"Play along with the Safety Office," she said, meeting Kamele's eyes defiantly. "Accept the therapy."
"You counsel me to drug my daughter."
Ella's gaze never wavered. "Six months. Schedule her Gigneri on the first possible date. Six months. It's not so much, Kamele, set against your career."
"It's too much," Kamele answered, the cold feeling in her chest infusing her voice. She picked up her 'book and turned toward the door.
Ella's mumu whistled cheerfully.
"Blast – it's Crowley – the forensic lead," Ella said, and thumbed the answer key. "This is serendipitous, Professor. I was just preparing to call you to schedule a breakfast meeting tomorrow – Now?" she asked, sharply, and then said nothing else.
Kamele turned away from the door. Ella's face tightened, lines etching between her eyebrows.
"Just a moment, Professor," she said eventually, and sounding much subdued. "She's right here." She tapped "mute" and looked up, making no attempt to hide her concern.
"Crowley says it's just gone from bad to worse," she said tiredly. "Apparently Flandin wasn't just falsifying her cites; she was tampering with the accredited texts."
"What?" Kamele walked to the chair and sat down again. Her stomach fluttered, but she didn't think it was lack of food. She had thought – but this was worse than she had thought. "Flandin didn't have an archivist's key."
Ella sighed. "Then it's all the more worrisome, isn't it? What should I tell Crowley?"
Kamele pulled out her mumu. "Tell him five minutes in the forensic committee's research room. Tell him I'll want to see everything. I'll be with you as soon as I text Theo."
* * * *
The little car zipped into the Wall's front drive, chasing the beams of its own headlamps up the twisty ramp. Father accelerated through the last triplet of ever-tighter curves, designed to force moderate speed. Theo laughed – and laughed again as the car sped toward the far wall and stopped gently just before its nose kissed ceramic.
"Well!" Father sounded like he was laughing himself. "We're a sad pair of scamps, I fear, and deserve whatever scolding your mother cares to deliver us."
He touched the controls and the doors opened.
"She won't know you've been racing unless we tell her," Theo commented, reaching into the boot to retrieve her pack.
"If only that were – " he began – and stopped.
Pack in hand, Theo looked up at him, but he only murmured, "Well," and closed the boot, shifting his stick to his right hand as he turned.
Turning, Theo scanned the area to see what might have given him pause, an exercise that was, for once, easy. A Simple in full regalia stood in a pool of red light next to the door, a book held open between mittened hands.
"Theo," Father said quietly. "Give me your mumu."
It was almost, she thought, as if he were still in the driver's seat. That level of awareness, but... sharper. Not a time to argue, she judged, or to ask him why. She pulled her mumu out and handed it to him.
"Thank you. Now, let us return you to your new home, where your mother will doubtless fall upon you with gladdened cries, while she heaps scorn upon the head of he who has led you along the paths of – "
"I am shown a name!" the Simple called out from the pool of red light. The amplified voice hurt Theo's ears. It was the same voice all the Simples had – sexless and without inflection. Initiates accepted a talky-box implant; that's what she'd read. It was supposed to facilitate their melding with the group. Walking at Father's side, Theo wondered if it worked, and how it felt to hear your voice coming out of the mouths of everybody around you.
"I am shown the name of one who has supped with complexity!" the Simple called again. "Theo Waitley!"
"What!" She stopped, felt a strong hand connect with her elbow and move her along.
"Don't stop," Father murmured. "Don't stare. Don't give them an advantage. You are an honorable person going about your honorable, unexceptionable – and private – business."
"Theo Waitley approaches!" the Simple shouted. "My work begins!"
If it had been up to her, Theo would have bolted for the door then, but Father's hand on her elbow held her to a deliberate, unhurried walk. The Simple stepped forward as they came into her pool of light, extended a mittened hand – and pointed directly at Father.
"Theo Waitley." The Simple's voice was quieter, now, which didn't, Theo was surprised to note, make it any more appealing.
"I am on a simple mission," Father said, never slowing down.
"What mission?" The Simple stepped into Father's path. He stopped, and Theo with him, her stomach tight.
"This minor child must be returned to her mother."
"One Chapelia will escort her."
"One will not," Father returned sharply. "That would invite complexity. My feet are upon the Path."
"What do you know of the Path, who goes uncovered and unique?"
"The Path is the journey and the journey is the Teaching," Father said, with the air of a student reciting a received formula. "Those whose feet are upon the Path must neither be brought aside nor delayed." He tipped his head.
"And," he continued, in a more conversational voice, "if your colleague at my rear and to the right does not cease her approach, regrettable things may happen. I protect this innocent child with every means at my hand." He hefted his cane, and... smiled... at the Simple.
"He has studied," came the voice – the same voice, but from behind them. "Perhaps he is on the Path."
"Consult the Name-Keeper while you await my return," Father suggested cordially. "Again, I escort this innocent to her mother." Theo jumped as his hand came under her elbow again, urging her to walk with him.
"Come, child."
"Yes, sir," she said meekly, and concentrated on matching his pace exactly. The back of her neck prickled and she wondered what the Simples were doing.
"Do not," Father murmured, "look back."
"What – " she began –
"And do not speak until we are inside."
The doors opened. They passed beneath the Eyes and walked past the Safety Station. Father nodded casually to the woman on duty as they mounted the belt for Quad Eight "What're you going to do if they are waiting for you when you leave?" Theo demanded.
He looked down at her, one eyebrow raised. "Don't be silly, Theo. I'll go out by another door."
"But your car!"
"The car is locked, and its owner well-known. It will be quite safe."
She took a breath. "How will you get home?"
"The bus." He inclined his head gravely. "I will, of course, be in no danger."
Theo knew better than to take that bait. "Could I have my mumu back now?"
"Ah, yes. How careless of me." He pulled it out of his pocket and gave it to her. "You are aware that your mumu – I should say, that everyone's mumu – emits an ID?"
"I'm not a kid," she said impatiently. "And the Simple was just reading the IDs out of her 'book. What I can't figure out is why she didn't realize you were carrying two mumus."
"But, you see," Father murmured, "the ID emitter on my mumu is... turned off."
Theo blinked.
"They turn off?"
He sighed. "Mind you, I don't say it's easy. Is this our stop?"
"Yes," Theo said, as the belt slowed. She swung off, Father at her side. "Would you have... hurt... that Simple, really? If she hadn't stopped."
He looked down at her. "Yes," he said seriously. "I would have hurt her, really. Liad, I fear, is a barbarous place, where people defend their honor and those who fall within it by any means, including physical force. Even having been so long embraced by the enlightened customs of Delgado, I find that I cannot wholly put these violent tendencies behind me." He lifted an eyebrow.
"You have now been fairly warned. Do you wish to run away?"