The Children of the Sky

Nevil’s voice boomed over the crowd. “Let us welcome Tycoon, come all the way from the East Coast. Unwise policies of the past set us against people who would be our friends. Today we unite against those who bring violence upon both our peoples. Today—”

The words were misleading nonsense, but his frank openness was almost what Ravna remembered. Almost. Even though Nevil hadn’t been kidnapped and chased through wilds, the guy had lost some weight. The time since he had grabbed power had not been kind to him. That had been true even before Ravna’s kidnapping. Apparently things had not improved since. And what was this about an attack earlier today?

Nevil carried on for a while longer. In the crowd below the stands, there was some milling around, especially among the opposition, but no one walked away and no one shouted objections. Nevil had control such as Ravna had never dreamed. “So the agreements Tycoon and I sign today will return those who have been taken from us”—he waved graciously at Jefri and Ravna—“and begin a technological alliance for prosperity.”

As he spoke these last few words, Nevil edged back from the lectern. Tycoon was eight, and each of him was a heavy critter. He could project implacable purpose better than anyone Ravna had met on this world—and now he was gliding toward the lectern. The only thing that saved Nevil’s dignity was that Tycoon’s approach was out of sight of most of the audience below.

Nevil cut his loud voice and leaned down as if to speak courteously to the pack. He jerked a hand at Ravna and Jefri. “Why was it necessary for you to bring them here?”

“As proof of my goodwill,” said Tycoon.

“Then you should have brought the young ones.” Another quick glance at Ravna. “This—this Ravna, is just trouble.”

Tycoon’s heads bobbed in a grim smile. “She can be useful.”

Nevil’s mouth turned down. He stared blankly for a moment. He might be speaking to someone, but the words were inaudible to Ravna.

Zek had followed close behind Tycoon. Now he pushed awkwardly through the eight and spoke softly to Nevil. It was Vendacious’ voice. The tone was placating: “It’s okay. Deal as before. My colleague here is too forward.”

Tycoon gave Zek a hard bump. “I am not forward and you do not speak for me.” Then he advanced, forcing Nevil away from the lectern. He hopped up on himself, leaning against the lectern. Now the pack was in pyramid posture, visible to all. And even without mechanical aid, his words boomed: “I am Tycoon!”

So much for Tycoon’s promise to avoid human speechifying. The voice that sounded across the meadows belonged to a frightened little girl. It was Geri Latterby’s voice, but transformed by the force and arrogance of Tycoon’s personality. “Nevil Storherte says we all want peace. He wants peace. I want peace. We will have war if you do not make things right!”

People reacted very differently than they had to Nevil’s smiling nonsense. There was shouting. A woman—it was Elspa Latterby—screamed: “Geri? Geri! Give her back…”

Tycoon had their attention. “We can’t make up for all the bad things, but you and I will make up for what we can. Or we will have war.” He gobbled something at Zek. A moment later, Vendacious’ airship spun up its engines and coasted across the sky to hang just west of the stage. Nevil watched the ship’s progress with an unbelieving expression. He was talking to someone again. Oobii? Vendacious? But the starship held its fire.

Tycoon waited for the shouting to die away. Then he said, “I will give you back what can be returned. We bring you wealth, now, and in future trade. In exchange, you will give me access to Oobii. And most important, you give me the human who murdered half of me! I want Johanna Olsndot. I want her here. I want her now!” As he spoke, Tycoon’s heads turned this way and that, jaws snapping.

Everyone on the platform seemed frozen in horror. Well, everyone except Flenser. He had hunkered down, but his heads were weaving and bobbing. He was enjoying this with the sort of shameful joy that mayhem brought out in him.

Nevil eased around Tycoon, back to the lectern. He must be truly rattled, because for the first time Ravna could actually see him figuring up the odds, deciding what to do to stay on top. When he spoke, his voice was somber and tense. “My friends, we’ve known of this demand for several days. Tycoon has cause for making the demand.”

“Tycoon kidnapped our children!” came a voice from the crowd, but wind-whipped and faint. Nevil didn’t quite have the audio control he had aboard ship, but the wind and the open air was almost as effective.

“Tycoon is reasonable to ask for a human wrongdoer no matter how much she was beloved by me, by us.” Nevil seemed to choke up. Beside her, Ravna could feel Jefri trembling, his gaze alternating between Nevil and the airship above. There were limits, and Jef was being pushed well beyond his.