“I respect the snarled-up way you kinsmen live here.” Killeen was being his affable best. “You can understand that we need to reunite with our forebears.”
She peered at them shrewdly. “You’re sure that’s all?”
“Your tribe’s advanced and all, but some things don’t change,” Killeen said sternly. “Family’s one of them.”
“Fair enough. You should realize that we see a lot of people passing through. We hear stories. Prophecies. Outright lies. We get plenty of hands held out to us—to take, not to give. So we get maybe a little narrow-eyed.”
“Try runnin’ from mechs for a generation or two,” Killeen said, careful and measured. Toby could tell his tone was just a cap on a slow-building inner pressure.
“I bow to your superior experience. Still, my authority goes only so far. We deal with people from trans-history in a fair, just manner. Bartering, that’s fine—we’ll trade square with you. Anything more—”
“We’re from Snowglade, not some ‘trans-history.’”
The judge waved a dismissive arm, her robe flapping. “A term from people out of the wild esty. See, we can’t assume you’re from the place and era you say, because there’s really no way to check that. The esty turbulence blots out all backtracking. If we can, we go on a strictly cash basis—only there’s no cash between trans-histories, so that means plenty of dickering and swapping.”
Killeen dropped his amiable mask. He rose up, shin-servos whirring, using his height to come nearly level with Monisque. “I’ll trade for news of my father and a map to find him with.”
“That’s it? Most visitors want food, fuel, maybe recro-credits.”
Killeen snorted. “We’ll look after ourselves.”
“I suppose I could call it square if we had, say, full rights to interrogate the Myriapod.” Monisque glanced casually at Quath, the first time she had deigned to notice her huge presence.
“That was just openers. We want more. We found an inscription in a dead Chandelier, about ‘we all who plunge inward to the lair and library.’ I want to ask questions about that.”
She shifted in her shimmering blue robes, as though she heard the tension that Toby did behind Killeen’s words. “There were a lot of Chandeliers. I—”
“Are there people here from that era?”
“In some sense, only ‘here’ isn’t a useful word when you’re talking about the esty. If you want, we can offer history data—”
“No data, no—not now.” Killeen swept the air clean with one hand, his voice deepening, the words growled out. “I want to find people.”
She eyed him skeptically. “Is that ‘I want’ or ‘we want’?”
“We—Family Bishop. I—their Cap’n. There is no difference.”
“So I gather,” Monisque said dryly. “Very well. The ‘library and lair’—well, this is one way into the esty, so I suppose this counts as their ‘lair.’ As for the library—that’s not data anybody’s ever going to hand you on a platter.”
“Why not?”
“Andro—you were right. They truly know nothing.” She cocked an eye at the audience, which chuckled. “Nobody’s going to tell you our greatest secret, even if you are a ground-pounder giant. If you want to talk to ancients of the Chandeliers, or this Abraham, I’d recommend the Restorer. It’s a kind of library, too, come to think of it.”
Toby didn’t follow this at all, but Killeen just nodded curtly, as though hearing confirmation he expected. He said forcefully, “The inscription, it mentioned a heroine, unnamed. ‘She is as was and does as did.’ Does that refer to this place, this Restorer?”
“I am not an expert in linear history, much less trans-history. This subject smacks of both.”
“Then let us know the way to this Restorer, its price—”
“You couldn’t afford it.”
“I have not taken every jewel from my bag, Lady Justice.”
“So I know. I was waiting for the next round.”
“You know so much, maybe you can tell me what I’ll offer?”
“Andro? The possibility you mentioned?”
Andro appeared in front and tapped his third fingernail. A wall flashed with sharp light behind the dais—a full, 3D picture of a passageway in Argo. Toby recognized the spot and gasped. “The Legacy! We let him get near it.”
Andro didn’t even glance at Toby’s outburst. “They’re flying a Class VI, Judge. Standard deck design, pretty beat up. I couldn’t get into the nexus, but from the way they protected it, I figure there’s a slab there. This kid”—he jerked a thumb at Toby—“just proved it.”
She frowned. “From that age? I thought few such ships survived.”
“The mechs nabbed most of them. The Bishops say this one was buried on their planet. Mechs must’ve overlooked it.”
“A slab from that when . . .” Monisque touched her dais, muttered to herself, and seemed to be calculating.
“Yeasay,” Killeen said. Toby saw that the Legacy was indeed what Killeen had meant to bargain. His mind spun in a cold, furious vacuum.
Andro, too, had his distracted look. Toby realized they were both communing with some distant intelligence, maybe a data bank. His Isaac Aspect put in,
There were such linking abilities in the High Arcology Era. They greatly increased the effective, acting intelligence of all. They also led to data-immersion ailments, and the dissipations such addictions are prone to.
Toby shrugged aside this useless history. He watched the judge, who nodded—to herself, or to some far away presence?—and said, “I am prepared to bargain. Services—very limited services—in return for a thorough inspection of your ship.”
Several Bishops shouted, “No!” Toby’s surprise struck him silent, his throat full of cotton stuffing.
“I will have to know what services you mean,” Killeen said, all business. “I have some in mind.”
“Dad, we can’t!” Toby finally got out. “The Legacies, they’re ours. We can’t let anybody else have them.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” Killeen scowled. “We have business here, and these good folk deserve to know of us, just as we want to know of them.”
“No!” Toby shouted. “We don’t know what the Legacies have in them! Family Bishop secrets, maybe. History, lineages of all the Bishops there ever were, could be. Even data from the Great Epoch! You—”
“We can’t read more than a jot or two of them,” Killeen said sharply, turning on his son angrily. “We need help figuring what they mean. This way we’ll get it.”
“But who knows what they’ll do with our secrets?”
“They’re old, so old the language doesn’t even make sense. Chandelier Age stuff, maybe even older. From a time we know only as legends. All those dots and squiggles.” Killeen turned to take in all the Bishops and Trumps present, and Toby realized that he was silencing any objections before they could arise in the others. He said firmly, “I’ll gain us what we need, trading the Legacies—and get them read into the bargain.”
Murmurs of agreement came from Aces and Fivers and some Bishops, though a few averted eyes hinted that others weren’t so sure.
Toby said hoarsely, “At least wait a while, Dad. Take this ‘remedial course’ of theirs. We’ll learn more about this place, get a better idea what our Legacies are really worth, see if Abraham’s here, maybe figure a better deal—”
Killeen’s eyes quickly raked the room. A momentary suggestion of uncertainty in his mouth was swept away by a slight smile, a pleased arching of his eyebrows. Toby, too, saw that he had the backing of the others, the weight of his office and past telling strongly now. He gave Toby a searing glance and turned back to the judge, opened his mouth to speak.