As soon as the scary PSR captain and his thug troopers left, Florian pushed all the Commonwealth stuff into his backpack and picked up the baby, who had been sleeping on his bed. It was impossible, but she seemed to have grown again. The cloth he’d wrapped around her was already starting to constrict her limbs. So he loosened it, and of course she needed changing.
It was pouring outside, but he knew he couldn’t wait. He’d been lucky this time, but Chaing would be back. He settled the baby in the Openland’s passenger seat and set off up the valley to firebreak FB39. Of all the waltan fungi hanging up in the shed, there were maybe a dozen that were completely dry and good enough for Joffler, the buyer he supplied. He unhooked the biggest six and shoved them down into an old duffel bag. It was heavy, but he stowed it in the back of the Openland, then drove back down the valley past the lodge.
The whole way he was expecting to see the regiment vehicles coming for him, but the track was clear. He turned off half a kilometer from the lake and headed up into firebreak CR42. It was getting badly overgrown, top of his list to clear, thus ideal to hide the Openland in. They’d find it easily enough if they searched the valley, but until they did they’d assume he was fleeing along the roads. That was where they’d devote their resources to finding him.
With the backpack on, and the duffel bag slung over one shoulder, he picked up the baby. She grizzled a bit. “You’ll just have to wait,” he told her sternly. He’d got an old cloak to wrap her in, which should keep the worst of the rain off her.
He had to walk carefully. The lingrass was dangerously slippy, and the weight of everything was a strain. His new exovision displays showed him his blood sugar energy reserves being eaten up at an alarming rate by the relatively short walk back down to the Vatni village.
Most of the Vatni were out in the lake when he arrived. He didn’t waste any time on politeness, just walked along the jetty to the boat that he’d used last night and put the baby down on the decking boards. Teal jumped in beside her and barked at the splash he made. The amount of water sloshing around in the bottom of the boat made Florian pause for a moment, but he didn’t have any options. He dropped the duffel bag and dumped the backpack, pressing his fists into the base of his spine as he straightened and winced at the ache that had spread into every muscle. Unencumbered by the weight he felt he could fly, or at least float.
The baby started to get more agitated as he used the bucket to bail rainwater out, reducing it to a level that wasn’t quite so worrying. She was crying when he finally pushed off. For once he ignored her and started rowing, hoping that would be enough to draw Mooray’s attention. Sure enough, he saw the Vatni’s distortion ripple surging across the dark water toward the boat, and Mooray’s snout broke the surface ten meters away.
“Friend Florian of the land, you are honoring us with another visit. I am joyful.”
Florian pulled the oars back into the boat. “You are honoring me with your kindness, friend Mooray of the water. I know I am a burden to you.”
“Not at all. I was waiting for you. Your land regiment people came to us today. They asked many questions of many of us. They did not want to be friends.”
“I’m sorry you have been caught up in this.”
“I was with you by my own choice. We have a fruitful friendship.”
“It makes me happy to hear you say that, friend Mooray. It is with sadness that all I can offer you this day is to leave, but that will mean you and your village will be left in peace. The regiment people are only interested in me and the baby. When I am gone, so will they be.”
“In a great swarm across the land hunting you, friend Florian.”
“They haven’t gotten me yet. I’m going to go downstream. I know some people who might be able to help me.”
“This gladdens me. Can I help?”
“I will tell you truth, friend Mooray, I was hoping you would ask. It is difficult to look after the baby and row at the same time.”
“I hear her. Does she ever stop?”
Florian was tempted, but Vatni never quite got irony. “She cries when she is in discomfort. All human young do this.”
“I am glad I am not human, friend Florian. Where do you wish to go?”
“Down the river Kellehar, please.”
Mooray ducked around to the back of the boat, and once again Florian found himself moving along far faster than he could ever row. He started dealing with the baby who wanted feeding and changing. She didn’t like the cloak being opened and the raindrops splashing her skin. She was reluctant to take the bladder teat. Didn’t burp well. Wouldn’t go to sleep afterward. So he hunched over her, protecting her from the worst of the rain as the boat slid swiftly across the lake to the start of the river Kellehar.
