“Then finish it, Loaf,” said Rigg. “I’ll drink from the second serving.”
“He thinks I spit in it,” said Umbo.
“Didn’t you?” said Loaf. “You usually do.” Then Loaf drank it off. “Delicious,” he said, as he handed the empty vessel to Vadesh for refilling.
Rigg did not know why he did not trust Vadesh. This expendable had no mannerisms that were not identical to those of Rigg’s father. Perhaps that was the cause of his suspicions. But he was sure that Vadesh was deceptive and dangerous, not because he deflected questions and clearly had his own agenda—those were Father’s constant attributes as well—but because of which questions he wouldn’t answer.
Father would have told me why the people were gone from this place. It would have been the first thing he explained, because telling me why people do the things they do was always his favorite topic.
Vadesh isn’t educating me, that’s why he doesn’t explain it.
But Rigg did not believe his own excuse. As Father had taught him, he did not believe the first explanation his mind leapt to. “It will often be right, and as you get more experience of life it will usually be right. But it will never be reliably right, and you must always think of other possible explanations or, if you can’t, then at least keep your mind open so you will recognize a better explanation if one emerges.”
So Rigg did not trust Vadesh. Moreover, he was sure that Vadesh knew that Rigg did not trust him—because Father would have known.
When Rigg got his water from the second cupful, it was as delicious as the others said.
He poured the last water from his canteen onto the floor and then moved to put it into the space the stone vessel came from.
“No,” said Vadesh. “One reason this water can be trusted is that it is never used to fill any container but this one. It won’t work anyway. It only pours out water when this is in place.” Vadesh reinserted the stone cup, and again the water could be heard gushing into the stone.
They all emptied their canteens of the stale traveling water they obtained when they last filled at a stream two days before, then refilled them from the stone vessel. With enemies pursuing them, they had not dared to stop even for water on that last day before they crossed the Wall.
“It’s getting near dark outside,” said Loaf. “Is there a safe place to sleep in this city?”
“Everywhere here is safe,” said Vadesh.
Rigg nodded. “No large animals ever come here,” he said.
“Then is there a comfortable place here?” asked Umbo. “I’ve slept on hard floors and on grass and pine needles, and unless there’s a bed . . .”
“I don’t need beds,” said Vadesh, “and I didn’t expect company.”
“You mean they didn’t make their beds out of stuff that never decays?” asked Olivenko.
“There is nothing that doesn’t decay,” said Vadesh. “Some things decay more slowly than others, that’s all.”
“And how slowly do you decay?” asked Rigg.
“Slower than beds,” said Vadesh, “but faster than fieldsteel.”
“And yet you seem as good as new,” said Rigg. “That’s a question.”
Vadesh stood by the water pillar gazing at him for a long moment. Deciding, Rigg supposed, how to respond without telling him anything useful.
“My parts are all replaceable,” he said. “And my knowledge is fully copied in the library in the Unchanging Star.”
“Who makes your new parts?” asked Rigg.
“I do,” said Vadesh.
“Here?” asked Rigg. “In this factory?”
“Some of the parts, yes,” said Vadesh.
“And the other parts?”
“Somewhere else, obviously,” said Vadesh. “Why do you ask? Do you think any of my parts are defective?”
Now, that was interesting, thought Rigg. I was going to ask him if he ever had enough parts to make a complete new copy of himself, but he assumed I was doubting that he was functioning perfectly.
This made Rigg assume that Vadesh himself had doubts about his functionality.
“How could I know if a machine so perfect that I could live with one for thirteen years without realizing it wasn’t human is not up to par?” he asked.
“Exactly,” said Vadesh, as if they had been arguing and Vadesh had just proved his point.
And maybe we were arguing, thought Rigg. And whatever Vadesh might have done since I met him, he certainly did not prove anything. All he did was make me wonder if he’s broken somehow. Did he do that for a purpose? Is it an illusion, so I will underestimate his ability? Or is it a symptom of his imperfection, that he could raise doubts in my mind when his goal was to reassure me?
“Thanks for the water,” said Rigg. “I think we’ll go out of the city to sleep on softer ground. Unless there’s a couple of you who want to sleep on stone.”
There were no volunteers. Rigg led the way out of the building, following their own paths back out of the empty city. At first Vadesh seemed to assume he was welcome to come with them, but Rigg disabused him of that notion. “I don’t believe you sleep,” Rigg said to him. “And we won’t need you to find us a resting place.”
Vadesh took the hint and returned into the factory—leaving no trace of himself for Rigg to follow. Just like Father, Vadesh was pathless; only living beings made paths through time. Machines might move about, but they left no track visible to Rigg’s timesense.
It would have been so useful to trace Vadesh’s movements through these buildings over the past ten thousand years, since all the people left. And perhaps even more interesting to trace his movements for the thousand years before that, when the people were still here. What was he doing when they left? Why did he still come here, if all the people were somewhere else?
CHAPTER 2
Barbfeather
Rigg found that most of the paths of the ancient inhabitants of the city did not follow the road, and he stopped to see where they had led.
“We’re supposed to sleep here?” asked Loaf.
Rigg looked around. The ground was stony and they were at the crest of a hill.
“This doesn’t look comfortable at all,” said Param. “Is this the kind of place you slept when you were living as a trapper?”
“I would never sleep on ground like this,” said Rigg.
“Weren’t you leading us to where we’re going to spend the night?” asked Olivenko.
“I was getting us out of the city,” said Rigg. “I didn’t have any particular sleeping place in mind.”
“Well, you seemed to know where you were going,” said Umbo. “So we followed you.”
“This isn’t a good place to sleep,” said Rigg. “Very stony, and no protection from wind.”
“Well, we can see that,” said Loaf.
“What were you doing, if you weren’t finding us a hostelry?” asked Param.
“Sorry,” said Rigg. “I got caught up in following paths.”
“I thought you said there weren’t any.”
“None recent,” said Rigg. “I was trying to make sense of the old ones.”
“From ten thousand years ago,” said Umbo.
Since Rigg didn’t understand what it was that he hadn’t understood about the paths, there was no way to explain. So he returned to the immediate subject. “There’s a stand of trees over there,” said Rigg. “That’ll probably have soft ground. And we’ll all sleep in the lee of Loaf, so we’ll have shelter from the wind.”
“Very funny,” said Loaf.
Then Rigg came to a conclusion about what had puzzled him. “I think they may have died,” said Rigg.
“The trees?” asked Param.
“The people here. If they moved away, peacefully I mean, then the most recent paths should have them leaving the city on the road. But the most recent people on the road only come in.”
“Maybe they left another way,” said Olivenko.
Death is another way, thought Rigg. But he kept it to himself. “I don’t know if we can believe anything Vadesh says,” said Rigg. “Umbo, I want to follow a path and go back and see.”