The better shops advertised their class with intricately carved and painted facades. Rue stopped indecisively between a jewelry store whose front was one gigantic jaguar's-head (door in the mouth) and an antiquities dealer whose storefront looked like the entrance of an Earth-Egyptian temple. "Ooh, where next?"
"Jewelry is light," Rebecca pointed out. "You can carry more of it on the trip." She strolled toward the jewelry store.
Max watched until she was inside the shop. "Remember how I said last night that there were too many politicos and ship captains around? I started nosing around. It seems there's a movement afoot to break up the Cycler Compact."
Although this didn't come as a complete surprise, Rue was still shocked. She had been about to follow Rebecca into the shop, but hesitated. "How?" she asked.
Max grimaced. "The line is that faster-than-light travel makes the cyclers obsolete. Too expensive. Instead, they want to ship cargoes directly to the lit worlds. From there they can go by FTL to any other halo world, after all."
"Or to any R.E. world," she pointed out, "and more cheaply."
"Exactly. If we dismantle the Compact, the halo worlds are at the mercy of the R.E. The idea's being sold as a way of bringing the far-flung parts of the Compact together through FTL, but in the long run it's still more expensive than travel between the lit worlds."
"We'll just wither and die," she said. "Like Erythrion is."
He nodded grimly. "The chief proponents of this new deal are a bunch of idiots from—"
She held up a hand. "Let me guess. New Armstrong? And their head man is named Mallory?"
"How'd you know that?"
"Just a guess."
"We'll completely lose our autonomy," Max went on. "The only way to get to another halo world will be through the R.E."
"I wonder how long this has been going on?" mused Rue. "Do you think New Armstrong's been siphoning off the remaining cyclers somehow?… That's not supposed to be possible, but maybe they got to one or two of the captains. That could explain why Erythrion hasn't seen a cycler in years." The very thought outraged her; could the decline of Erythrion and the coup at Treya and the lawlessness of the Stations that had led to her running away, have all had a common source?
"No place is free of politics," said Max in a tired voice. He had been enjoying the shopping, Rue knew, but he looked sad again now.
She bit her lip, wondering whether to tell him what she had been thinking. "Max… do you like it here?"
He shrugged. "It's way better than Treya."
"If you could settle down here… would you?"
He appeared surprised. "What are you saying?"
"Just that we've been offered a chance to do that. We could ship a new captain and crew up to the Envy. Buy houses here, live well… not worry about this political stuff anymore."
He shook his head. "But Evan and Corinna—"
"Could join us. We'd get them to disembark at Maenad and fly back here by FTL— or buy them tickets back to Erythrion. I think we're rich enough to do that."
Max scratched at his head. Clearly he hadn't thought of this possibility. Slowly, a smile spread across his face. "You know… I, yes. I think it would be good for me, being here. A place to rest, finally, away from Leda and Erythrion's silly excuse for society."
Rue was happy and simultaneously felt a flutter of anxiety. Had Max decided at this moment? And would that decision draw the rest of them along, just as his decision to go after the Envy had drawn her here?
She looked around at the market, speculating seriously for the first time about being able to return here— maybe as often as she wanted. Now that she was noticing details, a small, nondescript door caught her attention. It was sandwiched between the ostentatious facades and she wouldn't have given it a second glance were it not that a small neatly carved sign over it said, "NeoShintoist Chapter of Oculus."
"Don't tell Rebecca about this idea yet," she said to Max. "It's just an idea, so far." She eyed the door again. "Why don't you join her? I've got something to do; I'll be back in a minute."
"Hmm? Uh, okay," said Max, puzzled. "Suit yourself. But Rebecca's a good shopper. Don't be surprised if all the good stuff is gone when you get back!"
Her bodyguard followed as Rue gently knocked on the door, then, when there was no answer, eased it open. A set of stairs led up from the street. Apparently the NeoShintoists weren't wealthy or important enough to afford a storefront.
Rue felt slightly nervous as she mounted the stairs. She was invading Mike's territory, in a way, by coming in here. But as always, her curiosity was stronger than her caution.
The stairs let into a surprisingly sumptuous lounge that overlooked the street. An elderly man sat in a deep armchair by the window. As Rue entered the room he rose and bowed to her.
He was dressed in typical Oculus fashion, in a brocaded jacket over a tuned-down chameleon cloth shirt and loose leggings reminiscent of the practical cold weather gear the first settlers had made. He looked comfortable and a bit rumpled, like an older version of Max.
"Can I help you?"
"Yes, I…" She wasn't sure where to begin.
"Captain Cassels, isn't it?" he said before she could decide.
"Yes." Rue felt herself blushing. "Everybody seems to know me. I–I've come to ask you about NeoShintoism."
He showed no surprise. "What would you like to know?"
"Well, I have a friend. He's a NeoShinto monk. He's told me a little bit about it, but I… just want to know more."
The old man nodded. "You're Michael Bequith's captain."
"You know him?"
"In a way." The old man smiled enigmatically. "We've never met. Oh— where are my manners. My name is Vogel." He held out his hand to shake.
"Come with me," said Vogel. "I'll show you what we're all about." He led Rue and her guards through a side door into another lounge, this one windowless. The walls were covered in shelves, like an old-style library. Instead of books, the shelves held black data storage units. They looked familiar.
She walked over to the shelves and drew out one of the units. "Mike totes one of these around."
Vogel nodded. "These are containers for kami. Most of them are kami from our own world— primarily the kami of the glaciers and deep ocean. Very prosaic, from our point of view. But some! Some of these units hold kami from other worlds and the best, the very best of those, are the ones captured for us by Michael Bequith."
He went to the back of the room. There, a broad set of shelves sat nearly empty, except for a line of about a dozen data units. "These are his," said Vogel, running his finger along the units' spines. "I've entered their presence many times, Captain Cassels. They have brought more hope and inspiration to our order than the whole of this library."
"Why?" She came to stand by him. Her Mike a religious celebrity? It was hard to picture. "What's so special about Mike?"
"Brother Bequith has had opportunities the rest of us only dream of," said Vogel. "He has been able to capture the kami of the most exotic places in the galaxy. We have learned more about the limits of human reverence from his recordings than from any one else's."
Rue frowned at the data units, then said, "I guess I just don't understand what it is about these things that's so precious."
Vogel chuckled quietly. "You're seeing only their shells. You have to experience the kami directly to understand. That's the whole point."
"How can I do that?"
"With these." Vogel pointed to the armchairs scattered about the lounge. On each rested a fine, filigree cap, attached by data ribbons to a dock just the right size to hold one of the data units. "Michael would have no use for these, any more than I do," said Vogel. "Our implants allow us to meet the kami directly. These headsets are for people who don't have the implants. You can use one of these to experience what he's experienced."