“The greater the joy, the worse the despair.”
—Daniel Vik
The main conference room of Dallay, Muskin, and Kared was furnished with dark talltree wood, a hand-woven rug with blue designs on it, and padded conference chairs around a long table. Kendi sat between Ben and Harenn, trying to keep his temper under control.
“Explain their case,” he said tightly to Nick Dallay, who sat on the other side of the table next to Ched-Muskin, a distinguished-looking Ched-Balaar with silver-gray fur and a neat head scarf in muted green.
“The Church of Irfan has legal jurisdiction over all orphans,” Dallay said. “Their lawyers claim that the embryos Mother Ara found should have been immediately turned over to the Church, and the Church is now suing for its rightful custody.”
“Custody over what, exactly?” Ben asked.
“The remaining embryos and the babies Ms. Mashib and Ms. dePaolo carry.”
“That’s stupid!” Kendi burst out. “How can they call that a case? The babies have parents—Ben and me and Lucia and Harenn. They aren’t orphans.”
“They’re claiming that because the Church should have had custody of the embryos, it is by extension granted custody of the...young people,” Ched-Muskin clattered, unwilling to say the word baby.
“Never!” Harenn spat. “I will not lose a second child. They will have to kill me first.”
“Exactly what does the law say about the status of unborn embryos?” Ben asked.
“It’s murky,” Dallay sighed. “Decided case by case. And that’s what the Church is basing their arguments on. If the embryos are considered living children but have no parents of record—and in this case we know the parents are definitely deceased—they must be classified as orphans and handed over to the Church. If the embryos are considered property, they are salvage and rightly belong to the Children of Irfan, since Mother Ara found them while on a Child mission. That would mean Mr. Rymar, however unwittingly, stole them, and they must be returned.”
“What a crock of shit!” Kendi exploded. “I can’t believe you would—”
“I didn’t say I agreed with them, Father,” Dallay said. “These are just their arguments. We have our own side—that the embryos and the babies have a living relative in Mr. Rymar, and his custody overrides the Church’s, that the Children were clearly uninterested in the embryos and failed to claim them after Grandfather Melthine’s death, and that it would be cruel and unfair to separate these children from their parents.”
“I do not suppose,” Ched-Muskin said, “that you filed any adoption papers on behalf of the young ones?”
Ben shook his head. “It didn’t even cross my mind. God, do you think they have a chance of winning?”
“We argued for a dismissal, of course,” Dallay said, “but the judge denied it. We could have pushed for a jury trial, but we would, in all likelihood, have Ched-Balaar on the jury, and they would be likely to decide hastily on a case involving a taboo subject like children. The same would go for a Ched-Balaar judge. We moved for a simple hearing before a human judge, and we got it. That’s the good news.”
“And the bad?” Kendi asked.
“Because Ms. Mashib is due at any moment, the Church moved for a speedy trial and got it,” Ched-Muskin said. “This means we have less time to prepare, and you may be certain the opposition has been preparing since Mr. Rymar’s first press conference.”
“Wait a moment,” Harenn said. “You said that if the embryos are classified as property, they are salvage and should be returned to the Children of Irfan. The Church cannot sue Ben for harm suffered by the Children of Irfan. The Church can only sue Ben for harm he has done to the Church. All we need do is persuade a judge to call the embryos property, and the Church no longer has a case.”
“Normally this would be true,” Dallay said. “Except the Church is affiliated with the Children. The Council of Irfan has granted the Church the power to sue in their name.”
“Grandmother Pyori is behind this?” Kendi sputtered. “I can’t believe it!”
Ben said, “So what can we—”
The door opened and Lucia entered. She was entering her third trimester, and her steps were slow and measured.
“Lucia!” Kendi said. “Where have you been? And what the hell do you mean by—”
“I had nothing to do with the lawsuit,” Lucia replied in her usual calm, serene tones. “You know me better than that, Kendi. I have been talking with people in my Church, trying to find out what they mean by all this.”
“That was unwise,” Ched-Muskin said. “You are involved in this lawsuit, and anything you said could be used in court.”
“I have recordings of it all,” Lucia said. “And I was careful to say as little as possible. Do you want to hear what I learned?”
“Go,” Ben said tightly.
“The Church is divided. Many members see this for what it is—a chance to grab power and prestige through Irfan’s progeny. A fair number want nothing to do with Ben or the babies because they are also the children of the evil Daniel Vik. Grandfather Ched-Jubil is the head of the Church, and he also serves on the Council of Irfan. He is the primary proponent of the lawsuit and he persuaded Grandmother Adept Pyori.”
Kendi started to speak, then shot a glance at Dallay and Ched-Muskin and shut his mouth. The legal team probably wouldn’t sanction what he wanted to do next, so he kept it to himself.
“What’s the next step, then?” Ben asked.
“The first is for me to ask an official question,” Dallay said. “Do you wish to accede to the Church’s demand that you relinquish custody of your unborn children and the embryos?”
“No!” said everyone in the room at once.
