Will looked dissatisfied, and continued to look so as they exited the lift and walked to the entrance of council administration. They climbed the front steps, and Hart said, “Oh, by the way. You don’t have to come all the way up to my office—there are people waiting for you just inside.”
Will froze. “What people?” The man and the little girl who’d begged for his help flashed into his mind; the man had been a plant after all, and the EPs were waiting for him. The men in black, the same ones who’d taken Tommy away.
Hart was watching impatiently as he stood there. “I have a busy day.”
Will’s legs started moving again. He passed through the doors on autopilot, and just inside he saw two people: Bernadette and Lysette.
“I’ll leave you for now,” said Hart, and he walked on.
His sister and his lover were staring at him, crying. Bemie took a step toward him, and then they were both running, both gathering him up in a double hug. The three of them stayed together for quite some time.
Finally they broke a little apart, still touching, and Will wiped his nose. He was impressed as well as surprised; Bemie and Lysette had never gotten along for any purpose, not even for Departure Day dinner. He started to talk and had to clear his throat. Then he said, “I got you both presents. But I lost them.”
Lysette shook her head. Bemie grabbed his neck in the crook of her arm and pulled his head down and kissed him again. She muttered something to herself in a voice heavy with love and relief; he thought it sounded like “asshole.”
And still touching, the three of them turned and walked outside and started down the steps.
In the little room on C level, the One Newly Awakened sat on the edge of the cot—they called it “his” cot, as though in some manner it partook of the One’s nature— and held out his skinny grayish arms to accept his dinner.
The kitchen private gave him the bowl. He wore an Inventory uniform and was here on Spider’s recommendation as to his discretion. Two Special Security men were stationed outside, having no idea what they guarded; they were unnecessary, for the One understood that he was not to roam the City should he become bored. However, it made his friends feel better to have them there.
The dinner bowl contained beans, rice, and com. This time the One used a spoon; he didn’t always. But scooping in his long fingers would have meant touching the inside of the bowl, which was plastic, a material he hated to feel. “Thank you, brother,” he said to the kitchen private.
The private’s configuration was more stable with each visit, becoming accustomed to his new charge. “You’re welcome,” he replied. His aura was strained, like a dog on a leash; it was clear that he badly wanted to ask questions of the One, but something prevented him.
“The Masters’ blessings on us both,” said the One, trying to set him at ease.
“Right,” said the private. He waited till the One was finished, and retrieved the bowl. “Am I bringin’ these fast enough for you?”
“I have sufficient calories at present,” said the One. “May I inform you if I need more?”
“Sure. That’s why I asked. I’m supposed to give you whatever you need.”
“My thanks, brother.” The One leaned back on the cot, feeling sleepy. He heard the footsteps of the private leaving; he saw the configurations of the two guards outside change as he passed.
Food was good. Even sleep was good, in its place. He felt warmly content.
—What a great slug you are.
—My brother, how can you say that? I have dared the night sky, all alone. Without even you. I made my way here—
—To sleep and eat. My congratulations.
The One twisted uncomfortably on his cot. —What would you have me do? These people are busy with their own lives. They say they’ll give me time as soon as they change sectors.
—Give you time? Why are you not using the time you have? Do you even know where the Crown is, Guardian? And what do you know about these descendants of our old students, except what you’ve seen in passing in a handful of configurations?
The One was shamed. —I am not as strong or alert as I was….
—Whose fault is that? I’m made weak myself by your dawdling. When did you last feed?
—I haven’t fed since I woke up, brother.
—Not at all? What’s wrong with you? Why not?
Here he felt on firm ground. —Because you were not here to tell this unworthy one if it was lawful.
—I’m here now.
There was a shivery feeling, like the touch of a night breeze. Then his brother said,
—Hear me. I have reviewed your situation. This human who brings us our food looks healthy and well- configured; when next he returns, feed on him.
The One considered this. His brother would not—could not, in fact—tell him to do anything that was wrong. But … —Who will bring me my food if I take him?
—They will find another, this City is full of humans. Did not this one say he was to give us whatever we needed?
—Very well, my brother. I will take this human, since you tell me it is lawful.
—It is lawful, said his brother,—if we don’t get caught.
Text of the final letter from Keylinn Gray to her home, before leaving sector.
For delivery to Rory Murtagh, Harp Valley.
Dear Father,
Forgive me for not writing sooner. The truth is that I would not be writing now if I were not leaving our sector. Courage rises with distance, as the saying goes.
I’ve never spoken of my expulsion to you because I knew you would expect me to ask your forgiveness for the disgrace to our family. And because I wouldn’t ask for forgiveness I wouldn’t speak to you. But I’m
