Nightmare

CHAPTER SIX

Kendi Weaver woke with a small start and wondered where he was. The walls and ceiling were white plaster and they smelled of fresh paint. There were no high beams above him, and his pillow wasn’t filled with-

Memory returned in a rush. Mother Ara. Bellerophon. The monastery. His room.

His room. Kendi had never had his own room, not in the tiny apartment back in Sydney and certainly not on Mistress Blanc’s farm. He sat up. His window faced east, and the sky outside, barely visible between the tree branches, was just beginning to lighten. The cool morning air was scented with damp summer leaves and carried only a fraction of the breath-stopping humidity he had hated back on the farm.

Kendi stretched luxuriously, and his skin slid over smooth white sheets instead of a rough pallet cover. The room was, he supposed, fairly small by most standards, barely five meters by three. It contained only a bed, night stand, desk, chair, and wardrobe. The white walls were bare except for a darker patch that would become a vid-screen. A set of narrow French doors next to the window lead out onto a shared balcony. Birds began hesitant morning song outside.

Kendi had arrived in the room fairly late last night. The paperwork he’d had to fill out at the spaceport had lasted quite a while, and Mother Ara had left the little group in the care of a man named Brother Manny with the explanation that she wanted to get home and see her son. A hasty supper and a whirlwind monorail ride to the dormitory had followed. It had been too dark to see much of his new home, and the exhausted Kendi had fallen almost instantly asleep. A glance at the clock set into the vid-screen told him he had only slept about five hours, but three years of waking at dawn for work were hard to shake. He shoved aside the covers and stood up to stretch. His wrist and ankle felt gloriously bare. Time to get dressed.

The only thing Misstr-that is, Giselle Blanc had permitted him to take was the knee-length white tunic she had sold him in. Brother Manny, however, had scrounged up a spare shirt, shorts, and sandals. Kendi pulled them on and trotted up the hall to the community bathroom, which sported individual sink and shower stalls. Not as luxurious as the bathroom he had briefly shared with Pup, but a far cry above the barrack-like facilities of the slave barn, especially since he didn’t have to rush through his shower. It did take him a moment to figure out that the box set into the wall was a sonic cleanser that would launder his clothes. Afterward, he went back to his room. The sun had just cleared the horizon, but it was high summer and the hour was therefore still very early. Kendi stood next to the bed and realized he had no idea what to do next. His stomach rumbled.

Is someone going to come get me for breakfast? he thought. Maybe he was supposed to figure it out on his own. Would he have to pay for the food?

Then, Where is Mom waking up?

The thought struck down the earlier comfortable feeling. Kendi didn’t even know who had bought her or where they had taken her. What was she doing right now? He imagined her scared and alone and wanted to run straight out and find her. And then, unbidden, a memory whispered in his mind.

What you cannot change, it said, accept.

A creed of the Real People. Kendi, the quick and magical lizard, nodded. He couldn’t run out to find his mother or the rest of his family now, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t do it later.

Voices murmured from outside. Kendi pushed the thoughts aside and stuck his head out the French doors. He caught his breath. The view, which he hadn’t been able to see last night, was spectacular. The dormitory was built into one of the tallest trees in the forest, and new student rooms were on the highest floor. Beyond the branches framing balcony, Kendi saw a vast carpet of white fog that stretched all the way to the horizon, where a scarlet sun was slowly edging upward. Gargantuan treetops poked up out the mist, and small flying creatures skimmed over it like insects. It was like looking at a giant’s garden.

A small group of people had gathered on the balcony, which ran the length of the floor and was shared by several rooms. With relief Kendi recognized Jeren, Kite, and Willa. Kite saw him and waved him over.

"Cantsleeptherhuh?" he said.

Kendi untangled the blur of words. "Nope. I want to explore. Is the whole monastery up in the treetops, do you think?"

Jeren spat over the side and watched it fall. "Hell of a long drop if you fell over. How long do you think it’d take before you splattered all over the ground?"

"Don’t," Willa said with a shudder. "How can you even stand to look?"

Jeren grinned at her and jumped up to the waist-high balcony rail to balance on it like a cat. Willa shrieked and clapped her hands over her eyes. Kite looked concerned. Kendi swallowed.

"Jeren," Kendi said hesitantly. "Maybe you shouldn’t-"

"Hey, it’s easy," Jeren said. He strolled casually up and down the rail, then paused to look down. White mist buried the ground below.