The Kellehar was one of a multitude of tributaries winding sinuously out of the Sansone Mountains before merging into the river Crisp to flow in a potent surge eastward to the distant coast. Wide and shallow as it emptied out of the boggy floodland at the end of the lake, it soon narrowed down to a fast-flowing channel that carried the boat rapidly northward. Beyond the valley, the landscape flattened out into larger, more leisurely folds. Florian had driven along the adjacent lanes enough times to know farms were prevalent here—an irregular checkerboard of arable fields and grazing meadows that extended over all but the roughest elevations and ravines. Today the dull clouds and persistent rain kept most of the countryside veiled from him, even with his Eliter sight and new vision enhancement routines.
The current became strong enough that Mooray hardly bothered pushing the boat at all, but simply steered them past snags and kept away from the banks. They passed under several stone bridges, which made Florian nervous. He was expecting regiment patrols to be watching the river, but every time they were deserted. A river from the west ran into the Kellehar, then two large streams from the east added their power to the flow.
After a couple of hours he leaned over the stern and put the flute to his lips. “I can manage from here. You should go home, my friend. Return upriver to be with your pack family, be happy.”
“Do you believe you are safe now, friend Florian?”
“As much as I can be. You can help no further. To expose you to any more danger would sadden me greatly.”
“I believe you, friend. I would wish you return soon.”
“I should be safe to return in a month. Goodbye, friend Mooray of the water.”
The Vatni let go of the boat and slipped easily below the surface. A V-shaped ripple swelled against the current for a few seconds before being washed out.
Florian settled the oars again and began to scan the water ahead. He dipped the oars in and out slowly and carefully, using them primarily to steer with, keeping the boat centered in the current. His exovision threw up a map of the area—as best remembered from studying an atlas several years ago. The new management code, which called itself a u-shadow, was reformatting all his old memory files. Half of his time on the boat had been spent talking to the u-shadow, which responded in a way that reminded himself of his own questions and eagerness when he’d been about five. Having a semi-sentient—its nomenclature—resident in his head was something that took some getting used to.
The map showed him the Kellehar would curve sharply to the west in a few kilometers, taking him away from Opole where Aunt Terannia lived. But the land it curved around was where he wanted to be tonight—an odd rocky highland where Joffler lived in a place called Letroy. If anywhere was safe from Captain Chaing and the regiment, it was there.
As the dour light faded from the sky Florian checked the baby again. She was bigger still. Her growth was no longer something he could just gloss over as his own ignorance of babies. It was real and worrying. He reckoned she’d grown nearly eight centimeters since he’d lifted her out of the space machine, and she certainly weighed a lot more. It must be the richmilk. But why Commonwealth babies grew like that was still beyond him. He determined to try to find a file on it that night, when he had a moment.
As the daylight faded, his concern about being spotted withered in tandem. He’d already passed a couple of small villages sitting on the side of the river. No one had seen him sail by, as the rain was keeping a lot of people indoors. But thankfully, it was starting to lift. He was soaked, even wearing his oilskin coat. He just hoped the duffel bag had kept the fungi dry.
Steering in the dark was unnerving, even though his night vision gave him a decent view of the river ahead. Land on both sides began to rise. Before long he saw what had to be Letroy.
Florian had never visited before, but Joffler had described it enough times when they met up in Wymondon to pass on the waltans. There was a long cliff a couple of kilometers beyond the crumbling riverbank, with a swath of weather-worn stone outcrops descending from it all the way to the water. From a distance you could mistake Letroy for some weird alien village, with fat tower buildings standing atop flinty mounds. Back in the Void, the settlers to this region had used their telekinesis and servant animals to expand and smooth the existing caves in the outcrops, creating homes in the living rock. In its heyday it had a population of nearly six thousand—a quirky artists’ community that attracted painters, writers, and musicians from all over Bienvenido. It flourished for centuries.
After the Great Transition, the arts suffered a general malaise. In this new harsher existence, there was less leisure time, not so much money, and fewer patrons. But Letroy’s traditions persisted, though its reputation for quality gently declined. Despite this, the majority of residents still followed some kind of artistic vocation. Several of the most popular new-style music bands with their electrically amplified instruments had emerged from Letroy, playing to growing crowds in the cities.
Wide ovals pocking the strange pinnacles glowed with a yellow-shaded light that Florian found incredibly welcoming while sitting in a boat with a cold drizzle swirling around him. There were two substantial wooden jetties protruding from the bank, with several boats moored to them. He rowed his boat into the lee of the first and secured it.
The baby was crying yet again as Florian put his backpack on and hoisted the duffel bag over his shoulder. He just hoped that Joffler lived somewhere close.
