“We can’t keep this a secret any longer.”
—Daniel Vik
No one spoke for several moments. Then amazed babbles broke out from all quarters.
“That can’t be. Bedj-ka lost his—”
“I’m Silent? But Matron said—”
“Look, I felt the damned jolt all the way down to my—”
“He had dreams.”
This last remark came from Harenn. She didn’t speak above a whisper, but she still managed to silence the room. Kendi dragged himself upright, and Ben gave him a belated hand.
“What dreams?” Ben asked.
Harenn helped Bedj-ka stand. “You have been telling me about your realistic dreams ever since Silent Acquisitions station,” she said to him. “It never occurred to me that you were showing symptoms of Silence.”
“I...I didn’t think of it either,” Bedj-ka said in an awed voice. His brown eyes were large and round. “I mean, the Enclave—the people that bought me the first time—they said that realistic dreams were early signs of Silence, but—”
“This calls for a sit-down meeting,” Kendi said abruptly. “Because I need a sit-down. And a drink. Beer?”
“We’re out,” Ben said. “Hops shortage. Tea?”
But Harenn produced a flask and handed it over. Kendi drank, and it burned all the way down. He sighed. Bedj-ka watched with open curiosity.
“Can I—?” he began.
“No,” Harenn said.
“But I got jolted, too.”
“You may have a cookie.”
A few minutes later, they had reassembled in the living room with mugs of milk and a plate of Lucia’s soft ginger cookies. Kendi was grateful Lars was currently stationed outside the house—he didn’t feel like explaining anything.
“Let’s start at the beginning,” Kendi said. “Bedj-ka, you’ve been having realistic dreams?”
“For a while, yeah. It’s like I’m really there, and when I wake up—”
A—it takes a minute to figure out that you’re not still dreaming,” Kendi finished. Bedj-ka nodded. “All life, we were staring at it all the time and never realized it.”
“Perhaps it was a fluke,” Harenn said.
In answer, Ben reached over and tapped Bedj-ka on the forearm. They both jumped.
“Not a fluke,” Ben said.
“Ow!” Bedj-ka rubbed his arm. “Mom!”
“Have another cookie,” Kendi said.
“It only happens the first time, my son,” Harenn said. “And now you will be able to find Ben and Kendi much more easily once you enter the Dream.”
Kendi sprang to his feet. “We have to tell someone. This is important. This is big. All life—a Silenced child who got his Silence back. This is—I can’t even say how big this is.”
“Why?” Bedj-ka asked.
“Because you may not be the only one,” Kendi said. “What if all the Silenced are getting their Silence back?”
“Or what if it is only Bedj-ka?” Harenn said. “Choose your words with care, Kendi. You do not want to look the fool in public. Especially now.”
“You’re right, you’re right.” Kendi started to pace. “But who do we—”
“That noise!” Ben interrupted. “God, Kendi—that noise!”
Kendi paused in mid-step. “What noise?”
“The one we heard. In the Dream. When you were a dolphin. We never did figure out what it was. Do you think it’s related?”
“Has to be,” Kendi said, his excitement rising like a wave. “Ben, the Silenced are coming back! They’re—”
“Stop!” Harenn barked. Kendi halted in mid-sentence. “You are making assumptions based on no evidence. Right now you only know you heard a strange sound in the Dream and that Bedj-ka reacts to the Silent touch. Nothing more.”
Kendi started to object, then cut himself off. Harenn was correct. For a moment he had fallen back into his old patterns, creating planets from clouds of dust. He nodded, acknowledging the wisdom of Harenn’s words.
“There’s only one thing left to do,” he said.
“What?” Ben asked, on cue.
Kendi reached into an end table and produced a dermospray. “Go hunting.”
oOo
The gray plain lay flat and hard beneath Kendi’s paws. He stood as high on his hind legs as he could, stretching long kangaroo ears until they quivered. Beside him, Ben cocked his head.
“What do you hear?” Ben whispered.
“Shush,” Kendi snuffled. “I’m trying to—wait! Wait!”
~...~
“I heard that!” Ben said with hushed excitement. “I heard it! But just barely. What is it?”
“Children,” Kendi said. His ears swiveled this way and that, trying to catch even the tiniest hint of the sound. “They’re all so young, barely touching the Dream. I can’t hear any adults. Hold on.”
He leaped into the air and shrank, his form twisting and reshaping until he was flitting through the still air as a pale blue Australian ghost bat. Sounds that had lain in the background leaped into the foreground—Ben’s quiet breathing, the soft flapping of Kendi’s own wings, the rustle of Ben’s clothing as he shifted position to look upward. The distant whispering babble of other Silent became an abrupt roar, like a dripping faucet bursting forth as a waterfall. Kendi’s sharp ears, however, had no trouble sorting out the individual voices. It was like seeing the waterfall as a trillion drops of water instead of a single raging torrent. Kendi twisted through the empty sky, listening with every speck of power he possessed. The waterfall of sound rushed and splashed around him, a picture of sound in three dimensions. Then he heard it. Scattered among the droplets of sound—
~...~
—were the newcomers. They were weak as newborn chicks, their presence shy and innocent. Children who touched the Dream without realizing what they held. Kendi’s tiny heart pounded. It was a far cry from his hope of all Silent finding the Dream once again, but if Silenced children were regaining their Silence, it meant the Dream would once again be restored to its former self. Kendi’s head swam with the possibilities. The Children of Irfan could restore themselves. The Independence Confederation might even reform with Empress Kalii back on the throne. The children would grow up and enter the Dream. In a few decades, everything would be back to normal. In a hundred years, the Despair would be nothing but a chapter in history books that bored a new generation of schoolchildren.
