Maximum Ice (41 page)

“Your friend?”

“We met several times at Ancou preserve, before you took her. I liked the girl.”

The nun gripped her cane and made no comment.

“Kellian was your apprentice?”

“Yes. A victim of error.” The words were hard, but the voice, softer.

“You have affection for her.” It was a guess. Zoya needed to move across this chessboard one way or another.

Zoya counted off five clicks of the nun’s cane on the floor before the answer came. “Yes.”

Zoya murmured, “The young have a way of making mistakes. And pointing out
ours.”

Patricia Margaret didn’t reply, but turned them toward an arched set of double doors. In front of them, Zoya said, “I’ve taken a fancy to your Kellian. I would save her from harm, if I could. Is there a way?”

“No.”

“Sister, when I first met you, you told me that the order’s goal was to free the world from pain.”

The old nun turned a frosty eye on her.

“Doesn’t killing a young woman like Kellian conflict with that goal?”

Sister Patricia Margaret was unperturbed. “How remarkable that you think you have so much figured out. Being a stranger here.”

“It’s part of my job, Sister. To figure things out in a hurry.”

At that moment, the door opened, and a brown-robed figure emerged. Hastily, the hood came up over the head. But Zoya caught a glimpse of a strikingly handsome young man with dark hair and eyes. He strode off without pausing. A lover? But that was hard to imagine.

Inside Mother Superior’s suite, Zoya saw that what she had taken for splendor in the rest of the fortress was merely prologue. Although the room was not large, it was richly appointed. Amid the woods and carved stone was a gracious mixture of textiles: wall tapestries, embroidered sofas, and Persian carpets. The colors were red, maroon, and black, like fine wine and the best caviar. An oval of sunlight burst through the slit of a window, illuminating a small, twisted tree in a glazed pot.

Solange turned from the window where she stood. “Ship Mother,” she said in welcome.

“Mother Superior.” Now the easy part was over with. The rest was a minefield.

In the bright light from the window, Zoya thought the nun looked tired.

Solange beckoned to her, and Zoya joined her at the narrow window. A veil of tea green light hovered over the barrens in the west.

“It’s been building for days now,” Solange said. “I think it may presage a breakthrough.”

“Of what sort?”

Mother Superior smiled. “Of discourse.” She looked back toward the light storm. “Ice is changing. I feel it.”

The white geography in front of them had taken on a tincture of green, like a faded memory of lush botany. The aurora climbed higher as the optics surged toward them.

“Somehow,” Zoya observed, “it doesn’t look happy.”

“I don’t fear Ice, Ship Mother. It’s the difference between us.”

Maybe you should, Zoya thought. But she wasn’t here to trade barbs. “It would be your finest addition to the Hall of Honors,” Zoya said. “If you succeeded—in discourse.”

“If I did that,” Solange said, “I would have no need of the Hall of Honors.”

“Honors come in many sizes,” Zoya said. “Releasing Kellian Bourassa to my custody could open a dialogue between the sisters and the People of the Road. Though our goals differ, it will be a long time before we could diminish the domain of Ice in any significant way. The Sisters of Clarity would have many years to find Ice’s wisdom.”

Solange shook her head. “Kellian is privy to all our secrets, our traditions, our defenses. We would be helpless before your strong ship. Not that you intend us ill. But we are cautious, you understand.”

“She is only a girl. It smacks of—inhumanity.”

By her expression, Solange took that for an insult. She turned away, moving to stand by the miniature tree. She fingered its needles. “Have you seen one of these before, Ship Mother?” Solange caressed a branch.

“I believe they’re called bonsai trees.”

“Yes.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“It’s the last of several that my predecessors have cultivated. This one is six hundred years old.”

Zoya smiled and approached. “May I?” She reached out to touch it.

Solange nodded permission, and Zoya felt the prickly needles, their green magnificence. She savored the moment in quiet.

“A long time?” Solange asked.

Zoya nodded. “Yes. We have some growing things on Ship board. Nothing so fine as this.”

“It’s company, believe it or not. Having a growing thing nearby.”

Like a pet, came Zoya’s uncharitable thought. Other uncharitable words were queued up, waiting for the exit gate. But Zoya smiled instead.

The nun murmured, “I wanted you to see that, despite my decision with regard to Kellian, I’m not incapable of sentiment. Because you may find fault with my hospitality.”

It gets worse?

Mother Superior pointed to a low table between the divans. There, resting on a footstool, was a machine. If she had to guess, Zoya would have said,
radio.

It was hissing like a cat.

“Needs tuning,” Solange said, gliding over to it. She pressed a key, finding the link-up.

“
… check, over. Sisters of Clarity, this is Star Road. Radio check, over.”

Solange seated herself on one of the sofas and reached for the microphone. “Yes, radio check is satisfactory, over.” The nun smiled, handing Zoya the mike. “It’s for you, my dear.”

A pause, while Zoya had time to think. Avoiding talking to Ship was no longer possible. Well, she wasn’t going to deal with Janos Bertak. She wouldn’t believe anything the man claimed. If nothing else, she’d demand to speak to the priest….

“This is Zoya Kundara. Who’s speaking, please?” Solange sat opposite her, looking like she’d just said
checkmate.

“Zoya, this is Anatolly”

“Anatolly? How are you? I was told you were sick.”

The radio hissed.
“Well, I’m back,”
he said ambiguously enough.

“What’s been going on? I was worried about you,” Zoya said.

“You could say the same about us. We’ve been worried.”

“We?”

The radio coughed.
“Janos and I.”

