N-Space Part 69

"Nope." It didn't bother Harp. She seemed half-asleep, watching the bowl fill.

Would they expect him to take off the pressure suit? He couldn't do that; but it looked like he'd better have a d.a.m.n good excuse. The silver suit was his uniform and his defenses and the measure of his value.

Renho and Dunninger returned. Dunninger had another cl.u.s.ter of angel moles. Renho pulled a respectable ma.s.s up through the foliage: a half-grown triune a bit smaller than he was. They moved away to butcher their catch.

On no visible signal, Harp and Stevn began taking off their clothes.

She was wonderfui. Maxell tried to keep his jaw closed, his eyes half-lowered; he certainly couldn't keep them off Harp. Normal women had always seemed fragile to him, too long and narrow; and while they might admire his muscle, they chose taller men.

Renho and Dunninger noticed what was going on. They began to strip too. They all set their bundled clothes handy and entered the pool.

Harp grinned at him. "Doesn't it come off?"

"Cla.s.sified," the Silver Man said automatically. But anyone who might steal a silver suit was here within his sight. Right? And a Navy-trained dwarf was the equal of any four citizens, right? And any fool could see that if he didn't get into that bath he'd be ostracizing himself, very bad vibes for the Admiralty, and he certainly couldn't do it with the suit on, because water might damage something inside- He stepped into the foliage to get it off. The means were certainly cla.s.sified.

If he'd had his life to live over again, he'd have been first into the bath. The way he'd hesitated, everyone watched him swim out of the foliage and enter the water. It was cold. He masked a grimace and submerged himself. He asked, "Is body heat supposed to make this warmer?"

Harp laughed. Stevn said, "Sitzen Tree is supposed to have their fireplace next to the bath, so one side gets hot."

"The whole grove thinks they're they're effetes," Harp said. effetes," Harp said.

She didn't know about Admiralty practices. Renho and Dunninger were grinning, avoiding his eye and each other's. Maxell said, "What do we use for soap?"

"Soak a bit, then we rub each other clean. I'll show you."

Maxell didn't swallow his grin, because the rest were grinning too. Harp was going to be sparkingly clean.

"Guardian," she said, "How do you like tree life?"

"It's all new to me. Has its attractions, though. How are you feeling? It must have been a nightmare, your tree coming apart."

"Oh, yes." She took his hand underwater. Maxell was surprised, then pleased.

"Did you get any warning?"

She was silent for a few breaths. Then, "The whole tree was lurching around. The floor of the Commons twisted and ripped apart under us. We could hear a kind of ba.s.s scream, the sound of tearing wood, I guess. So we had some time, some warning, but what were we going to do with it? We tied the children in the loops and ran the treadmill to get them up quick, and then rode the line ourselves. Some of us s.n.a.t.c.hed wings before it all ripped loose. I grabbed my windpipe instead.

"Some of us didn't want to come, and some of the children hid when we tried to gather them up. We weren't going to force them. We didn't have room. They're still in the tuft, I guess."

Stevn left the water to pluck spmne branches. These he distributed with ritual precision. The ritual continued: the five fed each other foliage until the branches were bare, then began sc.r.a.ping each others' backs with the springy branchlets. Backs and shoulders, and then they sc.r.a.ped themselves.

Maxell, last to sc.r.a.pe Harp's back, took it easy. The skin was already pink. And while he was close enough, he half-whispered, "When I was surrounded by foliage and starving-"

"Yes?" Her head turned; her lips were very close.

"Thank you for not laughing."

"I've visited half the trees in the grove, you know. They're all different. I don't laugh at anyone."

''I try not to.''

"Guardian, would you like to find some privacy with me?"

Though they were both naked and whispering, this seemed very sudden. Maxell felt a stutter coming on. He made himself say, "Yes. Absolutely. Can I take my suit?"

She was surprised, but she didn't laugh. "Something inventive?"

"No, I have to guard it. Standing orders."

CHAPTER THREE.

YEAR 419 DAY 118.

Sounds trickled through his sleeping mind: snores, voices, complaints, crying children; wind, growing gradually louder; "Kitemaster? Kite-master?" all faintly irritating, all "Kitemaster?"

"Yuh." He was standing half-upright in a wobbly lift cage. Everything hurt. He felt beaten half to death . . . but not sleepy. Alert. His eyes were crusted and the Sun was too bright, west and a little in. The Sun had been west and a little out when the cage began to fall.