Ben and Kendi’s children would never know a universe without the Dream.
Kendi’s heart soared and he did a little back flip that almost cost him his equilibrium. He righted himself and flittered back down to Ben, who was waiting with ill-disguised impatience. Kendi exploded back into kangaroo form and landed with a thud that shook the ground.
“Children,” he said, and went on to explain. Ben nodded, his face mostly impassive, though Kendi could see him tense with suppressed excitement.
“We can’t make too much of this,” Ben warned. “We don’t know what it means yet.”
“The hell we don’t,” Kendi shot back. “This is huge, Ben! The children are coming back. I remember what it felt like before the Despair, how new children felt when they were just touching the Dream, and these touches feel exactly the same.”
“We should tell Grandma,” Ben said. “She’s still a Grandmother Adept with the Children and she’ll know what to do with this information.”
Kangaroo Kendi made a whuffing snort. “I know what she’ll do with it.”
oOo
In her living room, Salman Reza set down the teacup with shaking hands. Kendi watched her from his position on the hovering sofa. Ben sat next to him. Keith and Martina were also present. Wanda Petrie perched on the edge of her chair.
“It’s just the children,” Salman said. “No new adults?”
Kendi shook his head. “Afraid not.”
“Dammit.” Salman looked hard at nothing for a long time and Kendi realized she had been hoping this was a sign her own Silence was returning. Kendi’s news had been torment for her. He thought about apologizing, then decided he would only make the situation worse.
“Why are only the children coming in?” said Keith.
“It’ll take some study, I’m sure,” Martina said. “Maybe children are more resilient and their brains were able to heal the damage caused by the Despair. Or maybe Silent children who were too young to be affected by the Despair are getting old enough to touch the Dream now. Silence is a genetic gift, so there’s an entire generation of Silent babies being born who will be able to touch the Dream soon. Hell, in species that mature quickly, we’ll have Silent back in the Dream within five or six years.”
“You’re absolutely sure about this,” Salman said. “It’s children in the Dream.”
“One hundred percent sure,” Kendi replied firmly. “Ben and I stayed in the Dream for several hours last night to make sure, and I noticed the sounds got a little louder. We persuaded Keith and Martina to check this morning, and they heard it as well.”
“It’s true,” Martina said with a nod. “I would never have found it on my own, but once Kendi showed me what to look for, it almost slapped me in the face.” Keith added a wordless nod of his own.
“The children are coming back, Grandma,” Kendi finished. “No doubt about it.”
“Who else knows?” Petrie asked intently.
“The people sitting in this room,” Ben said. “And Harenn and Bedj-ka. Harenn’s at the medical center with Lucia, but we asked her not to mention it. She’s keeping Bedj-ka home from school for now so he doesn’t accidentally tell someone there.”
“That’s a relief,” Wanda said. “We need to decide how best to break this. God, Senator—this is just what we need to raise your polls.”
“Raise her polls?” Ben said. “What do you mean?”
Petrie smiled at him with neat white teeth. “If your grandmother is the one to break the news that the Dream is returning to normal, Ben, what do you think it’ll do for her popularity? This is a godsend!”
“But it has nothing to do with the issues surrounding the election,” Ben protested.
“Of course not. But issues aside, elections are nothing more than popularity contests.” Petrie’s eyes sparkled. “We can promote her as the Senator who restored the Dream. The voters will eat it up!”
“Even though it was Kendi who figured it out,” Keith said.
Petrie brushed this aside. “Kendi works for her campaign, so it’s the same thing.”
“Why did you sense it and no one else, Kendi?” Salman asked, changing the subject.
Kendi shrugged. “I’ve always been good at sensing Silent and tracking people in the Dream. The Despair didn’t change that. Other Silent will probably start to notice the kids, though. Within a couple of weeks, I should think.”
“Give me two days, Senator,” Petrie said, all but glowing with fervor. “That’ll let us double-check the information and set up a proper news conference. In a few months, you’ll be sitting in the governor’s seat.”
“Do it,” Salman said. “Let’s show Foxglove and Ched-Pirasku how to run a real campaign.”
oOo
Salman swore everyone to secrecy one more time before she let them leave. Her expression was so serious, Kendi half expected her to ask for pricked fingers and dripping blood, though he kept the comment to himself. Wanda Petrie’s training in evidence.
