Everfair (48 page)

She recalled the bicycle she'd ridden so fast, so recklessly as a girl: it had been her friend, her freedom, its black frame and hard rubber tires vital and alive. Where was it now? Where had the sales agents of her parents' forfeited estate sent it? Probably it was no longer in working order. And probably the rubber forming her friend's tires had originated here, harvested in fear and misery by the likes of Mr. Mkoi or Yoka.

A scratching sound upon her cabin door. She opened it to a crewwoman: short, slight, and Bharatese to judge by her precise way of speech. She invited Mademoiselle Toutournier to join the captain on the bridge.

Lisette went. To refuse would not be gracious.

The aircanoe sailed west, toward the Lualaba River. The sun had risen. Beyond the great glass panes of the new gondola's bow,
Fu Hao
's silhouette crept ahead of them over the plateau like a hunting cat.

Chocolate was offered. Lisette declined as politely as possible. After that, she was left more or less alone, only being introduced to crewmembers as they entered in the course of their duties. She found she was not in anybody's way when she kept near the windows. The Bharati woman lent her a pair of binoculars. Someone else brought her a stool. At intervals she sat, then stood again for a better view of a scene passing under the gondola's belly: a drover with a flock of sheep, a gang of workers digging their way to a dry watercourse—a diversion?

Though familiar, the country changed, always, inevitably. There was a pleasure in perceiving these changes; she was glad not to have missed it.

Twenty-five years she had known Everfair! Almost as long as Daisy. It would be a wonder if either of them had stayed the same; assuredly Lisette had not. Though the country's life might run more slowly … No. She thought of the wars, the progress made in weaponry and the healing arts: faster almost than the eye could follow. They flew northward now along the Lualaba, the river's rapids plunging fiercely between slick rocks— Not more slowly, no, but over a much longer time.

The monarchy would not last.

Eventually
Fu Hao
abandoned the Lualaba and entered the valley of the Ulindi River, turning back south and east. Eventually, the little town of Kalima came drifting into sight below: the forges and worksheds. The hotel where she and Daisy had, after so many years, come together once again. The warehouse where she had given up her heart's hope. The little house on the edge of things where Daisy lived now, in exile from the court, minding Lisette's birds and lizards. The airfield with its primitive mast. To which, eventually, they moored.

The fuss with the passenger sling prolonged itself intolerably. Intolerably!

Inwardly, Lisette laughed at herself. How could she be this eager for someone who she was certain awaited her? For someone she knew so very, very well?

But then she was on the ground, understanding that those questions, along with many others, would always be answerless. And then she was once again in the arms of her imperfect love.

 

Acknowledgments

Writing is a solitary act that expresses the genius of a community. My work has been supported by so many members of my community it would take another book to name them all. Everyone who helped me write the short stories that appear in
Filter House
helped with this book also. To that list add Jaymee Goh, Diana Pho, Dr. Jake von Slatt, Rachel Swirsky, Scott Lynch, Elizabeth Bear, Susan and Bill Gossman, Mary Kay and Jordin Kare, Joe Murphy, Aaliyah Mari Hudson, Bill Campbell, Samuel R. Delany, and the inimitable K. Tempest Bradford. Kenneth Heard looked over Everfair's aircanoes with a researcher's eye. I have heeded his advice as well as I was able. If you notice something wrong with them it's my fault, not his.

I owe much of my inspiration to the author of
King Leopold's Ghost,
Adam Hochschild, and to the brave women and men who stood against the tyrant.

Geoff Ryman asked me why. Michael Swanwick cut his eyes at me. Jim Frenkel bought it. Liz Gorinsky edited it all over the world.

Those of you who donated to the crowdfunders for my sister, Julie, and my mother, June, also helped with this book's creation.

Those of you who wanted
Everfair,
asked for it, pre-ordered it, bought it, and read it are my special friends.

Thank you all.

 

About the Author

NISI SHAWL
is a writer of science fiction and fantasy short stories and a journalist. Her collection,
Filter House
, won the James Tiptree, Jr. Award and was nominated for the World Fantasy Award. She is the coauthor (with Cynthia Ward) of
Writing the Other: A Practical Approach
. You can sign up for email updates
here
.

 

Thank you for buying this

Tom Doherty Associates ebook.

 

To receive special offers, bonus content,

and info on new releases and other great reads,

sign up for our newsletters.

 

Or visit us online at

us.macmillan.com/newslettersignup

 

For email updates on the author, click
here
.

 

Contents

Title Page

Copyright Notice

Dedication

Historical Note

Some Notable Characters

Map

Epigraph

Part One

Part Two

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Copyright

 

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

EVERFAIR

Copyright © 2016 by Nisi Shawl

All rights reserved.

Map by Michael Gellatly

Cover art by Victo Ngai

A Tor Book

Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC

175 Fifth Avenue

New York, NY 10010

www.tor-forge.com

Tor
®
is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.

The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.

ISBN
978-0-7653-3805-1 (hardcover)

ISBN
978-1-4688-3784-3 (e-book)

e-ISBN
9781466837843

Our e-books may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at 1-800-221-7945, extension 5442, or by e-mail at
[email protected]
.

First Edition: September 2016