Wings of Creation (32 page)

“I’m helping you look.”

“You don’t really want to be alone. I know you don’t.”

How did he know? “That’s not it. But we shouldn’t be dependent on each other. We should be okay no matter what happens.”

“Well, I’m not. None of us is. We’re family.”

He’d saved me once, and I’d saved him once, which made us more than family. Out of the six of us on Fremont, we two had had it hardest, except for Jenna. We were the angriest, maybe also except for Jenna. She was harder to read now that her body and face had been fixed. I adored Kayleen, and wished I could Read the Wind and be a better match for Joseph, except she was half-crazy. The other three were good at everything.

Bryan’s eyes had narrowed and his jaw tightened, his mouth a downturn of worry, showing how hard he bled inside for Ming. Wherever she was, she’d better be bleeding for him. I took his arm. “I’m glad we both came.”

“Me, too.”

After that we didn’t talk for a few minutes. We passed jewelers and painters and three-dimensional holo painters who made us jump as alternate realities passed over our perception. Unlike Silver’s Home, there were no genemod booths in easy evidence, although I’d heard mods could be bought here. One booth had a few simple pieces of jewelry designed to highlight small feathers, like the one Caro had gotten at the first party we attended here. The proprietor was a slender human woman, so not the mysterious Juss. I pretended to want one of the simpler pieces long enough to find out the price.

Marcus hadn’t been kidding about the value.

We walked until after midday, wandering and looking, and looking, until my eyes hurt. I finally stopped. “We’re never going to find them this way. If they’re here, they’re in a booth.”

“So what do we do?”

We didn’t dare use credit to buy food, or we’d be found for sure, if anyone was looking. “We find some people to talk to. And maybe we see if there are any traders here.”

“Oh—like the roamers.”

“That’s right.” All I had was my jewelry, which I didn’t want to sell, but still, maybe we could trade work for information. “Look, let’s not stop looking. But we should look faster.”

We tried. My belly felt ever-emptier, and after a few hours, the balls of my feet and my heels hurt when I stepped on them, in spite of the soft path. We went up every other aisle. Sometimes we stopped and rested on arty benches and drank the water that ran out of fountains. Water gave me enough energy to keep going, but not enough to improve my mood. After a while, we stopped whenever something drew us: hand-carved string instruments, a small, thin man giving away samples of bread and honey, a booth of colorful shirts like the ones Liam had brought us when they came here earlier, even though he said he found them in a store.

I had no bearings.

After we went back twice for more bread and honey, I started to feel better, and more frantic. I didn’t want it to get dark. If the festival closed, and we hadn’t found Ming and Jenna and the others, where would we go? Last night, we’d hardly slept at all. Another night like that would keep me from thinking straight.

We passed a few large clear areas with stages along one side, and semicircles of perches and benches. One had a human storyteller and a thin crowd of children, all human as well. On another stage, two men strummed musical instruments and a third chanted, more sounds than words. We also passed two empty stages.

The closer we got to the back of the fair, the more we found useful items: kitchen and gardening tools, fine human wings, plain shoes for the wingless and shoes with strings and decorations for the winged. Here and there, personal services like massages or hair-braiding could be had. Fewer tourists seem to make it this far; most people were locals or fliers. Some of the booth owners were failed fliers, which made me think again of the two sculptors showing off for the crowd near the front. “Maybe this is where they were planning on coming,” I mused.

“Probably. Doesn’t help. I don’t see them. Should we find this Juss person?”

I wanted to solve our problems ourselves. Besides, who could we trust? The sun sent long slanted rays through the booths, catching dust motes in gold light. We needed to do something, soon.

“Sit down,” I whispered to Bryan. “You look more intimidating than I do.” I waved him to a seat in one of the bench clusters, and walked slowly up and down the aisle, watching the thinning crowd. After a while I found two people who looked like they were from Silver’s Home: a man and woman in bright clothes. Her multicolored eyes gazed out from under purple lashes as long as my thumb, and he had the telltale signs of perfection that screamed layered mods. “Excuse me.”

She turned to me. “Yes? Can we help you?”

“I’ve only just gotten here, and I can’t seem to find a list of all the vendors.” I turned my eyes down so I wouldn’t look like a threat. “I was wondering if you could help me access one.”