"Don’thinkyoush-"

"Whoa!" Jeren frantically windmilled his arms. Willa, who had been peeking between her fingers, screamed. Kendi lunged for Jeren, but he regained his balance with an easy grin. "Gotcha!" he laughed. Kendi scowled and suppressed an urge to punch him.

"That earns you demerits, guy," said a new voice.

They all turned to look. A young woman was striding toward them. She had curly black hair and emerald eyes set into a sharp, pixie-like face. Her movements were quick and darting as a hummingbird’s. A simple gold medallion hung around her neck. She looked to be in her mid-twenties.

"Hey, Sis," Jeren said. "Am I in trouble then?"

"I’m not a Sister yet, bucko," the woman replied. "I’m a second-year student and I’ve been assigned as your mentor. My name’s Dorna Saline. Jeren, come down from there before I beat your ass."

With a flourish, Jeren jumped to the balcony floor. Willa lowered her hands.

"If you want to play with heights, Jeren, use one of those," she said, and pointed to two ropes that ended in knots big enough to sit on. The other ends were tied to branches higher up. They were clearly designed to swing out beyond the balcony, and Kendi wondered who would be brave enough-or stupid enough-to swing on such a thing. As if reading his thoughts, Dorna added, "There’s a net below to catch you if you fall, Kendi. You just can’t see it for the mist, yeah?"

"Howdyknowournames?" Kite asked.

"Mother Ara described you," Dorna said. "Kite, right? And you’re Willa and you’re Kendi. Welcome to the Children of Irfan. You probably want breakfast, yeah?"

They all assented, and Dorna took them to the end of the balcony and down a set of stairs to a wooden walkway that lead around to the front of the dormitory. Kendi looked up at it, fascinated. He hadn’t been able to see much last night. The building was enormous, fully five stories high, and it was the only building in the entire tree. The trunk ran up the middle of the building, and several branches supported it as well. Other branches framed it in fine green leaves. The dorm itself was built of warm brown wood and covered with ivy. Balconies jutted out everywhere, connected by ladders, staircases, and even sliding poles. Ropes dangled from a fair number of windows. Fresh morning dew coated every surface. The double doors in front opened onto a wide deck big enough to play rugby on. Kendi looked over the edge. An ocean of white mist obscured the forest floor below. He decided the entire place was beautiful, more homelike than anyplace he had ever lived. His mother would love it, and he wished with all his heart that he could show it to his entire family.

One day, he told himself firmly.

Dorna lead them through the main doors, waved to the sleepy desk clerk on duty in the high-ceilinged foyer, and herded them into a cafeteria. A food buffet took up one wall and the room was filled with long tables furnished with wooden chairs.

"You can get food at any hour, day or night," Dorna told them, "but there’s a schedule for hot food. It’s pretty good slop, right? We’re too soon for hot breakfast, but I know that ex-slaves are always up early, so I though I’d bring you down."

Ex-slaves, Kendi thought. I’m an ex-slave.

After a breakfast of cold cereal, rolls, and juice, Dorna shepherded them back outside for a tour of the monastery.

"It’s kind of confusing at first," she said as they headed out, "real easy to lose your way, yeah?"

A few minutes later, Kendi indeed found himself thoroughly lost. Because the monastery-and everything else-was constructed in the top of a giant forest, there was no way to make a regular grid of streets. Walkways and staircases made of planks and ivy-draped wire ran in many different directions on a dozen different levels. The buildings varied in size from small cottages to multi-story edifices like the student dormitory, but they were all made of wood and were of similar design, making it hard to tell them apart. Some were living quarters, some were academic buildings for teaching and research, and some were business offices. Dorna pointed out the places where they’d be taking their classes, and Kendi hoped he could get his hands on a map so he could find them again.

The group walked slowly, chatting and pointing out things of interest. Dorna seemed to take a big-sisterly approach to the proceedings as she guided them unhurriedly along, allowing them to take in what sights they liked.

The sun, now well above the horizon, had burned off most of the mist below. Kendi quickly learned to ignore the sight of the stomach-wrenching drop that lay in wait everywhere. The air was sweet, warm, and clean, and birds mingled with small gliding lizards among the leaves, both filling the morning with song. As the morning grew old, people began to appear on the walkways and in the metal gondolas that coasted by on a system of wires and electric pulleys. Many, though not all, wore loose brown clothes and the simple gold medallion that marked them as Children of Irfan.

