Harman and Ada had seemed at odds when they’d flown away from the big-tree place. At first that had pleased Daeman. He didn’t know what the falling-out had been about, of course, but it had been obvious that both were agitated after their walk in the woods—Ada looking cool and distant but inwardly seething, Harman visibly confused. But after the hours of flying to Ardis and the events there—and Daeman’s decision to continue with this nonsense quest—the tension between Harman and Ada seemed like just another thing to worry about.
It had been late afternoon when they’d arrived at Ardis. The estate and grounds looked different from the air, at least to Daeman, although the layout of the hills and forest and meadows and river were just as he remembered. Whenever he thought of their picnic down to the river—to Hannah’s silly metal-pouring exhibition—he thought of the attacking dinosaur and his heart began to pound.
“This area used to be called Ohio in the last part of the Lost Age,” said Savi as they circled and then flew lower. “I think.”
“I thought it was called North America,” said Harman.
“That, too,” said the old woman. “They had a surplus of names for places.”
They landed about a quarter of a mile from Ardis Hall, in a pasture north of a line of screening trees. Daeman still had to use the toilet, but he was damned if he’d walk all that way to the estate if there was any chance of dinosaurs being in the area.
“It’s safe,” Ada said brusquely when she saw him hesitate, the only one still lying on the sonie. “The voynix patrol a perimeter within two or three miles of the hall.”
“How far from the house was Hannah’s hot-metal picnic?” asked Daeman.
“Three and a half miles,” said Hannah. The young woman was standing near Odysseus behind the sonie.
Ada turned to Savi. “Are you sure you won’t come up to the house?”
“I can’t,” said the old woman. She extended her hand and after a second, Ada took it. Daeman had never seen women shake hands before. “I’ll wait here for Harman and Daeman to return,” said Savi.
Ada looked at Harman. “You’re coming up to Ardis for a minute, aren’t you?”
“Just to say good-bye.” The two held their intense gaze.
“Can we just go?” said Daeman, hearing the whine in his own voice. He didn’t care. He had to go.
Everyone except Savi had started walking toward the distant house then, through the field of waist-high grass, past the occasional head of cattle—Daeman gave each of the cows a wide berth, since he wasn’t comfortable around large animals—when suddenly a lone voynix stepped out of the treeline ahead of them.
“It’s about time,” said Daeman. “This walking is ridiculous.” He gestured to the iron-and-leather form. “You! Go back to the hall and bring back two large carrioles to transport us there!”
Incredibly, the voynix ignored Daeman and kept walking toward the five humans—or to be more precise, toward Odysseus.
The old bearded man pushed Hannah away from him as the eyeless voynix slowly approached.
“It’s just curious,” said Ada, although her voice lacked conviction. “It’s probably never . . .”
The voynix was five feet from Odysseus when the man swept his sword from his belt, activated the humming blade with his thumb, and swung the sword with both hands, slicing down and across the voynix’s presumably impenetrable chest shell and left arm. For a second, the voynix just stood there, apparently as shocked at Odysseus’ behavior as the four humans were, but then the top half of the creature’s body slid, tilted, and fell to the ground, arms spasming. The lower half of the voynix’s torso and its legs continued standing for several more seconds before tumbling over into the grass.
For a minute there was no sound except for the wind in the tall grass. Then Harman shouted, “Why in the hell did you do that?” Blue fluid, as thick as blood, was everywhere.
Odysseus pointed at the voynix’s right arm, still attached to the lower torso. As he wiped his sword on the grass, he said, “It had its killing blades extended.”
It was true. As the four gathered around the fallen voynix, each could see the blades—used for defending humans against such threats as dinosaurs—extended where the manipulator pads usually were.
“I don’t understand,” said Ada.
“It didn’t recognize you,” said Hannah, taking another step away from the bearded man. “Maybe it thought you were a threat to us.”
“No,” said Odysseus, sliding his short sword back into its scabbard.
Daeman was staring with appalled fascination at the cross section of the voynix—soft white organs, a profusion of blue tubules, clusters of what looked to be pink grapes, certainly not the clockwork mechanism and gears he’d always imagined to be the interior of a service voynix. The speed of the violence and now the white gore visible had almost made Daeman lose control of his anxious bowels.
“Come on,” he’d said, and started walking quickly toward Ardis Hall. The others had mistaken this for leadership and followed.
It was after Daeman had used the toilet, taken time to shower, shaved, ordered the nearest Ardis servitor to fetch him clean new clothes, and then wandered into the kitchen hunting for something to eat that he realized that it was insane to go any further with Harman and the crazy old woman. To what purpose?
Ardis Hall, despite Ada’s absence—or perhaps because of it—had filled with friends faxed in to visit and party. The servitors kept them happy with food and drink. Young people—including several beautiful young women Daeman knew from other parties, other places, from his happy life before Harman and all this nonsense—were playing lawnball-and-hoop games on the broad, sloping lawn. The evening was lovely, shadows long on the grass, laughter in the air like the sound of chimes, and dinner being prepared by servitors at the long table under the giant elm tree.
Daeman realized that he could stay here and have a proper meal and a good night’s sleep, or—better yet—summon a voynix for the short carriole ride to the fax portal and sleep in his own bed in Paris Crater this night after a late dinner prepared by his mother. Daeman missed his mother; he’d been completely out of touch with her for more than two days. He looked at the voynix in the curved driveway at the side of the large house and felt a pang of anxiety—Odysseus’ destruction of that voynix had been unwarranted and insane. One didn’t damage or destroy voynixes, any more than one would set fire to a droshky or trash one’s own domi. It didn’t make any sense, and it was another reason he should get away from these people at once.
As he came out onto the drive, he saw Harman and Ada speaking softly but urgently to one side. Farther down the hilly lawn, he could see Hannah introducing Odysseus to several curious guests. The voynix were staying far away from the bearded man, but Daeman had no idea whether that was by coincidence or design. Did voynix communicate with one another? And if so, how? Daeman had never heard one utter a sound.
He gestured to a voynix to bring a carriole around just as Ada and Harman’s conversation came to an end—Ada stalking into the house, Harman turning on his heel and heading back across the drive toward the fields and the waiting sonie. Harman walked up to Daeman and the older man’s expression was so grim that Daeman took a half-step back.
“Are you coming with us?”
“I . . . ah . . . no,” stammered Daeman. The voynix trotted up with the single-wheeled carriole behind it, upholstery gleaming in the evening light, gyroscopes humming.
Harman turned without saying another word and walked off into the field behind the house.
Daeman climbed into the conveyance, said “Fax portal” to the voynix, and sat back as the carriole hummed around the driveway, white shells crunching under the wheel. One of the young women on the lawn—Oelleo, he thought her name was—cried a good-bye to him. The carriole rolled down toward the road with the silent voynix trotting between its stays.