Perfect Guy blinked at me, and Purple Lash Lady fingered a black stone hanging on a chain around her neck. “You don’t have any interface devices?”

I shook my head. He looked slightly irritated and pointed back the way we’d come. “You can get them near the entrance. They’re keyed to individuals, so you can’t use ours.”

It was almost refreshing to talk to someone who hadn’t been washed out by the peace of Lopali. Maybe that was why we’d been wandering so aimlessly. I grinned at them and said, “Thanks,” slightly pleased at the puzzled look on their faces.

Going back to the beginning wasn’t as bad as it might have been. We walked fast. I wanted to see how the sculptures turned out anyway.

Except the sculptors were nowhere to be seen. At least those two. The ship and planet and the flier had all been moved out into the open grass in front of the fair, and two more pieces had been started, although barely.

Sure enough, we’d missed the rock necklace interfaces, and the wristband interfaces and, in fact, three booths of interfaces. They were boring compared to the booths next to them, and I shouldn’t have let Marcus’s prohibition on having local interface devices keep me from knowing we needed one now. At the guest house, we’d had to work with tightly controlled built-ins he’d tweaked the security on.

We still had the credit problem. Bryan frowned at the booths, looking stymied. I grinned at him. “We’ll figure something out. Let’s split up and see if someone will let us try one.”

I went to the closest booth, which was staffed by a dark-skinned man wearing a simple shirt and shorts over sandals. He smiled broadly, the smile actually touching his bright blue eyes and reddening his cheeks. “Hello.” He gave a small bow. “Guide to the festival for my lady with the violet eyes?”

“Please.”

He waved his hands over his wares as if feeling for the right one from above. “And where, may I ask, are you from?”

I wanted his attention, and to get what we needed. Maybe I was just too tired to be cautious. “Fremont.”

“Where the Maker came from?”

I blinked. Chelo had said they called Joseph that. “Yes.” I pointed to a necklace like the tourist’s, except with a lavender stone. “Can I try that?”

He shook his head. “It will get you caught. You have to give up your ID to access it, and there’re people looking for you.”

I shouldn’t have given him the clue. I took a step back and cocked an eyebrow at him. “Who’s looking for us?”

“A few wingless here, a few fliers there.”

Great. My blood ran so much faster that I felt it in my neck and my palms. “Anyone else from Fremont looking for me?”

A quirky grin touched one side of his lips, and his eyes had a bit of a challenge in them, as well as a drop of warmth. “I don’t know who you are. I know people are looking for folk from Fremont.”

“Who’s looking for people from Fremont?”

“Mostly people I don’t like.”

Well, that was a relief. Sort of. He looked earnest enough. “So why do you care?”

“ ’Cause I like the Makers. That’s why I have my booth here.” He gestured toward the two sculptors. He did, in fact, have the best view of the platforms. He was equating the sculptors to Makers? Artists to Joseph and Marcus?

“I need to look someone up. Is there a way to do that?”

He looked around, maybe checking for potential customers. “Come sit in back with me. I’ll close up for a few minutes.”

Wow. “I need to get someone.”

He didn’t look happy about that. Bryan was two booths over, turned so his back was to me, and standing stiffly. I turned back to our maybe-benefactor. “I’ll be right back.” Without waiting for him to answer, I headed over to Bryan.

He was talking to a tall, heavyset man who had a look on his face that suggested he thought Bryan was thick in the head or something. “I have to have credit first.” He glanced at me, giving me a dubious smile. “Maybe your lady will understand?”

I tugged on Bryan’s arm. “Come on. I think I found something for us.”

Bryan gave me a long look, then nodded, and without a backward glance at the man he’d been talking to, he let me lead him to the guy with the booth, catching him in the midst of covering up the interfaces on his table with black cloth. He frowned at Bryan, but led us into a blue tent with full sides, a door in front and in back, and a netted roof. The roof was interesting; designed to keep fliers out?

A neat row of boxes lined one wall, and three chairs sat in the middle of a large empty space.