“In anticipation of your answer,” Ched-Muskin said, “we have begun preparing a defense. This includes readying each of you to enter the witness cage and testify. The hearings begin in four days, so the sooner we begin, the better.”
oOo
Kendi strode through the wide corridors of the Marissa Rid Building, which housed the main administrative offices for high-level Children of Irfan. In his days as an Initiate and a Brother, he had secretly found the place intimidating, with its perfectly-polished floors, stone sculptures, and oil paintings of wise-looking Grandparent Adepts. After the Despair, however, he had spent a great deal of time here and the building had lost its awe factor. The place also had a shabby air these days. The floors hadn’t been waxed in quite some time and several statues were missing, perhaps sold. The windows showed grime.
Kendi strode through a set of double doors, past the Sister who tried to bar his way, and straight into the office of Grandmother Adept Pyori. Grandmother Adept looked like a grandmother—white-haired, wrinkled, and slightly plump. She closed watery blue eyes as Kendi slammed the doors behind him. He didn’t make the traditional fingertips-to-forehead salute.
“I was wondering when you would come,” Pyori said.
“What’s going on, Grandmother?” Kendi growled. “I want to hear it from you. No lawyers, no judges. Just you.”
“Liza,” Pyori said, addressing her computer, “are any recording devices present in this room?”
“There are none,” the computer replied.
“You’ll pardon if I don’t take your word for it,” Kendi said. “I’ve been burned by this before.” He took a scanner from the pocket of his tunic, checked for himself, and nodded. “This monastery owes me everything, Pyori. Every. Goddammed. Thing. Why are you doing this?”
Pyori got up and went to the window, which showed only gray rain. It struck Kendi as a prosaic gesture. Everyone, it seemed, stared out a window when they had to talk about something difficult.
“Ched-Jubil’s arguments are well-reasoned,” she began, “but they—”
“They’re bullshit,” Kendi interrupted. “The Church didn’t care one shred about those babies until they turned out to be—”
“If you want me to explain, you need to be silent,” Pyori snapped back. Kendi ground his teeth and obeyed. “As I was saying, Ched-Jubil’s arguments did not convince me entirely, though they convinced half the Council. The other Councilors believe Ched-Jubil is motivated by self-interest and greed.”
“Leaving yours the tie-breaking vote,” Kendi said softly. “So what do you believe?”
Pyori continued to stare out the window, refusing to meet his gaze. “We’re bankrupt, Kendi. Our few working Silent can’t keep us solvent anymore. Next week we have to announce we’re terminating all our remaining lay employees and that we can no longer pay stipends to the Children. We’ve gained a lot of new Initiates now that the younglings are entering the Dream, but they won’t be ready for communication work for a few years yet. We’re broke.”
“The government won’t bail you out?” Kendi said, shocked to the core. “What about a loan? The Children have been the center of Bellerophon’s commerce since the founding.”
“We’ve asked,” Pyori said. “Mitchell Foxglove opposes the idea, and he’s talked a lot of Senators into agreeing with him. They’ve stalled the legislation for so long, it won’t do us any good. Bellerophon has its mines and tree-farms now.”
Kendi stared. It didn’t seem possible. The Children had always been wealthy, able to scatter a fleet of slipships across the galaxy and pay outrageous prices to set Silent slaves free. Kendi had spent their money like water. Now Pyori was telling him the well had run dry.
Other issues, however, took precedence. “I hope you aren’t looking for sympathy from me,” he said. “Right now I’m waffling between loathing and disgust. What would Irfan say about this?”
Pyori’s body shuddered at his words, as if they were physical blows. “I don’t want to hurt you and Ben,” she said. “But...if the Church or the monastery had custody of Irfan’s true children, we could attract the interest of off-planet investors, something we can’t do in our current position. The media attention can also be milked for cash. I know it sounds cold-hearted. Perhaps it is. But it will save thousands and thousands of families from homelessness and hunger.”
“At the price of destroying mine,” Kendi spat.
Pyori said nothing. Kendi turned and left.
oOo
His Eminence Judge Nutan Prakash called the court to order and everyone sat. The audience portion of the courtroom was nearly empty—Prakash had barred the feeds. Kendi, Ben, Harenn, and Lucia sat with Ched-Muskin and Nick Dallay at the defendant’s table. Ched-Jubil crouched alone behind the plaintiff’s. Kendi’s heart pounded and his hands were slick with sweat. On a table in front of the bench sat the star-shaped cryo-unit, lights winking with machine-like serenity.
“I’d like to remind counsel that this is a hearing, not a trial,” Prakash said. “I don’t want grandstanding or powerful oratory. I know the basic facts of the case, so you don’t need to explain them to me. Let’s keep it straightforward and simple. Grandfather Ched-Jubil, I understand you are representing the Church?”
“I am, Eminence,” Ched-Jubil said. He was big, even for a Ched-Balaar, and possessed a silky-looking, night-black coat of fur.
“Then state your case.”
