Necessity's Child (Liaden Universe®) (35 page)

Rys found his balance and, for the first time in . . . a very long time, walked without support; first, at the center of a smiling triangle of his brothers, and then again, in lonely state, about the forge, his steps quiet and properly timed.

Rafin showed him how he might call for more energy from the brace, by pumping his foot up and down and engaging the hydraulics to do more.

“But use it with care! You will spin in circles if you give one side more power than the other.”

Rys laughed, and suddenly dodged ’round Pulka, executing a quick and intricate piece of footwork before leaping into the air and bolting for the ramp.

“Catch me!” he cried, as if the new leg had not only made him whole, but dropped him into boyhood.

Pulka, of course, did not run, but Udari did, and Rafin, pelting after him out of the forge and up the ramp, their laughter bouncing around them from ceiling and walls. At the top of the ramp, Rafin spun, as if to grab him. Rys twisted, danced around, behind—and fled back toward the forge, the others scrambling in his wake.

He threw himself into the rocker under Pulka’s astonished eye, grinning as first Udari and then Rafin dropped to the floor nearby, fair quivering with high spirits.

“One thing,” Rafin said, shaking his head as if he would dash water from his hair. “One thing, little one. That brace will not tire as a human leg will tire. Listen to your flesh and blood and do not allow the machine to push you beyond what you can bear.”

Rys, leaning back in the rocker, nodded.

“It is like the glove,” he said, “both a great gift and a great peril.”

“As life itself,” said Udari and rose of a sudden, his lips still bent in a residual smile. “Brothers, I am sent forth by the
luthia
’s word to fetch the youngest of our sisters from the City Above.”

Rys rose from the rocker immediately, and stretched out his ungloved hand.

“I will walk with you to the gate,” he said, “Brother.”

* * *

She would have had him rest, but Syl Vor insisted that he walk with Kezzi and Gavit to meet her brother and Malda.

“Tomorrow morning, let’s meet as we did this morning,” he said, as they walked, “and go into school together.”

She thought about that. It would be best not to meet Pete or Luce—or worse, Pete
and
Luce—alone. In fact, if she never saw either of them again, she would be well pleased with the bargain.

“Pitched them two out onnere ears, ain’t they?” Gavit asked from behind them. “Fightin’ in school?”

“Mother said that Ms. Taylor wished to give Luce and Peter a second chance,” Syl Vor said. “She said that she thought they’d learned their lesson.”

Gavit snorted. “Your ma, she agreed to that, did she?”

“Yes,” said Kezzi. “She said that the teacher knew her classroom best, and that we—Syl Vor and me—could take care of ourselves, and . . .”

“. . . and if they fail to use their second chance to advantage, they will have to face the Patrol,” Syl Vor finished.

“Oughta had to face the Patrol years ago, the both of ’em,” Gavit said. “Might be I’ll have a talk with your ma, Silver. Meanwhile, here’s your brother, Anna. Make sure you tell him what happened today, hear me?”

“I will. Syl Vor, rest your arm.”

“It’s all right now,” he said. “Good evening, Nathan and Rascal.”

“Good evening, small dragon and Streetman Gavit.”

“Hey,” Gavit said.

“Remember, Anna,” Syl Vor said, “I’ll meet you tomorrow where we met today.”

“Yes,” she said impatiently. “I’ll remember. Go home and rest your arm!”

* * *

“What was it you were to tell your brother?” Udari asked as they walked among the
gadje
.

“When we went into school this morning, there were two boys beating a third, and Syl Vor put himself in front of the third. He broke one boy’s arm.”

“Well done,” said Udari mildly. “And the other?”

Kezzi sighed. “I cut him behind the knee. And I am to tell you, Brother, that I am not to bring this knife that I have to school anymore.”

“The teacher says this?”

“Yes.”

“Then we will this evening provide you with another knife. What else about the fight? You, I see, were not hurt. Was Syl Vor?”

“His arm was dislocated, but . . .” she paused.

“But?”

“But he stood there, with his arm dislocated, and his, his
soul
—I could see it, bright as an Affirmation, that he would fight more, if he had to, and they wouldn’t—he was determined that they would not prevail.” She took a hard breath. “It was why I cut Luce behind the knee, so Syl Vor wouldn’t have to fight anymore.”