Keith and Martina headed toward the monastery—”Some of us have to work for a living,” Keith said—while Ben and Kendi took Salman’s flitcar to the medical center to check on Lucia. Gretchen, who had remained on outdoor guard duty during the meeting, piloted while Tan rode shotgun. Kendi sat in the back seat with Ben, trying to assimilate everything that was going on. So much so fast! Kendi had just signed a lucrative sim-game contract based on his life during the Despair, he and Ben were going to be fathers of two children—assuming Lucia didn’t lose this one—and now the Silent were re-entering the Dream. Kendi felt restless, like a lion in a cage. He didn’t want to be riding in this flitcar high above the trees. He wanted to be running through the streets, his feet pounding the boards and making the balconies tremble like the mickey spikes. Ben touched his hand and squeezed it, reading his mood and knowing the cause. Kendi gave him a wan smile but felt a little better.
When they arrived at the medical center, they found a small crowd of people in Lucia’s room. She lay propped up in bed amid a veritable forest of flowers, balloons, and stuffed animals. Several dozen photographs and holograms covered every inch of wall space, and someone had set up a small altar in the corner. From it, a figurine of Irfan Qasad gazed serenely about the room.
“What the hell?” Kendi said.
A tall, dark man with silvering hair the same color as Lucia’s stepped forward with outstretched hand. “Father Kendi Weaver! I’ve been wanting to meet you for a long time! But does my daughter arrange an introduction? Does she let me meet the great man whose baby she will bear? Or does she let her poor old father languish in—”
“Dad!” Lucia protested from the bed. “Don’t let him bully you, Kendi. He’ll talk until your ears fall off if you let him.”
“Someone who can out-talk Kendi,” Ben said. “Pretty impressive.”
“You must be Ben Rymar,” said a nearby woman who resembled a heavier, slightly tired version of Lucia. She leaned in to kiss his cheek. “I suppose this makes you my son-in-law, in a way. I should be happy—it’s better than no son-in-law at all.”
“Hey!” called a young man from one corner. “What do I look like? Pastrami on rye?”
“You married my oldest,” Lucia’s mother replied primly. “It’s different when it’s your youngest.”
“Mom!” Lucia warned.
“Do you know all these people, Ms. dePaolo?” Tan demanded from the doorway.
“They’re all family,” Lucia said. “They’re fine.” Gretchen and Tan withdrew to the hallway, looking grateful for the chance to escape.
Introductions went around. The only names Kendi remembered were Alberto and Julia, Lucia’s parents. The rest were a tangle of brothers, sisters, and cousins, all with the same glossy black hair, olive skin, and brown eyes. They sat on the floor, leaned against the walls, and perched on the edge of Lucia’s bed.
“The nurse tried to throw us all out, if you can believe that,” Alberto said. “Imagine! We’re her family and they try to throw us out on the streets like yesterday’s trash.”
“You are a little loud, Dad,” Lucia pointed out.
“Loud with love,” he said, and kissed her loudly on the top of the head. “The best healing there is!”
“Dr. McCall says the baby is just fine, by the way,” Lucia said. “I’m allowed of bed now, but the doctor wants to keep me here for another day just to be sure.”
Kendi exhaled heavily, and he felt a load of tension drain from him. Ben looked even more relieved.
“So tell me more about my new grandchild,” Julia said.
“Grandchild?” Kendi said.
“Of course!” Julia said. “My daughter is going to give birth to it. That makes it my grandchild, and don’t you dare forget it.”
“You have six grandchildren, Mom,” Lucia said.
“Which doesn’t make this one any less precious,” Julia said firmly. “But I want to know where this baby came from.”
“I hope I don’t need to explain that to you,” Alberto said, squeezing Julia’s arm.
She made a playful slap at him. “You know what I mean. Lucia says it isn’t her place to tell, so that means someone else has to.”
A moment of silence fell over the room and every eye turned toward Kendi and Ben. Kendi glanced went irresistibly to the altar. Irfan looked serenely back at him. In one hand she bore a scroll, symbol of communication. Her other hand was raised in a beckoning gesture. A DN” matrix wound around the arm. Kendi realized the silence was stretching out a bit too long.
Finally Ben spoke. “My mo—” his voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “My mother found these embryos on an abandoned ship several hundred light years from Bellerophon. She took one for her own—me—and gave the others to Grandfather Melthine at the monastery. He and my mother died during the Despair, so I sort of kept the others. Genetically they’re my brothers and sisters, but Kendi and I want to raise them as our children. Silent babies don’t survive in artificial wombs, so Lucia agreed to help us.”
“The bright lady has blessed our family,” said a cousin. What was her name? Franca? Francesca. It was Francesca. “Will you be raising the child in the precepts of the Church of Irfan, Father Kendi?”
Kendi blinked. “We...we haven’t thought that far ahead.”
“But you must,” she insisted. “Irfan looks after all children, but the Silent ones are her special province, and they must come to bosom of the Church, especially now that Vik has destroyed the Dream.”
“Vik?” Ben said. “But Padric Sufur was the one who—”
“The evil Vik worked his will through Sufur,” Francesca said. “There is no doubt. Vik taints us all, Mr. Rymar. His evil is everywhere and we must work hard to stamp it out. That is why we fight poverty and homeless in the name of the Church—the poor and homeless are more susceptible to Vik’s wicked—”
“Thank you, Francesca,” Lucia said. “We all serve the Church in our own way. I’ve chosen this one.” She rubbed her stomach. “I think I need to rest now.”