Ched-Jubil rose. Kendi flicked a glance at him, then stared carefully forward. If he looked at Ched-Jubil for any length of time, he got so angry he felt he would erupt like a boiling geyser.
“Your Eminence,” Ched-Jubil clattered, “the Church of Irfan is rightly and legally awarded custody of any orphaned children on Bellerophon.”
Kendi snuck a startled glance at Ched-Jubil. He had actually used the word children. Of course, it would have been hard to argue this case using circumlocution. Ched-Jubil went on to explain the Church’s arguments as Dallay had outlined them to Kendi and Ben three days ago. Beside Kendi, Ben sat still as a statue. Harenn and Lucia shifted now and again, trying to find comfortable positions in their chairs. Would the children they carried come home to him and Ben? Or would they end up wards of the Church? If that happened, who would be their parents? Who would take care of them and play with them and love them? Kendi swallowed to keep his throat from closing.
Prakash’s face remained impassive during Ched-Jubil’s speech, and Kendi would have given his Silence to know what the judge was thinking. At last Ched-Jubil finished, and Prakash motioned at Dallay.
“Counselor,” Prakash said. “It’s your turn.”
“Your Eminence,” Dallay began, “although the defense respects Ched-Jubil’s careful arguments, we maintain they are without merit. We move for a dismissal.”
“Denied,” Prakash intoned, as Dallay had said he would. “Continue, Counselor.”
“Eminence, the babies Ms. Mashib and Ms. dePaolo carry can hardly be called property. Slavery has never been legal on Bellerophon. This means they must be classified as children. You can see with your own eyes that they have mothers, and later we will produce documents that prove Mr. Rymar and Father Kendi are their fathers of record. Mr. Rymar is also related to the children. He is their brother, and there are hundreds of legal precedences granting custody of children to relatives other than parents.
“My colleague has also argued that the embryos are stolen property. Ched-Jubil is obviously trying to preserve the log and eat the grubs inside. Either the embryos are children or they are property. However, I will answer his arguments. If the embryos are children, they should go to their nearest living relative—Mr. Rymar. If the embryos are property, they clearly qualify as a case of laches. Legal precedence clearly states that valueless property which is lost or stolen, and then somehow increases in value cannot be held up as valuable to the original owner just because the new owner has found value for it.
“In other words, Eminence, the embryos had no intrinsic value to the Children of Irfan for a long time. Grandfather Melthine made no secret of this fact. Just because Mr. Rymar and Father Kendi discovered the embryos’ value after Mr. Rymar removed them from Grandfather Melthine’s home doesn’t mean the law can treat them as if they had always been valuable and desirable. Because the Children of Irfan and the Church didn’t bother to try to get the embryos back before they were discovered to be Irfan’s issue, they relinquished all right to them. They can’t claim to have a right to them now.”
Dallay paused meaningfully. “The case is clear, your Eminence. Once again, I must move for dismissal.”
“Denied,” Prakash said, and Kendi let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. It had been a slim hope, but a hope nonetheless. “Ched-Jubil, call your first witness.”
The hearing continued. Ched-Jubil called up legal experts, medical experts, Church officials, and members of the Council of Irfan. Dallay cross-examined. Sometimes he managed to discredit them, sometimes not. Prakash stayed true to his word and cut several of the longer-winded witnesses off. By the end of the business day, Ched-Jubil had not presented his closing arguments and Prakash declared a recess until the morning.
The moment Kendi, Ben, Harenn, and Lucia got home, a small crowd descended upon them. Keith, Martina, Bedj-ka, and Salman all talked at once, demanding to know how it went. Gretchen and Tan watched in the background.
“The transcripts aren’t available yet,” Salman said over the noise, “and we haven’t heard a thing.”
“I need a shower,” Ben said, and strode for the bathroom. “I feel filthy.”
“Oh dear,” Martina said. “It didn’t go well?”
Feeling suddenly exhausted, Kendi sank to the sofa. “It’s hard to tell. Right now Ched-Jubil is having his say, so yeah, things look bad.”
“He’s an asshole,” Bedj-ka said.
“Language,” Harenn said, but the rebuke was half-hearted.
“You have a lot of public support,” Salman said, patting his hand. “That probably doesn’t make you feel any better, but it’s true nonetheless.”
“I’ve had it with the public, Grandma,” Kendi said, feeling every iota of gravity pull at muscle and bone. “I’m sick of being in the public eye. I’m sick of the whole thing. I just want to enjoy being a dad, but I’m worried and scared all the time.”
“Welcome to my world,” Keith grumbled, but no one paid attention.
oOo
Ched-Jubil spent the rest of the following day with witnesses and further arguments. At last, with perhaps an hour to go, he made his final statement. He said nothing new, and Kendi spent his time trying unsuccessfully reading the judge’s face. The third day belonged to Dallay. He stood straight and tall before the bench and called his first witness, a legal expert on medical law. Several other witnesses took the stand as well before Dallay finally called Lucia, followed by Harenn, who seemed to fill the witness cage with her enormous belly.
On the fourth day, Dallay called Kendi to the stand, and finally Ben. Two more experts testified, and Dallay gave his closing arguments.
