Hidden Faults (33 page)

“You should rest,” he said.

“Because you won’t need to listen to me.”

“No, not that,” he said, giving me a baleful look. “Cos you need the rest. I could help you....”

“No...no, thank you. The arm...no.”

“Okay, I heard you the first time,” he said, grimacing impatiently. “I get everything twice, remember?”

“Thanks, I’d almost forgotten my thoughts are public property.” He scowled and made to get up. “Wait. Kir, why don’t you help me build shields?”

“Yeah, cos me not knowing all your nasty thoughts about me would fix everything, wouldn’t it.”

It was insanely difficult to discuss one’s mental processes when the other person could hear you marshalling your arguments. “You’re listening to me trying to sort things out. Why not give us both a rest and teach me how this shield thing works?”

He sighed. “Okay. I guess I was being a little stupid, hoping—”

“Wait...hoping?”

He looked away, as if he realised his eyes were open windows onto his feelings and had learned not to give things away through them.

“I was kinda hoping you’d be willing to learn the Weadenisi technique. I had this stupid idea about you and me working together. Jeyle did it, but none of the others would. Well, ‘cept Hermi, but I wouldn’t let him work with me cos him being an empath and being chucked into a big city is like boiling him in acid. And Dede’d already taught herself to shield before the terrors started, so it was too late for her too.”

“Why did the others refuse? Is the shield inferior?”

“No, better. But they don’t want to be spies, and once they learn the other shielding, you can’t really go backwards and use the Weadenisi one, not without a lot of motivation and work, and it’s about a fifty percent failure even then. Basically, it’s either or. Uliem and Wizinaera taught some of them the other way, and the rest was rushing over each other to learn it, in case I tricked them or something. Now they’re all fucking useless.”

“Because the shields are detectable.”

“Yep. Whole thing gets thrown on me and Jeyle. I was hoping....” He gave a little chuckle. “And with everything I done to you, too. The normal shield’s easy. I can do that tonight. You want it?”

“No. I want the other one. Can you do that tonight instead?”

His expression changed to pure surprise. “You’d work with me?”

“I can’t see why the option should be removed. Any chance to get the hell away from here is good.”

“‘S what I feel,” he said fervently. “But I can’t do it before we leave.”

“So...if I get picked up, I’m vulnerable.”

“Yeah, but I can cover you. You need to stick with me, but you need to do that anyway, cos your cover’s not airtight. We go in quick, do the thing, and you get back to safety. A shield won’t help you. It’d help us, until a TP got in and cracked you. Or they tortured you or drugged you to make it break.”

I shivered and hugged myself with my good arm. “I wish I didn’t believe that’s going on.”

“Believe it. There’s things that won’t just keep you awake tonight, they’d keep you awake for the rest of your life if you heard them. ‘Specially you being a doctor and stuff. I met people in the Weadenal...bad shit.” He looked at me directly now. “You need to sleep. Seriously.”

“Dede’s hiding the good drugs, and I had a nap this afternoon.” I still felt tired though.

“Well, we got three choices. I move over the other side where I ain’t real welcome, like you saw. I get Dede or another TP to sit in here and shield you until you do fall asleep. Or you stop being an arse and let me knock you out. You choose.”

“Some choice.”

“It’s the way it is.”

He appeared so fragile from weariness and sorrow and disappointment, fine lines around those so revealing eyes, his mouth drooping. The world placed too much on him, as had his supposed friends.

“Okay, knock me out,” I said. “My liver will thank you, and so will my arm.”

He got up and then leaned over me, touching my forehead, the roughened skin of his fingers strangely cool and soothing.

“You don’t actually need to do that, do you.”

“Um....” His expression said ‘caught’ as clearly as if he’d spoken it.

I grabbed his wrist as he went to lift his hand. “It’s okay.”

