The merchant woman turned in some annoyance. The noise level had dropped. Many were turning to the doorway, or turning away, pretending nothing had happened.
Everyone knew that merchants didn't sell when they were at dinner.
But everyone knew Evleen. She was nine when her dad died. After that she didn't get enough speckles, until someone noticed. Deprived late like that, she didn't have the look of a speckle-shy. She looked like any eighteen- year-old girl. But it had touched her mind.
The merchants were trying to ignore Evleen. So were the Spiral women. Wouldn't any of them stop her? But no man could speak to her, so Jemmy turned back to his table. Look for conversation, start a quarrel, any kind of distraction.
But his attention snagged on a familiar face-a merchant, he'd seen that man before!-as the man reached out and pulled Evleen into his lap.
The merchant was big and brawny. His speech was slurred by a merchant's accent, and something more. Hard to believe that he could get himself drunk so soon after shooting down a pack of, what had the woman called them? Sharks?
Evleen's response was friendly. She and the brawny merchant said a few words to each other. The merchant pulled out a transparent pouch of speckles.
Jemmy was on his feet. He had to do something. He had no idea what he would say to the man. Suddenly it didn't matter, because Thonny was shaking the man's arm, shouting into a thick silence, and then the man's arm swung out and Thonny went down with his arms across his face.
Jemmy's hand closed on the merchant's shoulder from behind.
Evleen went flying. The merchant was up and turning, one hand under Jemmy's chin, and he lifted. His scruffy-bearded face was half the universe, and now Jemmy remembered him.
Eight years ago. He'd carried a tub of sherbet from Guilda's Place. He'd blasted a hole through a watermelon for all the children of Spiral Town to see. Vivid as Hell, Jemmy remembered the watermelon exploding like blood all over Davish Scrivner.
Fedrick. He was hideously strong, and Jemmy hadn't ever been this frightened.
Evleen was trying to get up. She cried, 'Nooo, Jemmy, I don't want to be like Rachel's ma!'
His feet were off the floor. A wall was against his back. In an instant his throat would be crushed. Fedrick was in his face, and he remembered.
Remembered the gun.
In Fedrick's belt.
Here. Jemmy had the gun butt. Jemmy had seen what such a weapon could do to a melon. He lifted and turned it and pulled the trigger.
The sound was deafening. The gun lurched in Jemmy's hand. Fedrick gaped in horror and let him loose.
Jemmy dropped to the floor. He looked down at what he'd done, and it was worse than he could have imagined.
There was a hole in Fedrick, in his left side, pumping blood. Blood spilled down his shirt and pantaloons. A man Fedrick's size had Fedrick by the shoulder, and that man's horror was a match for Fedrick's.
Fedrick's eyes turned up and he started to fall. The other man took a moment to ease him to the floor. Evleen gibbered in fear, staring wideeyed at Fedrick. Now the big trader let go of Fedrick, and Fedrick fell, and Jemmy saw what Evleen saw.
The hole in Fedrick's back looked as big as Jemmy's head.
The silence was ending, and men were starting to stand up.
Jemmy ran.
The near door was past several merchants, and they were all getting up. Jemmy ran through tables of Spiral women instead. A lone merchant gaudy in gray and yellow had his belt for an instant before Jemmy ripped loose.
He almost took the stairs; pictured how many guns would pick him off if they all had a clear shot; ran around and out the Warkans' front door.
The window above the front door was one that opened. He remembered Addard and Sandy and Telema Warkan shouting through it, heads together, long ago.
Jemmy jumped and had the sill; pulled himself up, pulled the window open and was back inside on the landing halfway up. Flat on the floor, catching his breath, while traders and Spiral men swarmed below him and outside.
He crawled the rest of the way to the second floor. Through Addard's room to the balcony, down the outside stair to the truck garden.
The truck garden was a jungle in spots. Killer was busy at one end. Jemmy worked his way through shadow and weeds at the other end, into the less cultivated regions of the Warkan farm, making away from the Road.
4
Leavetaking
Probes have gone before. We expected an Earthlike world, Norn, and from orbit it seems all that we hoped. I've renamed it Destiny.
-Daryl Twerdahl, Defensive Ecology
Warkan farmland trailed off toward the sea. The land was barren rock and sand. It would barely support Destiny life and it barely hid Jemmy Bloocher.
The old fence was another ancients' miracle. Corrosion had not touched it in more than two centuries. It ran for over a mile between Bloocher and Warkan land, all the way into the shallow waves. The fence was three grades of mesh laid over each other, filters to stop anything from seeds to sharks to chugs.
Spiral children learned early: those fine strands would cut flesh.
The first settlers must have been anal-retentive about property rights. Or was this another attempt to confine Destiny?
The fence would cut a chug's mouth. Merchants never released chugs close to the fence.
But the fence didn't stop Destiny seaweed.
Here at the shoreline a grove of black and yellow-green devilhair ran into the sea and out as far as Carder's Boat. Weed had nearly swallowed the boat; had entirely swallowed the fence. By using the fence as a frame, the weed gained access to sunlight and the sea's nutrients too.
Jemmy reached the beach at a run. He swarmed over the humped weed onto Bloocher turf and kept running. Adrenaline raged in his blood. He wanted to run until the breath seared his lungs....ut every Spiral knew where he must come. Any of them might tell a merchant.
He spared a moment's glance for the settler's miracle offshore. They'd never find him there! and for good reason. A swimmer would never reach Carder's Boat. He'd be tangled in the weed and drowned.
He stopped, his chest heaving. Then he made himself crawl through the rows of wheat, uphill toward the house.
It seemed quiet. Merchants would have flooded the house with light and noise.
Jemmy went in through the root cellar, then up into the kitchen, softly, softly.
Loaves of bread were still in the oven. He left them for the moment.
More stairs, well lighted. There was light under his parents' door, and under Junior's. Margery's. Margery and Curdis. He reeled into his room and stood in the dark, thinking.
The Warkans had their reasons to let the fence go like that, but the Bloochers had no excuse for such