“Well,” Udari said, and walked a hand of steps in silence, “do you know what I think, young sister?”

“That I should have gone for Luce’s eye?”

“No, that would have been too much. What I think is that you are as fortunate in your brother as I am in mine.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

The Bedel came noisily together at the center of the common space, and sat in the exuberance of light produced by more than a dozen hearthstones.

Rys sat between Jin and Memit, with Udari on Jin’s left, all of them in brilliant finery, seeming like so many bright birds flocking. He himself had no cause to be ashamed in this splendid company, as he wore a scarlet shirt and a deeply embroidered indigo vest that had come from out of the depths of Udari’s chest. Rys thought they must have belonged to his brother when he was a boy. That same brother was this evening handsomely turned out in a yellow shirt and a plum-colored vest lavishly embroidered with red flowers.

A shadow moved between the hearth and those gathered—Silain, dressed all in white, crimson tassels on her shawl, and a broad band of yellow embroidery around the hems of her long tunic and skirt.

She held a baton as long as his forearm high over her head, and paced ’round the hearth until everyone there had seen it. The chattering laughter stilled, replaced by expectant silence.

Slowly, Silain lowered her arms.

A smaller shadow detached itself from the inner edge of the circle—Kezzi, Rys saw, wearing a red blouse over a long dark skirt as thick with embroidery as his vest, and a gay yellow sash ’round her waist.

She took the baton from Silain-
luthia
’s hand, holding it reverently between both of hers. It seemed, at first, an odd office for a child—and then not so odd at all. After all, Kezzi was the
luthia
’s apprentice.

The
luthia
’s apprentice, then, brought the baton to Alosha the headman. Like the
luthia
, the headman was all in white, and he sat cross-legged and calm just a hand’s span inside the circle.

He received the baton and began to speak.

“The
kompani
gathers to celebrate Dmitri, who has stepped from this world into that kinder place, the World Beyond. When the memory stick comes to your hand, speak as your heart prompts you, sisters and brothers. Let us remember Dmitri, our brother. Let us remember him well, and with laughter!”

He passed the baton to the woman sitting just behind and on his right.

Dmitri had been well-loved by the Bedel, if even half the stories told of him were true, and laughter frequently attended the baton as it made its way ’round the circle.

When it came to his hand, Rys made to pass it on, thinking it could only be an insult, that one who was not of the
kompani
and who had no story to tell, should speak.

Memit, however, thrust it back on him, so it seemed that he must either speak or enter into a brawl. He took a breath, fingering the baton, feeling slides and nubs beneath his fingers—
controls
, as if it were a recording device, in truth. His thoughts grew, not cold, but cool, and he bowed his head.

“I meet Dmitri as he leaves us, a shadow in the doorway between worlds,” he said slowly. “A man of heart, and of skill, whose eagerness to attain that kinder place speaks of a soul unburdened by care. Yet, even as he goes, he pauses to teach a young brother, through the memories of his brothers and his sisters, what it is, to be of the Bedel.”

Despite the coolness of mind that had produced this, he swallowed with difficulty around the sudden lump in his throat and thrust the baton blindly in Memit’s direction. He felt it slip through his fingers at the same time an arm came ’round his shoulders in a hug and Jin murmured in his ear, “Well said, Rys. Your heart does you credit.”

The baton continued its circuit, producing yet more tales, with now and again a cry of, “Yes!” or “That was like him!” from others in circle, at last coming back to the hand of Silain-
luthia
.

Once again she raised it over her head and, smiling upon the wholeness of them, called for song and dancing—

“So that Dmitri will hear in the World Beyond and smile to know that his sisters and his brothers share his joy and look forward to that time when they are reunited with him, in that
kompani
camped just out of sight.”

* * *

Rys stood in the shadows of the common hearth, watching the Bedel dance, joyous and bright as birds. The music was unfamiliar, and to his ear chaotic, woven by the dancers into something delightful and strange.

It seemed that all the Bedel were dancing—Silain and Jin made a pair of it, while Droi danced by herself, fueled by the same cruel energy that had characterized her love-making. Further afield, Udari was paired with Vylet, the length of a man’s arm separating them, her hips girdled with a rope of tiny bells that she kept a-ringing merrily.

