raised his hands again. After some seconds the tumult died. Wenda angrily sat down and then so did Jorkenrud and the others. Nevil let the silence grow for a moment. Then he said, “It’s clear we have much to discuss, more than we can vote on in this one meeting. We also have the day-to-day problems of maintaining the Domain. Perhaps there is a safe compromise. For everyday administration, we have a stable, proven resource.” He turned and bowed to Woodcarver. “Madame, are you content to continue without the advice of an Executive Council? To administer in those noncontroversial issues of Domain affairs?”

Two of Woodcarver cast a look at Ravna. The others, including her puppy, were looking at Nevil and the audience. The co-Queen’s aspect was one of sober attention. But Ravna had worked closely with Woodcarver for ten years. And right now, behind the solemn aspect, Ravna thought she detected amused satisfaction. None of that showed in her voice or words: “Quite content, Mister Storherte. Of course, I would still want everyone’s advice.”

“Of course,” Nevil gave Woodcarver a nod that was almost a bow. And then he turned to Ravna. But he didn’t have any similar request for her. Instead, his tone was comforting, conciliatory. “Ravna, we owe you so much. You supported Woodcarver in her war against Steel and the Old Flenser. We all remember your love in the early days of our exile, how you made it possible for Woodcarver and her packs to care for the youngest of us. Even now, we desperately need your expertise with Oobii’s archives.” He hesitated, as if uncertain about how to continue. “But at the same time … we … we think you have become fixated on potential threats that are very far away. We think you have fallen into a kind of mental trap, where your losses and loneliness lead you into a”—he looked up at the magnificent fakery of the Age of Princesses architecture—“into a kind of personal fantasy.” His gaze came back to her, compassionate and probing. And now, finally, Ravna fully understood. She could feel the eyes of all the Children and packs upon her. Some might hate her, as Jefri seemed to. But most simply saw the uniform she wore, and this imperial hall— and concluded that her grand plans were madness. She could almost see that conclusion spread in the five or ten seconds of Nevil’s silence. Then his voice gently continued: “So that is why I think that that must be our vote here today: That we ask you to stand aside from administration for a time, that you continue to give us the value of your insights and your help with Oobii, but that you let Woodcarver and the votes of this New Meeting Place do the governing. Do you understand the vote I’m suggesting, Ravna?”

For the first time in several minutes, Ravna looked Nevil Storherte straight in the eye. He did not flinch. There was nothing but firm respect in the gaze he showed to her and the world. Ravna opened her mouth to shout denunciations back at him,… but she didn’t have the words. Without a minute or two to think, only enraged babble would emerge. But I could stop him. Nevil Storherte might have his petty audio and scene control, everything she had given him to make the New Meeting Place, but Ravna still had overall master control of the starship Out of Band II. She could take control of this room, blow out the Age of Princesses lie and force everyone to listen to … the ravings of one now proven mad. She noticed that Woodcarver had tensed. She realized that at the level of raw force, Ravna held the whip hand.

But I’m not a mad woman. And so, when she spoke, Ravna said, “I understand, Nevil. I understand very well.”

“Thank you, Ravna,” Nevil’s voice was full of compassion and relief.

Now Nevil was looking back at this audience. “And so I think we have something to vote for. A serious change that gives us all a hand in making a safe and healthy future. Is there debate before we vote?”

Actually there was, but not very much. Jorkenrud had his say, and then Jefri. That was more detailed and pointed and cutting than Jefri’s shouted interruptions had been. Ravna almost started crying in the middle of it. As far as she could tell, Nevil was not using the Oobii’s acoustics to shut anyone up, but there were very few who had much to say in opposition, and they seemed a bit confused. All around them they had the evidence of Ravna’s megalomania, and when she turned a bit to the side, she noticed that the camera was tracking her again. Her scowling glare was monstrous on the wall above.

When it came, the vote was no surprise. The mad woman was safely elevated to the status of technical advisor.

There were cheers, and then the Children were coming into the aisles and moving forward. Around Ravna there seemed to be a bubble of emptiness. Fortunately, the vast display no longer captured her face. Where Ravna sat, there seemed to be only shadows.

Nevil came down from the speaker’s platform. The babble grew louder as folks moved in close to shake his hand. Nevil was grinning and waving. He reached down to lift Timor high into the air. “We’re doing this for him! We’re doing this for us!”

Then he set the boy down, and both were lost in a swirl of well-wishers. After a few seconds, Timor came out from the crush, ignored for the moment. He looked around and then ran awkwardly across the open floor, toward the shadows that hid Ravna.

Up close, she could see that Timor was crying. He looked lost and devastated, not suddenly saved as Nevil proclaimed. He looks like I feel.

She went to one knee to greet him. He threw his arms around her neck. His voice came in her ear, the tone wondering. “Ravna, Ravna. What happened?”

Chapter 12

For Ravna, the days that followed were strangely placid. She was told that Johanna and Pilgrim were en route back from the East Coast, but that no Executive Council meetings were planned. Woodcarver was not available. For the moment, the new “Technical Advisor to the Domain” had few responsibilities. She was asked to leave her apartment aboard the Oobii. That space would be used for the additional medical support that Nevil had promised. Apparently that involved upgrading the coldsleep gear, though Ravna wasn’t clear on how that was to be accomplished.

Ravna was assigned one of the newest town houses on the Queen’s Road. Bili Yngva showed her around the place and helped her move in. Bili was apparently Nevil’s chief lieutenant. Bili was smiling and respectful. “Nevil wanted to show you this place, but I think he’s discovered just how much work admin can be,” he said, with a