“Everyone out,” Alberto ordered. “She needs her rest. Out!”
Everyone duly filed out of the room, though each person paused to give Lucia a kiss or a hug. Ben and Kendi were the last.
“Thank you for coming,” Lucia said when they were alone. “I know my family can be a bit...overwhelming, but they mean well.”
“I suppose they should be part of the child’s life,” Kendi said. “I hadn’t thought of that. Harenn has only Bedj-ka, but in your case...”
“I have an entire clan,” Lucia finished with a small smile.
“What about the religious side?” Ben said. “Everything happened so fast that we didn’t have time to talk about it.”
“Do you object to the child being raised by the precepts of Irfan?” Lucia asked. Her hand went to the Irfan figurine around her neck.
“I hadn’t thought about it either way,” Ben admitted. “It’s just...” He lowered his voice. “They worship my mother. And Irfan is also this child’s mother. Isn’t that just a little...strange?”
A ‘The universe is stranger than the Dream,’ “ Lucia said. “Irfan’s precepts and teachings are fine rules to live by, Ben. She teaches us to love and tolerate one another while we seek inner strength and serenity.”
“They’re good teachings,” Ben said. “And I don’t object to them. I just don’t know how to go about it.”
“I will handle that,” Lucia said. “Besides, we are not one of the more extreme sects of the Church, no matter what Francesca might sound like.”
“Let’s go, Ben,” Kendi said. “She does need to rest.”
They found Lucia’s family just down the hallway in a small waiting area that smelled of stale donuts. They were arguing heatedly about something. Kendi gave Ben a look. Gretchen and Tan pointedly kept their distance.
“I don’t see how she can go through with it,” Francesca was saying. “Not without a guarantee from the fathers that the child will be raised properly in the Church. It scares me that they might grow up ignorant of Irfan’s precepts.”
“It’s their decision,” said someone Kendi couldn’t see. “Lucia is the just vessel, not the mother.”
The sound of a slap. “Ow! What was that for?”
“You say such terrible things!” came Julia’s aghast voice. “Of course Lucia’s the mother, just as Mother Ara was Ben’s mother. And we can’t force anyone to embrace the Church. Irfan would frown on such a thing. But we can still—”
“Father Kendi!” Alberto said, suddenly noticing him standing in the doorway. Julia cut herself off. “Come in, come in.”
“We were just heading home,” Kendi said, “now that we know Lucia and the baby are all right.”
“Good, good,” Alberto said. “We will be seeing much more of each other, eh? Now that you two are the fathers of Lucia’s child.”
“This is getting more complicated by the second,” Ben said when they were out of earshot. “How are we going to handle this? I hadn’t even occurred to me that Lucia’s family might want to get involved with our child. Children.”
Kendi shrugged. “Legally they have no claim, so it’ll be completely up to us how involved they are. We can work it out as we go, but I’m thinking the more babysitters we have on tap, the better.”
Ben laughed, but it sounded a bit forced.
They exited the medical center and walked a ways in silence, Tan and Gretchen following a bit behind. It was still cloudy outside, and the light lay heavy with gloom beneath the trees. Kendi smelled rain coming. After a while they passed a playground on a wide platform. A trio of children were jumping rope, and they chanted with every jump.
Miss Irfan married Danny, and Danny went insane.
He stole her wealth and children, he ruined her good name.
He ran away to Othertown and tried to start a war.
He met up with some Silent and killed them by the score.
How many Silent did Dan Vik kill? One, two, three, four ...
Kendi looked at them as he passed. He had heard the rhyme a thousand times but hadn’t really paid close attention to it until now. A little gory. He supposed that’s what made it attractive to children.
“Do you think I’m evil?” Ben asked abruptly. “Or that I’ll go insane?”
“What?” Kendi started. “No! Why on earth would you think such a thing?”
Ben shrugged. “Daniel Vik was my father, and like those kids said, he went insane.”
“Not all historians agree with that assessment,” Kendi said. “And anyway, you’re you. Not Daniel Vik and not Irfan Qasad. Ben Rymar.”
“Insanity is sometimes inherited,” Ben insisted.
“No risk factors showed up on the genetic scans,” Kendi said. “Did your doctor ever say anything?”
“No,” Ben admitted.
“There you go.”
“It’s still creepy,” Ben said gloomily. “My dad was a genocidal maniac and my mother was a saint and they both died a thousand years ago.”
“It’s probably for the best that they’re dead,” Kendi said. “I mean, imagine what it would be like for me if they were still alive.”
“For you?”
“Sure. Irfan Qasad as my mother-in-law. I’d never get the house clean enough for her to visit.”
This time Ben’s laugh was real. In the middle of it, Kendi’s data pad beeped and a message flashed across his ocular implant.
“Whoops,” Kendi said. “I forgot—we were supposed to meet Keith for some male bonding time today.”
“Who’s we?” Ben said.
“I made the invitation on both our behalves,” Kendi said, “and then forgot to tell you about it. Can you come? Please? I’m trying to bring Keith out of his blue funk. We’re going to take part in an ancient Australian Aborigine ritual.”
