Thinking of getting old: if there were retireds in Settlement One, people who were no longer contractually obliged to work in production, it wouldn’t be long before brotherhouses would hire them as housekeepers and cooks for the clans. And then it wouldn’t be long before some of the settlers would have land rights of their own. And after that Hobbs Transystem Foods would turn Settlement One over to the people in accordance with the contract and begin recruiting for a Settlement Twelve, off in the nowheres. Harribon had once asked Spiggy how many settlements there would be, altogether, when Hobbs Foods was finished planting and harvesting. Hundreds, Spiggy had said. Hundreds, spread across the arable plains of Hobbs Land, with wide stretches of the original Hobbs Land left untouched between.
“Land left between, so there will be no extinctions,” Spiggy had said. “Not of plants. Not of animals.” Authority frowned on extinctions. At least, the Science Advisory did, which was pretty much the same thing.
It was all so familiar, and yet it felt foreign, exotic. It was too peaceful. Perhaps that was it. At home, in Settlement Three, there were always problems. Always the subliminal whine of discord, somewhere, like the snarling of a trapped cat. Here, Harribon was aware of no problems. If there were problems, Sam would handle them.
Or, he told himself, perhaps Birribat Shum would handle them. Before they ever happened.
• “You look tired,” Sal told Harribon over the liqueurs as they sat by a window of the Girat brotherhouse, looking out over the fields. Behind them in the kitchen they could hear the bustle and clatter of two of the retireds who were cleaning up after dinner, mixed with the treble chatter of Sal’s young ones.
Harribon smiled, shaking his head. “Not really. Just thoughtful. Your brotherhouse is very quiet, Sam. You were an only son?”
“I had one brother, Maechy. He died as a child, before we came to Hobbs Land. In fact, it was his death that prompted my mother to become a settler. My parents were married, in Voorstod upon Ahabar, but mother was the only one who came to Hobbs Land.”
“Sam’s brotherhouse will fill up when Sande and Sake get to be big men,” Sal laughed. “Then Sam can play uncle, right enough.” About fourteen, that’s when boys needed to live with men, so said the conventional wisdom. Up until then, mothers did well enough.
“What about your mother?” Harribon asked them, trying to remember what it was he had heard about Sam’s mother.
“Maire? She has a small sisterhouse to herself,” Sam said. “She works at the crèche, which she enjoys. We invited her to join us tonight, but she said she was too tired of people to eat with people. Some of the older settlers are talking about building a retireds home when we get land rights, maybe up north of the settlement, where it’s quiet.”
“Up by the temples,” Harribon offered.
“West of there. But fairly close.”
“I was up there today.”
“Were you?” asked Sal. “How were the kids coming with the plastering job?”
Somehow, Harribon had not expected her to know about the plastering job. “They seemed to be enjoying it.”
“Yeah, they get a kick out of doing stuff for the God,” said Sam. “The way Birribat Shum and Vonce Djbouty used to. Did they tell you they were the Ones Who?”
Harribon nodded. “They said everyone helped.”
“Oh, well, yes. If something needs doing. But mostly the kids. It’s good for them. Teaches them a lot about planning a job and sticking with it until it’s done. And with the child labor provisions in the settlement contract, they can’t be involved in production, so it gives them something they can feel good about having accomplished.”
A peaceful silence. Harribon swallowed again, almost painfully. “I didn’t know you had another God, Sam.”
Sam furrowed his brow, scowled into his drink. “I guess we haven’t made any announcement about it.”
“Stirs things up too much,” agreed Sal, making a face. “Can you imagine Zilia Makepeace if we tell her we have a new God. ‘Who authorized you to have a new God.’ ‘Why wasn’t Native Matters consulted about this new God?’ ” She laughed. “Or what about Jamice Bend? ‘What are the personnel implications of your having another God.’ We just didn’t want to bother. We figure eventually they’ll find out,, and then we can say, ‘Zilia, Jamice, it’s been here for years. Why make a fuss now?’ ”
“Where … where did you get it?”
“The children found it,” said Sam. “And since they’d already prepared the temple, of course we raised it.”
“Found it? Raised it?”
“It was buried. In the soil.” Sam regarded him thoughtfully. “Does that bother you, Hani?”
“Don’t let it bother you, Hani,” said Sal, regarding him with lovely, luminous eyes.
“It isn’t fair,” he said, his voice rising uncontrollably, angrily. “It isn’t fair!”
There was a slight noise at the door, and they turned to see Saturday and Jeopardy Wilm standing there.
“Excuse me,” said Saturday. “I’m terribly sorry to interrupt, but we had to bring something for Topman Harribon.”
“For me?” The anger which had flooded him flowed away in an instant, leaving him feeling empty and ashamed. He looked at
