On the other hand, he’d discovered that working for Reede had a built-in cachet that protected him from the locals’ harassment, while it gave him access to places and pleasures he’d never dreamed this planet possessed. A world was a big place, and not all of Ondinee was like Razuma. Reede had taken them along to a mountain resort with views he would never forget, to a city on South Island where the sea was as warm as bath water and the color of aquamarines.
And then there had been the orbital habitat, with some of the best gaming simulators he had ever encountered. Kedalion remembered watching Reede play the games one night. It had been like watching free-fall ballet, the way Reede’s perfect reflexes and brilliant mind had made winning seem completely effortless. Reede had given them unlimited player-credit, and their losses had almost offset the amount he had won himself. But afterwards Reede had been in a foul mood, as if he’d lost instead of won, or as if, when you never lost a game, winning might as well be losing… .
And on the other hand, most of what they saw was still Tuo Ne’el’s thorn forest and citadels, or the streets of Razuma.
Kedalion searched the crowds for Ananke, who had wandered off into the square, trying to take his mind off circumstances. He spotted him—surrounded as usual by a squad of street urchins. They shrieked and trilled approval as Ananke juggled anything within reach, contorted his body with an acrobat’s absurd grace, and sang nonsense songs. He had taken to wearing a specially fitted leather glove on one foot, instead of his usual sandal; it was a spacer’s trick, freeing one foot for use in low-gravity environments. On most of the spacers Kedalion had known it was only an affectation. But Ananke’s physical dexterity made the boast genuine: even in normal gravity, he sometimes seemed to have three hands. Kedalion watched him with mildly envious admiration. He saw some of the adults who invariably gathered around toss out coins; Ananke left them lying in the dust for the children to pick up. They all knew that he worked for the offworlders—the money, and his disdain for it, were the proof of his prestige.
Kedalion shook his head, smiling briefly. He reached into a pocket and took out his huskball, tossing it back and forth from hand to hand. Ananke had proved to be quick and flexible, mentally as well as physically, just as he had promised; and knowing that his skill was recognized and appreciated had only made him work harder. Once they’d gotten past the fear that Reede would kill them one day on a whim, he had grown more comfortable with their new employment than Kedalion would ever feel. Ananke had gone from abject terror directly to a kind of blissful hero-worship that was probably a hell of a lot more dangerous. Fortunately his naive fascination with Reede’s volatile mood swings seemed to amuse Reede more than annoy him. This was the kid’s homeworld, and having Reede’s protection covering him seemed to free him of some of his dislike for living on it.
Kedalion’s smile faded, and he sighed again, thinking nostalgically on the false comfort of youth. He straightened away from the hovercraft as his eye caught motion at the distant gate. Reede came out of it, slamming it behind him, and strode through the crowd in the square as if they didn’t exist. They flowed out of his path as obligingly as water. Kedalion watched him come, seeing red stains on his clothes and black satisfaction in his eyes. Kedalion felt all expression drain out of his own face. He looked away, calling, “Ananke!”
Ananke turned, catching a handful of various fruits as they fell from the air. His own grin disappeared; he waded obediently through the belt-level protests of the children, tossing the fruit to them as he walked back toward the hovercraft.
Reede reached it first, and nodded at Kedalion with a grunt that meant he was pleased with himself. He leaned against the craft’s door, cracking his knuckles.
“Feel better now?” Kedalion said, and regretted it instantly; sounding even to himself like a man chiding a child.
Reede looked at him, and raised an eyebrow. “Much,” he said. “Do you mind?”
Kedalion grimaced. “Better him than me, I suppose.”
Reede laughed. “Damn right… . Don’t sulk, Niburu. Ozal will be crawling around on all fours by tomorrow. And he’ll never, ever fuck with my product again.” He shrugged, loosening the muscles in his shoulders, and pulled at his ear.
“Ananke!” Kedalion shouted again, an excuse to look away, an excuse to raise his voice. He saw with some annoyance that Ananke had gotten sidetracked into an argument with a group of boys who had begun tossing something cat-sized back and forth in imitation of his juggling. Kedalion recognized the shrilling of a quoll in distress; heard Ananke’s voice rise above the general laughter as he tried to catch the animal they were throwing like a ball across farther and farther stretches of air. They angled across the square, drawing him away from the hovercraft.
Reede’s head swung around as the animal began to shriek in terror or pain. He stood motionless, watching the scene; muttered something to himself about being a stupid asshole.
“Ananke!” Kedalion shouted again; feeling his stomach knot with disgust, not sure whether it was the scene in the street or Reede’s reaction to it that angered him more. “You bastard,” he muttered, looking back at Reede before he started out into the square himself—just as one of the boys shouted, “Catch this, juggler!” and pitched the wailing quoll into the air in a long arc. Ananke ran and leaped after it, futilely, crashing into the low ceralloy wall that rimmed the neighborhood cistern. Ananke barely kept himself from falling in as the quotl flew over his head, down into the depths of the springfed tank.
Kedalion stopped moving as he saw the quoll go into the cistern. Ananke hung motionless over the wall, staring down into the tank like a stunned gargoyle.
Someone pushed past Kedalion, jarring him; he saw Reede run out across the square to the cistern. Reede climbed onto the wall, stood looking down into the depths for a heartbeat, and then jumped.
“Edhu—!” Kedalion gasped. He began to run. Ananke was still hanging over the cistern’s rim, staring down into the well in disbelief as Kedalion reached his side.
Kedalion peered over the rim, just able to see down to where the water surface lay in the deep shadows below. He blinked the sunlight out of his eyes, heard splashing and panic-stricken squealing echo up the steep seamless walls. He saw Reede in the water far below, struggling to get ahold of the floundering creature. At last Reede clamped it in both hands and shoved it inside his shirt, kicked his way toward the steps that spiraled down the cistern’s interior.
Women and girls with water jugs balanced on their heads stood gaping as he hauled himself up out of the water onto the platform where they had gathered; they backed away as he staggered to his feet and started the long climb up the steps. Kedalion and Ananke watched him come, with the animal held against him, still struggling futilely.
Reede reached the street level at last, his eyes searching the crowd. Kedalion hurried forward, with Ananke trailing behind him. “Reede—!”
Reede turned at his voice, waited at the top of the stairs until they reached him. He wasn’t even breathing hard, Kedalion noticed—Reede had more physical stamina than any three men. But water streamed from his hair and clothing, his arms and chest oozed red from the scratches and bites the frantic quoll had inflicted on him in its struggles.