“What ritual would that be?” Ben asked warily.
“Drinking our lunch. Come on.”
Kendi told Tan and Gretchen what was going on, and the women continued following the two men. The four of them made their way across several walkways, down a pair of staircases, and along a public promenade. Multiple shops, stores, and restaurants were stacked on top of one another in the trees, connected by lifts and stairs. Several of the shops were boarded up, and only a handful of humans and Ched-Balaar browsed among the open ones. Panhandlers sat among the dead, damp leaves that littered the walkways, begging from passers-by in dull, monotonous voices. Eventually, Kendi caught sight of Keith, who was wandering aimlessly back and forth on a narrow rope-and-plank bridge between two balconies. His hands were in his pockets. Every so often, he glanced at his fingernail, checking the time. Kendi called his name and waved, but Keith continued pacing.
“He can’t hear me,” Kendi said, heading for the bridge.
“Funny. Everyone else did,” Ben grumbled.
Keith had his back to them and had reached the other side of the bridge. Kendi trotted ahead of Ben to catch up to his brother. He was halfway across the bridge when a shower of wood chips cascaded over him and he smelled something burning. A terrible cracking noise groaned above him. Kendi glanced up and saw a branch the size of a support beam rushing toward him. Then something hit him and he was flying through the air. He landed hard. All the air burst from his lungs and his head smacked something solid. A tremendous crash tore the air. Several people screamed, and the noise mingled with panicked Ched-Balaar hooting. Kendi lay stunned for a moment, then sat up.
He was lying on the platform he had been trying to reach. Behind him lay a torn bridge and a stomach-turning drop. Gretchen was stretched out at the rim of the platform. The lower half of her body hung over the edge, and she was clawing at the remaining boards in an attempt to regain solid planking. Her face was pale. Kendi scrambled over to help her, trying to ignore the pounding in his head. He seized her arm and helped her up.
“Are you all right?” he demanded.
“I’m fine,” she said. “You?”
“My head’s going to ring for a while, but I’ll survive. What happened?”
“That.” Gretchen pointed up. A bare spot in the talltree above showed where the branch had broken off. It had fallen onto the bridge and demolished it. A raw stump showed pale wood. Kendi looked down and saw the wreckage of a second bridge. Far below, he could just make out the branch lying on the forest floor. From here looked like a twig.
“I saw the branch start to go,” Gretchen continued, “and shoved you. It almost got me.”
“Kendi!” Keith said behind him. “God, are you—?”
“I’m fine. We’re fine.” Kendi scrambled to his feet, his heart suddenly pounding hard. “All life! Where’s Ben? And Lewa?”
“You’re welcome,” Gretchen said.
Kendi caught sight of Ben and Tan on the other side of the bridge. He waved at them and activated his earpiece.
“I’m all right,” he said before either of them could answer. “Gretchen saved me.”
“I’ll give her a raise,” Tan said. “Wait right there. We’ve already called the Guardians.”
“I can’t breathe,” Ben said. “God, are you sure you’re all right, Kendi? When that branch fell—”
“Don’t go all panicky, Ben,” Kendi said. “Gretchen said she’d protect me and she did. Everything’s fine.”
“Not until I get over there, it isn’t.”
Ben and Tan circled around on another bridge and arrived on Kendi’s platform at about the same time the Guardians did. A mixed crowd gathered in the meantime, but fortunately no one seemed to have been hurt. The lower bridge had been unoccupied when the branch hit. Keith stared over the edge into the hole as if transfixed. Kendi had a sudden fear that Keith was planning to jump and he pulled Keith away.
“We don’t want another accident,” he muttered.
“Why do you have wood chips in your hair?” Keith asked.
“Father Kendi?” It was a Ched-Balaar who wore a blue head cloth on her head and a silver medallion around her neck. Silver for Guardians. “I’m Inspector Ched-Theree. If you and your companions could answer some questions?”
Kendi went off with her alone except for Lewa Tan, who refused to leave his side. Gretchen stayed with Ben. Ched-Theree’s first question, of course, was “What happened?” Kendi explained events as best he could remember, and it was during the retelling that he remembered the chips falling on him from above.
“Our technicians are inspecting the branch and keeping me updated by vocal transmission,” Ched-Theree clattered. “They are nowhere near finished, but they tell me even a novice could see this event was planned. Preliminary examination gives them to think some sort of directional incendiary device cut through the branch.”
“An explosive?” Kendi said.
Ched-Theree ducked her head in acknowledgment. “One whose force went entirely inward, toward the wood. This rendered the explosion nearly silent so you would not hear it and be warned.”
“All life.”
“Furthermore,” Ched-Theree continued, pressing a hand to the side of her head and listening, “the explosive was set off by remote control, not a timer. In other words, your potential killer was watching while it happened.” She paused. “Father Kendi, who knew you would be in this place at this time?”
Kendi’s mouth was dry. “I’m not sure. Me. Ben. Keith. Maybe my sister Martina, if Keith told her. Lewa Tan and Gretchen knew, but I only mentioned it to them just before we headed over. They couldn’t have told anyone in time for them to set up a...a trap like this.”
