Damia (13 page)

“And you’ve a planetful of relatives . . .” Afra hedged.

“They’re there, of course, but it’s the Talent aspect of our child that we both want to sustain, Afra, and no one on Deneb’s got much Talent training. I know you are critical of the way you were reared on Capella, but I can say with objectivity that you’ve a large advantage in such training over me. And, besides, the Rowan and I agreed on you, Afra.” Jeff’s blue eyes were frank. He quirked his head, his characteristic smile beginning to tug at his mouth. “What do I tell her?”

Afra smiled a soft, sad smile. “Tell her that I would be a bad choice: if something happened to either of you I would surely be dead beforehand.”

Jeff laughed. “Don’t be morbid. You’re not precogging again, are you?” When Afra vigorously denied that, he was audibly relieved. “Besides, I’ve firsthand experience with how good an instructor you are, you know.”

Afra bowed deeply, once more falling back on ingrained courtesies to respond. “Jeff Raven, please tell your lovely wife that I am deeply honored and will be glad to serve in loco parentis to any children of yours and to the best of my ability.”

Jeff gave him a curt, satisfied nod and a hearty clout on the shoulder. The Denebian never learned the non-tactile etiquette of Talents, but somehow, such familiarity from
Jeff never offended. “Good! It’s settled, then. Now, tell me, what do you know of babies?”

It turned out that Afra knew quite a lot about babies, having dealt with his sister’s children on several occasions and having even minded the Ackerman kids when Brian and his wife needed a night off.

At the end of their chat, Jeff sighed deeply. “You will let me know if the Rowan’s keeping something from me, won’t you?”

“Are you going somewhere?” Afra asked, startled.

“Yes, hadn’t you heard?” Jeff’s attitude was ingenuous surprise. “Apparently Reidinger’s decided to get his own back by making me a sort of roving Prime.” He drew up to his full height and made a mock bow.

Afra laughed. “Remember when the Rowan told you Reidinger’d take it out of your hide?”

Jeff shrugged, his expression comical. “For a worthy cause.” Then he winked, his expression turning slightly malicious. “He might as well make use of my ability to travel. I’m the only Prime who can zip about as it pleases me.”

“Why don’t you challenge Reidinger to travel now that we all know that Siglen imposed the neurosis?”

Jeff gave Afra a long, hard look, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I really should, shouldn’t I? The old, sly geezer. He’d probably growl something about teaching old dogs new tricks.”

“I think,” Afra said in a slow, thoughtful tone, “that I’m just as glad Reidinger can’t. His mental bark is bad enough! I’d hate to know he could ’port wherever he wished and chew me out face-to-face.”

Jeff cocked one eyebrow and grinned with deliberate malice. “Oh, well, you could always bull your way through.”

Afra blinked, gawked, and then burst out laughing at Jeff’s sly reminder.

“And he still has both bull and cow on his desk,” Jeff added. “I think if you had to, you’d give as good as you
got. Another reason why we want you as l.p. for our son. Say, you can’t, by any chance, hear the baby, can you?”

“No.” Afra’s response was definite and a little bit sad.

*   *   *

The birth of Jeran Raven was a cause for joyous celebration throughout Callisto Station and beyond. Everyone under the domes heard the healthy mental cry of the baby as it was born, and the communal welcome added to the gentle ambience from the three adults present at the delivery. Attentive Primes also heard it; Afra had to carefully supervise the removal of kilos and kilos of rare flowers sent by an ecstatic Peter Reidinger to the Gwyn-Raven quarters. The arrival of floral offerings almost undid the careful schedule Afra and Brian had worked out to keep Callisto operating with a reduced workload while their Prime had limited capability.

Afra was working late, catching up on the rescheduling when the door buzzer to his quarters rang. “Come!”

He rose and strode to greet his guest at the door. It was Jeff’s mother, Isthia Raven. Afra had seen her about the Station during the last days of the Rowan’s confinement but had purposely not intruded upon her.

“You have not come to see the child, Afra Lyon,” Isthia began immediately.

“I’ve been busy and had no wish to disturb him or his parents.” Afra hesitated slightly, not certain how to address this blue-eyed lady with a cap of crisp, black curls.

“You may certainly call me Isthia.” Afra inclined his head. “Rowan told me about you, how closely you work together.” She looked at him keenly. “Are you afraid of newborns, then?”

