The true enemy: us. Me. Jin swallowed. "Yes," she murmured. "There are no real enemies here."
Daulo took a deep breath. "Come," he said, starting back across the Small Ring
Road. "I'll take you to the main marketplace in our section of the village.
After that, perhaps you'd like to see the Outer Green and our lake."
The marketplace was situated along one edge of the Sammon family's wedge, its placement clearly designed to get business from both its own section and the one across the spoke-road from it. It was also the most familiar thing Jin had yet found in Milika, an almost direct photocopy of the marketplaces her uncle had visited thirty years earlier. A maze of small booths where everything from food and animal pelts to building services and small electronic devices were available, the marketplace was crowded and noisy and just barely on the civilized side of pandemonium. Jin had never understood how anyone could actually shop in such a madhouse day after day without going insane; now that she was actually here, she understood it even less.
And as they made their way through the crowds she kept an eye out for mojos.
They were there, all right, silvery-blue hunting birds riding patiently on the special epaulet/perches she'd seen in the Qasaman films. Thirty years ago, virtually every adult had been accompanied by one of the birds; here and now, a quick estimate put the proportion with mojos no higher than twenty-five percent.
So in the cities the mojos have largely disappeared, she decided, remembering her conversation with Daulo the previous night, while in the villages they're still a major force. Is that the "mojo question" Daulo mentioned?
And was the mojo question one of the driving forces behind the village-city hostility she kept hearing about? If Qasama's city-based leaders had finally decided that having mojos around was dangerous, it would make sense for them to press the whole planet to get rid of them.
Except that the villages couldn't do that. Whatever the long-term effects caused by mojos, it was an undeniable fact that they made uncommonly good bodyguards... and people out in the Qasaman forest definitely needed all the protection they could get. Jin could attest to that personally.
So what it seemed to boil down to was that the Moreau Proposal to seed Qasama with spine leopards had indeed undermined the universal cooperation the Cobra
Worlds had found so frightening... at a price of making the world even more dangerous for its inhabitants.
There are always some whose primary goal is the destruction of all others, Daulo had said. Had the Cobra Worlds been guilty of that kind of arrogance? The thought made her stomach churn.
Someone nearby was calling for a Jasmine Alventin... Oof-that's me, she realized abruptly. "I'm sorry, Daulo Sammon-what did you say?" she asked, feeling her cheeks redden with embarrassed anger at the slip.
"I asked if there was anything you'd like to buy," Daulo repeated. "You lost everything in that car wreck, after all."
Another test? Jin wondered, feeling her pulse pick up its pace. She had no idea what a normal Qasaman woman might have been carrying into the forest on a bug-hunting expedition. No, he's probably just being polite, she reminded herself. Don't get paranoid, girl... but don't get sloppy, either. "No, thank you," she told him. "I had nothing of real importance except clothing; if I may take some of the clothing your family has lent me when I go, I will be sufficiently in your debt."
Daulo nodded. "Well, if something should occur to you, don't hesitate to let me know. Since you mention it, have you given any thought to when you might wish to leave?"
Jin shrugged. "I don't wish to impose on your hospitality any longer than necessary," she said. "I could leave today, if I'm becoming a burden."
Something flicked across his face. "If that's what you'd like, it can be arranged, of course," he said. "You're certainly no burden, though. And I'd counsel, moreover, that you stay until you're fully recovered from your ordeal."
"There's that," she admitted. "I'd hate to collapse somewhere between Azras and
Sollas-to find assistance elsewhere as caring as the Sammon family has been would be too much to ask."
He snorted. "You've been taught the fine art of flattery, I see." Still, the statement seemed to please him.
"Not really-just the fine art of truth," she countered lightly. Except for the grand lie I'm currently feeding you about myself. The thought brought heat to her cheeks; quickly, she looked around for something to change the subject.
Beyond the market to the northwest was an oddly shaped building. "What's that?" she asked, indicating it.
"Just the housing for the mine elevators," he told her. "It's not very attractive, I'm afraid, but my father decided it had to be replaced too often to justify proper ornamentation."
"Oh, that's right-your father mentioned a mine last night," Jin nodded. "What kind of mine is it?"
Daulo threw her a very odd look. "You don't know?"
Jin felt sweat breaking out on her forehead. "No. Should I?"
"I'd have thought that anyone planning a trip would at least have learned something about the area to be visited," he said, a bit huffily.
"My brother Mander did all the studying," she improvised. "He always took care of... the details." Unbidden, Mander Sun's face rose before her eyes. A face she'd never see again...
"You cared a great deal for your brother, didn't you?" he asked, his tone a little softer.
"Yes," she whispered, moisture blurring her vision. "I cared very much for
Mander."
For a moment they stood there in silence as the bustling marketplace crowds broke like noisy surf around them. "What's past cannot be changed," Daulo said at last, reaching down to briefly squeeze her hand. "Come; let me show you our lake."
Given the overall size of Milika, Jin had envisioned the "lake" as a medium-sized duck pond sandwiched between road and houses; and it was a shock, therefore, to find a rippling body of water fully three-quarters of a kilometer long cutting across the Sammon section of Milika. "It's... big," she managed to say as they stood on the spoke-road bridge arching over the water.
Daulo chuckled. "It is that," he agreed. "You'll notice it goes under the Great
Ring Road over there and extends a way into the Outer Green. It's the source of all the water used in Milika, not to mention the obvious recreational benefits."
"Where does the water come from?" Jin asked. "I haven't seen any rivers or creeks anywhere."
"No, it's fed by an underwater spring. Or possibly an underwater river, tributary perhaps of the Somilarai River that passes north of here. No one really knows for sure."
Jin nodded. "How important, if I may ask, is a nearby source of water to the operation of your mine?"
Looking at the lake, she could still feel his eyes on her. "Not particularly," he said. "The mining itself doesn't use any, and the refining process is purely catalytic. Why do you ask?"
She hesitated; but it was too late to back out now. "Earlier, you mentioned people who sought others' downfall," she said carefully. "Now I see that, along with the mine, your part of Milika also controls the village's water supply.
Your family indeed has great power... and that sort of power often inspires others to envy."
She counted ten heartbeats before he spoke again. "Why are you interested in the
Sammon family?" he asked. "Or in Milika, for that matter?"
It was a fair question. She'd already learned about all she really needed to about Qasama's village culture, and would at any rate be moving on within a day or two to scout out the cities. The political wranglings of a small village buried out in the forest ought to be low on her priority list. And yet... "I don't know," she said honestly. "Perhaps it's out of gratitude for your help; perhaps because I'm growing to feel a friendship for your family. For whatever reason, I care about you, and if there's any way I can help you I want to do so."