“We will, of course, speak with Mr. Rymar and Brother Keith,” Ched-Theree said.
“It wasn’t them,” Kendi said hotly.
“They may have spoken to someone about your meeting, Father Kendi,” Ched-Theree said. “And we must speak with all those involved in any case. They may have seen something important.”
“Right.” Kendi rubbed a tired hand across his face.
“The Guardians have been reading the death threats you forward to us,” Ched-Theree continued. “Our psychologists have so far informed us that the senders are ultimately harmless, though we shall certainly look at them more closely. Do you have other enemies, Father?”
“A long list, I’m afraid,” Kendi said ruefully. “I’ve stolen slaves from half the slavers in this part of the galaxy. I’m sure they’d love to see me squashed under something heavy. And I’ve been campaigning for Senator Reza lately, so one of her enemies might want to see me dead. More recently a bunch of us really pissed off a whole truckload of people at Silent Acquisitions when we destroyed one of their pet projects. Maybe they hired an assassin.”
“We can narrow the field,” Tan said, “by taking into account who knew you’d be on that bridge at that particular time. When did you contact Keith to set up the meeting time?”
“Two days ago,” Kendi said. “I sent him a text message and he replied the same way. Ben keeps my messages scrambled better than a chef’s eggs, though, so I can’t imagine anyone would have intercepted my mail.”
“Whom did you tell you were meeting your brother?” Ched-Theree asked again. “Please consider carefully.”
Kendi thought. “No one I haven’t already mentioned. I didn’t even write it on my calendar—just set my message program to remind me of it in case I forgot, which I did.”
Ched-Theree had Kendi go over the events leading up to the attack twice more before Kendi finally begged off, pleading hunger and fatigue.
“Very well,” Ched-Theree said. “I will give you my contact codes. If you remember anything, anything at all, let me know immediately, even if it is the middle of the night.”
To this Kendi agreed. He turned to leave—
—and found himself facing a phalanx of reporters. “Father Kendi, can you comment on what happened here today?” “Father Kendi, was this an assassination attempt?” “Father Kendi, what impact do you think this will have on Senator Reza’s foundering campaign?” “Father Kendi—” “Father Kendi—” “Father Kendi—”
Kendi blinked at them. He had been concentrating so hard on his report to Ched-Theree that he hadn’t even noticed their arrival. A holographic “Keep Out—Guardian Scene” border hastily erected by the uniformed Guardians had kept them out of Kendi’s face, but now they were blocking the only bridge leading away from the crime scene.
“Father Kendi has no comment for you vultures,” Tan bellowed. “Now move it or I’ll move you!”
Gretchen, Keith, and Ben appeared, released by their own inquisitive inspectors, and they joined with Tan to form a wedge that plowed through the crowd with Kendi in the middle. Free-floating microphones buzzed and flitted around his head as the reporters continued calling out questions.
“Father Kendi, who wants to kill you?” “Father Kendi, was this more than just an accident?” “Father Kendi, can you comment on the recent lifting of the mining restrictions?” “Father Kendi—” “Father Kendi—” “Father Kendi—”
Kendi felt his shoulder and neck muscles tighten like screws. He didn’t need this right now. He wanted to shout at them to leave him alone, to stop taking his picture and quit their questions. But he said nothing, forcing himself to move at Tan’s pace. Twice she shoved aside a reporter who refused to give ground. Gretchen, meanwhile, tripped a human and elbowed a Ched-Balaar hard in the ribs. Ben raised a fist to one man, who shied away when he saw the thick muscle in Ben’s upper arm.
Finally they broke free of the crowd. They trotted across a bridge with the reporters in hot pursuit. Once Kendi reached the other side, Tan turned and blocked the end of the bridge. She drew her pistol.
“Go the fuck away,” she growled.
“You won’t shoot us,” one of the front-runners said.
In answer, Tan aimed at one of the four support ropes holding up the bridge. There was a flash of light, and the rope thumped to the wood like a dead snake. The bridge swayed. Tan aimed at a second rope. As one, the reporters turned and fled.
“Nice,” Keith said.
“Let’s move,” Tan said.
“You wouldn’t have cut the bridge out from under them,” Ben said.
Tan shrugged. “The safety net beneath would catch them. One or two would have broken something, I’m sure. Would’ve been fun to see.”
They made it back home without further incident. Harenn was waiting for them, and she gave Kendi an uncharacteristic hug.
“The story has already flooded the newsfeeds,” she said. “I am glad to see you well.”
“Someone got the whole thing on holo,” Bedj-ka reported. “It was rigid! Gretchen shoved you aside just like an action hero!”
“Wait until the sim-game comes out, kid,” Gretchen said. “I get to be a fighter and a lover.”
“Someone got it on holo?” Kendi asked. “Who?”
“Some woman who happened to be taking images of her kids,” Bedj-ka said. “It was—”
“Can you show it to me?” Kendi said. “It might have a clue.”
This hadn’t occurred to Bedj-ka. He scampered over to the coffee table and snatched up his data pad like a wriggling puppy that had just discovered a way to please its master. A few taps brought up a newsfeed hologram.
