The Children of the Sky

“Yes, now is fine. I’m alone in the thrones room.”

“I’m alone as well. I—I wanted to tell you about Pilgrim.…”

Johanna described the agrav’s last flight, the crash. Then there were the memories she tried not to think about. Maybe it was nuts to talk about each death now, to say all the things she had seen, but she did and Woodcarver listened. She wasn’t sure how anyone could make sense of her voice by the time that she finished. Woodcarver did. She asked questions, wanted to know everything.

When everything was said, and Johanna’s voice guttered to a stop, Woodcarver said, “He was dismembered, without a doubt.” Her own human voice sounded almost normal, maybe speaking a little slower than usual: “And is he totally dead? Probably. But this is Pilgrim. When you get back to Tycoon’s hideout in the Tropics—”

“I’ll keep watch, Woodcarver. I won’t give up.”

They talked of Pilgrim for some time more. They had other memories of him. Johanna’s went back ten years. Woodcarver’s were a patchwork of encounters that extended far longer.

They must have talked for two hours. Outside, the Icefangs had faded to dark and stars ruled the horizon. The Pack of Packs continued to climb as it approached the mountain passes. The air was steady and smooth, quite unlike Jo’s earlier passages over these peaks.

Reminiscence had turned into imagining how Pilgrim would have handled the present situation, and a general discussion of strategy. Johanna would definitely have things to report to Tycoon.

But strategy included discussing Tycoon himself: “Are you sure Tycoon is not snooping on this conversation?” said Woodcarver.

“I—” Johanna glanced at the speaking tubes. They were all capped. Where she was sitting, she had a good view of the stairs and the empty anteroom below. “Woodcarver, I truly believe he’s not eavesdropping, but that’s more a matter of trust than anything else—”

Woodcarver said, “In this case, what you believe may be the important thing. I’ve wondered for so long: what kind of creature is this crazypack?”

Oh! Johanna thought for a second. “He is weird. Numerous and weird. Sometimes he reminds me of Scriber, but he can be just as grumpy as Scrupilo. And then there’s the businesscritter side of him. Imagine what Flenser would be like if his goal in life was to sell you trinkets and used wagon parts.”

Woodcarver emitted a multi-hum that was surprised laughter. “Do you suppose I might have a chat with him?”

Chapter   44

Seven tendays passed.

The scam against Nevil continued successfully, so Johanna remained stuck here in the Tropics. It was the most fascinating time of her life. Each time she went into the Choir, she found something new. She’d returned to the River Fell, watched the rafts come and go. (Cheepers and company returned just sixty days after she did!) She’d walked the floor of a wild factory. Someday, she would pole a twinhull up the Fell to the North One Reservation—but when she’d suggested that to Tycoon, the Big Guy had completely lost his bluff brutality. He’d begged her not to be so stupid. Okay, he might be right about that expedition … Ha, she’d make the trip with Cheepers’ riverboat sailors! Meanwhile, there was always the Great Pyramid of the Choir. Johanna loved to hike on the Pyramid. She had lots of reasons, including the whiff of danger.

On this day, she sneaked out of the House of Tycoon near sunrise, the coolest time of day. Heck, it wasn’t more than 38 degrees Celsius and the rains had magically cleared away. Of course, the main reason for getting out so early was that this was before Tycoon roused himself. Half of him was much too nervous about the danger in her jaunts off the reservation—and the other half was too envious of them. Better to simply avoid the inevitable arguments that caused.

Zek and Ritl ambushed her just as she thought she’d made a clean getaway. Mr. Radio was hard to fool when he had good connectivity … and when the perverse Ritl was onboard.

“Going up on the hill again, aren’t you?” said the twosome, speaking nearly perfect Samnorsk. Most of the pack must be participating.

“Yes. Don’t tell,” said Johanna. They walked through one of the myriad staff entrances and stood in the almost-cool morning. She waved at the sky, now mostly blue, but with cloud tops catching the first rays of the sun. “I think it’s a perfect day for a walk in the Choir.”

“For you, maybe.”

The twosome strolled companionably along with Johanna toward the edge of the reservation, for once not relaying complaints about her possibly unhealthful hobbies. “Actually, I wanted to ask you a favor,” said Mr. Radio. “We lost the video from the northern-looking camera last night.”

“Yes, I know. It got knocked over. I’m pretty sure that was an accident. I’ll reset it while I’m up there.”