Hellspark (38 page)

Maggy replayed the bit of tape. Once again, layli-layli calulan asked what was the probability that Megeve had killed Oloitokitok. Once again, Maggy answered that her information was
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insufficient.

(Stick to your story, Maggy. I’d have asked you to lie in that case anyway. I’d like to hear your reasoning, though.)

(Layli-layli calulan intended to kill van Zoveel because of Oloitokitok’s body. The probability—do you wish the figures?—is extremely high that she would kill a man she thought responsible for

Oloitokitok’s death. While the odds that Megeve was responsible are low, perhaps due to insufficient information, layli-layli calulan acted upon lower odds when she followed the search technique I

suggested to look for you.)

(Maggy, I’m proud of you. Your reasoning is impeccable.—Now, add this to information about

Megeve, if it isn’t already in your stores. In Yn, the sound ee has strong meaning. Do you understand that, in some cultures, specific words are thought to have power beyond their simple communicative use?)

(Sympathetic magic,) Maggy said. (When you feed a code word into a computer, it brings an entire program into being. Is that the derivation of the idea in human context?) Tocohl grinned. (I rather doubt it: there were humans and sympathetic magic long before there were computers, but that’s a good analogy.)

She went on, (All right. Y is the name of layli-layli

’s world, that world being the source of all life and, hence, the greatest, most potent magic of all.

(Please remember, I’m describing a cultural attitude, not a fact.—And the title laylee-laylee calulan also indicates a power, the doubling of the term expressing her espabilities.) Maggy saw what she was getting at and interrupted to save her further explanation: (So Geremy and

Timosie and maggy-maggy are all names of power!)

(That’s it! Not as potent, perhaps, as layli-layli calulan

, especially now that she knows you’re an extrapolative computer, but your name might be sufficient to give your words more weight with layli-layli than anyone else’s.) She twisted to address the arachne directly. Clearly, she used the arachne as a focus sometimes, too;

Maggy moved it to a position that did not require her to turn.

(Thanks,) said Tocohl, (I see I’m falling into that little habit, too. You shouldn’t have bounced it on the bed; it did get my attention, in more ways than one.) She was silent for a long moment, then she went on, (I’m thinking that the in ee

Timosie Megeve might have been very important in all this…) (I don’t understand.)

(I’m thinking that Timosie’s very name might have given his words more weight to Oloitokitok.

Suppose Megeve suggested to Oloitokitok that no one would believe, for instance, that the two of them had seen the sprookjes behaving in a sentient fashion.) She focused her eyes at some point beyond the arachne. (Or suppose… Maggy, Sunchild was Megeve’s sprookje! She was willing to chance a ride in a daisy-clipper! The equipment failures… Megeve’s acting as if the sprookjes would mess with his equipment! Suppose the sprookjes did mess with the equipment. Suppose…)

(Too many supposes,) Maggy interrupted. (I can’t give an accurate probability on any one of them.

I’m not sure I even follow your line of thinking.)

(Why would Megeve want Oloitokitok dead?)

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(Well,) said Maggy, knowing that esthetically such an important question required a pause before the answer, (he wanted you dead, if I understand this correctly, because he thought the four of you were the only witnesses to the sprookje’s gift.)

(Yes. Suppose there had been an earlier gift, one only Megeve and Oloitokitok witnessed.) (Why wouldn’t Oloitokitok tell everyone about the gift?) (That’s where the name Timosie comes in. If someone named John the Smith had said, “They won’t believe us. Let’s wait until we can get some real proof,” Oloitokitok would have said,

“There are two of us. We’ve both seen it. Let’s tell everyone and they’ll help us look for real proof.” But if Timosie said the very same thing, Oloitokitok would have said, “All right, let’s wait until we can get some real proof.”)

(Tocohl, that’s silly

.)

Tocohl laughed. (I never said it wasn’t. But I’ve seen it happen. Geremy—because of the ee in his name—does a rousing business trading with Yn males. They think he’s special and important.) Only one response seemed appropriate. Maggy made the rude noise.

Tocohl laughed again. (Agreed,) she said, (but that doesn’t change the possibility. I never said human beings were logical, or reasonable, or even sane.) (I know,) said Maggy. (But they are very confusing.)