Between waking and waking was generally about four and a half days standard days: orbits of Goidblatt's World. Nearer Levoy's Star the days ran shorter. Farther out, they ran longer. A sleep was a day and a half to two days; but a voyage from the midpoint to the in tuft took longer than that. He must have slept for two days and a little, because the tuft was coming up fast- "Kitemaster, what do we do?"

"Brake. There's a brake. Ling, it's hardwood, eyeball height in one corner. I think it's behind those two white-haired-" Ling dove into the crowd; they made way. "Found it? Two flat pieces of wood. Squeeze them together." The lift cage jerked and surged, and everyone still sleeping woke. "Not so hard, Captain, you'll break it! Just gently, with both hands . . . a little harder. Remember, you're not just braking a cageful of citizens, you're braking the whole system. Spit on it if it smokes."

The cage slowed.

Below was a Navy spinner ship, deeply nested, the first Aim had seen so close. For a made thing, it was big. big. A windmill turning on an oddly curved box, a tank, an octagonal hut, all decorated unimagmnatively in letters and numbers, like Admiralty wings; all festooned with rope. Green billows rose up to hide it. A windmill turning on an oddly curved box, a tank, an octagonal hut, all decorated unimagmnatively in letters and numbers, like Admiralty wings; all festooned with rope. Green billows rose up to hide it.

The channel for the cage and lift lines had grown closed. No, there it was, just a pucker, and next to it the windmill spinning merriiy, its blades almost cutting foliage. He'd seen it this way a hundred times .

When Alin was eight years old, the Scientist caused a windmill to be built and hooked to the treadwheei that ran the lift lines. After that the lift lines were simply left running. They only called the kids to the treadwheel for extra power to lift a loaded cage.

Aim had liked the treadwheel, the companionship, the chance to show off muscle. Maybe that was why he'd become the Liftmaster's Apprentice.

He was twenty when the crops failed. The tribe had migrated to the out tuft, traveling naked for fear of bringing contamination. Those had been frantically busy days. Lift lines had to be run to the out tuft, and a windmill built, and eventually a treadwheel and more lift cages; foraging parties on the truth needed transportation, and so did any food they found; and everything needed to be lifted to the midpoint and then out . .

He'd been Liftmaster's Apprentice when ten Admiralty kitemen came saiiing out of the sky to touch down at Brighton's midpoint. He'd known his destiny in that instant.

He'd asked for a pair of kites.

They'd laughed. It must have seemed funny to these tourists, a climber thing, climber thing, this unspoken understanding that a gift would be repaid, eventually, somehow. But the kiteman Chet Bussjak had offered a trade. this unspoken understanding that a gift would be repaid, eventually, somehow. But the kiteman Chet Bussjak had offered a trade.

It was all arranged in advance, carefully spelled out. For Bussjak's set of kites, plus several sleeps spent teaching Aim how to make and bind more kites, Bussjak would take the kites they made together (proof that the making was taught well!) plus Aim's wings.

It was easy to see why Bussjak wanted those. The wings bound to the kitemen's backs were crude things, unpainted, ugly.

So Liftmaster Kent had taken another apprentice- "Brake!" Aim shouted. He'd never descended the tree with such a load. The cage plunged into the foliage, into darkness and a roar of shattering branchiets loud enough to drown out the yelling, and slapped down hard. With his head ringing, Alin leapt to disconnect the cage before the lift line could pull it back out.

"Sorry," he said.

Ling bellowed, "I can't see a d.a.m.n thing! Kitemaster, you've really All right, so you've been gone for two years, but this place is really really What's next?" What's next?"

Aim's sight was coming back. Parallel beams of sunlight flared from out. From in, from below. . . the red glow of a fire?

There were five shadows perched around the orange-white light of a rock firepit. Then one was flying toward him, backlighted by the glow. Stevn.

Aim caught him in the air. They drifted backward, and settled into green cloud.

"Boy, are you all right?"

"Sure. Well, I hurt."

"Where?"

"Everywhere. My hands. Wrists."

The cage had emptied. The chatter of Linnet's people faded as they all streamed toward the fire.

"Me too, but we did good. Everyone came back. What's going on here? Who's the-" In his concern for Stevn, AIm had only glimpsed the others at the fire. "Who's the gleaming. . . silver man? It's a Guardian!"