He nodded, and when I woke up the next morning, I couldn’t remember him going.

~~~

Jeyle announced we would be leaving at noon since she wanted to drive slowly and not excite any unwanted attention. The driving conditions were atrocious, but with her talent and mine, we would have no actual difficulties.

I spent the morning going over a list of names of students from the private boarding school I’d attended until the age of sixteen, before I’d been allowed to enter the Academy two years early and gain my first degree at a ridiculously young age. It surprised me how few people I’d kept in contact with, or knew the fates of. I’d always thought of myself as gregarious, and I’d certainly been well-liked, but now I had to accept that I’d never really let myself get close to anyone except Timo and a couple of other boys. Afraid of my secret sexuality being revealed, shamed by my provincial, restricted background, and always worried my uncouthness would reveal itself at the wrong moment, I’d kept everyone at arm’s length.

Kir made no comment on my scanty notes, collecting them up and then telling me to go find Hermi who’d help me with my disguise. My short hair would expose me quicker than the tattoo would, so I had to wear a wig as well as concealing makeup, and synthaskin over the incision on my arm. If I was arrested, the deception would be revealed very quickly, but Kir promised me that wouldn’t happen while he was around. I’d have to stay in close proximity to him at all times, to ensure his shielding covered me.

Finally being flown three pardecs to the hidden garage, and then getting into the veecle and out on the open road, came as a relief, even if our driver radiated so much hostility I didn’t need empathy to detect it. The road improved once we hit the main north-south highway. We encountered little traffic, unsurprisingly—only a few syngas-powered, heavy-goods movers, plying their way slowly to the few towns and settlements unconnected by the rollo network, the occasional private veecle passing us at high speed. Our veecle was snow-fitted, but Jeyle gave the wheels some assistance. We never got stuck or skidded, quite amazing in a five-hour journey of that kind.

We had to stop and change over batteries once, using the chance to drink some hot khevai and eat some pie. We avoided civilisation, naturally enough, but we had no need to stop in any town until we arrived at Vizinken as the street lighting flickered on, and the sun, having poked its head out for a mere half hour after the snow that had fallen all day, disappeared below the northwest mountain crests.

We got stuck behind snow cleaners and light urban traffic, a few slow transit carriers, packed with weary passengers on their way home to their supper. Jeyle drove with perfect patience, obeying every regulation with care, and keeping away from other veecles. We didn’t want to be involved in even a minor accident while in the city. Every time we approached an intersection, I tensed up. Fortunately, Jeyle wasn’t an empath or I’d have driven her insane with my anxiety.

As we drew closer to our destination, my tension levels racked up still further. “Tell me about this fellow we’re visiting,” I asked Kir, trying to distract myself. “A normal?”

“Yeah, but his Da was a paranormal. Seeing how his Da and his aunt and her husband all ended up in prison cos of them being Spiritists, he’s none too friendly with the government types.”

“The man died.”

Kir gave Jeyle a funny look before he answered. “Yeah. Meram never found out the truth about it neither, and it’s something that really bites. So he’s sound. You get a lot of normals like that, see—people whose parents or sisters or brothers or friends got hauled away, or shoved onto naksen and their lives fucked. The Spiritists don’t have no trouble recruiting, even with the risks.”

“One of my colleagues—former colleagues—was arrested for associating with them.”

“Yes,” Jeyle said. “We heard about that—they had the wrong information, but we could do nothing to help the man. An accusation is enough to ruin a reputation, a security rating. We have to exercise extreme caution in our dealings with the Spiritists. We need them very much more than they need us.”

“You all need the Weadenisis more, right?”

The mirror reflected her glare at me. “Yes. Don’t judge them because you antagonised one of our staunchest allies, Jodi. Wesejne is honest to the bone.”

“Maybe, but he’s an arrogant prick.”

“Tell me—would you prefer him or Noret to be in charge of your future?”