I didn’t introduce Bryan, or say my name, since I didn’t know how
much trouble we’d gotten into by leaving the Keeper tied up. Even standing inside the tent, I felt exposed. The interface merchant knew more about me than I did about him, we were surrounded by strangers while he probably had friends in nearby booths. The look he gave us felt like being stripped naked and then found to have a slightly bulgy belly or too much fat in the thighs.

But then, the interface merchant hadn’t offered his name either. His gaze fell away from us and he got a lost look on his face, slacker even than Joseph and Kayleen got. A Wind Reader? Selling interfaces?

Then I noticed his hand turning and twisting on his wrist, touching a wristband that must have sensors in it. Not a Wind Reader, just someone with enough money for internals, like retina views, or a mod from Silver’s Home. Just as I was getting worried about his silence (who was he calling? It was like my invisibility), he looked up and grinned. “Bryan. You’ve got to be Bryan.”

Bryan nodded, his eyes wary.

“And so you’re Alicia the Brave.”

Wow. What was he reading?

“That’s bad, though. Everyone’s looking for you.”

A voice sounded behind Bryan. “That’s right.” The man Bryan had been talking to at the booth next door stood in the doorway of the tent, looking directly at me with a satisfied grin bisecting his thick face. “But I found them.” He stepped all the way into the tent and let the door fall shut behind him.

The interface merchant’s eyes had grown wide, and they turned even brighter blue. Mods? Another interface? “Get lost, Jackson,” he said. “I found them first.”

E
arly morning light brightened our window frame for the second time since Alicia and Bryan had disappeared. I wrapped my blanket closer around Caro’s slender shoulders and looked across at Liam, who had Jherrel tucked in with him. They refused to sleep on their own. As hard as we pretended it wasn’t so, the kids knew something was wrong. Trapped in this room, Liam and I couldn’t talk about it.

Across from me, Liam stirred gently, wiping the hair off Jherrel’s face and looking over at us.

It would be time for the ceremony soon. I should look forward to it. I’d felt disconnected yesterday, had floated through the greeting of the day as if I were a wraith. Caro lifted her face, her eyes still closed, snuggling tighter against my chest. I had to keep a good face for her.

“It’s time,” Caro whispered.

As if she’d heard Caro, Kala’s drum sounded three times outside the door, too loud.

“Be right there,” I called. I kissed Caro on the top of her head, and wished for more quiet snuggle time with the kids. “Did you hear?” I asked Liam.

He grunted, but I could already hear him moving.

In a few moments we had both children up and both adults at least sitting up in bed. The kids headed for the bathroom together. Liam watched them go, then stared at the door.

Kala would stand outside patiently until we opened it.

I slid over next to Liam, taking his hand. I tried to pitch my voice below the kids’ excellent hearing. “Surely we’ll hear from someone today. Seeyan, at least.”

“I hope so.”

He looked so lost I kissed him thoroughly, something I didn’t do nearly often enough anymore. It took a moment before he responded, and then he might have been starved. We broke up as the kids came out of the bathroom, and separated out to help each of them dress, him with Caro and me with Jherrel.

As I was tugging pants onto Jherrel, he asked, “Will we see Mommy Kayleen today?”

He smelled like sleep and a little like Liam. I helped him stand up. “I don’t know.”

He glanced at Caro. “What about Aunt Alicia?”

Caro stood behind Liam as he sat on the bed. She looked up from dragging a brush through his hair. “I can’t find her.”

She was looking? In the nets? Why hadn’t I worried about that before? Liam squeezed my hand and knelt down by her, giving her his most serious look. “Caro, maybe you shouldn’t look for her. Trust Alicia to find us when she needs to. Her and Bryan.”

“I like looking.”

I filed that away to talk to Mohami about. I wanted to talk to Joseph so bad I swallowed past a lump in my throat, and the effort to make myself smile almost cracked my cheeks.

As I pulled a blue shirt down over Jherrel’s head, I noticed how being in real sunshine had lightened his hair and tinged it with soft red streaks. I’d stacked my own pants and shirt at the bottom of the bed; simple black leggings and a bright blue and sunshine-yellow shirt that screamed tourist. Kala had brought it yesterday, saying it was a hopeful shirt.

“Okay,” I called to Kala. “We’re ready.”