Trickster. Part 2

An hour later, the customs inspection team arrived. Because the Children of Irfan were known in some circles as slave-stealers and because the crew wasn't here to conduct official (read, "above-board") Child business, Kendi removed his medallion and ring, ordered Gretchen to do the same, and presented the inspector with carefully-forged doc.u.mentation that identified him as a simple trader, the most common guise adopted by the Children of Irfan. He explained their lack of cargo by claiming they'd just finished a one-way delivery run to an outlying station. The customs inspector, a small, dark-haired man with a toothbrush mustache, lost interest in Kendi's story once a certain amount of freemarks found their way into his hands. The inspection itself--perfunctory in the extreme--only lasted twenty minutes. Once he was gone, everyone a.s.sembled in the galley, a tradition started by Ara. ("What better place for a briefing? Room to sit and close to the refreshments.") Lucia, as was her habit, had put together a snack tray comprised of bite-sized vegetables, sweetened ruda ruda nuts from Bellerophon, and crackers spread with mounded peaks of spiced cream cheese. A large pot of fruit tea sat among a set of cups. Kendi caught up a cheese cracker and raised it in thanks to Lucia, who smiled quietly at the unspoken praise. nuts from Bellerophon, and crackers spread with mounded peaks of spiced cream cheese. A large pot of fruit tea sat among a set of cups. Kendi caught up a cheese cracker and raised it in thanks to Lucia, who smiled quietly at the unspoken praise.

"This is a good news briefing, troops," Kendi said. "Ben found Bedj-ka, or Jerry Markovi as he's called now."

Everyone pretended surprise and pleasure as Kendi finished explaining. Harenn gasped, then narrowed her eyes above her veil.

"You are a fine liar, Father Kendi," she said. "But only to those who do not know you. How long have you had this information?"

"Since about the time we landed," Kendi admitted sheepishly. "I didn't want you to have a freak, so I kept quiet. Sorry."

"If we only have to go to the farm and offer an outrageous sum to get my son back," Harenn hissed, "why are we sitting at this table?"

"Good point." Kendi rose. "I think Harenn and I can do this one alone. Ben, would you call a rental company and arrange a groundcar for us?" Ben nodded and Kendi continued. "The rest of you can stretch your legs or look around the city, but be ready to go the minute the two of us--the three three of us--get back." He looked at all of them pointedly. "We've got other fish to fry after we catch this one." of us--get back." He looked at all of them pointedly. "We've got other fish to fry after we catch this one."

"Nice metaphor," Gretchen murmured as Harenn all but yanked Kendi out of the room. He decided to pretend he hadn't heard, and Ara laughed in his memory again.

Tiq's s.p.a.ceport was middle-sized and fairly well-appointed. The usual announcements blared from hidden speakers, and the smells of low-quality, high-cost food filled the air. People walked, rushed, strolled, or lounged everywhere. The vast majority of the crowd was human, but that was normal, in Kendi's experience. Most people preferred the company of their own kind, and it was rare for colony worlds to mix species.

Harenn strode through the crowds with single-minded determination, and Kendi had to hurry to keep up. He finally caught her by the sleeve.

"Slow down, Harenn," he warned. "I don't want to lose you in this crowd."

Harenn obeyed with obvious reluctance. "We are close, Kendi. I have been searching for nine years and it seems as if I can feel Bedj-ka's presence, even hear his voice. I want to push these idiots out of my way and run. I want to know if my baby is all right."

"He won't be a baby anymore," Kendi said.

"I know that. It is merely the way I think of him. It is not something I can help."

Kendi wet his lips uncertainly. He was afraid Harenn had pinned her hopes on a joyous reunion of mother and son and that she was setting herself up for disappointment--a position Kendi could empathize with. Kendi knew he should say something, but he didn't know what. An added complication was that Harenn was ten or fifteen years older than Kendi, not someone he would normally reproach or advise. Ara would have known how to handle the situation, and he felt an irrational flash of anger that she wasn't here to do so.

In the end, he decided to be direct.

"Harenn, please don't take this the wrong way, but I want you to be careful," he said as they approached the s.p.a.ceport's main entrance. "We're going to get Bedj-ka back, I promise you, but don't think he's going to throw himself into your arms and cry 'Mama!' He won't. I hate to say this so bluntly, but Harenn--he won't even recognize you. He may not believe you when you tell him who you are."

"I am not a fool, Kendi," Harenn snapped. Then she closed her dark eyes for a moment. "All the things you have just said are the things I tell myself over and over. For every night since Sejal told me where Bedj-ka is, I have lain awake thinking about what it would be like to find him again. And I have thought long and hard about what I would do to Isaac Todd for taking Bedj-ka away from me."

"Is Isaac Todd your ex-husband?" Kendi said. "I don't think I've ever heard you mention his name."