Once he was on the jetty he cut the painter and watched the boat drift away. The current caught it soon enough, propelling it downriver. It was carried out of sight within two minutes.
“No going back now,” he told Teal. The dog wagged his tail.
It was five minutes before he met anyone. Five minutes wandering rather aimlessly along the crushed-stone paths that twined around the outcrops, looking for anyone who might be about this wretched night. They were an old couple who were curious about the wailing baby, and they clearly didn’t approve of Joffler; he could tell that from the way their attitude became stiffer at the mention of the buyer’s name. But they pointed at the outcrop Joffler had claimed for himself and gave instructions which paths to follow.
Ten minutes later, with aching legs and a sore shoulder, Florian trudged up a curving incline that was set with steps too far apart to use comfortably. The mound skirting the outcrop was planted with fig trees that were getting choked by vines. He had to stop halfway up, it was such an effort, even though he was barely fifteen meters above the ground.
The path completed a full circuit of the outcrop, ending at a broad entrance chamber that had iron railings stretched across it. Joffler was standing behind the gate, staring out suspiciously. The only light was from a bulb hanging from the apex, just behind the railings.
“I heard the noise,” he said, peering at the baby. “Who are you?”
“It’s me, Florian. I’m knackered, Joffler; I need to come in. I brought you some waltans.” He dropped the duffel bag beside the gate.
“Crud!” Joffler exclaimed. He unlocked the gate and swung it open. “Come on in. You shocked the piss out of me, turning up like this!”
Florian staggered through the gate, noting the way Joffler looked around carefully to see if anyone else was on the path before picking up the duffel bag.
The entrance cavern had three openings at the back, each one covered by a thick curtain. Joffler pushed one aside and led Florian into the stone house’s main chamber. It was roughly circular, twenty meters across, with an irregular ceiling. A big oval opening, looking out over Letroy, was covered by a white woolen sheet that swayed about in the damp breeze. Opposite that, lumps of peat burned in a raised hearth, with a curving cowl above it, blackened by centuries of smoke. There was a spicy aroma pervading the air that Florian didn’t recognize, but it certainly wasn’t coming from the peat. The low settees were ancient, even older than the pieces in Florian’s living room back in the lodge. He suspected the furnishings had all been made long ago by some Letroy artisan with a zeal for chunky carvings.
He sat close to the fire and pulled a bladder out of the backpack. The baby started guzzling the richmilk straightaway.
Joffler stood looking down at him. He was a lanky man in his forties, with alarmingly thin limbs that poked out of his grubby fur-lined kaftan. His skin, which five years ago when they first met had been a silky dark olive, now had an unsavory pallor, as if he’d devoted those years to a bad diet and avoiding sunlight. Long black hair was tied back with a rainbow band, which only emphasized how much his hairline had receded.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming, fella?” he asked. “Gave me quite a shock there, turning up like this.”
“I didn’t know until a couple of days ago,” Florian said. He hadn’t actually thought much about how he was going to explain things to Joffler; he just knew Letroy was the best place to lay low for a few days. And Joffler should know how to arrange transport to Aunt Terannia.
“Okay,” Joffler said. “So who’s this, then? You the daddy? You been having some fun up there in the valley, you bad boy? What happened? Did Mummy turn up and dump her on you?”
“Uh, yes.” Florian couldn’t meet his eye. “Something like that.”
“So what’s her name?”
“What?”
“Her name, fella? What’s your daughter’s name?”
“Essie,” Florian said without thinking. Essie had featured quite heavily in his life before he did his regimental service; the one person he could overcome his chronic shyness for, and actually talk to. And unfortunately, the girl who’d turned down his narnik-fueled pass the day he was decommissioned from the regiment. He hadn’t smoked the Uracus-cursed stuff since.
“Cool.” Joffler leaned in closer and frowned. “Uracus, what’s wrong with her?”
“Nothing,” Florian exclaimed defensively.
“Fella, her head! It’s like half her brain’s hanging out.”
“That? It’s just a growth. The doctor said not to worry.” He improvised boldly. “That’s what he told her mother anyway.”
“That is such a lump of crud. She’s dumped a broken kid on you. What a coldhearted bitch.”
“Look, the baby’s going to be okay. I just need somewhere to stay for a few days. You can manage that, can’t you? We have a good arrangement.”
