The Children of the Sky

The rest of the afternoon was spent in something unusual: a screaming argument with Pilgrim. Fortunately for her hearing, it was Johanna who did all the screaming. How could her best friend in the world be so lukewarm about the murders planned at the Fragmentarium? By sundown, Johanna was convinced that he was taking her case to Woodcarver just to keep Jo mellow. Pilgrim was certainly doing his best to avoid arguing the issues with her. He really didn’t understand why thinning the old members was murder. And he didn’t want Johanna to come along to talk to the Queen.

“It’s an intimate thing, Johanna. You know, sex and mindtalk.” He waggled his heads salaciously.

Normally that excuse worked. She certainly had no place in a Tinish love affair—but tonight she suspected Pilgrim thought that Jo and her weird human notions would just cause trouble. “Okay, then,” she said. “You do your thing with Woodcarver. But make her understand! This redjackets crap is just as bad as the Old Flenser.”

“Oh, I will, I promise. I’ll do my very best.” The fivesome danced around nervously, then finally chased himself out the door. Coward.

She should follow him up to the New Castle, maybe talk to Woodcarver herself. Pilgrim just didn’t have the proper fire.

Fortunately, some shred of common sense remained, and Jo stayed inside until Pilgrim was well gone. She could give Ravna Bergsndot a call. Along with Woodcarver, Ravna was Queen of the Realm. Ravna might not take her title seriously, but she was the most powerful person in the world. She could tell Woodcarver what to do about this, and by the Powers Above, her word would rule. Yeah, the trouble was that Ravna was too much of a compromiser. She would compromise about anything, as long as it didn’t get in the way of fighting the Blight.

Johanna stepped out into the twilight and took a few deep breaths. The northwest still held sunset colors, but elsewhere the sky was darkening blue, with stars already visible in the east. She cursed this world often enough, but summer was mostly a beautiful time. You could forget how deadly a natural world could be. You could even sometimes forget what you had lost. This little cabin that she shared with Pilgrim was an upper-class residence by the standards of the locals. If Ravna’s plans for heating water with the starship’s beam gun could be implemented, houses like this would be more comfortable than any old Tinish castle.

Maybe she should walk up to Newcastle town. That was where most of the Children lived, and all of the toddlers. Her brother might be up there. No, Jef and Amdi were in the north woods this tenday, learning to be scouts. But there were other Children she could talk to. Nevil? He was probably still down in Cliffside village. He’d be perfect to talk to; he’d understand. Too bad the phone lines hadn’t been strung that far, or else she’d call him for sure.

Johanna walked downhill, away from the New Castle and the town that surrounded it. There really was no one to talk to tonight. Maybe that was best; she was so bloody angry. Packs could be lovable, nicer than most humans. But even the nicest of them didn’t really see their members as persons. She walked a little faster, letting the old frustration grow. Today had brought a lot of that to a head, and she wasn’t going to let it go. In the past, she had seen members die; they were people, even if she could never convince the packs of that.

Well, if talking could not make a difference, maybe there were actions that would. She let that thought rattle around in her mind for a few moments, imagining what she could do if she had some of the powers that every Straumer—even every Straumer child—had had before they fell Down Here. Ravna’s starship, that was nothing compared to a few merge toys and braemsjers. She’d raise the fragments to mindfulness, give them tools that would wipe the smug expression from packs like Harmony.

It really felt good to imagine such a turn of fortune. And it would have all been possible, not dreaming at all, before they were cast down from the Top of the Beyond. Before everything had gone so terribly wrong at the High Lab.

She looked around, realized she’d walked more than a kilometer. She’d reached the edge of the Margrum Valley. The moon had risen, showing the far side of the valley afloat above an evening fog. The path—its official name was the Queen’s Road—became a bit twisty, zigzagging back and forth as it descended the north wall of the valley. During the day, there would be plenty of wagon traffic here, the kherhog handlers arguing about their right of way.