(Admit it: we keep you from being bored.) Tocohl flashed a smile at the arachne that Maggy judged every bit as beautiful as layli-layli calulan

’s.

(Yes,) Maggy said, (you keep me from being bored.)

(Good. Now think about this. Megeve never took you into account as a possible witness. There was someone else he never took into account as well…)

(The sprookjes.)

(That’s right. If only we can find the words to ask, Sunchild may be able to tell us what happened to

Oloitokitok. In the meantime, I agree with you: it’s safer not to give layli-layli any odds at all that might make her do something rash.)

Through the arachne’s eye, Maggy saw layli-layli calulan approach long before Tocohl reacted to her footsteps and turned. Tocohl began to rise, but layli-layli said, “This is only a lull between storms, Dyxte tells me. There’ll be no sprookjes for several hours, assuming the next is the day’s last.”

“So Tocohl should sleep,” Maggy said aloud.

“Yes.”

Layli-layli calulan stripped her rings from her fingers and laid them beside the arachne, giving Maggy an excellent chance to observe them closely. To Maggy’s disappointment, they seemed to be ordinary bluestone, so she recorded the movements of layli-layli’s hands instead, first as they touched the injured rib. Maggy could tell from the sensors that Tocohl was reinforcing her healing ritual simultaneously. Then, as layli-layli’s fingertips brushed Tocohl’s temples, the same sensors began to indicate drowsiness.

Tocohl sighed and sank farther into the cot. Her eyelids parted ever so slightly. (Maggy,) she said, glancing sleepily up at the infirmary roof, (where are you?) It took Maggy only a split second to weigh the pros and cons. Then she formed the image of the Flashfever starfield Tocohl would have seen from her position had the roof and light pollution of

Flashfever not intervened. She hesitated a moment—Flashfever had no constellations she knew of so there were no established groupings of stars. That made the task more difficult, but at long last she decided upon an aesthetic place to put the glittering point that would represent
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herself. She added an indicatory arrow and projected the resulting image onto Tocohl’s spectacles, all before Tocohl had drawn another breath.

And when she drew it, it was a sudden, sharp intake… Maggy knew a sound of delight when she heard it from Tocohl, and the slow, drowsy smile that followed merely confirmed Maggy’s assessment.

(I missed you, Maggy,) Tocohl said, very softly.

(I missed you too,) Maggy said; then she was silent, letting Tocohl drift into sleep.

All in all, Maggy concluded, she had done right. Tocohl knew that she could not see the ship from here, so Maggy had not lied to a friend. She had told a pleasing story, and she was very proud of her new ability.

The storms continued throughout the day and into the night, but morning at last brought to the skies a clear pale-blue stillness. A fresh wind swept the last tang of ozone from the camp. Buntec took a deep contented breath of it, scrambled into her boots, and skipped down the steps of her quarters into the first pale rays of sunlight.

She was the first. If there had been a gong to ring to wake the other members of the team, she’d have rung it. But there wasn’t—and for the moment, she could not bring herself to venture into shadow long enough to knock at various doors.

The stillness was loud enough to wake others. One by one, the surveyors stumbled out, blinking up into the sky, and smiled. Buntec waved at Edge-of-Dark who waved back, glanced down at her own bare feet, reddened, and darted back inside.

It took Buntec a second or two to realize just what sequence of events had sent Edge-of-Dark back

into shadow. Once she had, she was spurred into action without any further thought.

She splashed across the compound, raced up the steps to Edge-of-Dark’s quarters, and stuck her head in, uninvited. “Don’t,” she said, “don’t, Edge-of-Dark. I can stand your f-feet”—though the word was hard to get out when it wasn’t an obscenity, when she didn’t mean it as an obscenity, she managed to say it and go on to the important part of her objection: “Don’t miss the sun just because of me!!!”

Edge-of-Dark paused in the midst of pulling on her second boot. Her jaw dropped, then closed abruptly to draw her mouth into a brilliant smile. “Buntec,” she said, “you are one of the nicest people

I’ve ever met. That makes up for any sunshine I missed for these!” She pulled the boot to, tapped it with a long green nail.

Embarrassed, Buntec ducked her head. “I wish,” she said, “there weren’t so many traps between us.

