They stopped, milling a bit, when the dignitaries came out of Warkan's Tavern and walked toward the caravan.
Glen Hearst said, “I think that's my dinner.”
Jemmy Bloocher's father had been of the Council, and the Council did usually take several wagonmasters to dinner. In his youth the car- avans had come as far as the Hub. Later... but was it nonnal for the Council to come this far?
The Councilors were picking up elders from the wagons, not all, just some. Nobody from Krupp wagon, #2. Nine men re~ched Hearst wagon. One man took Glen Hearst aside and spoke to him, a casual and genial tone, words half-heard. ”-Harry's Bar-“
Pat the special pocket: half-full. Pit chef Jeremy: obsequious, a bit effusive. First sight of Spiral Town: gape a little. Even Warkan 's Tavern is impressive. Damn, you can see buildings poking up in clusters a klick away! He felt himself wanting to overdo it.
“-And you must meet our pit chef from the finest restaurant on the Road, Jeremy Winslow.”
Not much interested, Chairman Greegry Bloocher stepped forward to shake the cook's hand.
'Jeremy, some of us have been invited to dinner by these good people, and I mentioned your dessert-“
“A recent invention, sir.” Spiral Town accentanda complacent smile. Jeremy handed his brother a thumb of festivity candy. He watched Greegiy's appreciation, and offered a handful to the rest. Harlow was watching him like a magician's hat.
“Why don't you come to dinner with us,” Glen Hearst asked, “and bring some along?”
35
Spiral Town
Most cultures have understood that some are more equal than others. There were those who would not go to the stars, and there were those we not take.
Electric wagons brought them back to the light and noise at Warkan's Tavern. Jeremy walked in behind Govert Miller. Harlow was with six other women on the women's side of the room. She saw him; he smiled; she dove back into animated conversation.
Jeremy looked around for company. He'd completely forgotten that he couldn't just sit down with his wife.
“There, Jeremy.” Govert Miller meant a table of merchants, all men in their twenties, with one empty chair. Jeremy fielded one from another table and they sat.
Jeremy flagged a waiter and ordered drinks for the table, far too skillfully. The waiter was puzzled. Nobody else noticed. The elder Miller began an animated description of events at dinner for merchants from Miller and Hearst. Jeremy listened, picking up more than he'd been able to witness.
The Council had capitulated. They'd kept some tattered shreds of dignity, kept some surface concessions. Some had to be silent for the depth of their fury.
The caravans would roll into Spiral Town tomorrow. Begley cloth would be loaded. Speckles would be delivered to the Hub and sold to Spiral women. The gate? That was being dealt with.
Drinks appeared. Jeremy paid, fumbling a bit with the coins. He sipped vodka and grapefruit, being cautious with it.
“You're quiet,” Govert said.
Jeremy jumped. He said, “I was wondering. We set things back the way they were... when? Twenty years ago? Two hundred and twenty years ago the caravans were a going concern. Already self-supporting, weren't they?”
Heads nodded, don't really know, and Glen Hearst at another table barked, “Right!”
“Self-supporting, and they carry the speckles, and even the Otterfolk get what they want out of it. That's what everyone hoped for in the first place. Isn't it about time we dismantled the Overview Bureau?”
The table burst into laughter. Jeremy looked down at his empty glass. No birdfucking- Angelo Hearst said, “And we could raise the price of speckles through the roofi”
Govert Miller reproved him, elder to youth. “Angelo, each wagon puts its own price-“
“Couldn't we all set one price? Or, wait, let's say eleven wagons up our prices and only Miller wagon stays low? Govert, you'd sell all your speckles before we got to the Shire. After that they'd pay whatever the rest of us want.”
Govert laughed. 'Jeremy, he's got a point.”
On another night they might have argued. How would Destiny Town cope if the Road communities knew the truth? Tonight wasn't that kind of night. Jeremy said, “Angelo, you win. I never thought of that at all!”
He saw the merchant women's table breaking up. He made his excuses and left in a cluster of elders.
Harlow saw him and waited. When he'd caught up she said, “I wondered if I'd see you again.”
“You know why I couldn't get you in on this. Ever. Harry's Bar is men only. Remember the gate guard?”
She was ticked, that was sure. “Do women have places too?”
“Now, how on birdfucking Earth will I ever know that? You've been surrounded by Spiral woman all night! You'll he selling them speckles tomorrow. Ask. Then lie to me if you like!”
“What a concept.”
“Fair's fair.”
'Selling speckles?”
“Yes, the old ones came to some kind of agreement. I was too far to hear details.”
“You enjoyed yourself?"
“Oh, yes. I took a whole big pouch of festivity, right? For sixteen of us and the chefs at Harry's Bar. Impressed hell out of them, and we spent some time talking shop. Pit chef Jeremy. They sat me at the far end from Greegiy-”
“Greegry?”
“My younger brother, Greegry Bloocher, the Council Chairman. The tall guy-”
Harlow started to laugh. Then she said, “No offense, dear, but why did the Spiral Council wantJeremy Winslow?”
“They didn't! They held their tempers, but it was pretty plain.”
She waited.
“Like making them come all the way out here with wagons. The caravans are playing mind games. Table for fifteen, we'll all sit down and pretend we're equals and talk business, only they've got to ride out here and get us, and then Glen Hearst rings in a loose cook! Now the table's a little crowded, and there are things no cook should hear-”
“What is this all about?”
“I was as far from the action as they could get me, and that suited me just fine. But the new gate is too much. They're tearing it down. The elders are talking like the Council rolled belly-up.”
“Good.”
“And I've been invited to visit the graveyard tomorrow. I can take my wife.”
He felt her freeze under his hand. “Why did you-? Jeremy, I'm being obtuse, you must have people buried there. No, how can I come? Both of us can't be gone when the caravan leaves tomorrow! You'll... have to catch up later.”
He saw in her eyes: You've escaped.
The burly Councilman was chewing a barely conceale4 rage. He couldn't make hi mself talk to the caravan elders. At least the chef could be kept occupied. He was Gwillam Doakes, and he didn't recognize Jemmy Bloocher.
Jeremy leaned on his Destiny Town accent. “You have a Carolyn Hope Hearst buried in your graveyard, William. I was a Hearst before I married. I want to visit my ancestor's grave.”
Gwillam Doakes dithered, then called down the table to Greegiy Bloocher. Greegiy's downsweeping hand chopped off the request. “Yes, yes. Give my name to the gatekeeper. Get directions from him if you need them.”
“No, dear, the caravan's going in tomorrow. Not very far, just around the first turn as far as the Outer Circle. The chugs can get down to the beach between the Tucker and Coffey holdings, along the runoff strip. The caravans used it for access when I was young. We'll let the chugs clear away some of their devilhair weed while they're there.”