"Are all the Children Silent?" Willa asked at one point.

Dorna nodded, her dark curls bobbing. "Gotta be. But the monastery also employs plenty of non-Silent, both here and in the field."

"Do we have to wear brown like that?" Jeren said. "It’s kind of dull, you know?"

"You can wear whatever you want, guy," Dorna replied indifferently. "Most of the Children and the students wear brown shirts or robes so everyone knows they’re Silent, right? But you don’t have to. You gotta to wear the medallion, though."

"What are those for?" Kendi asked. "I was wondering."

Dorna went down a staircase backward like a tour guide facing her charges. "The medallion says you’re under Irfan’s protection and a member of the order. Only the Children and their students are allowed to wear them."

The walkways swayed under their steps. The movement didn’t bother Kendi, though Willa was looking a trifle green. He glanced ahead of them and caught his breath. Coming up behind Dorna, who still walked backward, was a creature the size of a small horse. Blond fur covered a stocky body and four legs that ended in heavily-clawed feet. A thick, sinuous neck rose from the shoulders between a pair of muscular arms that ended in four-fingered hands. The creature’s head was flat, with wide-set, bulgy eyes and a flat mouth filled with shovel-like teeth. There was a hole on the creature’s forehead just above the eyes. Its forelegs were thicker and sturdier than its shorter hind legs, which gave a downward slant to the creature’s back. Kendi stared in spite of himself, as did the others. Dorna noticed and turned to see what was going on.

"Father Ched-Hisak!" she said, and pressed her fingertips to her forehead in a gesture Kendi didn’t recognize. "You’re up early today, yeah?"

The creature made a chattering noise by rattling its lower jaw against the upper. It also made hooting sounds through the hole in its forehead.

"I’m showing around a new group of students," Dorna told him. "They just arrived last night. This is Jeren, Willa, Kite, and Kendi." Again she pressed fingertips to forehead, this time pointedly, until Kendi and the others got the hint and duplicated the gesture. Kendi couldn’t help but stare. For all his bulky build, Ched-Hisak moved with a languid grace he found compelling. Even Jeren seemed awed.

Father Ched-Hisak made more chattering and hooting noises. Kendi noticed he wore a gold medallion around his neck and a jade ring on one thick finger.

"He says he’s glad that Irfan guided your steps to this place," Dorna translated, "and he looks forward to seeing you in his classroom one day, right?"

"He’s going to teach us?" Willa blurted.

Dorna laughed and Ched-Hisak hooted. "Sure. Lots of your teachers will be Ched-Balaar. They brought humans into the Dream when Irfan Qasad and her people arrived on Bellerophon-what? — nine hundred years ago, and they’re really good at teaching."

"How will we communicate?" Kendi asked.

"You’ll learn their language, just like they learned ours," Dorna said. "Humans can’t make their speech sounds and they can’t make ours, but you can learn to understand."

Ched-Hisak spoke again.

"Thanks, Father," Dorna said. "We’ll see you around, yeah?"

He trotted away, claws clicking on the hard wood. Kendi watched him go and with a start he realized Dorna had continued on her way again and he had to trot to catch up.

"— use a translator or something?" Jeren was asking.

Dorna shrugged. "It’s partly because translators can fail and partly because we’ve always done it that way, right? You show your respect for the culture by learning their language yourself."

"Wheredtheycomefrom?" Kite said.

"They call their home planet ‘the world,’ " Dorna told him. "You’ll learn more about them in history class, but the short version is that Irfan Qasad, the lady who started the Children, was the captain of a slower-than-light colony ship from Earth in the old days, back before slipships, right? When she and her people arrived at Bellerophon, they found the Ched-Balaar had already got here and claimed the place. Lucky for us humans, the Ched-Balaar were willing to share. No one knows exactly why because most of the records from that period were lost or destroyed. A lot of people think the Ched-Balaar suspected us humans could enter the Dream and they wanted to bring us into it, right? According to legend, they told Irfan that she had to participate in some kind of ceremony. You know-to cement relations between the species? During the ceremony, the Ched-Balaar gave her a drug that allowed her to go into the Dream. She was the first human Silent, but they didn’t call it that yet, yeah?"