The image was wobbly, clearly amateur. Two human children, age four or five, both blond with green eyes, waved at a camera. Kendi saw himself in the background starting to cross the bridge. Gretchen came a few paces behind. Keith stood on the other side with his back to Kendi and his hands in his pockets. The little boy reached behind his sister’s head and made a rude gesture. A female voice from behind the camera admonished him. Kendi reached the halfway point of the bridge, and a flash of light flared from the talltree just above and behind him. Gretchen glanced upward and flung herself forward at Kendi, who was just noticing the shower of wood chips. The heavy branch above was already falling. Gretchen connected, and both she and Kendi went flying. Kendi landed on the platform beyond the bridge just as the branch crashed like a falling giant onto the bridge. It plunged downward out of sight without even slowing. The safety net beneath was ripped to shreds like an old spiderweb. Screams erupted all around the shopping area. Gretchen was lying with the lower half her body on the bridge as it collapsed, and she scrabbled madly at the platform to avoid following the branch down to the forest floor. Kendi turned, looking dazed, saw Gretchen, and pulled her to safety. The holo ended. A newscaster appeared and went into a report about a monk who had gone missing and left a suicide note. The Guardians were searching for the body. Kendi switched it off.
“We have to send that recording to Inspector Ched-Theree,” Ben said. “If she hasn’t seen it already.”
Kendi reset the recording and watched it again. This time he scanned the crowd, looking for familiar faces. The boy and girl, unfortunately, were much the way, and once the tree branch fell, the view became even more wobbly as the woman behind the camera became agitated. Maybe the Guardians would see something. He sent a copy to Inspector Ched-Theree and watched the holo one more time. And once more. Then one more time again.
Eventually Ben and Harenn dragged him away and forced him to eat something. Keith had gone home. Tan announced that she wanted to look at the recording and absconded with the data pad after shooting Ben a pointed look. Ben plunked down on the sofa next to Kendi, who raised his hands.
“I surrender,” he said.
“Surrender?”
“Lewa wants you to distract me from staring at the holo too much. I’m no match for the pair of you, so I surrender.” He rolled his head. “And I’m getting a crick in my neck. That, in case you missed it, was a hint.”
Ben gave a lopsided grin and reached around to massage Kendi’s neck with warm hands. “Let the Guardians and the police handle this one,” he said. “It’s their job, not yours. Lewa, Gretchen, and I will keep you safe, all right?”
His hands moved lower over Kendi’s back and Kendi felt his muscles turning to butter. “All right. But wouldn’t it be better to do this where I could lie down?”
In the bedroom, Ben continued working on Kendi’s tense body. He groaned under Ben’s talented hands and felt his worries ease. Other people could handle the problems. He didn’t have to solve everything personally. Maybe just for today he could let everything slide and in the morning everything would look better.
oOo
In the morning, Wanda Petrie stormed into the house before Ben and Kendi could even finish breakfast. Her clothes were wrinkled and her hair looked windblown, as if she had flown in through a hurricane.
“It wasn’t her fault,” she burst out. “God, she didn’t even know.”
“Who didn’t know what?” Kendi asked. Tension snapped his muscles taut again. “Wanda, calm down. You aren’t making sense.”
“Have some tea,” Ben said, emptying the morning pot into a clean cup. “It’s raspberry.”
“Thank you.” Petrie gulped down a mouthful and visibly composed herself. “Foxglove is going to break the news this afternoon. It turns out...turns out...god, I can’t even say it.”
“What, for heaven’s sake?” Kendi said. “Just blurt it out.”
“One of the Senator’s primary contributors has connections with a known crime syndicate,” Petrie said. Her eyes were rimmed with red. “It’s as if she’s been taking money from gangsters. God, we had no idea. None!”
“Shit,” Ben said. “Grandma knows crooks?”
“That’s the whole point, Ben—she didn’t know. Do you think if we had any inkling that we’d’ve taken the contribution? But it’s too late.”
“Who is it?” Kendi asked.
“A man named Willen Yaraye. He’s been brought up on charges of racketeering, embezzlement, money laundering, and half a dozen other ‘enterprises.’ We’ve been up all night trying to deal with it. I had to get away for a while and found myself at your doorstep.” She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped her face with it. “There isn’t really anything the two of you can do, I’m afraid. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”
“We needed to know,” Kendi said, “and you needed to unload. Look, this Yaraye bloke has only been charged. He may not be guilty.”
“Oh, he’s guilty all right.” Petrie blew her nose. “The Senator used her connections to get information on the prosecution’s case and there’s no doubt. It’ll be a long, nasty trial, and you may be sure that the Senator will be dragged through it. There’s already talk of investigating her campaign as a money laundering organization.”
“Has it been used that way?” Kendi asked. “The truth, please.”
Petrie shook her head. “Not that I know of. Yaraye made his donations, ate at several fund-raising dinners, attended a few parties, and that was the end of the Senator’s involvement with him. In retrospect I think he was using her to make connections with other government officials. God, this is disaster!”