“I can’t find any way to make it clearer, Eminence,” Dallay finished. “We have proven beyond the tiniest shadow of a doubt that the babies and the embryos belong with their parents Benjamin Rymar, Kendi Weaver, Harenn Mashib, and Lucia dePaolo. Thank you.”
Dallay sat down and Prakash spent several moments looking at his datapad. Kendi held his breath again.
“I will have my decision in the morning,” Prakash said in a flat voice. “Adjourned.”
Neither Kendi nor Ben slept well that night. Kendi barely managed a light doze filled with dreams of crying children being ripped from his arms. And then he couldn’t find Ben anywhere. He was alone in the Dream, trapped in dolphin form and trying to swim in water thick and heavy as gelatin. He woke alone, with the covers twisted around his body. Outside, dim light filtered through the talltree leaves. Ben was sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. Dark circles made heavy rings under his eyes and his hair was dull and lackluster as a dying sun.
“I don’t know if I can go, Ken,” he said thickly. “I can’t even stand up. The judge is going to take away our kids, I know it. I won’t have anything left.”
Kendi sat on the floor next to him. “You’ll have me. No judge can take me away.”
The mood was somber as everyone took their seats in the courtroom. Prakash looked out across the bench, his face impassive. The silent, stuffy courtroom was filled to capacity—the feeds were allowed access for a decision. Martina, Keith, Bedj-ka, and Salman were all present. Harenn was looking particularly uncomfortable in her defendant’s chair, but she waved away offers of food or drink. Kendi was so tense, he felt he would snap in two. “n ice-cold hand—Ben’s—stole into his and squeezed.
“This was no easy decision,” Prakash said. “Even after a thousand years of debate, we can’t easily classify human issue as property or as a sentient life, and so we move on a case-by-case basis. I’m not going to summarize the arguments again or my reasoning—you can read them in the transcripts.” He took a deep breath and Kendi thought his heart would stop. “The court finds that the Irfan embryos are and have always been the property of the Children of Irfan, and it grants that organization immediate ownership. The children carried by Harenn Mashib and Lucia dePaolo were implanted illegally and without the permission of their owners. The court therefore declares them orphans and awards custody to the Church of Irfan. So be it.”
The courtroom erupted in a storm of voices. Judge Prakash exited quickly. Kendi stared at the empty bench, stunned. His mind refused to work. With a few words, one man had brought down Kendi’s entire world. The children—his children—would be taken away from him. From his family. His whole body felt cold, and his hand hurt. Kendi looked down. Ben was squeezing so hard both their knuckles were white.
“Ben, that hurts,” Kendi said over the noise, and Ben let go. His face was devoid of all expression, but his body was trembling.
“Bastard!” Lucia shouted after the judge.
“We’ll appeal,” Dallay said. “It’s not over yet.” But Kendi barely heard. He watched Ched-Jubil exit the courtroom through a side door with the cryo-unit, and he had never wanted to kill anyone as much as he wanted to kill that single Ched-Balaar.
The reporters, meanwhile, formed themselves into a seething mass, but the bailiffs kept them away from the defendant’s table.
“We have to get out of here,” Harenn said. Her brown face was pale. “Now. It’s broken.”
“The case?” Kendi said stupidly.
“My water,” Harenn said. “I am in labor.”
oOo
“n officer of the court followed them to the medical center. A small platoon of police officers worked hard to keep the reporters out, and Harenn was given a private birthing room for greater security. Tan and Gretchen stood outside the door. The officer of the court, a short blond woman, tried to enter, but Harenn ordered her out.
“I will not allow the thief who steals my child to watch the birth,” she barked, and Tan firmly escorted the woman away. Ben watched her go, hating her, hating Prakash, hating the entire damned world. This was supposed to be a joyous occasion, the birth of his first child. He wanted to wrap his fingers around Petrie’s neck and squeeze until her eyes popped out. She had destroyed his family to get her petty revenge against Foxglove.
Lucia took a seat near the bed. The birthing room was meant to be cozy, with a warm wood floor, armchairs, bright curtains at the windows, and flowers on the shelves. A pair of nurses prepped Harenn by helping her into a hospital robe and affixing a small blue patch to her forehead.
“This will prevent the contractions from feeling painful,” the first nurse explained. “Dr. McCall will be in shortly to see you.”
Kendi took up a position on the side of the bed opposite Lucia. Ben trembled. He felt like he was going to sick. He felt like he was going to fly apart. He felt like he was going to die. He glanced at the door and wondered what would happen if he grabbed the baby after it was born and fled. As if he’d get more than ten steps outside the medical center without tripping over a reporter.
“How do you feel?” Kendi asked.
“Physically I feel perfectly fine,” Harenn said. “You may guess about the rest.”
“I can’t believe the judge ruled against us,” Lucia said, rubbing her hands over her belly. “How could he be so cruel? I feel like Irfan has deserted us.”