"Why do they call us Silent?" Jeren asked.

"No one knows for sure," Dorna said. "Best guess is that it comes from the fact that human children who carry the genes for Silence don’t talk ‘til they’re older and don’t cry much as babies. Silent children, right?"

A roar thundered from below. Another roar answered it, and a second and a third. Jeren leaned over the ivy-covered railing, trying to peer down between the branches. Willa clapped her hands over her ears with a squeak. Kendi joined Jeren, but the branches beneath them were too thick to afford a view, to his disappointment.

"Whazzat?" Kite asked.

"Dinosaur." Dorna also leaned over railing. "A big lizard. That sounds like a pod of mickey spikes. Plant-eaters as big as a truck. Harmless unless you threaten their kids or are standing where they want to step. And they’re the smaller ones."

"Is that why we’re up here?" Kendi said. "Because they’re down there?"

"You got it. The colonists could probably have cleared ‘em out, but no one wanted to mess up Bellerophon like Earth got messed up. So they built up in the trees." She made ook-ook noises. "Like monkeys, right? Me, I like it up here."

"And a good thing, since we’re up here to stay." Everyone turned. Ara, wearing a brown robe of her own, was approaching on the walkway. "Good morning, everyone. I see Dorna got you up and going."

"Good morning, Mother." Dorna pressed fingertips to forehead as she had for Father Ched-Hisak. "You look tired."

Kendi, who was saluting in imitation of Dorna, saw that Ara did indeed look tired. Her eyes were heavy and her face was haggard.

"Trouble sleeping," she said. "But that’s a minor matter." She turned to the little group of ex-slaves. "Did Dorna get you all fed?"

They nodded assent.

"Good." Ara smiled. "I’m a mom as well as a Mother, and I need to know you ate a good breakfast. Next, we’re going shopping."

Jeren groaned. "I knew it. Fucking disaster."

"If you want to wear the same shirt every day, be my guest," Ara said. "Far be it from me to force civilization on you. But the rest of us like a little variety."

In the end, Jeren agreed to come, and Kendi was sure his grumbling was mostly for show. Ara piled them into one of the gondolas, which glided swiftly along its heavy cable. Houses, decks, and walkways coasted by. The monastery was a busy place, and its byways bustled with humans and Ched-Balaar alike as the morning slipped by. A few other aliens also entered the mix. A human child scampered down a rope ladder that hung from a window and was followed by a second child. Peals of laughter faded in and out as the gondola passed.

"Does anyone ever go down to the ground?" Willa asked in her soft voice. She was sitting between Ara and Dorna refusing to look over the side. Kendi, Jeren, and Kite occupied the bench across from them. Ara, however, didn’t seem to hear Willa’s question. She was staring into the distance, a distracted expression on her face. She was obviously thinking about something, though Kendi had no idea what it might be.

"Mother?" Dorna said.

With a start, Ara came to herself. "Sorry. I was wool-gathering. What was the question?"

Willa repeated it.

"People visit the ground lots of times," Ara said. "The spaceport is on the ground, of course, and we also have to pump water up from the lakes and underground reservoirs. We have farming areas, too, but we try to keep that to a minimum. You can turn out a surprisingly large amount of food with some creative genetic engineering and a good greenhouse."

"Who runs everything?" Kendi asked.

"That’s a little complicated, actually," Ara replied. "There’s Treetown-don’t laugh at the name, thank you-and there’s the Blessed and Most Beautiful Monastery of the Children of Irfan, or ‘the monastery,’ as everyone usually calls it. Irfan Qasad founded both of them, though Treetown wasn’t much of a town back then. Later she founded the monastery several kilometers away as a separate entity. In modern times, though, Treetown spread and eventually surrounded us, so we’re a state-within-a-state. The Grandparent Adepts run things here, and the Co-Council runs Treetown, but the two groups are strong allies. We share the spaceport, for example, and the monastery owns a great deal of farmland just outside Treetown’s borders, so everything’s tangled together. There are other city-states on this continent, but Treetown and the monastery are the biggest ones."

"What’s the ring for?" Jeren pointed at the emerald ring on Ara’s hand.