“Ask me something easier, Jeyle.”

Kir smirked at me in the mirror, but I wasn’t lying. I didn’t know the answer. Both men were arrogant, and I knew neither of them well enough to assess their motives. I had a feeling her question wasn’t theoretical.

Meram hon Rensire lived on the north edge of Vizinken, a prosperous, older suburb full of highset homes and tall fences giving the residents privacy. He lived not far from Timo, in fact, which made me crouch down below the window even though it was full dark by now, and if anything, the street lighting with its harsh shadows did more than enough to hide my face.

“Knock that off, Jodi,” Kir snapped. “You act like a criminal, people’ll see you that way. I’m scanning. Anyone recognises you, they’ll stick out like a beacon. Walk proud. You ain’t got nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Sorry. It’s just...this was my home.”

“‘Was’ being the operative word,” Jeyle said unkindly. “Kir, let him know we’re a minute away, please?”

Kir’s message meant that as we drove up towards a neat house on an ordinary street, the garage door unfolded, and our veecle swept in without the slightest pause. A short red-haired man, my age or thereabouts, with a permanently worried expression, came to us as the garage doors closed with a well-oiled hiss.

“I greet you, Jeyle, Kir—and our new friend,” he said as we climbed out of the veecle.

“We greet you, Meram,” Jeyle said, clasping his hands. “This is Jodi.”

I gave a little wave. “Uh, hi. I, uh, greet you too.”

He smiled rather solemnly, and then ushered us into the house where we could shed our outer gear. His wife, Terna, a pretty woman with a motherly figure, welcomed us as he’d done, and served up khevai and hot rolls without waiting to ask if we wanted them. Warm, tasty scents from the kitchen promised a good meal for us later on. After so many hours in the cramped veecle, staring out onto a wintry landscape, it was as welcome as a hot bath.

The home was comfortable without being luxurious—a family home, and with images and knickknacks displayed that indicated family was very important to these people. It was not unlike my parents’ house, but without the rigid formality and obsessive tidiness Mam imposed. Children’s toys were piled out of the way in the corner, ready for use, and a stack of well-thumbed medical journals had clearly been hastily straightened up before we arrived. The place was neat and clean, but I didn’t feel I had to apologise simply for sitting on the sofa and wearing it out.

It became clear that Meram and Terna were old and good friends of Kir and Jeyle. Kir regularly stayed with them, and a cover of him being a cousin’s former husband had been set up for years. For me, being back in a normal, middle-class house again disoriented me considerably. Meram was a doctor like me, as his parents had been. I didn’t know what he knew of my background. I waited to take my lead from Kir and Jeyle.

“
Arwe Jodi, we’re being very rude,” Terna said
at last, smiling at me. “It’s always such a pleasure to see two of our friends. How long have you known Kir?”

“Uh, a few months,” I said. Kir didn’t look at me. “He’s been...very helpful.”

“He’s so brave. We owe him our lives.”

“So do I. Have you always been Spiritists?”

Meram’s expression clouded. “No. My aunt was a prominent member. She was arrested and imprisoned for her activities. My father was wrongly convicted for being involved with her. I grew up hating Spiritists. Ten years ago, one of my aunt’s old friends contacted me, and I learned more about what had happened when I was a child. My grandparents raised me, but they had believed the same lies I did. I don’t know what happened to my father, but I know he was no criminal. One day, I hope to prove that. Until then, I’ll work to spare others the misery I endured.”

His wife covered his hand with her own. “Are you a Spiritist, Arwe Jodi?”

“Just Jodi and...well, I don’t know much about it. I think the work you’re doing is amazing, but the religious side of it...I’m not a very spiritual person. Raised a Marranite, curse in his name, that kind of thing.” I shrugged. “I’m a scientist. I like facts.”

Meram managed a smile at that. “On that, Jodi, you and I can agree. I’m dying to ask you about where you trained and so on, but it’s best I don’t. However, would you mind if we held a small greeting circle? It won’t take long.”

“Uh, sure. No, I don’t mind.” I hadn’t been expecting a religious ceremony.

“You can join in, watch, or I can find you somewhere—”