Afra laughed. “Hardly. When would it be convenient for me to come? Rowan seems to need a lot of rest these days.”

“She does, but
you
are always welcome. Come this afternoon and get it over with.”

“I scarcely consider it an obligation to be ‘got over,’” Afra said.

Isthia gave him another of her searching looks. “No, I
don’t think you would. But you are down as loco parentis and you haven’t so much as cast an eyeball over my grandson. Yet you and the Rowan have been very close.”

“Not,” and Afra felt it advisable to reassure her on that score, “as close as she and Jeff, if that is what you’re worried about.”

Isthia regarded him with wide-eyed surprise. “I’m not the least worried about it now that we’ve met, for it is quite plain to me that you are an honorable person.” Afra gave a slightly impudent bow, which she dismissed with an irritated wave. “Are all Capellans so inhibited?”

“All Capellans are raised to be courteous under any conditions.”

Isthia gave a bark of laughter. “Good shot. We Denebians tend to speak our minds.”

“I’d noticed. It makes a nice change.”

“Well, I can see why the Rowan and Jeff rely so much on you. I just wanted to be certain, myself, that you’d be suitable as a default parent.”

“Is that what all this is about?”

“Of course,” Isthia replied stoutly. “I like a man who doesn’t balk at taking difficult paths or walking tightropes. But you could be easier on yourself now and then.”

Mildly surprised at the line this conversation was taking, Afra looked at her quizzically.

“Don’t try that on me, young man,” Isthia commanded, eyes twinkling to remove the sting. “You must come to Deneb some time. Let your mind rest from your very strenuous labors.”

“It would be my pleasure. Yours must be a fascinating world to develop such amazing Talents.”

“Develop Talent? Oh, I suppose so.”

Afra was nonplussed by her casual dismissal. He sensed that she had considerable Talent herself, though Jeff had never mentioned that she’d been tested. If her attitude was indicative of the general population, it was no wonder Jeff and Rowan worried about Jeran’s potential Talent.

“Come to think on it,” and Isthia’s expression altered suddenly to that curious blankness that Afra had been
taught heralded a precognitive episode, “you will come to Deneb . . .” She hesitated as her eyes, suddenly clouded, rested unseeing on his face. A chill raised gooseflesh on his arms. “. . . to rest your mind and renew life.” Abruptly she shook her head, eyes clearly blue again. “Did I go off just then?”

“I didn’t notice anything,” Afra said smoothly, as much because of her earlier dismissal of Talent, as because her clairvoyancy genuinely had startled him. He felt uncomfortable with such cryptic talk. “May I offer you refreshment?”

“That would be very pleasant. You don’t happen to have tea, do you?” she asked wistfully.

“China or Indian?”

“Indian,” she said, a hopeful smile on her face.

“Earl Grey or Darjeeling?”

“Darjeeling,” she replied with happy relief. “Marvelous institution, tea. A man who serves tea is certain to be an asset to the Raven Clan.”

“I beg pardon?”

“Well, you did agree to stand in loco parentis for Jeran, so you are, in effect, bound to the Raven clan.”

Afra was puzzled but caused the kettle to boil before he looked back at Jeff Raven’s indomitable mother. “If this is some form of ritual bonding . . .” Some pioneer planets had revived rather barbaric customs.

“No, no ritual. Just acknowledgment of fact,” Isthia responded. The kettle whistled.

Tea making, on the other hand, did require certain minor rituals which Afra dutifully observed, patently to Isthia Raven’s delight. And for the rest of the visit they exchanged pleasantries.

Afra found himself waxing effusive in the presence of this remarkable woman and was genuinely unhappy when she took her leave.

“Oh, we’ll talk again, Afra.” She warned him.
Be certain of it!
“And when are you coming to visit your new responsibility? Not to mention his mother. She’s fretting that her maternity is repulsive to you.”

Never!
The response flew out of Afra before he could control the impulse.

Isthia merely smiled. “She’ll be glad to hear that.”

*   *   *

Jeff Raven insisted on helping Afra and the Callisto Station whenever he was available while the Rowan was on maternity leave. However, she became quite agitated when he protested her return to the Tower a scant ten days after her labor.

Arrgh! It was my body that strained, not my mind!
she said in a fine fume over his protests.
Men!