“Well, okay, fella. Ah, you are, like, going to go back after this, aren’t you?”
“To the valley? Sure. Don’t worry, I’ve got plenty more waltans drying.”
The curtain to the main chamber was pushed aside and a woman came in. Florian looked up, then immediately lowered his head to the baby, feeling his cheeks flush hotly. The woman was probably about his age; the hair hanging down to her hips had been dyed a vivid emerald green, into which she’d woven long colorful ribbons. Her cheesecloth skirt was a vivid sky blue, its hem swirling around her ankles. Apart from the bangles on her wrists it was the only piece of clothing she wore.
“Joffie, what’s happening?” she asked in a high voice.
“Hey, babe, this is Florian. He’s an okay fella.”
“Hi, Florian,” she said. “I’m Rohanna.”
“Um, pleased to meet you,” Florian mumbled. He was aware of the girl padding over the stone floor to the settee where he was sitting. He glanced up—though not to her naked torso! Something glinted in her navel. Before he realized it, his retinas zoomed in, which was another autoimpulse function his u-shadow had bestowed. There was some kind of gold ring piercing her navel, like an earring in completely the wrong place.
“Oww,” she cooed. “Poor darling baby. What’s wrong with her?”
“It’s just a growth, that’s all. It’s fine.”
“Oh, that’s so woeful. She’s not going to live long, is she? Not with that much cancer.”
“It’s not cancer, and she’s not dying,” Florian snapped, incensed. It made him look Rohanna straight in her face. Her expression was curious and sad. She was very pretty, he realized, but with dilated pupils. Exovision displays offered an analysis of visual data: her increased heart rate, skin temperature two degrees above normal, slightly sluggish limb motion.
She’s high, he realized, which didn’t really surprise him.
“Not cancer? If you say so.” She almost giggled.
The baby finished her feed. As always, the bladder was empty. Florian started bouncing her gently on his knee, to be rewarded by a burp. That did make Rohanna giggle.
“Is there anything to eat?” Florian asked. “I’m kind of hungry. Haven’t had much food today.”
“Sure thing, fella. Uh, where did you leave your Openland?”
“I came on a boat.”
“A boat? What, from Albina Valley?”
“Yes.”
“Sweet crud. She really worked a number on you, didn’t she?”
Rohanna was wiggling her fingers in front of the baby’s face, making chuckling sounds. It annoyed Florian, but he didn’t want to cause a scene. “The food?”
“This way.”
One of the other curtains in the entrance cavern led to a corridor that ran through the center of the outcrop. More chambers had been hollowed out on either side. Joffler led him into the kitchen. Its fittings had clearly been made by the same artisan who had furnished the living room. A clay oven stood beside the outside opening, surrounded by a little skirt of cold ash that had damped down to a sludge from the drizzle eddying in.
“Some fruit somewhere,” Joffler mumbled as he pulled drawers out. “And I know we have bread.”
Florian’s stomach grumbled in protest; he’d been looking forward to a decent meal. “Fruit?” he complained.
Joffler grinned sheepishly and gave a wide-armed shrug. His kaftan swayed open at the gesture, and he was wearing nothing underneath. Once again, Florian found himself quickly looking the other way. After seven wonderful years alone in Albina Valley he wasn’t used to people, let alone ones who were comfortable exhibiting their bodies.
“Rohanna doesn’t like eating dead animal flesh. She says it contaminates our souls; that it’s one big reason why the Skylords have never come back.”
“Right.”
“I know, fella.” Joffler lowered his voice and smirked. “Who wants to listen to all that Church of the Return bollocks? But I’m not arguing. She just wants to screw all the time. Say’s the body’s blessings are a gift from Giu that shouldn’t be wasted—some crud like that. I’m not complaining. Good job you’re bringing in all those waltans, huh?”
“You’re using granddad’s delight?” Florian asked in surprise. Waltan fungus, when refined by chemists who knew what they were doing, produced a drug that helped older men with their erections. That’s why he didn’t mind setting traps for the fungus. The county sheriffs were really only interested in busting narnik farmers.
“Like I said: all the time.” Joffler pulled a loaf of bread from a metal bin. “Got some jam around here somewhere, too.”
Florian stopped himself from sighing. “Don’t worry, I’ll manage.” The baby still hadn’t settled properly. Probably needs changing.