Stevn tugged at his arm. "Come on, I'll introduce you."

"No, hold a breath. I should know a little more. The Guardian?"

"He flew out to get me when I got close enough. They hadn't seen the tree. When I pointed it out they went right in, but all we found was Harp."

"Did you have any trouble with the kites?"

"No, Dad, it was just a straight shot, just set the kites and wait. I was afraid the fog would thicken up, but it didn't. Riding back in a Navy ship was a kick. Noisy, though. When the windmill spins it's like a thousand little men pounding with hammers."

"There's supposed to be little explosions going off in that box." Aim was watching while he listened. Captain Ling and his men and women and chiidren had only paused at the fire. There was a flurry of activity back . . . "Isn't that where we had the bath?"

"Yes. We ripped out the foliage and filled it. Harp thinks it's important, 'important bonding ritual,' and maybe she had another reason too."

"Capability's Harp?"

"Right. Dad, there's food at the fire."

At the rock firepit the overgrowth of foliage had been torn away to prevent the fire's spreading, and used to feed the fire itself. There were angel moles and apples broiled on spine branches. The horde hadn't left much.

Stevn said, "Not all the earthlife died. We've got oats and two kinds of beans, but we couldn't figure how to cook them."

"Not to mention enough foliage to strangle us au if we don't eat fast enough. I'd say the tuft's ready for occupancy. What else don't I know?"

"This tuft's infested with angel moles. We shouid take some back. And we got the bath going."

"Who did you bring? Who didn't didn't you bring?" you bring?"

"Captain Murphy and one of the crew stayed with Flutterby. Flutterby. We've got two crew and Guardian Curtz and Harp." We've got two crew and Guardian Curtz and Harp."

From the blurred activity in the dark beyond the fire, one separated and climbed toward sunlight. Aim's dark vision must have been improving. He saw Capability's Harp with fire in her hair, vivid as his memory, where every other human shape had been a blur. She perched herself above the bath: a creature of magic, backlit by yellow-white sunlight, playing a windpipe in the low breeze. Half-heard music wafted toward them.

Stevn said, "She went off into the bushes with the Guardian. Right out of the bath, naked, hauling that silver suit after them."

Alin suppressed a guffaw.

"But she got the bath set up first. The silver suit has a smell to it that must be four hundred years old. Yug! Getting the suit off him was like pulling teeth, and getting the smell off took awhile, and now he's back in the suit."

"He did save her life . . . yours too."

"Sorry."

Harp recognized Aim, or maybe Stevn, and waved. They both waved back. Alin asked, "Did anyone ever tell you about bards?"

"What about bards?"

"Bards don't marry. It seems to be that way in every tree. There's always a bard, and bards belong to everyone. n.o.body gets mad if his wife rubs up against a bard, and of course they're usually men. Harp is the only woman bard I know about."

"Have you rubbed up against Capability's Harp?" Aim nodded.

"Does Mom know?"

"Yes.''

"She doesn't care?"

"It makes Natlee furious every time she thinks about it. But it's not supposed to. Stevn-"

"We don't mention her."

"She'll ask. She'll know what tree came apart. Stick with me, stet? Harp will never speak a word to me without you right beside me."

''Stet.''

"I wonder why the dwarf? They all all saved her life. Did she-" saved her life. Did she-"

"Just the dwarf."

The little man was a power in the Admiralty. And he was short.

They worked their way down a slope of foliage half-shaped into ledges. Stevn and the rest had uncovered just the rim of the hemispherical bowl. It was very crowded. Above the sloshing and murmuring Alin called, "Captain Ling?"

"Who asks?"

"Your companion in flight."

"Kitemaster! Join us by all means!" Ling lolled in a soup of bodies. "I must say, it's startling to find such luxury beneath the mask of overgrown foliage. The seats above the treemouth, for instance. And the firepit. Elegant." Something in his tone suggested that Captain Ling did not quite approve.

Aim stripped and entered the water. It wasn't jarringly cold. Thirty-odd bodies must have warmed it.

He must have been in body contact with half that many. He let his eyelids fall and savored sensations. His head lolled on someone's shoulder, somebody's child wiggled under his arm, a near-infant stood on his knee and studied him. Ripples marched as someone scrubbed someone's back. A foot caressed his calf and a woman smiled. Sleepy eyes were all about him, the sloshing and the faintly heard music and the quiet.