I like you too, Edge-of-Dark. I like you a lot. I don’t know how to get from here to there”—she gestured at the expanse of floor that separated them and found she knew the perfect expression—“without, as the Trethowan say, putting my f-foot in it.” It was minimally easier to speak the word the second time—and Edge-of-Dark’s peal of delighted laughter made it worth every bit of the effort.

Still laughing, Edge-of-Dark stood and straightened. “I will close the distance, too. If we warn each other, look out for each other, we will make it.”

“Yes,” said Buntec, lifting her head and grinning. For a long moment, the two of them simply stood there grinning at each other across the small separating distance, then Buntec said,

“Sunshine!”

“Yes,” agreed Edge-of-Dark. “Would you give me a hand with my table and bowls, Buntec? The sprookjes need help across a distance too.”

The two of them carried the small table down the steps to set it in the sunlight. Edge-of-Dark
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made a quick trip back for bowls and scissors and the rest of her odd paraphernalia.

Buntec leaned back, stretched her legs. When she sat up again, she caught movement at the edge of camp. “Your sprookjes are coming,” she called up to Edge-of-Dark. There was no response.

Well, it required none, thought Buntec, and settled in to watch the sprookjes appear in the flashwood and start to work their way through the fence.

She blinked suddenly and rose to her full height, shading her eyes and squinting. Surely she was imagining it—but she hoped she wasn’t.

Those surveyors closest to the sprookjes turned, gave excited exclamations, tapped others. No, not imagining things. “Edge-of-Dark, get out here!”

Beside her, Edge-of-Dark responded only to her urgency of tone. “I’m here,” she said, then absently, “I’ll need to pick flowers. Would you like to come with me?”

Buntec dragged her eyes away from the sprookjes to glance down. Edge-of-Dark was contemplating her paraphernalia. Buntec caught her by the shoulders, turned her to face the sprookjes.

“Tell me,” Buntec demanded, “tell me if you see what I see! Look at the sprookjes and then tell me if you need to pick flowers!”

And in Edge-of-Dark’s widening eyes, Buntec found all the confirmation she needed. She turned again to the perimeter fence.

A dozen sprookjes were cautiously assisting each other through the barbed-wire barrier—and each carried an armload of brilliant blooms and leaves of all sizes and shapes.

Edge-of-Dark started forward, as if drawn by all that color and noise, but Buntec caught her shoulder. “Stay here. Stay here. They know where to find you.” She stared again at the approaching sprookjes, sure beyond dispute that all would come straight to Edge-of-Dark.

She sprang from the steps.

“I’m gonna get Maggy. She should be taping this.”

Dazed, still caught up in the sight, Edge-of-Dark sat abruptly. “Yes,” she said, “I should stay.”

She managed to tear her eyes away to look momentarily at Buntec. “They’re coming!

They’ve brought flowers!”

Buntec could feel her own fierce grin. “

Your art they recognize,” she said, for the pleasure of putting it into words. Then, still grinning, she started for the infirmary.

“ don’t care,” Maggy said, “

I

I’m going to wake her. She’ll want to see this.” The emphasis was so startling that Tocohl at first thought herself in the midst of a particularly vivid dream, then waking and simultaneously catching the sense of the distantly heard words she realized she was hearing Maggy’s voice relayed through her implant.

Buntec’s voice, seeming equally astonished by the emphasis Maggy had put on the , said, I

“Whatever you want, kid. Make your own decisions, take your own lumps.”

“Lumps?”

There was a pause as Buntec sought a way to explain. “Take the consequences, good or bad.

Tocohl might not take kindly to being kicked awake, not even for this.”

(Maggy?) Tocohl asked. (What’s going on?)

An image of Om im looking up flashed briefly onto her spectacles; from the angle, someone tall must have been holding the arachne above his head. “She’s awake,” Maggy told him, and rather smugly. I bet

I

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sound like that when deliver a fait accompli, Tocohl thought.

I

(Look,) Maggy said and showed her a crowd of surveyors and sprookjes, all jostling about in front of Edge-of-Dark’s cabin. (The sprookjes brought flowers for Edge-of-Dark.) Despite the irrationality of the act, Tocohl sat up for a better view, noting with relief that at least sitting was no longer painful.