“Sure thing. If you need anything and can’t find it, just give a shout. My home is yours, so make yourself comfy and get those clothes dried out. I’ll see you in the morning, yeah? And don’t worry, I’ll get you some eggs for breakfast. Rohanna doesn’t object to them.”
“Thanks, Joffler.”
Joffler winked, then threw a slightly troubled glance at the baby before leaving Florian alone.
Back in the main chamber, Florian took off his shirt and trousers and hung them on a chair next to the fire. Teal curled up next to them. “I’ll get you something to eat in the morning, promise,” he told the dog.
He changed the baby—she must have grown another couple of centimeters during the river trip—but that didn’t make her any happier. She was whimpering almost constantly.
“What’s up?” he asked gently. She stared up at him with unnerving focus, then her face screwed up and she started to wail. “Oh, for crud—” He reached for yet another bladder of richmilk, but she refused to take it. When her mouth opened wide for another yell, he saw a flash of white. “Teeth?” he asked incredulously. “You’re teething?” Close inspection showed about six teeth had broken through sore red gums. “Oh, you poor thing. But I haven’t got anything for that. Or have I?”
He got his u-shadow to link to the medical kid the space machine had given him, and list the contents. A quick check with his new medical files showed that one of the salves would help.
The plyplastic top of the kit parted and a small bulb poked up. He squeezed out a little blob of the clear salve and rubbed it on her gums. The baby seemed so outraged that his finger was in her mouth the crying actually stopped for a moment. Then she resumed her bawling.
He cuddled her, crooning soothingly for another couple of minutes. The crying slowly subsided and she fell asleep. Florian grinned down contentedly at her. Night two. And actually he was doing all right.
Two hours later he was woken up by her cries. But that was okay, because that was the hungry cry. Feed, change. There were eleven teeth showing now, so a touch more salve.
With only two full bladders left, he went back into the kitchen and scrounged some food to fill the processor’s hopper. An hour later, with the bladders refilled, he dozed off only to be woken by more demands for feeding.
“Doo-dah,” the baby said after Florian finished her dawn feed. He blinked at her in surprise.
“You talk now?” As before, he felt he’d had about ten minutes of sleep in the whole night. When he rubbed some more salve into her gums he counted twenty teeth, and the front ones looked fully developed now.
Overnight? A quick check in the medical files showed that wasn’t normal, not even by Commonwealth standards. But she’d grown another three centimeters since they’d arrived in Letroy, that was undeniable. So if she keeps this up, then in a month she’ll be…“Oh, great Giu!” That’s what Joey meant. He stared at her with a smile of wonder lifting his lips.
Teal let out a mournful whine.
Florian tore his gaze away from the baby. “Yes! I’ll get you something to eat.”
His shirt and trousers had dried, so he put them on. A sniff confirmed they needed a wash after yesterday. So did he.
There were so many things he should be doing. He hadn’t stopped running since he’d taken the baby out of the space machine. What he needed was a couple of days of peace to plan and prepare.
The white wool sheet over the big opening was easy to pull aside, allowing the warm morning sun into the chamber. He looked out at Letroy in the daylight. All the primeval stone spires were pocked by oval openings, the majority covered with curtains or wooden shutters. He was surprised that most of them lacked any sort of safety rail. Behind them, the cliff was also studded with homes. Wooden walkways hung precariously on ropes, zigzagging up the vertical rock. He saw that several of them were broken, swinging gently on their last surviving anchor points, the openings they once led to now dark and cold, the stone hive houses abandoned.
Food. He needed food for himself and the richmilk processors, and poor old Teal. Clothes, washed or new. Cloth for the baby, to wear and use as diapers. Some cash, maybe. And transport, a quiet way to get to Opole, 270 kilometers to the west. No way was he going to attempt that in a boat, rowing against the river Crisp.
Florian exhaled pensively, realizing just how dependent on Joffler he’d become.
Behind him the baby cooed. He turned around and gasped. She wasn’t in the settee’s nest of cushions. “Giu! Where—?”
She was on the stone floor beside Teal, little hand gripping the dog’s ear and tugging hard as she smiled.
“No!” He rushed forward and picked her up. “How did you get there?” He put her down again, and watched as she started crawling eagerly back toward Teal.
“Oh, great Giu,” he moaned in dismay. It had been bad enough when she couldn’t move.
“Morning.” Joffler walked in, scratching his hair, which had escaped the band. He wasn’t even wearing the kaftan.