"Whenever I say it, I want to wash my mouth and my body," Harenn growled.

Outside the port building, the golden sun of Klimkinnar shone with tropical warmth, and the air was heavy with humidity. For a moment, Kendi was transported back to the muggy frog farm where he had spent three years as a slave, and he forced himself to shake off the memories.

The streets were paved, if that was the word for it, with lush emerald gra.s.s. Tiny purple flowers and gray mushrooms peeked between the blades. Green shrubs lined the low buildings and gray sidewalks, and Kendi realized with a start he didn't know the name of the city. Steady streams of people moved up and down the walks, and groundcars buzzed over the gra.s.s, not quite touching the tender green blades. No flitcars crossed the sky--Klimkinnar didn't allow much private air traffic.

A series of empty groundcars queued up near the curb, each with a name printed on the side. Kendi moved down the line until he came to one marked "Weaver." He pressed his thumb to the lock of the vehicle and it popped open. The name erased itself.

"Here we go," Kendi said, and climbed into the driver's seat. Harenn, her blue veil fluttering slightly in the breeze, got in on the pa.s.senger's side. Directions to the Markovi farm flashed across the car's...o...b..ard computer--Kendi made a mental note to thank Ben later--and Kendi maneuvered carefully into the heavy traffic surrounding the s.p.a.ceport terminal.

After a moment, Harenn said, "I must admit that I do not understand why we are here."

"Turn left at the next intersection," the computer said in a pleasant, friendly voice.

"Huh?" Kendi scooted around a cargo hauler and made the turn. "We're rescuing your son. What have we been talking about for the last--"

"I mean," Harenn said, "I do not understand why we are here instead of looking for your your family." family."

"Oh." Kendi concentrated on driving for a moment. They reached the edge of the city, whatever its name was, and the buildings grew spa.r.s.er, as did the traffic. "I didn't explain that?"

"No, and I was . . . I was afraid to press in case you changed your mind. Even on the bridge before we landed, I was afraid you would change your mind." Harenn tugged at her veil. "For many years when we were part of Mother Ara's team, I watched you jump every time you thought you had something that would lead you to your family. I know that you and they were sold because you were Silent, but--"

"That's not quite right," Kendi interjected. "My family and I were colonists on a s.h.i.+p that was captured by slavers. I was twelve. A woman named Giselle Blanc bought me and my mother, but someone else bought my dad and my sister and brother. I never saw them again. Three years later, Blanc found out that Mom and I were both Silent, and she decided to sell us for a hefty profit. My mom was sold, and I never saw her again, either. Then Ara bought me and set me free. After the Children of Irfan taught me how to use my Silence, I looked for my family everywhere in the Dream but no luck. Then the Despair hit, and Sejal touched almost every Silent mind in the universe. He told me he felt a man and a woman who are sure to be my relatives--though I don't know which relatives--and that he felt Bedj-ka, too. That's why we're here."

"This is not what I am asking, Kendi. You are a hero of the--"

"Stop saying that," Kendi said. Traffic cleared and he sped up.

"--of the Despair, and it is true whether you deny it or not. Padric Sufur's twisted children failed to destroy the Dream because of you--"

"And because of Ben and because of Sejal and Katsu and Vidya and Prasad and a whole mess of other people," Kendi pointed out.

"But you are the only one who took advantage of your status," Harenn continued, ruthlessly pursuing the point. "Vidya and Prasad and Katsu and Sejal were content to become a family again and settle among the Children of Irfan. Ben seems to be happy following you wherever you go. But you--well, I do have to say that I have never thought of you as a modest person--"

"Thanks."

"--but you went beyond mere immodesty. You bullied the Council of Irfan into giving you an expensive s.h.i.+p--"

"Loaning me an expensive s.h.i.+p." me an expensive s.h.i.+p."

"--something which usually only a Father Adept is granted, and then you staffed it with not one but two two so very priceless Silent who can still reach the Dream--" so very priceless Silent who can still reach the Dream--"

"Yeah, well Ben threatened to quit his consulting job, and the Council didn't want to lose him, especially since he's Silent now and they're hoping he'll become a Brother one day."

"--and then you took this expensive s.h.i.+p off to find not your family, but mine. So I am asking--why are you doing this?"

Kendi drove in silence for several moments. Then he said, "It's because of Ben."

"This you need to explain."

"When I go home at night--or back to my quarters, anyway--Ben is there. I have somebody, and you--" He stopped and felt his face turn hot.

"I have no one?"

Kendi cursed himself. There were a hundred other things he could have said, but he had to choose the one that would throw Harenn's broken family into her face.

"It's not just that," he hastened to add. "It's also because Bedj-ka is still a little kid. He isn't even ten years old yet. My brother would be over thirty now, and my sister's in her mid-twenties. They're adults. They don't . . . they don't need their family like Bedj-ka does. So I decided we should find him first."