“Your Church would say it’s Irfan’s will,” Kendi snapped. Then he exhaled hard. “I’m sorry, Lucia. That just popped out.”
“I want nothing more to do with them,” Lucia said. “Never again.”
Harenn sucked in a gentle breath.
“What’s wrong?” Kendi asked.
“Just a contraction,” Harenn said. “A small one. It will be three or four hours yet.”
“Perhaps I should judge that,” said Dr. McCall from the doorway. “How long have you been having contractions, Ms. Mashib?”
“Since early this morning,” Harenn said. “I did not want to miss the trial, however.”
McCall’s round face hardened. “I heard about the ruling. It was an abomination.” She ran a scanner over Harenn’s abdomen. “You’re dilated to three centimeters already. Moving along quickly.”
“Bedj-ka’s birth was the same,” Harenn said.
“I’m guessing you’ll be able to start pushing in about three and a half hours,” McCall said. “I’ll check back.”
A silence fell over the room when she left. Ben could barely breathe. It was as if the gravity in the room had doubled, grinding him to the floor. He looked at Harenn. Soon she would give birth to the child he had been awaiting for a months—years. He remembered being a child and pretending the embryos were sleeping playmates, boys and girls who would understand him and like him for who he was. He remembered the joy he had felt when Kendi had agreed to raise children with him and the surprised elation when Harenn and Lucia had unexpectedly volunteered to carry two of the babies to term. All that joy turned to crushing despair.
“Why?” he whispered. “Why are they doing this to us?”
Kendi moved toward the door. “I have to get out of here,” he said. “I have to go.”
Ben couldn’t even summon the energy to ask where Kendi was going. He leaned against the windowsill and watched Harenn, trying to disconnect himself. The baby was going to live somewhere else. It wasn’t his anymore. He wouldn’t ever hold it. No diapers to change, no midnight feedings, no screaming, no tantrums, no silly noises, no first steps, no first day of school, no—
Just no.
The minutes dragged by, and Harenn’s contractions came closer and closer. Kendi didn’t return, and Ben’s calls to him went unanswered. He was probably hiding, waiting until it was over so he wouldn’t have to watch. Ben wished he could do the same—hide his head and not look until it was all over. He wanted to resent Kendi abandoning him and the others like this, but that would take too much energy. Whenever Ben left the birthing room, he saw the officer of the court sitting in a waiting room up the hallway. One time he stopped and spoke to her.
“Do you enjoy stealing children?” he asked.
She didn’t answer. Ben noticed a diaper bag full of baby supplies on the floor next to her, and the rage he had been holding back suddenly boiled out of him in an unstoppable flow.
“You’re a bitch,” he snarled at her. “A child-stealing, family-wrecking, fascist bitch. What kind of filthy, putrid person could steal a baby from its rightful family?”
The woman didn’t move, though her jaw trembled slightly. A muted holo-display in the corner showed an image of a reporter talking in front of the courthouse. Ben didn’t have to guess what the story he was covering.
“I hope they pay you good money for ruining my life and the life of my child,” Ben said relentlessly. “You’re not even good enough to rot in hell.”
A hand touched his arm. “Ben,” Gretchen said in an uncharacteristically gentle tone, “why don’t you come away? She’s just doing her job. If it weren’t her, it’d be someone else.”
“Slavers say the same thing,” Ben snapped.
“Dr. McCall says Harenn is ready to push,” Gretchen said. “Come on. You’ll miss it.”
Ben spat on the floor near the officer’s feet and strode from the room. He thought he heard a small choked sob behind him, but didn’t pause to find out for sure.
In the birthing room, Dr. McCall was already in position to receive the baby. Ben quickly ran his hands under the sterilizer’s red light and stood beside her. Harenn lay on the bed holding Lucia’s hand, her face screwed up in concentration. Kendi was nowhere to be seen.
“And push,” McCall said.
Harenn let out a soft sigh as a ripple crossed her bare abdomen.
“Good!” McCall said. “I can see the top of the baby’s head.”
Ben wanted to be excited, tried to be. Failed.
“Is Kendi out there?” Lucia asked. “He’s going to miss the birth.”
“I’m here,” Kendi said, striding into the room. He carried his datapad with him.
“Where have you been?” Harenn panted.
“Busy,” Kendi said with a weak smile. “Is the cow ready?”
“The cow was ready a month ago,” Harenn said.
“Push,” McCall said. “And push!...Here it comes!” A moment later, Dr. McCall held up a bloody, slippery baby. It cried angrily. “It’s a boy!”
“I want to hold him,” Harenn said. “Before they take him away.”
“Are you sure?” McCall said. “It’ll only make it—”
“Give him to her,” Kendi ordered. Tears stood in his eyes, and Ben realized his own eyes were wet. McCall wrapped the baby in a blanket and handed him to Harenn. Ben, Kendi, and Lucia gathered around to see. The baby calmed down once he was in Harenn’s arms and he opened his eyes. They were blue, like Ben’s. A faint fuzz of blond hair covered his head.
“His name is Evan,” Ben said around the lump in his throat. “Evan Weaver.”