“What about the news about Silent children coming back into the Dream?” Ben asked. “Once Grandma reveals that, no one’ll even remember something as petty as a crooked donor.”
“We’ve talked about that,” Petrie said. “And the Senator thinks the same way. That’s why she’s decided to break the news today instead of tomorrow. We aren’t fully prepared, but we’ve no other choice.” She sighed and gave Ben a wan smile. “And if that doesn’t restore her, I suppose I still have a trick or two left.”
“How did you learn all this publicity stuff, anyway?” Kendi asked curiously. “Bellerophon hasn’t had a gubernatorial election since it joined the Independence Confederation.”
“Research,” she said succinctly. “Lots and lots of research. And I seem to have a talent for publicity. I love doing it. Or I did.”
Ben patted her hand. “It’ll be fine. The Silent children will wipe out everyone’s objections, you watch.”
“They’d better. Otherwise we’re sunk. And I can’t let her lose. I won’t let her lose.” Petrie drained her cup and rose. “Thanks for listening, gentlemen. Watch the feeds today. We’re going to make history.”
And she left. Kendi flung himself backward against his chair. “What a start to the day. If I ever complain about being bored, I want you to slap me hard.”
“Want to go over to Grandma’s house to watch the feeds?” Ben said. “It’ll be more interesting. Lewa will like it—more guards over there.”
Kendi shrugged. “Sure. Do you think there’ll be food involved? The cupboards are empty again.”
oOo
Sister Reeta Gerrold checked her fingernail for the time, swore, and tried to hurry. It would be the third time this week if she were late, and although there was no way she could be fired, it wasn’t fair to the others coming off-shift. She rounded a corner and came to a halt. The double-wide walkway over to the monastery’s main communication building was crammed with demonstrators, both human and Ched-Balaar. Signs bobbed up and down. CHED-PIRASKU 1! CHED-BALAAR SUPPORT CHED-PIRASKU! ONE PLANET, ONE PEOPLE! IRFAN CALLED FOR MODERATION!
“Shit,” she said. “How am I going to get through all that?”
At the forefront of the demonstration stood a dark-haired man. He was leading a chant for the humans while the Ched-Balaar in the crowd provided percussion. Reeta made an exasperated noise. She had to get in to work. As one of the few Silent Children left, she helped keep the monastery afloat, if only barely. Now these idiots were—
Something thumped against the back of her neck. Reeta turned and caught a glimpse of a blond woman before the drug took effect and the political chants faded into darkness.
oOo
Salman’s house was a beehive when Kendi and Ben arrived with Tan and Gretchen in tow. People rushed in and out carrying packages and data pads. A harried-looking house servant showed them in and Salman immediately set them to work assembling “personal” messages to send the other campaign donors.
“You’ll be earning your lunch,” she said. “And don’t stray to far, Kendi Weaver. I’ll need you close by as my confirmation when I make my speech this evening about the children. Petrie will brief you on what to say.”
Kendi almost made a smart remark, then changed his mind. Salman’s face was lined and heavy, as if the earth itself were dragging at her. Rather than add to her tension, he merely smiled and nodded.
Once she was out of earshot, Ben said, “Sorry. I should’ve realized it wouldn’t be interesting in a good way.”
“I’ll collect later,” Kendi said wryly.
The house was filled with noise. Data pads chimed, people chattered, and Ched-Balaar clattered. Servants dashed around handing out snacks and drinks. Kendi found a quiet corner where he and Ben could work on Salman’s messages. A few hours later, two servants set up a food table. Everyone filled plates or trenchers, depending upon species, but none of them paused in their working to eat. Kendi alternated computer work with bites of sandwich.
“He is on now,” Ched-Mulaar announced. Kendi turned in time to see a giant hologram of Mitchell Foxglove pop up in the center of the enormous living room. The noise stopped and everyone watched. Kendi swallowed a bite of bread and ham.
“It has come to my attention,” Foxglove said, “that a human named Willen Yaraye has been arrested on several charges relating to organized crime. This in itself is a remarkable event—Bellerophon was not known for its organized crime before the Despair. But more remarkable still is the fact that this alleged criminal has donated hundreds of thousands of freemarks to the campaign of my worthy opponent, Senator Salman Reza.”
Across the room, Salman closed her eyes, then opened them and set her mouth hard.
“I want it known here and now,” Foxglove continued, “that the charges against Mr. Yaraye have not yet been proven and I would not in any way want the fact that he donated heavily to Senator Reza to besmirch her campaign. The charges may be mistaken or false, and even if they are true, it doesn’t necessarily follow that the Senator knew anything about his alleged criminal dealings. After all, it takes a lot of time to run a major campaign, and Senator Reza couldn’t possibly follow everything that happens right under her nose.”
“Bastard,” spat Petrie. “He’s damning the Senator with praise. He knows the media will crucify her while his mealy-mouthed words make him sound like he tried to stop them.”
“Shush!” Salman said.
“However, I don’t come before you today with nothing but bad news,” Foxglove said with a wide smile. “I have great and wonderful news as well. I’m sure everyone will be happy to hear that—yes, it’s absolutely true—that Silent children are once again entering the Dream.”