"It indicates rank. Students like yourselves wear a ruby ring. You’ll each get one soon. Topaz indicates someone who has finished studying and is now an apprentice Child. Amber is for full Siblings-Brothers and Sisters. Mothers and Fathers wear jade or emerald. The next rank is Mother or Father Adept. Their rings are blue. Grandparents have fluorite rings-indigo. And a Grandparent Adept-the highest rank-wears a ring of violet amethyst."

Willa clapped her hands. "It goes right up the rainbow!"

"Very good," Ara said. "You’re an observant young woman."

Willa flushed deeply, even disproportionately, and Kendi wondered how often in Willa’s life she had heard praise. He leaned over the side and watched the green growth far below for a moment, then returned his attention to the gondola. He felt comfortable in Ara’s company, even relaxed. In fact, he felt more relaxed than he had in days.

The gondola coasted into a little station that, Ara explained, would send the car on a parallel wire back in the direction they had come. Several people were waiting in line for a ride, most of them dressed in brown, and six of them boarded after Kendi and the others had disembarked with the help of an attendant. The gondola coasted smoothly around a semi-circle and vanished into the branches. Ara took them down a staircase and along another walkway.

"Where are we?" Kendi asked.

"Shopping district in Treetown," Ara replied. "Like I said, the city grew around the monastery and a lot of the people work for the Children or have family that do."

Kendi looked around. The buildings looked much like the monastery, except the they had larger front windows with various products on display. They were obviously stores, but completely unlike the cold, sterile malls back in Sydney-malls that he had last visited over nine hundred years ago, he remembered with a strange pang. The people who had worked and shopped there were long since dust.

Ara chose the closest shop, a two-story place called "Millicent’s," and held the door open for them. "First stop," she announced, "fashion!"

Kendi paused in the doorway. "How do we pay for this?"

"Like I said back on the ship, the Children will pick up your living expenses, including clothes," Ara said. "You’ll eventually have to pay it back, but we don’t charge interest like the corporations do. Irfan herself made that rule, and I think it’s a good one. The monetary unit on Bellerophon is the freemark, like a lot of places. For comparison, five freemarks will get you a meal at a fast-cook restaurant. For ten freemarks, you can get a meal at a decent place, and for thirty, you get linen tablecloths and waiters with towels draped over their arms."

The interior of the store smelled like fresh leather and new cloth. It was a large place, with two sets of spiral staircases that wound upward to a balcony that ringed the main floor. Clothing of all kind hung in attractive displays and on the high walls themselves. Kendi looked around in awe. He hadn’t bought anything in his three years as a slave on Giselle Blanc’s farm, and before that his family had been too poor to shop in a place like this. The abundance of choice was overwhelming. The others stood near him, equally dumbfounded and uncertain.

"Go." Ara made shooing motions with her arms. "Bother the sales clerks. Try things on. Get!"

"Come on, Willa," Dorna said. "Let’s see what we can find you. The boys are on their own." She towed an unprotesting Willa away.

Jeren caught sight of something and broke into a grin. "Whoa! I’m there!" He grabbed Kite’s sleeve and headed toward a display of black leather.

"I guess that just leaves the two of us," Ara said to Kendi with a smile. "Let me look at you." She held him at arm’s length. "Hmmmmm. You’re in luck. I think brown’s your color, and it’s all the rage this year."

Kendi laughed. "All the well-dressed monks are wearing it?"

"You know it. Come on."

They spent a pleasant two hours picking out various articles of clothing, including socks and underwear. The sense of choice and freedom was overpowering. He could, in theory, have anything in the store, and no one seemed inclined to tell him to hurry up. It felt strange to have the clerk bring things to him and put away what he didn’t want. Kendi loved it.

Ara, meanwhile, informed Kendi that although they were now in high summer and the weather was warm, Bellerophon was overall cooler and rainier than July IV and Australia, which necessitated buying sweaters, thick trousers, rain gear, and heavy shirts. They were more expensive than the shorts and thin t-shirts that had made up the majority of his wardrobe back in Sydney, and the unexpected high prices dampened some of Kendi’s enthusiasm. Despite Ara’s urgings-"High quality will last longer and look better, too"-Kendi did his best to be careful. His one extravagance was a pair of fine suede boots. They were soft as butter and came up almost to his knees.

"This is the matching jacket," said the sales clerk, putting it around Kendi’s shoulders.