Someone pressed a mug into his hand. He tasted the contents cautiously—beer. Having learnt his lesson regarding Bedel beer, he clung to the mug, but did not drink any more.

“Rys!” Kezzi was before him, her hair half escaped from the braid, her face lit with a joy so pure that he had to look away.

“Udari said your leg is repaired, that you can walk, and run!”

“Why so I can,” he said, smiling. He turned in place, to demonstrate his new agility, and caught his breath when she snatched his gloved hand.

“But you’re not dancing!”

“I don’t know how.”

She laughed.

“You just—
dance
,” she said, tugging on his hand. “Here, I’ll show you!”

There came another tug, which he understood to mean that he was to accompany her. He bent to put the mug down where it might not be kicked, offered his ungloved hand to her clasp, and allowed himself to be escorted out onto the floor.

“Listen,” Kezzi commanded. “Just listen. Don’t think. Let the music fill you up.” She closed her eyes, perhaps to better facilitate listening. Rys did not close his, but watched her, seeing her muscles relax into the sound. Her foot tapped, her leg twitched, the hand in his flexed, and relaxed.

Kezzi began to move.

It was a distinctive dance, and, watching her, he could identify the particular thread of musical chaos that informed her: the stringed instrument, with its sharp, articulated highs and lows.

He moved with her, since it would be graceless to act the part of a stump. At first, he imperfectly aped her movements, but as his ear became more comfortable with the thread and, indeed, he became more comfortable with the reality of
being able
to dance, he began to move more freely.

Kezzi swooped and leapt, and he did. She lunged, and he did. She flung her hands in the air and spun—and he did, coming to rest nose to chest with Rafin.

“He dances! Eh? Eh?” Rafin slapped him on the shoulder with a force that made him stagger, and strode away into Droi’s orbit. Captured, he began to stamp and clap his hands, spinning about her like a demented planet around its star.

Rys turned back to his own partner, finding her swaying still, but somewhat heavy of eye.

“Do you dance the night away, little sister? Or is the
luthia
’s apprentice permitted to rest?”

Kezzi sighed. “The
luthia
said that I had to sleep tonight, because I have school tomorrow.” She put up a hand to cover a sudden yawn, and shook her head.

“Allow me to see you safely to rest, then,” he said. “Where do you go?”

“Malda waits for me at Silain’s hearth,” Kezzi said. “Vylet and Droi will dance late, and I wouldn’t want to wake them early . . .”

“No, that would be too bad, for everyone concerned. To Silain’s hearth it is.”

He walked with her, and she tucked her hand once again into his ungloved one.

“Did Udari tell you, that I have a brother who is a dragon?”

“He did,” Rys said, managing to keep his voice easy. “I am thinking what I must do about that.”

“Well, I hope you won’t have to do anything about it,” Kezzi said, around another yawn. “I wouldn’t like to have two of my brothers at outs.”

“That would be awkward,” he agreed. “I will do my best not to be at outs with your dragon brother, Sister.”

A sharp yip sounded, and Kezzi laughed, slipping her hand away and bending down.

“Malda! Come.”

The dog arrived, wriggling at her feet. She pulled his ears, and rubbed his tummy then straightened.

“We’ll sleep in the hearth-room,” she said.

“And I, if it will not disturb you, will sit by the hearth. I . . . must pray.”

She smiled. “I’ll sleep better, for your prayers,” she said, which had the sound of set piece, and then, before he could divine her intent, she leaned close and kissed his cheek.

* * *

“Who guards the hearth?”

Rys raised his head, and rolled to his feet.

“Grandmother, it is I.”

“So I see, on two strong legs. Is this Rafin’s genius, too?”

“A team effort. Udari was the impetus, Pulka envisioned the design, and Rafin . . . brought it into the world.”

He stepped forward, offering his natural hand. She placed her unburdened hand into his with a smile. Her skin was as soft as old paper, her bones as light as a bird’s.

“Will I make tea” he asked, “or wish you sweet dreams?”

“Tea, if you please, grandson. I will return the memory stick to its place, and come out to you in a moment.”

“Yes,” he said, and went to find the kettle.

The tea was ready by the time Silain rejoined him, once again dressed in her comfortable motley of scarves and shawls.