I wish you could see this place, Father. Right now the City is humming, figuratively, with activity on every level and in every street and corridor; ships are being called in and communications cut off for the Blackout. Soon, they tell me, we’ll be humming literally. This letter goes out on one of the last ships to Baret Station, and when it’ll reach the other end of its flight, Fate knows. Or even if. I don’t trust that spooner-of-potatoes in the Station cafeteria, Father; tell them to keep an eye on him.
These people are not bad, Father. Of course they are notoriously inbred, and delight in their ignorance; but I’ve often thought the same of our own folk. [The second half of this sentence was removed by Keylinn upon rereading.] Now, since I’ve begun by being wholeheartedly honest, I must tell you that since arriving here I have had several brushes with subjectivity sickness. My contract-holder has a very powerful undertow in his tarethi— probably you are not surprised by that, since he is a gathrid, after all. But please do not be concerned on my account. I’m taking every possible precaution. Naturally some blurring is necessary if I’m to anticipate his requirements, which are of course pretty alien to me. But I’m doing core meditation twice a day, and any other time I think I need it. Think of the tarethi I’ll acquire from this contract! It may rival the Twelve. [This last sentence was also deleted by Keylinn, as smacking of hubris.] I know it’s a dangerous road, but I did have the very best teachers. For which I have you to thank, as for so much else.
The other thing that bothers me most is—I don’t know any way of putting this that, doesn’t sound ridiculous— wondering if I’m meant to be one of the latest Twelve. It doesn’t seem probable on the surface, given my record, and yet … here I am, off-planet on orders of the Judges, reporting back. It does sound like a Twelve assignment. Am I crazy for even considering it? And what if it’s true? I never wanted that kind of responsibility. How can I say whether the Outside is ready for us to come back or not? How can anyone judge through me? I don’t even know what signs to look for. The Judges can’t, they can’t have such expectations about me; I won’t support them. Surely they aren’t so confused about my abilities. Oh, I wish I knew what you thought. I wish I could talk to you and Sean.
Keylinn deleted the entire paragraph above.
As for when you’ll see me again—nobody knows how time works during a Blackout, but it would be extremely rare for it to occupy more than a few years of planetary chronology, and probably a lot less. I’ll make my way back when I can.
My love to Uncle Bram, Sean, and Janny. I wish I could see Janny, all grown up. Tell her if she wants to wear my sapphire pantaloon dress with the weapons-cache, she may. But I don’t want anybody borrowing the red slashed-back one. When I return, I plan on wearing it to the Academy Ball. I’ll dance with you there, if you’ve forgiven me by then.
Your loving prodigal,
Keylinn O’Malley Murtagh
daughter of the Harp Valley clan
“It’s called the War Room,” said Tal. He motioned for Spider and Keylinn to precede him on the walkway surrounding the holomap. Around them were communications stations; one comm operator for every dozen or so battle-capsules. Three of the stations were taken at the moment, by two young men and a woman directing Diamond knights out on a series of practice maneuvers. Inside, in the map, glowing points represented Diamond capsules and other ships, while a changing strip overhead gave the mathematical coordinates for each point.
“It’s busy for a place that hasn’t been used since their war with Opal,” said Keylinn.
“It’s always good to be ready,” said Tal. He pointed to a metal and glass booth up on the top walkway. “I’m making that my office.”
“I thought the Security Chief’s office was up on the administration levels,” said Spider.
“Not any more.” Tal took a report that had just printed out from a link by the map and handed it to Keylinn.
She glanced at it, then at Tal. “Well? I don’t even know what this means.”
“Start studying. I’m transferring you to Security.”
She accepted the news calmly. “Is that a good idea? I see one or two women here, but none in Security uniforms. Outsiders are accepted in Transport, but how popular would they be in such a sensitive area as this?” Tal’s smile was not without irony. “See if you can come up with a point for debate that I haven’t already used myself. As for you, Spider—”
Spider had been hanging on the railing over the holomap, staring at the changing colors that would mean life and death in a real encounter. Now he looked up. “Me? You’re not getting me into this place, Tal. I’d lose half my income if I left Inventory.”
“Well, not immediately. But after all, Keylinn only has a hundred eighty days left—”
“One fifty-two,” said Keylinn.
“And I’ll need someone to take over from her then. Don’t worry about money, Spider; from what I’ve been able to determine, this whole department is riddled with graft. People pay for the arrest of others, to escape arrest themselves, for protection form overzealous City Guards. They pay for just about everything.”
Spider made a face. “That’s immoral.” He looked around at the expression in Keylinn’s eyes. “No, I mean it. At least when somebody pays me now, it’s because I’ve delivered actual goods to them. It’s not because I’ve promised not to hurt them in future.”
“Of course, these goods, are stolen to begin with,” pointed out Keylinn.
Spider shrugged helplessly. “What do you want? Perfection?”
“In any case,” said Tal, “Adrian wants the whole thing cleaned up, so expect