Florian averted his eyes. “Morning.”
“Hey, she’s crawling. Hiya there, Essie.”
The baby cooed again, and changed course toward Joffler. Florian picked her up, and immediately wished he hadn’t. She wriggled about enthusiastically in his precarious hold. “Eggs,” he said. “You said we could have eggs for breakfast.”
“Sure thing, fella. It’s just a bit early—”
“And Teal needs something to eat as well.”
“All right, all right. Let me put some clothes on.”
“Is there somewhere here that sells clothes?”
“Yeah. Uh.” Joffler looked him up and down. “Clothes in Letroy, they’re not so…Well, like yours, you know?”
“What do you mean?”
“How do they get the dye like this?” a perplexed Florian asked. He was holding up a cotton shirt that Gemain had made. Gemain was a friend of Joffler who made funky clothes to sell in his store, which was a narrow cavern in the base of the cliff.
“You need to blend in,” Joffler insisted. “No offense, fella, but the whole forest worker gear thing is going to draw a crud-load of attention here. Nobody wants that.”
Florian had planned on spending as much time as possible in Joffler’s stone house, so he quashed down an argument. He only had a few shillings; it was Joffler who was paying for everything. “I can send you the money,” he promised the dealer. “As soon as I get to Opole.” All the money from the waltan fungi was going into a safe-deposit box, fifteen dollars for each one; that had been agreed with Billop in advance. Billop was the contact who sold granddad’s delight in the city. It was Rasschaert who had arranged the deal when Florian announced he’d been accepted for the forest warden service. Rasschaert worked in Aunt Terannia’s club but had a lot of contacts within the local gangs. Joffler pulled a face and said, “Don’t worry about it,” whenever he brought up the subject of money and buying supplies.
Gemain’s shirt was purple and red, with weird blotchy green and blue spirals all over it. The baby tried to grab it. Florian was holding her under one arm while he held up the shirt for critical examination. It looked like a rainbow had melted across it while it was spinning around.
“It’s called tie-dye,” Gemain explained proudly.
“We’ll take a couple,” Joffler said quickly. “And those trousers, too.”
Florian nearly yelped: Not the trousers. They were denim, but not like any dungarees he’d ever worn before. These were black, unnaturally tight across his bottom, and had red suede tassels running down the outside leg seams. Instead of arguing, he just gritted his teeth. He’d get back to Joffler’s stone house quicker if he said nothing.
They were on their second foray into Letroy this morning. The first was for food, which had been traumatic enough. Florian had folded up a towel to make a papoose for Essie, who welcomed it as some kind of escapology challenge while they walked among the rock outcrops. He was already looking back fondly to the previous day when all she did was sleep, feed, and require changing.
As well as the trousers and shirt, Joffler bought a kaftan for Florian, and some fresh underwear. “I don’t need boots,” Florian said firmly as they passed Kani’s shoe shop in the base of the cliff. The shoes and boots in the window were all made from strips of different colors, or sprinkled with small brass stars and rings. Not one of them had a heel less than six centimeters high. “Why would anyone want those?” he asked plaintively. “They’re not remotely practical.”
“They look kinda neat,” Joffler replied. “I’ve got a couple of Kani’s myself. And you don’t wear them to work, fella, you wear them to be you.”
“To be me?”
“Yeah. When you go out in the evening to a bar or a party, what else are you going to—” He stopped and gave Florian a long look. “Ah, never mind.”
Back at the stone house, Florian had a quick wash in the bathroom (the water wasn’t very warm) and changed into the new clothes. He enjoyed how clean they were, but the style was just awful. He knew he looked ridiculous, like a dancer from a Fireyear carnival.
Joffler and Rohanna were playing with the baby in the living room. She was crawling across the floor between them as they rolled a soft ball to each other. When Florian came in, she immediately scuttled over to him. “Doo-da!”
“Looking good, fella,” Joffler exclaimed.
Rohanna walked over to him. She was wearing a plain white cotton robe that was almost translucent. A small fat cigarette was cupped in her hand, leaking a bittersweet scent. “Nice,” she murmured. “Forest warden’s a very physical job. I bet you’re really fit.”
“I, er…”
“Was it lonely in the valley? I can make the loneliness go away for you, if you’d like. Joffie won’t be jealous, will you, baby?”
Florian looked around desperately at Joffler, whose smile had become very forced.
“Love is free and beautiful,” Rohanna continued. “Isn’t that right?”