Harenn looked at him. "That sounds like something Mother Ara would have said."

Kendi stiffened and stared straight ahead at the green road unwinding before him. Trees, fields, and scattered houses rushed quietly past the groundcar. Harenn's remark had pierced him like an arrow, and he didn't know how to feel. Pride mixed with sorrow mixed with . . . relief? To Kendi's horror, his eyes teared up. He firmed his jaw. Not in front of Harenn, not while he was in charge of the expedition and she was under his command, however casual that command might be.

Harenn lightly touched his hand. "Whatever the reason, I am glad you made this choice." Then she turned to stare out her own window, leaving Kendi free to rub his eyes without being observed.

They traveled for some time in companionable silence until the computer said, "Your destination is one hundred meters ahead of you on the right." Harenn sat up straight. Kendi turned down a short gravel driveway that ended in front of a tall, barred gate. From this vantage point, Kendi could see that the trees and brush lining the road actually concealed a high concrete wall that presumably ran around the perimeter of the farm. A sign on the gate read,

Sunnytree Farm A Division of the L.L. Venus Corporation Douglas J. Markovi, Manager

"L.L. Venus," Harenn said. "The chocolate company?"

"We carried a whole bunch of their stuff when we posed as merchants back on Rust," Kendi said, re-reading the sign. "All life--they use slaves?"

"So it would seem." Harenn's voice was tight, and her hands were clasped in her lap.

"But they're a candy company," Kendi said almost plaintively. "They buy children children to work their farms?" to work their farms?"

"It does not matter what a corporation produces," Harenn said. "It will always seek the cheapest method of production."

Kendi tried to estimate out how many pounds of L.L. Venus chocolate he had eaten over the years. The best answer he could come up with was "a lot." He felt slightly sick.

The dashboard screen chimed. He tapped it, and a smartly-dressed woman appeared.

"Welcome to Sunnytree Farm," she said. Her voice was impossibly low and smooth, and Kendi figured she was computer-generated. "How may I help you?"

"My name is Kendi Weaver. We need to talk to your manager, please," Kendi said, politely, just in case the woman was real.

"Do you have an appointment?"

"I'm afraid we don't, but it's very important. It's a personal matter about one of his--the farm's--slaves. Is Mr. Markovi available?" Always go straight to the top, Ara had taught.

The woman paused blankly, probably to let her program access a database. "Please drive through the gates to our main office. Please do not leave your vehicle. Please keep your vehicle on the road at all times. Thank you for visiting Sunnytree Farm."

The screen went blank and the gate swung open. Kendi guided the car through the opening and into what felt like another world--a dark and gloomy one. Slowly Kendi's eyes adjusted to the dim light. The gloom came from the oppressive shade of a forest of strange trees, each about twice as tall as a human. The trunks were thin, less than half a meter in diameter, and covered with star-shaped flowers that ranged from white to pink to yellow to red. Amid the flowers were clumps of lumpy seed pods that reminded Kendi of rugby b.a.l.l.s. They were almost as varied in color as the flowers, appearing in green, orange, and brown. Large, flat leaves at the tops of the trees rustled in a faint breeze. Moss hung from everything, and the ground between the trees was covered in some kind of mulch. Water dripped from leaves and branches. Kendi cracked a window and sniffed. The air was thick and smelled heavily organic.

The screen beeped again. Harenn tapped it and the computer-generated woman re-appeared.

"Welcome to Sunnytree Farms," she said in an overly-friendly voice. "If you would like guided information about our family-owned operation, just touch the green b.u.t.ton on your screen. Otherwise please proceed with caution to the main office building. Thank you!"

Harenn reached down to tap the screen's off b.u.t.ton, but Kendi grabbed her wrist.

"Wait," he said. " 'The greater your knowledge, the lesser your risk,' remember?"

"Irfan Qasad," Harenn muttered. "Very well." She touched the green b.u.t.ton. Kendi continued to drive. Among the trees, he could now make out people. They wore simple clothing, with silver bands around their left wrists and ankles. Slave bands. Memories welled again, and Kendi resisted the impulse to rub his own wrist in sympathy.

"The L.L. Venus Corporation was founded on Earth over a eleven hundred years ago, when Lawrence Venus opened a single candy kitchen in the city of Milwaukee," burbled the computer lady. "He eventually expanded this small family business into a global operation. When the chance came, his heirs took the Venus Corporation to the stars. The company has spanned two millennia and operates on twenty-eight different planets, creating delicious chocolates and candies for billions of consumers--the delight of children everywhere."

The workers--slaves--were engaged in a variety of tasks, and they scarcely glanced at the pa.s.sing groundcar. Some of the adults used hooked knives on poles to cut down the brownest pods, which the children gathered and piled on floating gravity sleds. Other slaves spread mulch, trimmed branches, and performed other tasks Kendi didn't recognize. Harenn watched the children with sharp eyes, and Kendi knew she was wondering which of them was her son.

