A Night Without Stars (26 page)

“Okay,” Joffler said. “So who's this, then? You the daddy? You been having some fun up there in the valley, you bad boy? What happened? Did Mummy turn up and dump her on you?”

“Uh, yes.” Florian couldn't meet his eye. “Something like that.”

“So what's her name?”

“What?”

“Her name, fella? What's your daughter's name?”

“Essie,” Florian said without thinking. Essie had featured quite heavily in his life before he did his regimental service; the one person he could overcome his chronic shyness for, and actually talk to. And unfortunately, the girl who'd turned down his narnik-fueled pass the day he was decommissioned from the regiment. He hadn't smoked the Uracus-cursed stuff since.

“Cool.” Joffler leaned in closer and frowned. “Uracus, what's wrong with her?”

“Nothing,” Florian exclaimed defensively.

“Fella, her head! It's like half her brain's hanging out.”

“That? It's just a growth. The doctor said not to worry.” He improvised boldly. “That's what he told her mother anyway.”

“That is such a lump of crud. She's dumped a broken kid on you. What a coldhearted bitch.”

“Look, the baby's going to be okay. I just need somewhere to stay for a few days. You can manage that, can't you? We have a good arrangement.”

“Well, okay, fella. Ah, you are, like, going to go back after this, aren't you?”

“To the valley? Sure. Don't worry, I've got plenty more waltans drying.”

The curtain to the main chamber was pushed aside and a woman came in. Florian looked up, then immediately lowered his head to the baby, feeling his cheeks flush hotly. The woman was probably about his age; the hair hanging down to her hips had been dyed a vivid emerald green, into which she'd woven long colorful ribbons. Her cheesecloth skirt was a vivid sky blue, its hem swirling around her ankles. Apart from the bangles on her wrists it was the only piece of clothing she wore.

“Joffie, what's happening?” she asked in a high voice.

“Hey, babe, this is Florian. He's an okay fella.”

“Hi, Florian,” she said. “I'm Rohanna.”

“Um, pleased to meet you,” Florian mumbled. He was aware of the girl padding over the stone floor to the settee where he was sitting. He glanced up—though not to her naked torso! Something glinted in her navel. Before he realized it, his retinas zoomed in, which was another autoimpulse function his u-shadow had bestowed. There was some kind of gold ring piercing her navel, like an earring in completely the wrong place.

“Oww,” she cooed. “Poor darling baby. What's wrong with her?”

“It's just a growth, that's all. It's fine.”

“Oh, that's so woeful. She's not going to live long, is she? Not with that much cancer.”

“It's not cancer, and she's not dying,” Florian snapped, incensed. It made him look Rohanna straight in her face. Her expression was curious and sad. She was very pretty, he realized, but with dilated pupils. Exovision displays offered an analysis of visual data: her increased heart rate, skin temperature two degrees above normal, slightly sluggish limb motion.

She's high,
he realized, which didn't really surprise him.

“Not cancer? If you say so.” She almost giggled.

The baby finished her feed. As always, the bladder was empty. Florian started bouncing her gently on his knee, to be rewarded by a burp. That did make Rohanna giggle.

“Is there anything to eat?” Florian asked. “I'm kind of hungry. Haven't had much food today.”

“Sure thing, fella. Uh, where did you leave your Openland?”

“I came on a boat.”

“A boat? What, from Albina Valley?”

“Yes.”

“Sweet crud. She really worked a number on you, didn't she?”

Rohanna was wiggling her fingers in front of the baby's face, making chuckling sounds. It annoyed Florian, but he didn't want to cause a scene. “The food?”

“This way.”

One of the other curtains in the entrance cavern led to a corridor that ran through the center of the outcrop. More chambers had been hollowed out on either side. Joffler led him into the kitchen. Its fittings had clearly been made by the same artisan who had furnished the living room. A clay oven stood beside the outside opening, surrounded by a little skirt of cold ash that had damped down to a sludge from the drizzle eddying in.

“Some fruit somewhere,” Joffler mumbled as he pulled drawers out. “And I know we have bread.”