With Jeran not yet established on a regular sleeping cycle, the Rowan was apt to tire easily or be forgetful. It was a “memorable” period, as Isthia later commented. Afra and Isthia spent much time together, volunteering for baby detail, merely chatting or playing bridge with the Ackermans, a game which both Afra and Isthia had missed sorely in the past.

Jeff was surprised when Reidinger summoned him to Earth for a conference.

“Why can’t he just ’path me?” Raven complained to Afra when the formal message was received.

“I suspect he has his reasons,” Afra responded soothingly, expression carefully neutral. “Do be sure to say hello to Gollee when you’re down there.”

“And Luciano! Ye gods! What food!” Jeff licked his lips in anticipation. “Be certain I will!”

Hours later he returned.
You knew!
Jeff swore at him.

Reidinger is one hundred and ten, you’ve been trained on Tower procedures, you work like a maniac, you know every Prime there is, I thought it rather obvious. It was just a question of timing
was Afra’s phlegmatic reply.

You didn’t tell her, did you?
Jeff asked with some alarm.

Of course not! There are certain surprises that must be personally delivered
, Afra replied in a pointed reminder of the knowledge of the Rowan’s pregnancy.

“Good! I can’t wait to see her face!” And Jeff jumped to the Rowan’s quarters to spread the glad word.

Brian Ackerman had watched the whole exchange from
a considerate distance, but his curiosity overwhelmed when the Raven departed.

“What was that all about?” he asked. Afra shrugged noncommittally. “Good news?”

Earth Prime!
The mental seepage from the Rowan’s mental exultation vibrated through every mind on the Station.

“You could say that,” Afra said with a slight smirk.

Then Brian added thoughtfully, “You know, the Rowan usually shields and we’ve not had much ‘noise’ from young Master Jeran since he sleeps most of the time. But hadn’t we better get the bright boys working on a way to shield infantile babble emanating from the Rowan’s place?”

Ackerman took on an abstracted look which turned puzzled.

“He’s not loud enough to worry about. Oh, yes, she’s not likely to stop with just one, is she? I remember her telling me she wanted a large family. Of course, she may change her mind. My wife did, but, yeah, maybe we ought to look into the problem before it becomes one.” Ackerman jotted a quick note down on his ever-present pad.

*   *   *

Six months and two days later, late one night as Afra was just about to give up on an intricate origami dinosaur he had been trying to create for young Jeran, his buzzer beeped.

“Come!” he called, half-irritated, half-relieved at the distraction.

It was Brian Ackerman. Afra greeted him with a ready smile. “You’re here to tell me they’ve got the mental shielding prepared?” Afra asked suavely as he passed a cup of soothing tea to the graying Ackerman.

Ackerman looked startled. “No, I was saving that for tomorrow,” he allowed with a groan. “Jeff Raven asked me to drop by.”

“Whatever for?”

“Well, he should be—” The door chime interrupted him.

Jeff Raven apologized profusely to the two men for such a late night meeting. “It’s the only time I can be sure she isn’t listening in.”

“Why?” Afra asked carefully.

Jeff raised an eyebrow. “Well, I’ve something to ask you and it’s difficult to leave her, what with the way she’s been acting lately. She’s asleep right now with Jeran on her lap.”

“So?” Afra refused to be drawn. “The way she’s been acting and her sleepiness are perfectly normal, you know.”

“I wasn’t talking about . . .” Jeff gave Afra a second keen glance. “Oh, no! It’s much too soon.”

“That isn’t why you’re here?” Afra asked, annoyed with himself for assuming the reason for Jeff’s visit.

“Not exactly, but I’ll take the bad with the good. Well, is she or isn’t she? And cut that guff about there being some things that are announced privately!”

“Well . . .” But Afra felt Jeff reach for the truth.

“One day I’m going to throttle my mother.”

“Isthia?” Brian asked apprehensively, for he respected the woman and knew that Jeff did.

“My mother’s been filling my wife with some nonsense about sibling bonding. It was why Mother insisted on freshening every year.” Jeff did not approve of either theory or practice. “Is it a boy or girl, Afra?”

“A girl.”

“So she figured out how to achieve that, too?” Conflicting emotions of exasperation and respect crossed Jeff’s mobile face. Then his expression altered to worry. “What I came to discuss with you is a very private ’path I had from my mother. She wants me to come to Deneb to check out an unusual happening. She thought she felt something, a presence.”