“This is all Sam’s doing, all this place. He’s worked so hard. How do you like the new wing?”
That was a set‑up question. Of course they all had to say yes, and Sam blushed, and looked at Maria, and Maria looked at him with a little blush of her own, adoring, so sweet it was acutely embarrassing.
At least she didn’t need to single Maria out for a special introduction: most present knew Maria, and Sam took care to introduce her to anyone else in range, even Patrick, who hastily wiped crumbs from his fingers–on his coat–and extended a hand. “This is Maria Wilkins‑Teague,” Sam said, beaming. “She’s from the AG wing. This is Patrick Emory. He’s Sera Ariane Emory’s cousin.”
Wilkins‑Teague. Freckles and curious mixed‑color eyes, mostly green. Ari had only rarely met the name of Teague, more often the Wilkinses. Definitely not one of the Families of Reseune, not at all common names in the CIT lists, which repeated a great deal. But Maria had never even had a security reprimand, not from her very outdoor childhood. And she didn’t wipe her fingers on her skirt.
Sam made his way across the room to pay his respects officially, did so: “Ari, you know Maria.”
“Of course,” she said. “So glad you’ll be a neighbor, Maria.” And Maria blushed brighter than Sam and said, softly, with, God help her, a kind of little curtsey. “Thank you, sera. Thank you so much.”
“My pleasure,” she’d said. “Anyone Sam likes is all right. I’d be jealous if Sam wasn’t my brother. You’ve got a good one in him.”
“I know I have,” Maria said, and hesitated over an offered tray of pricey imported cheese and crackers while Sam asked Ari matter‑of‑factly how the tank plumbing and water system was working.
“Fine,” Ari said. “Absolutely not a glitch.” Which showed where Sam’s mind was today, besides Maria. He was looking around, up and down, seeing all the forms and the conduits and the works of the place, and he just wanted everything he’d done to work right, all the switches and all the plumbing.
She loved him tremendously for that. And Maria had finally taken a peppery piece from the tray and now looked as if the taste wasn’t at all what she wanted. Ari pretended not to notice, and Sam, with finesse, simply took it in his big hand and ate it on his way, hooking Maria’s arm, as it proved, to show Maria the workings of the electronic glass, which switched on and off in the next moments.
Ari wended her own way over to the olders. “How do you find your apartments?” she asked in general.
“Big,” Yanni said, in Yanni’s way. “My furniture’s kind of swallowed up.”
“But is it all right?”
“Nice,” was Yanni’s answer. “The garden’s infested with fast little things. They ate one of the bugs. I take it they take care of themselves. Where does the shit go? Or are we supposed to clean it?”
She was amused. “There’ll be maintenance, Yanni. Trust me.”
“You don’t need my beetle, now, do you?”
She kissed him on the cheek. “It’s in my study,” she said, “holding down my important papers, right along with Giraud’s butterfly. And I will never, never in my life think he’s superfluous.”
“Go on with you,” Yanni said. “Carry on this way and there’ll be talk.”
She laughed, moved on, and snagged Justin’s arm next–in such a happy mood she went up on tiptoe and kissed Justin’s cheek, next. “You’re a dear,” she said. Justin had tried to turn, but she held fast.
“A dear, am I? That old?”
“Not nearly too old,” she said, and caught Grant’s arm on the other side, and walked them both to the waterfall hall, where there was a bit more room, and the sunset sky overhead. “I absolutely meant what I wrote in the note. I want my lessons. I need them, understand, I really desperately need them right now.”
“Is my father behaving himself?”
The designs Jordan was doing, Justin meant. “He’s dropped a bug in. Naturally. It went back. Naturally. I’m sure he’ll clean that out and add another one.” It was funny, and it wasn’t. She didn’t kiss Grant. She hugged his arm hard. “You take care of each other, hear me? It may be chancy in the next few years. I proved who I was in court, but a court ruling is one thing. By the time certain people figure out that I really am what the law says I am, I’m going to be in charge. I’m in charge of this wing, in a way I wasn’t ever, in Wing One. And this wing is coming alive, tonight. Reseune is going to know Base One is active again, not just tiptoeing around the edges. It can snatch control. It can lock out any other Base, just the way it did. I laid it down for a while, so far as people know, but it’s up and running full bore now. And as of tonight, Yanni’s still Director, but every operation in Reseune, down to the electronics on the precip towers, and the off‑ons in the birth labs, they’re all reachable, if I want to reach them. It’s been true all along–I think you’ve suspected so. But now everybody in Reseune will know it. They’ll know it in the town tomorrow and I give it twenty‑four more hours before it’s all over Novgorod and Planys.” She hugged Justin’s arm. “Your father will know it, right along with everybody else, and he’s likely to be upset, but I don’t want to upset him. I’m glad I’m working with him. It gives him an outlet for his frustration. Is that all right with you?”
“Fine,” was Justin’s answer, very proper, very quiet, and never quite looking at her.
“Justin, you’re not mad at me. Please say you’re not upset.”
He didn’t answer glibly, or at once. “Truthers running?”
“No,” she said. He looked at her then, quite soberly.
“I’m not upset. It’s a beautiful apartment. More than we earn, by a long shot. I just hope we won’t get a hell of a bill one of these days…in the physical or the metaphysical sense.”
“No,” she said. “You never will. Not that I have any control over. You paid it. All those years, you certainly paid for it. What you’ll do in future will pay for it. Don’t doubt that.”
“I want to design sets,” he said. “I’m a designer. That’s what I trained to be. I like doing that.”
“No doubt of it,” she said. “You and Grant–both. You’re going to do pretty well what you want to do. Teach me for another year. Maybe two. There are projects coming. Things on the drawing board that mean I need your advice. What you do–what you do is going to matter in the universe. And you’re notgoing to be wondering when the next security panic comes through. If it does, they’ll be protecting you.”
“That would certainly be a novelty” Justin said.
“No question of that,” Grant said.
“You’ve got what I gave you.”
“Yes,” Justin said, touching his coat pocket. “Does everybody have them?”
“No,” she said, the truth. “Do you like the apartment?”
“It’s not black and white,” Justin said, humor restored, and that made her happy.
“Lessons on Monday next?”
“Lessons Monday next. We still have to search up our office.”
Humor definitely back. She grinned and hugged his arm and Grant’s, and slipped free, happy, finally, because everybody was all right. For once, everybody was.
Then Florian turned up in her path, with a very businesslike look. “Sera,” Florian said.
Catlin was there, too.
And the happiness took a dive. Instantly. Florian’s eyes traveled further down the hall, where it became private, in front of the security office, and she went there with him.
Florian said, “Sera, there was a bombing at Strassenberg.”
“At Strassenberg.” She was utterly floored. “What damage?”