“Don’t,” Lucia choked. “Don’t name him. It’ll only make it worse when—”
“I’m afraid I have to take the baby now,” said the officer of the court from the doorway. “By order of the—”
“No,” Kendi said, barring her way. “You won’t take Evan anywhere. He’s our son and he will stay with us.”
“I’m sorry, Father Weaver,” the woman said. “I don’t want to do this, believe me, but—”
“I have legal documents from the Children of Irfan,” Kendi interrupted. He brandished the datapad and brought up a text file. “The Council has granted Ben and Harenn and me permanent adoptive custody of Evan. The same goes for Lucia’s baby and the embryos.”
Hope exploded through Ben. “What? When?”
“Just now,” Kendi said. “I spent the last three hours arranging it.”
“I need to see those,” the woman said, taking the pad from Kendi. She read for a moment, then wrinkled her forehead. “This isn’t official yet. It says Mr. Rymar has to sign the attached agreement.”
“What is it?” Ben asked. “I’ll sign it, whatever it is.”
Kendi faced him. “I’m sorry, Ben. It was the best I could do.”
“Sorry?” Ben echoed. Dread stole over him. “What do you mean? What’s it say?”
“The Council agreed to make the Church grant us custody,” Kendi said. “But only if you join the Children of Irfan as the Offspring.”
“Oh god.” Ben backed away. Behind him, Evan started to cry again.
“I used every bit of influence I have,” Kendi said. “Grandmother Pyori said her main concern—her only concern—is to save the Children from bankruptcy. She said you can do that just as easily as the babies can. It was either them or you.”
“A deal with the devil,” Ben said.
“Or Daniel Vik,” Lucia said.
“The Children are not the devil,” Kendi said. “But it is a lifetime contract.”
Ben hesitated less than a second. He pressed his thumb to the datapad in the officer’s hand. It beeped once in acknowledgment.
“The babies are yours, Mr. Rymar,” the officer said. “I’m glad.” And she left before anyone could respond. Ben felt a momentary twinge of guilt about the things he had said to her. Then he turned to watch Harenn nurse his son, and his heart overflowed.
oOo
“Whoozawiddiewuddyden? Whoozabigboy?”
Kendi poked his head into the nursery. Gretchen was leaning over the crib, making faces and cooing at Evan. It was one of the few times when no one was holding the baby. For the last three days Evan had been steadily passed from one person to the next, barely set down long enough for diaper changes. Ben, Harenn, and Kendi held him the most, of course, but Lucia, Bedj-ka, Martina, and even Keith had all taken their turns. Mysteriously, Evan always ended up in the hands of his fathers when his diaper needed changing, but Kendi didn’t mind. Not yet, anyway.
“Amazing how babies soften even the most hardened adult into putty,” Kendi remarked.
Gretchen ignored him. “Wuzzawuzzabigboy,” she said. “Whoozerauntiegretchenden?”
Kendi joined her at the crib. Evan stared up at both of them with enormous blue eyes and a solemn face that came straight out of the holograms and pictures Kendi had seen of Ben as a baby. It seemed both strange and completely natural to have this baby in his life, this infant that carried Kendi’s own childhood name. Unlike adults friends and family, Evan never left. He was always somewhere in the house, and he always needed something—a diaper change, feeding, burping, cuddling. It had only been three days, and already the entire house revolved around him. Kendi found himself willing to do nothing but stare at Evan for hours on end. It was weird. But he liked it.
“We can’t really say he looks like you, Kendi” said Keith, also entering the room.
Kendi put his dark hand on the fair skin of Evan’s forehead. “Nope. He looks like his daddy. I’ll just have to make sure he acts like me.”
“So how many people have been asking for publicity photos of this kid?” Keith asked.
“Only every single reporter on every single feed. They can get stuffed, far as I’m concerned.”
“What’s the latest on the move to the new house?” Gretchen asked.
“We’re hoping for next month,” Kendi said, still looking down at Evan. “It’ll be spring by then, and the rains will have stopped.”
“What’s the place like?” Keith said. “I haven’t seen it.”
Kendi picked Evan up. He smelled like sweet powder. His skin had lost most of its blotchiness, and he seemed more alert. “It’s bigger,” Kendi said. “On the outskirts of Treetown. There’s enough room for Harenn, Bedj-ka, Lucia, and a whole bunch of kids. It’s also the only house in the entire talltree, so we’ll have a lot more privacy.”
Keith whistled. “Sounds expensive.”
“It is, but Salman’s realtor—we hired her—says we’ll get a nice price on the current house. Apparently the fact that Ben lives here is going to spark a bidding war. We haven’t even listed yet, and she’s already getting offers.”
“Nice,” Keith said.
“And we got a royalty check from HyperFlight last week. Thanks to Ben, Dream and Despair has already sold four million copies both here and off-planet. HyperFlight can’t crank them out fast enough.”
“Don’t I know it,” Gretchen said. “I’m set for years.”
