Angeles had demonstrated any place given to him would have fallen apart in a matter of months.
Instead, Mallory accompanied Steven, whenever the Change leader left the compound acting as secretary, calling himself bodyguard (for which role he dressed all in black, wore dark wrap-around sunglasses, and taught a class in karate in the evenings—wearing a black belt). Mallory delighted in stirring up discontent among the other potential shadows, his inferiors in the hierarchy. Ana had spoken to him twice, and thought that he would not recognize her in a lineup. He only glanced at her this time, too, before saying, 'He's on the phone. It's an important call, and he may be a while.'
She sat down. 'I can wait.'
It annoyed him, as she had known it would, although there was not much he could do about it. He hunched his muscular little body over his paperwork, lips pursed tight. She sat and waited.
She could hear the sound of Steven's voice, though not the words. He seemed to listen a great deal, and contribute only brief phrases, for a long time. Fifteen, twenty minutes crawled by, and though she was careful to show no impatience, she could feel Mallory's growing satisfaction in this small vengeance.
Eventually, Steven seemed to have outlasted the speaker on the other end of the line. His answers grew longer, his tones sharper, until one stretch of perhaps three minutes, when he spoke continuously. He stopped, listened, said a few words, went silent again, and finally launched into the truncated rhythm of farewells. Silence fell. After a minute the inner door opened and Steven came out, already speaking to his right-hand man.
'Jonas is getting all worked up about—' He saw Ana and caught himself. 'Good morning, Ana.'
'I wanted to have a word with you. I can come back later if this isn't a good time.' But, damnation, how she wished he had finished that sentence first.
'This is fine,' he said. 'Thomas, remind me to give Jonas a ring before dinner, see what's happened during the day. Come on in. A cup of tea to warm you up after your morning walk?'
'Thank you, that would be nice.' She took a chair in front of the open fire, placed the armful of heavy outerwear on the floor at her side, and planted her sandy hiking boots on the floor in front of her while Steven went over to a small sink-and-electric-kettle kitchen arrangement in the corner. He asked her two or three general questions while waiting for the water to boil, and she gave him general answers while studying the room.
This was a public room, intended for consultations not only with Change members but with outsiders as well. The bookshelves were impressive, their contents generic and little used, with many titles on psychology, educational theory, and the rehabilitation of juvenile offenders. The art was a combination of Western landscapes and small sculptures from the East, with a nice bronze
'Milk?'
'Please,' she said, and reached out for the mug. When she took a sip, she nearly choked: the tea was Earl Grey.
Fortunately, Steven had turned to lower himself into the chair across from her, for he could not have missed her look of shock as Antony Makepeace flitted through her mind and was gone again.
'I'm glad you came to talk with me, Ana. I always like to get to know new members. Teresa tells me you've been helping out in the school. What do you think of it?'
'It is impressive. The kids are impressive.'
'Yes. Ironic, considering how grateful society is to get rid of them. We couldn't have a stronger bunch of kids if we had the entire school system to pick from, rather than a handful of castoffs.'
'You're allowed some choice, then?'
'Well, in a sense. There are more kids than we could possibly absorb, so we only take those who we feel would most benefit by the structure of Change. I don't encourage them to send us hard-core drug users, for example. There're too many peripheral problems with druggies that we're not equipped to deal with. Have you ever taught special-need kids?'
'Not exclusively, but I worked for a while in a tough urban school where half the kids were nodding in their seats and the others were bouncing off the wall. I didn't last long, but I sure learned a lot.'
'Why didn't you last long?'
'I was young. I took it all too personally, couldn't distance myself enough. The kids were far tougher than I was. I burned out.'
'The kids had no choice but to stay; I imagine that was the primary difference between you and them. They burned out by retreating into drugs and violence. Like the ones presented to us, ninety percent of whom are brain dead by the age of fifteen.'
'And you take the remaining ten percent?'
'I grab them for the valuable resource they are, kids who have been, as you yourself put it the other day, through the fires of hell—abuse, neglect, violence—and come out toughened. Purified, if you will.'
'Transformed.'
'Precisely.'
'But not easy kids to handle.'
'Give them a goal and a reason to reach for it and they handle themselves.'
Ana thought it was not quite as simple as that, but then, Steven did not work inside the classrooms, and might not realize how much the teachers did.
'It all comes down to transformation,' she commented, casting around in growing desperation for a lead that would take her to the heart of this conversation.
'Transformation is the only goal that matters,' he replied.
'But do the kids understand that?'
'All of nature understands it. All of nature—rocks, trees, animals, human beings—yearns toward becoming greater, even if only to become the seed of a new generation. It is our duty, as beings somewhat further along in the work, to aid and direct the yearnings of those in our care. Teaching is a sacred occupation, Ana. A great responsibility.'
She took a deep breath. 'Is that why I've been kept from it? Until I prove myself worthy?'
He studied her over the rim of his cup. 'What do you mean?'
She crossed her fingers and launched her shot across his bow, praying fervently that it wasn't a dud, or didn't blow up in her face. 'I don't feel a part of the energy here, somehow. Like there's a secret handshake or something and I don't have it. Of course, I'd expect that from the people who wear the necklaces, but even the people who have been here only a few weeks are—' She broke off, seeing his expression.
Steven had gone very still. 'Who told you about the necklaces?'
'Nobody. Why, what is there to tell? I saw people wearing them and assumed they were a sign of rank.'
'Rank,' he repeated.
'Or accomplishment or time here. Apparently I was wrong.' She allowed a thread of curiosity to creep into her voice.
Steven moved quickly to squelch it.
'No, you weren't wrong. It's just that in Change we try to keep any signs of… rank to ourselves. The pendants we wear are meant as a private reminder and acknowledgment of accomplishments, not a badge to be flaunted.'
'Nobody's flaunted anything, not that I've noticed. In fact, I've never even seen what's on the end of the chain, just the chains themselves.'
He looked relieved, then moved to lead her away from the topic. I'm sorry you feel we are being aloof, Ana. I will speak to some of the members about it. And I also think it's very probable that Teresa is about to turn her class over to you on a permanent basis.'
'Really? But what about her?'
Teresa will go back to the administrative job she was doing before she had to fill in, which is more to her taste. She'll thank you for showing up.'
'Oh. Well, thank you. I'll enjoy teaching again.'
'And learning?'
'Oh yes. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for the possibility of learning.'
'You who have spent all her adult life in the pursuit of learning?'