“Absolutely,” Joffler said.
Florian started to back away from her. “No! That is, er, I’m very flattered and everything, but no. I have someone. A girl. She’s special. I can’t. I promised.”
Rohanna pouted. “A mother and a girl. I dig you’re hot on the mattress. I think I’m jealous, which is so wrong. The Skylords wouldn’t like how that colors my soul.”
Florian instinctively stopped backing away and looked down. The baby was at his ankle looking up. “Doo-da!” she said, smiling. He picked her up so he could use her as a shield. Tiny fingers closed around his nose—surprisingly tight.
“Come on, Joffie baby, you’re on,” Rohanna said, and sauntered out of the living chamber.
Joffler started after her.
“Joffler?” Florian asked quietly. “What is it she does? I mean, does she have a job or something?”
“She’s a kinetic performance poet,” Joffler said, his cheeks flushing slightly.
“A…A what?”
“Just don’t ask her to do one for you. Trust me, fella. Some of them last for hours.” And with that he was gone, hurrying after Rohanna.
Florian looked at the baby. Her black hair, which until now had been a wispy fuzz, was starting to thicken. “Well,” he said to her. “A kinetic performance poet. How about that? You know what Mother Laura would call it?”
The baby went for his nose again. Florian ducked away, smiling. “She would call it: total bollocks. Yes, she would. She would. Yes.”
“Goo-da,” went the baby. She opened her mouth and sucked air.
“Quite right. You’re hungry again, aren’t you? And nothing is more important than that.”
“Hung-gee.”
“Yeah. Hungry. Come on, let’s see if there are any bladders left.”
There were still two bladders with richmilk in his backpack. Florian let her have both of them. She could hold them up herself now. He grinned at the sight of her sitting on the kitchen floor in just her makeshift diaper, looking like a miniature alcoholic tipping back a bottle of booze.
He chopped up an apple, and cautiously offered her a thin slice.
“Hung-gee,” she said after she chomped it down, and clapped her hands.
“More?”
“HUNG-gee!”
“Uracus. All right. Here we go.” He started feeding her the rest of the slices.
With the sounds of heated rutting from Joffler’s bedroom echoing through the stone house, Florian opened up both richmilk processors and filled their conical hoppers, talking all the while so young ears wouldn’t hear the bad noises. Once all five bladders were full, his u-shadow switched the nozzles to open-discharge and the richmilk started to trickle out into jugs. “That should be enough for the rest of the day,” he decided after the third jug. “And you can have fruit now, too. Solids, clever girl.”
She needed changing. Of course.
Florian made himself a simple lunch, then went back into the living chamber. The open oval window gave him nightmares of the baby falling off the ledge. He pulled and shoved at the biggest settee until it was across the opening, acting like a safety barrier.
The infant yawned, so he cuddled her in his lap until she was asleep. The odd dark tumor-thing on the side of her head hadn’t grown as she had. It still looked awful, but not as bad as it had to start with. Not as life threatening.
“It has all your memories, Joey said,” he told the sleeping baby. “They’ll download into your brain. So you must have lived before, back in the Commonwealth. How weird is that? I wonder who you are? Do you know how to build a real spaceship? Is that it? Is that why you’re here? Are you going to lead us all back there?”
His secondary routines highlighted starship files in his lacuna and he gave in to the impulse. The first one opened; blueprints and images surged into his exovision, surrounding him with the most glorious construct. Great Giu, a Commonwealth starship!
“Hey, fella, you okay?”
The exovision folded away neatly and Florian felt a profound sense of loss.
Joffler was poised over him, frowning. “Are you like, crying?”
“What?” Florian wiped the moisture from his eyes. “No. I just…It’s dust. I got some dust in my eye.”
“If you say so, fella. Are you smelling that, too?”
Florian sniffed, and looked down at the baby sleeping in his lap. “Oh, Uracus!”
“Takes some doing, being a dad, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“She grows fast, doesn’t she?”
“I guess. I’ve never had one before.”
“Sure. But—Ah, to Uracus with it. I’m going to fire up the boiler properly. You can give her a bath.”
“Thanks, Joffler.”
“Hey, it’s nothing.”
“Do you think—” Florian paused. “Do you reckon the Skylords ever will come and take us back into the Void?”
“Who the crud knows, fella? Why are you asking?”
