The Children of the Sky

Meantime, Zek still looked at them, intent. The creature had made a brave offer. Okay. Ravna nodded at him, and quietly asked something that might be innocuous even if it were relayed to listeners up and down Mr. Radio’s network: “How many are you?”

“I’m between five and eight,” Radio replied. “depending on sky bounce reception. We must be quick.”

Tycoon was preoccupied with his speaking tubes and binoculars, but now one of him glanced up, curious at the strange conversation. He gobbled a query wrapped around the Tinish for “Vendacious.”

Zek shrank back on his perch, but his reply was Samnorsk: “Not Vendacious at the moment, sir. This is myself, Radio.”

Another head came up. “So you’re really all of one mind? Remarkable. What does Vendacious think of this?”

Zek cringed a bit lower. “Vendacious doesn’t know, sir. I’m not relaying this conversation.”

Tycoon made a surprised noise. He angled some heads at the speaking tubes and emitted a single chord that meant “carry on.” Then all his attention returned to Zek: “Why not?”

“I … I’m his victim, sir. I beg you to keep this conversation secret.”

Tycoon shrugged. “Perhaps. So you must be passing lies on to Vendacious then?”

“No! I used your voice, but only to elaborate on what you said, that you need to concentrate on your landing.”

“And the numbers you were saying to me? They are lies too?”

“No, they come from combining the view from my Ut and Zek and Fyr. Just as I began the deception, I lost part of myself, and was afraid to say anything to you at all. Amdiranifani thought—”

“Ah. Amdiranifani.” Tycoon nodded. “So he’s been operating right under Vendacious’ snouts. Amazing.”

Zek’s voiced gained a little confidence. “Yes, sir. I couldn’t do this without him and the crazy soundpaths he dances around the control gondola. When my radio mind weakens, he makes suggestions.”

Half of Tycoon was looking at Jef and Ravna now. The pack’s whole aspect was a ferocious smile. “I understand. Amdiranifani is even more remarkable than Vendacious claims. He has made a puppet out of my radio network.”

“No, please! I am not a puppet—”

Tycoon voice rolled over the protest: “Just listen to this, Amdiranifani!” He grabbed up his voice-band radio and waved it at Zek. The two airships were so close that this device would surely work.

“No, no, no. Please don’t betray me—” Zek’s Samnorsk dissolved into Tinish, and then not even that. A bubbling noise emerged from the singleton’s mouth, a sound that Ravna had never heard from Tines before.

Jefri was on his feet, shouting. Behind him, the gunpack had surged out of the stairwell.

And they were both trumped by the squall of outrage that came from the other side of the chamber: Ritl bounced off her perch, blathering as loud as she had when Ravna first met her. She ran across the deck to Tycoon’s thrones, shrieking at him one and all. Then she danced sideways till she was standing in front of Zek. She turned, snapping belligerently.

Tycoon waved the gunpack back. Then he shifted position slightly and focused a roar down upon Ritl. This level of sound was a weapon. The singleton was knocked off her feet. Even outside of the focus, the noise was a spike of pain in Ravna’s ears.

Ritl lay on her back, twitching. Finally she rolled over and belly-crawled back toward her perch, Tycoon’s gaze following her centimeter by centimeter. When she was under the partial cover of the perch, she emitted a defiant little squawk.

Tycoon stared at Ritt for a long moment. Then he put down the analog radio and said to Zek, “Have your say.”

Zek didn’t reply immediately. He looked dazed, maybe by the splash of Tycoon’s roar, maybe by the terror of the moment before. “Thank you, sir,” The creature hesitated. “There will be interruptions. I wasn’t able to entirely disguise—” Abruptly he was gobbling Interpack, some kind of question.

Tycoon answered in Samnorsk, “Give me a moment, Vendacious! This landing is tricky.” He gestured for Zek to relay his words.

And Vendacious replied, “Indeed, my lord! Sorry for interrupting!”

In fact, it looked to Ravna as though the Pack of Packs crew was doing just fine without any micro-managing from Tycoon. The ship wasn’t more than a thousand meters from touchdown. Ahead was familiar ground, Murder Meadows. It was the nearest open ground to the city. Today the heather was festive with crowds and banners.

But Tycoon continued, “In fact, we may still be too high. I’m going to circle the landing area and try again. It will give me more time to be sure of the ground.”

“As you say, my lord.” Then Vendacious’ voice brightened. “I imagine the maneuver will impress Woodcarver’s subjects.”

“Follow me, then.” Tycoon didn’t say anything for a moment, but he was watching Zek.

“I’ve resumed faking the relay, sir,” Mr. Radio Cloaks said.