Florian's stomach grumbled in protest; he'd been looking forward to a decent meal. “Fruit?” he complained.

Joffler grinned sheepishly and gave a wide-armed shrug. His kaftan swayed open at the gesture, and he was wearing nothing underneath. Once again, Florian found himself quickly looking the other way. After seven wonderful years alone in Albina Valley he wasn't used to people, let alone ones who were comfortable exhibiting their bodies.

“Rohanna doesn't like eating dead animal flesh. She says it contaminates our souls; that it's one big reason why the Skylords have never come back.”

“Right.”

“I know, fella.” Joffler lowered his voice and smirked. “Who wants to listen to all that Church of the Return bollocks? But I'm not arguing. She just wants to screw all the time. Say's the body's blessings are a gift from Giu that shouldn't be wasted—some crud like that. I'm not complaining. Good job you're bringing in all those waltans, huh?”

“You're using granddad's delight?” Florian asked in surprise. Waltan fungus, when refined by chemists who knew what they were doing, produced a drug that helped older men with their erections. That's why he didn't mind setting traps for the fungus. The county sheriffs were really only interested in busting narnik farmers.

“Like I said: all the time.” Joffler pulled a loaf of bread from a metal bin. “Got some jam around here somewhere, too.”

Florian stopped himself from sighing. “Don't worry, I'll manage.” The baby still hadn't settled properly.
Probably needs changing.

“Sure thing. If you need anything and can't find it, just give a shout. My home is yours, so make yourself comfy and get those clothes dried out. I'll see you in the morning, yeah? And don't worry, I'll get you some eggs for breakfast. Rohanna doesn't object to them.”

“Thanks, Joffler.”

Joffler winked, then threw a slightly troubled glance at the baby before leaving Florian alone.

Back in the main chamber, Florian took off his shirt and trousers and hung them on a chair next to the fire. Teal curled up next to them. “I'll get you something to eat in the morning, promise,” he told the dog.

He changed the baby—she must have grown another couple of centimeters during the river trip—but that didn't make her any happier. She was whimpering almost constantly.

“What's up?” he asked gently. She stared up at him with unnerving focus, then her face screwed up and she started to wail. “Oh, for crud—” He reached for yet another bladder of richmilk, but she refused to take it. When her mouth opened wide for another yell, he saw a flash of white. “Teeth?” he asked incredulously. “You're teething?” Close inspection showed about six teeth had broken through sore red gums. “Oh, you poor thing. But I haven't got anything for that. Or have I?”

He got his u-shadow to link to the medical kid the space machine had given him, and list the contents. A quick check with his new medical files showed that one of the salves would help.

The plyplastic top of the kit parted and a small bulb poked up. He squeezed out a little blob of the clear salve and rubbed it on her gums. The baby seemed so outraged that his finger was in her mouth the crying actually stopped for a moment. Then she resumed her bawling.

He cuddled her, crooning soothingly for another couple of minutes. The crying slowly subsided and she fell asleep. Florian grinned down contentedly at her. Night two. And actually he was doing all right.

Two hours later he was woken up by her cries. But that was okay, because that was the hungry cry. Feed, change. There were eleven teeth showing now, so a touch more salve.

With only two full bladders left, he went back into the kitchen and scrounged some food to fill the processor's hopper. An hour later, with the bladders refilled, he dozed off only to be woken by more demands for feeding.

“Doo-dah,” the baby said after Florian finished her dawn feed. He blinked at her in surprise.

“You talk now?” As before, he felt he'd had about ten minutes of sleep in the whole night. When he rubbed some more salve into her gums he counted twenty teeth, and the front ones looked fully developed now.

Overnight?
A quick check in the medical files showed that wasn't normal, not even by Commonwealth standards. But she'd grown another three centimeters since they'd arrived in Letroy, that was undeniable.
So if she keeps this up, then in a month she'll be…
“Oh, great Giu!”
That's what Joey meant.
He stared at her with a smile of wonder lifting his lips.

Teal let out a mournful whine.

Florian tore his gaze away from the baby. “Yes! I'll get you something to eat.”