“So we’re doing fine.” He wanted to ask how Keith was doing, but swallowed the words. Keith would get angry. Martina would let him know if they needed anything.
The computer announced a visitor. Kendi carried Evan into the living room in time to see Ben admit his uncle Hazid, aunt Sil, and cousins Tress and Zayim. Kendi tried not to grimace. Evan, who had dozed off, stirred restlessly in Kendi’s arms.
“Those security guards outside are gangsters,” Sil complained before she even had her coat off. “They wanted to search me. Imagine! And why don’t you get rid of those...gawkers around your house? I don’t know how I’ll stand the strain of them staring at me every time I come to visit.”
“Hello, Sil,” Kendi said. “Nice to see you. Something to drink? Water? Tea?” Hemlock?
“I want to see him,” Tress said, holding out her arms to take the sleeping Evan from Kendi, who handed him over warily. “So you’re the little guy that’s causing all this fuss. Yes, you are. Yes, you are.”
“Oh, brother.” Zayim plopped down on the sofa. “It’s just a baby, sis.”
“He’s your cousin,” Tress said. “God, he looks just like Ben. He’s so cute.”
Kendi warmed toward Tress against his will. Anyone who found his son cute got automatic brownie points. Kendi couldn’t help it.
“Where’s everyone else?” Hazid asked, also taking a seat.
“Harenn and Lucia are napping,” Ben told him. “Bedj-ka’s in school at the monastery. Martina’s out doing her level best to restore the economy by shopping until she drops. Either that or she’s riding dinosaurs again.”
“I don’t want to hear about that,” Kendi said.
“Has Mother been by to visit yet?” Sil said.
“Yesterday, briefly,” Kendi said. “She’s enormously busy now that her polls have jumped. Me, I can’t wait until the whole stupid thing is over.”
“We saw your speech, Ben,” Tress said, and Kendi remembered that they hadn’t spoken to Ben’s extended family since the revelation. “I’ve gotten letters from total strangers asking what it’s like to be related to you. How come you didn’t tell us?”
“I didn’t tell anybody,” Ben said. “I didn’t even tell Kendi for almost a month after I found out.”
“Reporters have been asking to interview me,” Tress added, “but your publicity team said to turn them down for now.”
“It’s a control thing until the election’s over,” Ben said.
Tress chucked Evan under the chin. “I don’t mind. I’m not much of an interview person.”
“I am,” Zayim grumbled. “Some of them have offered me money, and I’m not exactly flush these days.”
The last sentence had been a none-too-subtle hint, but Kendi happened to know that Salman had already given Tress and Zayim generous stipends in return for their media silence, so he pretended not to have heard.
“So what’s it like being the famous Offspring?” Hazid asked.
Ben grimaced. “I haven’t met with the Council of Irfan to discuss it yet. They can contact me if they want to talk. Right now, I have a baby to take care of.”
“If you need another babysitter, let me know,” Tress said. “He’s such a sweetie. How many times does he get up at night?”
“Only twice,” Ben said. “It’s not as hard taking care of him as I thought it would be. Of course, we have lots of people involved.”
“Wait until you have two and three and ten and eleven,” Sil sniffed. “I can’t imagine having that many children. Tress and Zayim were plenty enough, and then Ara kept leaving you with me.”
“Mother,” Tress warned. “Remember what we said about counting to five before you said anything?”
“Who wants tea?” Kendi said loudly. “I’ll put a kettle on.”
While the water was boiling, Ben showed everyone the nursery, which was stocked with enough toys, clothes, and supplies for ten Evans.
“A lot of it we got for free,” Ben said. “Companies and stuff who want my endorsement. We keep what we need and give the rest to charity.”
“To the Church?” Zayim asked.
“No. There are other children’s charities.”
Tress laid the sleeping Evan in his crib. “Are you angry at the Children?”
“Very,” Ben said, face set. “They put me through hell, and then made me work for them.”
“I don’t blame you,” Tress said. “Still, I’ve heard they’ve already gotten a couple of investors from off-planet to help in the bail-out. You know, a lot of Silenced monks lost their homes when the Children slashed stipends. The dormitories are filled to overflowing—entire families living in one room. If you hadn’t agreed to be Offspring, they would have had to close even the dorms and throw all those people out onto the walkways. You helped a lot of people, Ben.”
“Maybe,” Ben said. “But only because they put a gun to my head.”
They visited a bit longer before bidding formal good-byes. Tress, the last one out, hung back.
“Let me know if I can help,” she said softly to both Kendi and Ben. “Either with the baby or other things. Just don’t let Mom and Dad and Zayim know. They’re still mad at me for apologizing to you at Grandma’s.”
And then she was gone.
oOo
The Dream was definitely noisier. Kendi’s kangaroo ears easily picked up more background whispering, and the place just felt more populated. The young Silent weren’t actually in the Dream yet, but they were touching it, dreaming about it with breathtaking realism, sensing something in the air. Kendi remembered his early days when his Silence stirred, though he hadn’t know what it was. All he knew was that at night it felt like the world was holding its breath, and if Kendi could just say the right thing or do the right dance or turn the right corner, Something amazing would transport him to a new world, one far away from the frog farm that had enslaved him.