Kendi shrugged into it and looked into the mirror. He caught his breath. The jacket looked wonderful. It molded itself to his body as if it had been tailored for him. The suede was soft and the color was a bit lighter than his skin, creating a pleasing contrast. It smelled of new leather.

"That looks perfect," Ara breathed behind him. "Kendi, that’s you. Really."

"Already waterproofed for you," the clerk said. "And it has a lifetime guarantee. If you outgrow it, come back and we’ll make alterations. Same for the boots."

Kendi turned this way and that, admiring the way the jacket moved with him. Ara was right-it was him. He had never owned anything like it, and he wanted it like he had wanted nothing else. "How much?" he asked.

"Eight hundred freemarks," the clerk told him, and Kendi blanched.

"Too much," he said, reluctantly removing it. "I’ve already spent more than I should have on the boots."

"Oh, get it anyway," Ara said. "You deserve it."

"Enabling the shoppers again, Mother?" said Dorna, who came up at that moment. "I swear you’d offer champagne to a recovering drunk."

"Irfan said nothing about extravagance being evil," Ara sniffed.

"No, but the Real People did-do," Kendi put in.

"The Real People?" Ara repeated, puzzled.

He handed the jacket to the clerk, who accepted it without comment. "My …tribe. Balance and moderation in all things. I can justify the boots-I need good ones-but not the jacket."

"You’ve been a slave for three years, Kendi," Ara said quietly. "You should indulge yourself a little. And you’ll be able to pay it back. Your Silence is strong, and you’ll be a Brother pretty quick."

Kendi looked at the jacket in the clerk’s hand one more time. He could still feel its suppleness, smell the sweet leather scent. Then he firmly shook his head, though he couldn’t keep the disappointment out of his voice. "I can’t. It’s too much. The boots are indulgence enough."

"Your decision, then," Ara shrugged. "Let’s check on the others."

Willa, Kite, and Jeren had all piled up an impressive quantity of clothing. Despite his earlier comments, Jeren hadn’t stocked his entire wardrobe with black leather, though his taste in clothing ran toward daring and brash. Kite had chosen a real mishmash of styles, and Willa had selected a large number of mousy brown robes and dresses all in the same conservative cut.

"It’s all she’d buy," Dorna said in mock despair. "We’ll have to work on her." And Willa flushed again.

"Bill and deliver these, Mother?" asked the clerk.

"Yes, please," Ara said, and gave him the address. "Thanks for your help."

Kendi gave the suede jacket one last wistful glance as they left the store, then sighed and promised himself he’d come back and get it-or one like it-as soon as he had paid to the monastery whatever debts he incurred.

Outside, Ara declared it was time for lunch-her treat. She ushered them to an outdoor cafe where they took up a table in the shade by the railing. They had just finished ordering when a rumbling vibration shook the floor and rattled the dishes on the table.

"What the hell?" Jeren said.

Dorna looked over the railing and pointed down. "There. Take a look."

Kendi, Kite, and Jeren peered over the rail. Several other restaurant patrons joined them. Willa hung back. Far below, well over a dozen heavy, blimpy shapes with long necks and whip-like tails moved with surprising agility. The distance and perspective made it hard for Kendi to figure out how big they were. Their heavy feet tromped the ground, making even the giant trees shake.

"They’re each the size of a small house, right?" Dorna said when Kendi asked. "Lots bigger than a Micky spike. They’re slow and stupid and they’ll accidentally step on anything that gets in their way, so don’t get too close, yeah?"

"I wonder what it’d be like to ride one," Kendi said.

Ara patted her chest in mock horror. "That kind of risk I can live without, thank you," she said. "I have enough adventure in my life without adding a dinosaur rodeo."

The group came back to the table. "ZbeingChildciting?" Kite asked.

Ara didn’t answer. Once again, her gaze was fixed in the distance.

"Mother Ara?" Kendi said. "Are you all right?"

She blinked. "Wool-gathering again. Sorry. Did you ask something?"

"ZbeingChildciting?" Kite repeated.

"Is being a Child exciting? It depends on what you do," Ara said. "I do field work and recruiting, so sometimes I run into …challenges." She laughed. "I have more fake IDs than most criminals. But I’m the exception. Most of us relay communication through the Dream or teach or do research. Once you get your degree, you can do pretty much whatever you want."

"Degree?" Willa whispered.