“If they don’t, we have to find the Commonwealth. We can’t go on living like this.”
“Are you an Eliter?”
“What? No!” Even as he said it, he was surprised by how guilty he felt at the denial.
“Sounds like Eliter bollocks to me. Look, fella, the Church of the Return wants us back in the Void, the Eliters want us to go back to the Commonwealth. Why can’t everyone just chill out and be happy with what we’ve got here and now? We’ve got narnik, there’s a sweet new music scene coming on strong, and more and more people are telling the PSR to crud off. This is a cool and beautiful world, and could be more so.”
“Apart from the Fallers, you mean?” Florian scoffed.
“The regiments stop them spreading, and all those super-duper tight-arse astronauts are nuking the Trees for us. We’re beating the Fallers, fella. Another fifty years, maybe a hundred, and there won’t be any more of them. Dig that?”
Florian frowned. Didn’t Joffler know about the Faller Apocalypse? I guess he’s not the type to think about stuff like that. Or maybe it’s just the Eliters who worry about it. “Yeah. Maybe you’re right.”
“You know I am.”
“Joffler, I have to get to Opole. Do you know someone who can take me? Someone who won’t ask questions?”
Joffler glanced down at the baby. “Just how big is this trouble you’re in, fella?”
“I’m not in trouble, not big trouble. I just want to lay low for a month. That’s all I have to do. One month. Then it’s over.”
“Over, huh? Did you take her from the mother?”
“No! Really, no. It’s just complicated, that’s all. I need to get to Opole. I’ve got money there, and people I know. Uracus, in a month I’ll be back in the valley and things will all be normal again. I swear to Giu.”
Joffler scratched the back of his neck and gave the toddler another curious glance. “Okay, fella. There’s someone I know, Lukan. He runs cargo all over the county for the city boys. He’s the one who takes the waltans back to Billop for me. Drives a big old Coperearl sedan car—crudding thing is as rusty as Uracus, but you’ve got to dig that engine. Him and his cousins rebuilt that thing from the ground up; you wait till you hear it purring like the king of the beasts. On the flat he can top that machine out at two hundred klicks per hour, easy. The sheriffs don’t have a single thing on the road that can catch him. He’ll get you to Opole.”
“That sounds…flashy. I don’t want any fuss.”
“No fuss. He will get you there or your money back. Guaranteed.”
“I don’t have any money on me.”
“Figure of speech. Lighten up, fella. We just need to get you and the waltans to Billop and everything will be fine. Trust me. I’ve got a stake in this, too, remember? I want you happy and back in the valley. I really do.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll make a phone call.”
Florian gave the toddler her first-ever bath that afternoon—in the kitchen sink. She loved it, splashing water and suds everywhere. He was as wet as her by the end. For her afternoon meal she drank two bladders of richmilk and chomped down seven carrot sticks.
When she was clean and dry he took her back into the living cavern. She crawled over to the settee. Florian watched nervously, but she hauled herself up and used the settee to cruise, walking along beside it, holding on to the cushions with a marvelously serious expression of concentration on her plump little face.
“You’re going to be walking by yourself tomorrow, aren’t you?” he said softly.
She turned to face him. “Dada play?”
“You bet.” He smiled happily and held up the soft ball. “Catch?”
The evening meal saw her eating a bowl of chopped vegetables he’d prepared, along with a bladder of richmilk. Florian had to feed the little cubes to her, and a good quantity wound up mashed over her face, her bib, the table, the floor…But she ate it eagerly enough. Then she got it into her head that she should be using the spoon.
Florian had to wash the stuff out of his hair before he went to bed. She slept fitfully, crying out several times in the night as if she was in pain. He soothed her back to sleep, cuddling up to her in the bed, holding her tight, murmuring in soft promises that he was there and everything was going to be all right. She needed feeding twice, just straight richmilk.
He was woken just before dawn by demands of: “Hunquee, hunquee, Dada. Hunquee!” She’d grown another five centimeters, but was starting to get quite podgy with it. Her breakfast was porridge made with richmilk, two full bowls.
After that he took her into the living room so they wouldn’t wake Joffler and Rohanna. When he drew back the curtain, dawn was just starting to create a pale haze above the horizon. Essie left cruising the furniture behind and began to walk, managing a few steps each time before falling over in a fit of giggles. The third time she landed on her bottom there was a ghastly squishing sound. Mortified, Florian knew it was time for potty training.