His shirt and trousers had dried, so he put them on. A sniff confirmed they needed a wash after yesterday. So did he.

There were so many things he should be doing. He hadn't stopped running since he'd taken the baby out of the space machine. What he needed was a couple of days of peace to plan and prepare.

The white wool sheet over the big opening was easy to pull aside, allowing the warm morning sun into the chamber. He looked out at Letroy in the daylight. All the primeval stone spires were pocked by oval openings, the majority covered with curtains or wooden shutters. He was surprised that most of them lacked any sort of safety rail. Behind them, the cliff was also studded with homes. Wooden walkways hung precariously on ropes, zigzagging up the vertical rock. He saw that several of them were broken, swinging gently on their last surviving anchor points, the openings they once led to now dark and cold, the stone hive houses abandoned.

Food. He needed food for himself and the richmilk processors, and poor old Teal. Clothes, washed or new. Cloth for the baby, to wear and use as diapers. Some cash, maybe. And transport, a quiet way to get to Opole, 270 kilometers to the west. No way was he going to attempt that in a boat, rowing against the river Crisp.

Florian exhaled pensively, realizing just how dependent on Joffler he'd become.

Behind him the baby cooed. He turned around and gasped. She wasn't in the settee's nest of cushions. “Giu! Where—?”

She was on the stone floor beside Teal, little hand gripping the dog's ear and tugging hard as she smiled.

“No!” He rushed forward and picked her up. “How did you get there?” He put her down again, and watched as she started crawling eagerly back toward Teal.

“Oh, great Giu,” he moaned in dismay. It had been bad enough when she couldn't move.

“Morning.” Joffler walked in, scratching his hair, which had escaped the band. He wasn't even wearing the kaftan.

Florian averted his eyes. “Morning.”

“Hey, she's crawling. Hiya there, Essie.”

The baby cooed again, and changed course toward Joffler. Florian picked her up, and immediately wished he hadn't. She wriggled about enthusiastically in his precarious hold. “Eggs,” he said. “You said we could have eggs for breakfast.”

“Sure thing, fella. It's just a bit early—”

“And Teal needs something to eat as well.”

“All right, all right. Let me put some clothes on.”

“Is there somewhere here that sells clothes?”

“Yeah. Uh.” Joffler looked him up and down. “Clothes in Letroy, they're not so…Well, like yours, you know?”

“What do you mean?”

“How do they get the dye like this?” a perplexed Florian asked. He was holding up a cotton shirt that Gemain had made. Gemain was a friend of Joffler who made
funky
clothes to sell in his store, which was a narrow cavern in the base of the cliff.

“You need to blend in,” Joffler insisted. “No offense, fella, but the whole forest worker gear thing is going to draw a crud-load of attention here. Nobody wants that.”

Florian had planned on spending as much time as possible in Joffler's stone house, so he quashed down an argument. He only had a few shillings; it was Joffler who was paying for everything. “I can send you the money,” he promised the dealer. “As soon as I get to Opole.” All the money from the waltan fungi was going into a safe-deposit box, fifteen dollars for each one; that had been agreed with Billop in advance. Billop was the contact who sold granddad's delight in the city. It was Rasschaert who had arranged the deal when Florian announced he'd been accepted for the forest warden service. Rasschaert worked in Aunt Terannia's club but had a lot of contacts within the local gangs. Joffler pulled a face and said, “Don't worry about it,” whenever he brought up the subject of money and buying supplies.

Gemain's shirt was purple and red, with weird blotchy green and blue spirals all over it. The baby tried to grab it. Florian was holding her under one arm while he held up the shirt for critical examination. It looked like a rainbow had melted across it while it was spinning around.

“It's called tie-dye,” Gemain explained proudly.

“We'll take a couple,” Joffler said quickly. “And those trousers, too.”

Florian nearly yelped:
Not the trousers.
They were denim, but not like any dungarees he'd ever worn before. These were black, unnaturally tight across his bottom, and had red suede tassels running down the outside leg seams. Instead of arguing, he just gritted his teeth. He'd get back to Joffler's stone house quicker if he said nothing.