"Oh yes. You have to have a degree to operate in the Dream. Or you do if you want to work for us, anyway. The monastery will provide you with an extensive general education and you can choose a couple specialties."

"Like what?" Jeren asked.

Their food arrived. The server placed high-piled plates in front of them. Kendi had ordered a ham sandwich with french fries-some foods had apparently lasted across centuries and light years-and the salty smells that assailed his nose were delicious. The sandwich all but dripped with some sort of white sauce with a sweet, spicy tang to it. The fries were hot and crisp, and Kendi almost groaned when he ate the first one. French fries hadn’t been on the menu for slaves at Giselle Blanc’s frog farm and it had been years since he’d tasted them.

The server left, and Ara answered Jeren’s question. "You can specialize in just about anything offered at a non-Silent university. Math, music, computers, genetics, piloting-"

Kendi all but bolted upright in his chair. "Piloting? You mean like spaceship piloting?"

"Sure. We always need good pilots in the field. You can study anything you wish. As Irfan said, ‘The greater your knowledge, the lesser your risk.’ "

Kendi saw himself at the helm of a starship, swooping through a field of enemy fire, dodging laser beams by the thinnest of margins. The science fiction sims had been his favorites when he was a kid, and he had always wanted to be the one in the pilot seat in every game. Not only that, as a pilot he’d have a better chance of getting out into space and finding his family.

"Kendiareyouhey!" Kite snatched back his hand but not before the jolt slapped Kendi all the way down to his feet. He rubbed his arm where Kite had touched him.

"Careful, guy," Dorna said. "Whenever you touch someone around here for the first time, you’re likely to get jolted."

"Sorrykendi," Kite said.

"It’s okay." Kendi continued rubbing his arm, and something occurred to him. "My mom is Silent. How come I never felt a jolt from her?"

"I imagine you touched your mother all the time," Ara said. "You probably got jolted at some point-most Silent start that up at about age ten-but since you didn’t know what it was, you may have figured it was something like a static electricity shock and forgotten about it."

Kendi looked down at his sandwich piled high with tender ham and wondered what his mother was eating. Suddenly even the fries seemed less appetizing. "I’m going to find her, and the rest of them. They’re out there, and I’ll find them eventually no matter what."

"We’ll help you," Ara said seriously. "The Children don’t condone slavery-Irfan herself was dead set against it-and we work hard to get people out of it wherever we can."

The Children would help him? That made Kendi feel a little better. And it did make sense. After all, Ara had freed him. But how long would it take before he could go looking, and how long would it take to find them?

"Irfan was the first Silent human, right?" Jeren said. "Everyone talks about her like she’s some kind of goddess. Do you guys pray to her or what?"

Ara smiled. "The Children don’t tell you who to pray to. But Irfan Qasad was an intelligent, powerful woman, and a lot of people call on her memory for guidance. She governed Bellerophon for a long time until she resigned to start the Children, and it was because of her that Silent communication became essential to the galaxy. It was that communication that allowed the invention of slipships, in fact." Ara’s voice was full of admiration.

"What happened to her?" Kendi asked.

"History is unclear," Ara said. "Most of her writings were lost or destroyed, and Irfan herself quietly vanished. Not even her own children seemed to know where she went-or they pretended they didn’t. Some people say she went back to her husband Daniel Vik." Ara spat the name as if it left a bad taste in her mouth. "But I’m not one of them. Irfan Qasad wouldn’t be so stupid."

"Who was Daniel Vik?" Jeren said.

"A filthy man, one of the worst villains in history," Ara told him. "He hated all Silent and went literally insane when he discovered Silence among his own children. Why Irfan married him in the first place is a mystery. When she finally saw through Vik and demanded a divorce, he retaliated by kidnapping one of their sons and running off to the other side of the continent to what eventually became the city-state Othertown. Some people take the fact that he left as evidence that he wasn’t actually the father of her children-or at least of the ones he abandoned. Vik assassinated his way to dictatorship and declared his intention to start a genocidal war on all human Silent. Irfan barely managed to stop him, though she couldn’t remove him from office. She worked the rest of her life to keep him from starting that war."

"What happened to him?" Kendi asked, fascinated.

"He was assassinated himself," Ara said. "A deserving end, if you ask me. Now who’s up for dessert? The ice cream here is really good."

