Earthlife bushes and grass and trees. Earthlife fish. Before noon the felons had caught two dozen fish of three varieties, none of which Jemmy recognized. It made sense to go home then, and they did.
Jemmy dreaded that Andrew would see what he saw: four teens on foot who might have disappeared anywhere between here and the City, with clothes on their backs in current styles and money in their pockets. But he couldn't stay to protect them.
They returned to a great light.
Above the restaurant's roof a flame rose and fluttered in the shape of a Swan.
Jemmy was relieved to see Andrew grinning up into the lighted dininghall windows. He lofted a mess of fish and got a nod. He asked, “How did you do it?”
“I don't know. Winnie and Denis pulled a nest of line wire out of the ceiling in one of the rooms. You know what that is, a thread of superconductor in a rubber tube? They'd have been electrocuted if the roof was clean, I think. Nothing worked till they found some silver thing Barda hid in her room and pounded it into shape. But-“ He waved. “They got it going!”
“Shouldn't we turn it off? Or are we open?”
“We're open. Let's see, we'll keep that room locked, and clean up the roof so we get more power. All the lights are way too dim. But you, Jemmy, you get a pit fire going. When those kids come back we want to cook their fish for them. And show somebody how to clean fish! Henry!”
The visitors stayed for dinner.
Jemmy was a chef on display, with a Road accent, self-consciously not a Spiral Town accent, and, “My merchant father picked me up from the dairy when I was a little boy.
What the Swan lacked became much clearer. Bread, potatoes, lettuce. They'd have asked for a room until Barda told them there weren't any working toilets. Then they opted for their tent by the lake.
Then they tried to pay the chef.
“You pay Barda. She prefers to keep track.” Jemmy sneaked a peek at Destiny Town money before they turned away. It was a hologram imposed onto thin paper.
Barda took their money. They climbed uphill with Swanlight behind them. And Barda gave him an intensive course in how to identify, count, and change money before she let him go to bed.
26
The Last Climb
We were chosen for genetic disparity. Now our numbers are down by one third and we're scattered from Base One to the World! How are we going to avoid gene drift?
Next morning was a bleery-eyed scramble. They didn't have to look like a restaurant as long as they didn't look like a prison camp! Four visitors would be returning through here... any minute now...
They appeared near noon. They'd stayed to fish up a breakfast. Jemmy guessed right: he had coals going, and he'd saved a dozen of Winnie's eggs and several big mushroom caps.
The fishers wanted tea, and were mildly put off because it was herb tea, licorice picked from the spice patch. There was, of course, no bread. Admitting that was embarrassing.
After they were gone Rafik told Barda, “You could have charged them more.”
“They'll talk. We want customers,” Barda said. “What is an inn with no guests? A birdfucking halfway house!”
Jemmy asked Rafik, “How much whole-wheat flour would that buy?”
“Sack and a half. Last night's take would buy five or six. But we could have charged more,” Rafik said, and Andrew's face was growing red with his laughter.
It was a trivial sum, of course. Barda's list had grown:
one full set of decent clothing - 600
poured stone, 10 tonnes - 2000
glass panes - 700
flour - 100
silverware 200 - 1000
paint - 500
chairs up to - 2000
tables up to - 4000
soap - 100
curtains - 500-1000
advertising - ???
napkins, ~l0th(logo?) - 200
washer - 5000
cookware:
stew pots - 50
teapot - 20
butcher's table! - 1500
or make one tea guide spot and power account - 8850
line wire - 4000
When Jemmy went to fetch wood for the pit, Andrew was there. “I found grain,” he said.
“What, you mean before we crossed the last ridge?”
“Well, yes, in that last valley, but not where you were. We followed you on the ridge. Just before the sun came up I was looking back. It was all yellow. Earthlife yellow. It's not far from the Swan. I can show you.”
“What kind of grain?”
“Two or three kinds. I went back to check, day before yesterday. Grain. Why would the settlers bring anything that looks that much like wheat and isn't?”
Jemmy thought it over while he and Andrew collected deadwood. They'd been here nine days, and they hadn't had to chop down trees for firewood, but the day would come.
He said, “Then all we need is a mill.”
“I'll show you next time I go out, you want to come.” Andrew moved off, dragging a log.
There was just too much wrong with that.
Grain: right. Barda's daddy, or his daddy or his, would have planted wheat and rye around the Swan. But it was a great find. Why wasn't Andrew taking the credit in his usual booming voice? Or demanding some favor in return? And when had he had the chance to check it out?
He found Willametta on the hill above the Swan. “Willya? Did you see any grain hereabouts before you got to the inn?”
Willametta looked around. Her windbreaker had become a bag for onions and mushrooms. “I didn't.”
“Did Andrew?”
“No. Why?”
“Any idea where Duncan's got to?”
She'd seen his worry. “It's all going fine, isn't it? Why are you turning weird now? I haven't seen Duncan Nick since breakfast.”
“Maybe I started weird. How would you like to go to Destiny Town?”
“What?”
“Somebody has to buy stuff. It sure isn't me, not with this accent!”
She smiled. “I guess I could stay out of trouble. Do I look like a living woman now?”
“Close. Let's test that.” He took the bag she'd made of her windbreaker and set it down.
“Jeremy, Destiny people won't see this much of me.”
“Speaking for the felons assembled, we're relieved to hear it.”
Conversation deteriorated.
Winnie looked into the wood, grinned at them, and passed on. Then dashed back, scooped up Willametta's windbreaker, and ran away laughing. They were in no condition to chase her down.
Too many of them had spent too much of the day arguing possibilities. Nevertheless the arguments had culled Barda's list into what they needed most that cost least. By the red light of evening's coals it had all evolved into a plan.
Someone was going to have to go into town.
At some point that person had become Andrew.
He was going alone. “You were right, Jeremy. One of us is just skinny. Two together look like walking dead.”
“Our bones aren't showing through so much now,” Jemmy agreed. “You can pass. Most of us could.”
“But not you. You'd make a mistake.”
“Not Barda either. Barda, the places that sell supplies for an inn would all know your face.”
Barda grinned. “They'd all tell me how wonderful I look. All that lost weight.” She looked down at her windbreaker. It was too dark to see food stains, but she said, “I'd kill a prole for a stack of napkins.”
“How high?”
Felons were tottering off to their beds. Duncan Nick wasn't among them. Duncan hadn't come to dinner. Jemmy hadn't seen him since breakfast. It bothered him most because he'd been expecting it.
Andrew said, “Come with me at dawn, I'll show you where the grain is.,'