There was always Janos. Everywhere she looked on the Ship, there was Janos. “I’ve had trouble with my radio,” Zoya said. It kept lying to me, she almost said.

“Well, I’m just relieved you’re all right.”

“And you, Anatolly Are you all right?”

Solange sat across from her, eyes downcast. Somehow, on Solange, it didn’t look demure.

“Oh yes, fine. But Zoya…”
The pause was filled with static. It was such a long pause.

“Out with it, Anatolly.”

“Well, we’ve decided… that is, now that the children are on their way…
”

“Children?”

“We’re taking on a few orphans. Lieutenant Mirran is picking them up. The Sisters of Clarity have been indispensable in this.”

“Orphans. I see.” She glanced at Mother Superior, who had the grace to look uncomfortable.

“Yes, the crew is thrilled, Zoya. It feels like a new ship.”

“I’ll bet it does.”

A pause. Then it came.
“So we’ll want you to come home, Zoya.”

Could this be Anatolly speaking? Former lover, former man of honor? How much the world had changed. How little she knew of it anymore, to be so wrong, so terribly wrong about a man.

“As soon as possible, Ship Mother. Tomorrow, in fact.”

She kept her anger in check, not wanting to allow a nongypsy to watch a family quarrel. “Mother Superior and I haven’t finished our conversations, Anatolly. So important, for us to reach an accord, you know.”

“We’ve reached an accord, Zoya. Now I want you to come back. That’s an order, I’m afraid.”

Zoya imagined Janos standing by Anatolly. Perhaps even a gun at his temple.

“Anatolly, I thought we were friends.”

“
Now, Zoya…
”

“Remember the time you sang me to sleep, when it was time for me to go back to the crèche? I asked you to sing for me. The Internationale.’ Such a lovely song.”

“
No, Zoya. Don’t you remember? It was a lullaby.”

And so it was. The image of Janos with the gun evaporated. It was Anatolly, Anatolly himself who was betraying her. It surprised her, how much it hurt. Perhaps, sleeping her life away, she had forfeited her place among the Rom. How else could they turn their backs on her? Was she a stranger indeed?

Zoya looked across to Solange Arnaud. “Apparently I don’t have to impose on your hospitality much longer, Mother Superior. May I have a moment of privacy with my captain?”

The nun stood up, smoothing her robes. “Zoya, I had so hoped for a different outcome.”

“Well, it’s early, Solange.” Zoya didn’t bother with sounding sweet.

Mother Superior bowed slightly. Then she left the room, her robes rustling on the thick wool carpet.

Zoya watched as the door closed behind her. Then she leaned into the microphone. “Tolly, don’t be an ass. The children are stolen.”

“What did you say? Stolen?”

“The nuns buy them from the poor at the preserves. Ask Worley he freely admits it. You’ll be dealing in child slaves. Is that what the crew wants?” It was clear how Solange was subverting them. She’d found the weakness in the crew—or Janos had—and now Solange would extract her payment. Zoya wasn’t sure what it was, only that it mustn’t be paid.

“It’s nothing like that, Zoya, believe me.”

“No, I don’t believe you. I’ve seen the operation. You’ll be ripping the children from desperate parents.”

“Be that as it may, Zoya…
”

“Be that as it may? Tolly, for the love of God, pay attention for once. It stinks. Can’t you smell it?” The sodden, green light from the window darkened and flickered bright again. She glimpsed a tongue of lightning far away

“Zoya, Lieutenant Mirran will be coming for you tomorrow. He has permission to land outside the Keep. Be there waiting for him.”

Zoya counted the seconds until the thunder came.

“Zoya?”

The growl of overcharged skies kicked in.

Zoya reached out a hand for the toggle. She touched it down slightly, as she skewed out of the frequency. “Can’t hear you,” she said. “Voice breaking up. Please confirm orders.” She kept her finger on the toggle, until all she could hear was the background hiss of the universe.

She sat frozen on the divan, hand still on the toggle. She had just told her captain that his orders stank. She couldn’t remember if she’d outright refused to obey him. But if she hadn’t, she meant to. Mother of God, she was going to turn her back on Ship captain. All this time she’d been obedient.

Her hand went up to the diamonds in her ear. Sometimes you don’t give in. You refuse. Sometimes, even to your captain.

Anatolly was either incapable of leadership or subverted by Janos. It amounted to the same thing. Now she would start making decisions. But who was she, of all people, to lead? She was only counselor, storyteller, Ship Mother.

And she was the one who was here. Now

Wolf’s words came to her:
Isn’t that what you came home for?

Yes, exactly. Zoya stood up, chilled, exhausted. Exhilarated. She had come through hell to get there. She planned on finishing something before she left.

After a moment, she walked across the plush carpet and let herself out.

Sister Patricia Margaret was waiting.

“I may have to go away soon,” Zoya said, as the sister hurried to catch up with her long strides. “I’d like to say good-bye to my friend Kellian before I go. Would you grant me that small favor?”

The sister gave her a sour glance. “Very well. A brief visit.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Kellian no longer wore the robe of the order. She had her old clothes back. They still fit her, though she was no longer the young Zero who thought she could be a good nun. She sat on the floor, tracing a pattern in the stone with the sweat of her hand.

She pictured herself waiting on the barrens, standing on a disk of white beneath a bowl of pitiless sky. Cold. Watching for the pack. Hearing them come. She had no regrets—it was as Sister Patricia Margaret had told her, she had chosen to fall. She had seen sister only once since her confinement. Her mentor had aged a dozen years. Stricken with worry over Sister Verna, defeated by nunnery politics, she had come to say good-bye.