After lunch, Ara took them back to the monastery, where in a bright, airy room they took a battery of tests in a variety of subject matters. The tests, Ara told them, would give the Children an idea of what classes each of them would need and what aptitudes each of them might have. When the results came back, Kendi found he had scored well in math and poorly in everything else. Humiliation burned in his cheeks when he saw that his scores were the lowest in the entire group. Ara, noticing his discomfort, drew him aside and put an arm around him.

"You have nothing to be ashamed of," she told him quietly. "You’ve been in cryo-sleep for nine hundred years and after that you were kept in ignorance on a backwoods frog farm. The principles of general mathematics haven’t changed in nine hundred years, but everything else has. No one thinks you’re stupid, Kendi. Certainly not me. Everything I’ve seen about you tells me you’re frighteningly intelligent, and I think your teachers are in for a challenge if they want to keep up with you."

Kendi managed a nod. He still felt stupid.

"And look at this." Ara pointed to a section on the computer pad’s holographic screen that reported his scores in dreadful red numbers. "You do have an aptitude for piloting. When you’re a little older, they’ll want to start you on it."

Kendi’s eyes went round. Excitement made short work of the humiliation. "You think so?"

"Looks that way to me. We’ll have to see." She turned to the others. "It’s getting on toward supper. Your clothes should have been delivered to your rooms by now. Why don’t all of you go unpack and eat? The evening is yours to do as you like. There’s a sim parlor on the bottom floor of the dorm if you’re into that. Explore the place or laze around-whatever you want to do."

When Kendi got back to his room, he found a large box on his bed. His clothes had arrived as Ara had predicted. Humming to himself, he opened the package and froze. With an astonished whistle he reached inside and pulled out the suede jacket. The smell of fine leather instantly surrounded him. A paper note was pinned to the lapel. If you can’t think of it as a gift from me, think of it as an indulgence from Irfan. Best, Mother Ara.

Kendi hesitated, then pulled on the jacket with a wide, happy grin.

Ara strolled toward home, feeling truly good for the first time all day. Orienting new students was one of her favorite activities, and she particularly liked this group, Kendi especially. Maybe it was because he seemed so bright and open where her own son Ben was closed and reticent, or maybe it was because she could see he had goals set for himself and he firmly intended to see them through, a philosophy she admired. Or maybe it was something else. In any case, she liked him a lot and found the others pleasant company. The impulse to buy him the jacket had been one she had decided not to resist, though it also meant dodging back to the store during the testing to buy presents for the other three as well: a black silk shirt for Jeren, a fine-woven shawl for Willa, and a soft blue sweater for Kite. Ah well. She was a full Mother now and could afford the occasional impulse buy. The shopping had also taken her mind off the grisly murder.

At that, memories of the terrifying scene in the Dream slashed through her amiable mood. She felt heavy, as if the local gravity had increased. What kind of monster could do that to another human being? That he would do it again, she had no doubt. The problem was their lack of clues. The Dream left no physical evidence, and the Guardians hadn’t found any at the murder site. How could they track a killer that left no traces?

Her stomach growled for supper and the walkway swayed gently under her footsteps. Ara shook her head. The investigation wasn’t really her problem. She had been brought in as a consultant and she had done her job. Everything else was up to Inspector Tan and Inspector Gray.

Ara snorted. Tan and Gray. She hadn’t noticed that before. Still, she couldn’t get her mind off poor Iris Temm. The whole thing filled her with both anger and sorrow. Someone had to catch the man. Maybe she would check with the inspectors later and see if anything had turned up. Something they said might lend Ara an insight that would help them.

A shudder passed through her. Did she want more details? She firmly pushed the case into the back of her mind and brought her thoughts back to the new students. Tomorrow they would register for classes, and Ara would have to speak to Toshi about flying lessons for Kendi.

Kendi. Ara let her hand trail along the ivy-covered cable that held up the walkway. It had been almost two years since she’d taken on a private student, and she hadn’t had an actual apprentice in twice that time. Ara had little patience for classroom instruction, but she greatly enjoyed small group and one-on-one teaching. Taking on students-and, later, apprentices-was also an unspoken requirement for promotion within the ranks of the Children. Ara was the youngest Silent to reach the rank of Parent, and at age forty-one she was within spitting distance of becoming the youngest Parent Adept. Murder investigation or not, it was time to take on another student.

And who better than Kendi?