Before him, Outback sand and rock lay baking beneath the hot golden sun, even though it was night in the solid world. Kendi felt restless and uneasy. He shifted his weight, stirring the sandy soil with his tail. It was probably just normal nerves. So much had been going on lately, and he hadn’t had time to sit still and sort it all out. No wonder he felt uneasy.
Kendi closed his eyes and stretched out his mind, sniffing, seeking, listening. He found Bedj-ka. The boy’s mind felt focused, and Kendi guessed he was meditating. A bit more searching turned up Ben, whose mind was filled with both strain and contentment. Ben had been holding Evan when Kendi dropped into his customary meditative pose, but Kendi couldn’t sense Evan’s mind yet. Kendi sighed. Evan’s gene scans said he was Silent, of course, and Kendi should have been able to find at least a trace of him in the Dream. But Kendi felt nothing. There were a number of explanations for this. The Despair had impaired Kendi’s tracking ability. Evan was only a few days old. Kendi’s current edginess made it hard to concentrate. Still Kendi worried. He wanted Evan to be Silent, and he dreaded how the world would react if he turned out to be like Ben was for so long—genetically Silent but unable to enter the Dream. Sejal had pulled Ben into the Dream, awakening his full Silence. Perhaps Sejal could do the same for—
Kendi shook his head. He was getting way ahead of himself. Evan wasn’t even a week old and already Kendi was worrying about his future. Did all fathers do this?
The unease increased. Kendi opened his eyes and leaped into the air as a falcon. He turned and dove and swooped, trying to let the exhilaration of flight through the hot updrafts sweep away the stress.
It got only worse. Kendi’s wings shook, and he tumbled briefly before righting himself. Thoroughly unnerved, he forced himself to land and change into a dingo. Kendi sat for a few moments in an attempt to calm down, then he got up and paced. All the hair on his body rose, prickling his skin. His breath came in short, quick pants. He had to run, had to get away, get out.
Kendi closed his eyes again and tried to summon up his concentration. If it is in my best interest and in the best interest of all life everywhere, he thought, let me...let...
He couldn’t concentrate. The hot sun burned like a bonfire, and pure, unadulterated fear tucked Kendi’s tail between his legs. Kendi changed into a brown-and-white desert skink. The lizard form was much smaller, allowing Kendi to dart under a rock, where he felt slightly more secure. He summoned his concentration.
If it is in my best interest and in the best interest of all life everywhere, he thought again, let me leave the Dream.
There was a wrench and he was standing in the corner of his and Ben’s bedroom with his red spear under his knee. Ben and Harenn were sitting on the bed. Harenn was nursing Evan. Kendi had expected his tension to dissipate once he left the Dream, but it only grew worse. His heart beat an unpleasant cacophony inside his chest and his mouth was dry. He almost lost his balance while removing his spear because his hands shook so badly.
The motion caught Ben and Harenn’s attention. Ben noticed the expression on his face and immediately stood up. “What’s wrong?”
“We have to get out of the house,” Kendi said hoarsely. “Now! Grab Evan’s diaper bag and run. RUN!”
Harenn clutched Evan to her chest and ran without hesitation. Ben sprinted after her, pausing only to snatch the diaper bag from nursery as he passed by. Kendi followed, shouting for Lucia, Bedj-ka, Tan, and Gretchen. Bedj-ka tried to ask what was going on, but Ben grabbed his arm and hauled the boy bodily toward the front door. Tan didn’t waste time asking what was going on and instead activated her earpiece and shouted orders to the outdoor guards. Lucia, also used to field work, hurried as quickly as she could, but her heavy body slowed her down. Kendi and Gretchen stopped to help her. Every nerve in Kendi’s body shrieked at him to hurry, move, run, but he stayed with Lucia.
“Carry-chair,” Gretchen said at last. “Quick!”
Kendi grasped the inside of his own elbow and with his free hand grabbed for Gretchen’s. She did the same for him, forming a square of flesh and bone for Lucia to sit on. The moment she sat down, they hoisted her up and fled out the door.
Outside, Tan had lowered one of the drawbridges. The security people were forcing the usual group of gawkers back to a safe distance. Fortunately, the night was chilly and the crowd was thin. Harenn, still clutching Evan, stood with Ben and Bedj-ka, surrounded by four more guards. Lars was one of them. Kendi and Gretchen carried Lucia over and set her down. Tan hurried up, face flushed.
“I’ve called the Guardians,” she said. “They’re on the way. What’s this all about? Did you see something?”
Kendi shook his head. Now that they were outside, his tension and fear had evaporated like water on a hot rock. He couldn’t for the life of him think what had scared him so badly.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I was in the Dream and suddenly I had to get everyone out the house. I don’t know why—I just did. Now...now it all seems kind of stupid.”
“Something must have set you off,” Tan said. “We’ll do a full sweep of the house before we—”
The explosion knocked them off their feet.