"The cacao trees you see here at Sunnytree Farm are only the very first step in producing the rich, sumptuous chocolate treats you buy at the store," continued the computer. "The trees are difficult to raise--they require very a specific climate, soil type, and daily weather pattern. Attempts to genegineer cacao trees to make them st.u.r.dier and easier to grow have invariably degraded the quality of the beans, so we raise them the old-fas.h.i.+oned way, by hand--exactly as was done on Earth for thousands of years."

The groundcar abruptly emerged into bright sunlight. Kendi blinked until the winds.h.i.+eld darkened itself to compensate. Harenn continued to sit rigid. A line of slaves stood at an outdoor conveyer belt loaded with lumpy brown cacao pods.

"If you look to your left," said the computer cheerfully, "you will see the L.L. Venus hands processing the ripe seed pods. First the pods are split in two with a machete." As if on cue, several of the slaves chopped the pods neatly down the middle as they pa.s.sed by on the belt. "Next, our hands scoop out the mucilage and cocoa beans inside and put it into wooden boxes, which are then covered with leaves." The car pa.s.sed stacks of leaf-covered crates. "Once the beans have fermented, they are removed and spread in the sun to dry. Each pod will produce between forty and fifty cocoa beans, but it takes more than seven hundred beans to make a single kilogram of--"

Kendi tapped the screen's red b.u.t.ton. When Harenn raised her eyebrows at him, he said, "I can't stand that syrupy tone anymore."

"What number of slaves do you suppose this farm owns?"

Kendi looked out at a group of slave children who were using long-handled hoes to spread cocoa beans on screen-bottomed drying racks in the hot sun. Several of them were barely tall enough to see over the racks.

"Lots," he muttered. "Suddenly the idea of having a candy bar makes me sick to my stomach."

The driveway ended at an enormous mansion, complete with cupolas and gingerbread trim. Beyond the house lay a series of low, metal-sided buildings. Kendi a.s.sumed they were warehouses, equipment storage areas, and slave quarters. He guided the car into a parking lot near the house. The sun hit him like a hammer when he exited the air-conditioned interior of the car. Harenn didn't seem to notice, and instead headed straight for the mansion's front porch. Before they had reached the top step, the door opened and a man in a red tunic and brown trousers emerged. The L.L. Venus logo was embroidered in gold on the shoulder of the tunic. Kendi took Harenn's arm.

"Let me do the talking," he muttered.

Harenn gave a curt nod of acquiescence.

"Welcome to Sunnytree Farm," the man said. "How may I help you?"

Kendi repeated his request to see Douglas Markovi. "It's extremely important, and I'm afraid we really can't talk to anyone but him."

"Mr. Markovi is very busy," the man said doubtfully.

"I realize that, and I apologize for dropping in with no notice, but it's very important."

"What company did you say you were with?"

"I didn't," was Kendi's only reply.

The man wasn't daunted. "What company are you with?"

"A large private concern," Kendi said. "I'm sorry, but I can't be more specific than that except with Mr. Markovi himself."

Kendi could almost feel the waves of controlled impatience radiating off Harenn. He ground his teeth. In the days before the Despair, another Child of Irfan would have entered the Dream to whisper into this man's mind. If the man had any inclination toward granting Kendi and Harenn an audience with his managerial majesty, the whisper would magnify it and make Kendi's job easy. But nowadays very few Silent could even enter the Dream, let alone reach out of from it. Even before the Despair, Kendi had never been good at reaching out or at whispering. Ben hadn't yet learned. Kendi would have to rely on his own powers of persuasion.

The man resisted, and Kendi continued to work at him. His instincts told him offering a bribe wouldn't be effective, so he continued with a non-stop flow of persuasive talk while Harenn looked on. Eventually the man reluctantly led them to a tastefully-furnished waiting room with the curt promise that he would check with Mr. Markovi.

They waited over an hour. Harenn sat like a statue the entire time. Kendi knew she was in agony, but he didn't dare speak to her--the waiting area was probably bugged. Finally the man returned.

"Mr. Markovi has agreed to see you," he said with a certain amount of surprise in his voice.

He ushered them into a large, airy office. A blond man with a prominent chin waited behind a castle-sized desk against a bank of windows. A potted cacao tree blocked some of the suns.h.i.+ne streaming in through the gla.s.s. The man's tunic was edged with silver, and he forced Harenn and Kendi to reach across the huge expanse of his desk to shake hands. His grip was iron-hard. Kendi gave a mental sigh. The negotiations were going to be rough.

"I'm Douglas Markovi," said the blond man. "What's this about? The computer said you were asking about one of my hands."