"What do you want from me?" she asks.
"I want you to sit down." Sitor Ananta closes his eyes sleepily, and she does not retreat when he slides closer, his blue fragrance cool, bitingly sweet, the frosty spice of a rocky snowfield. The scent jumps through her blood, reminding her whole body of the last time she sensed this precise olfaction, among the runout rubble of the avalanche that buried her family. The stabbing exactitude of the scent punctures the strength in her knees, and she sags, almost falling backward. He steadies her arm, and she sits down on the mossy flagstone, her face jarred loose of all emotion.
Sitor Ananta squats beside her, his pug profile close to her ear. "Softcopy has refused to forward the credits for Shau Bandar's revival," he whispers.
"That's a lie." She leans away from him but cannot quite find the strength to stand. "I was with him when he spoke with Bo Rabana. Softcopy agreed to fund him."
"Think back." Sitor Ananta allows himself a gloating grin. "You left without any formal agreement. Bo Rabana has been overriden by executives who don't want to pay steep unauthorized expenses. Shau Bandar will be treated now like any other corpse in Soils. They will cremate him. Do you know what that is? It's the archaic practice of incinerating the body at temperatures hot enough to reduce the bones to powder."
Mei struggles to her feet and staggers backward from the agent, nearly tripping on a root coil. "Stay away from me," she mumbles, a numbing weariness soaking her. "I know what you're doing. You're poisoning me."
"Nonsense." He leans against a lux stanchion and crosses his arms. "I'm acquainting you with me. With my ways. I am very persuasive. I was created to be. With my skills I can pretty much have my way with the rubes of Solis. But I don't underestimate their rote stubbornness at defying the Commonality. Even with my olfacts, I cannot hope to just walk out of here with Mr. Charlie."
"Why do you want him so badly?" She draws a deep breath of the floral air, trying to flush her lungs.
"Perhaps I will tell you sometime." He shoots her a cunning look. "For now it is enough for you to know I want him, and you must do nothing to obstruct me from having him. If you help me, I will provide the credits for Shau Bandar's revival."
"Get away from me," Mei says, raising her voice. "I don't want to talk to you anymore."
"Fine." Sitor Ananta stands erect and shows his palms with mocking formality. "I'm sure we will find each other again in the courts and lanes. Soils is a small place."
Mei watches him retreat among the piers of buttress roots, and as his sapphire scent fades in the green, birdloud air, the helpless weariness she feels passes and anger thrums into place.
Through the sparkling morning of the Fountain Court, Exu and Hannas Bowan hurry. They are the dyad lot-selected to serve as the reception agents for today's foundlings, and they are late. Yet even in their haste, they are careful never to disrupt their synchronized grace. Exu strides in strict lockstep with Hannas as they bicker in their humclick speech: "My other concerns are just as vital as dealing with foundlings. Not more vital, Hannas. I said just as vital."
"You didn't review the file. That's what all this protesting is about, isn't it, Exu?"
"There wasn't time."
"Tsk, Exu. This one's interesting. It's a Maat approach. Closest in twelve years. And-you'll appreciate this even more-it's a big credit reception. Crates of psyonic core units to be sold off. Can't have them in here, right? And then there's an archaic brain that-"
"A brain, Hannas? I take it you mean a human brain?"
"Yes, an archaic human brain, my heartsong. You should have reviewed the file. It's fascinating."
"How was I to know this wasn't going to be the usual monkey troupe?"
"It is a monkey troupe, Exu. There they are." She directs his attention to three figures gawking at the rainbows among the electrostatically shaped veils of water in the Fountain Court. They are terrene humans, the stocky, long-armed
aboriginals that Exu derides as monkeys. Two women and a man or a morph. "He's a morph," Hannas says, reading the quizzical cant of her mate's head. "He's the Commonality agent who is going to purchase the psyonic core units for full
market value."
"What?" Exu looks at the slight and simian shape of the agent. "Why is he paying so much?"
"You should have viewed the file, dear. Just follow me." She climbs the polished chalcedony stairs to the fern-trellised estrade overlooking the rainbow crests of the Fountain Court.
Exu follows in precise shadowstep. Tiers of vine-hung galleries and arcades surround the court, and though this site has been chosen for its openness, Exu is unhappy being so close to the aboriginals. The musky density of their scent annoys him only slightly less than the vaguely disguised abhorrence with which they regard him and Hannas. To the terrenes, the three-meter-tall martians with their backward-bending heron legs and furry, kangaroo like features do not look human.
"Now, be tolerant, Exu. Remember, there's a strong credit inflow here. Think of it as a little monkey time for that romp studio in Highland Terraces we've always wanted."
"Let's just get it over with," he humclicks as they approach and simultaneously says in the glottal language of the aboriginals, "Solis welcomes you! I am Exu Bowan, and this is my lifebond, Hannas. We are the reception agents chosen at random from the resident population to serve you."
Hannas humclicks, "Stop with the facetious tone, Exu. Let's get down to business." She turns to face the terrenes and says in a precise aboriginal dialect, "In the spirit of Solis, our highest service of course is to leave you free to express your own lives. We will not take up much of your time, but as you know, freedom must be earned. Solis is an entirely self-sufficient community. As long as you are here, as visitors, residents, or passagers, you must contribute to the maintenance and general good of the whole. Now, let's review your credit status. Grielle Aspect?"
The slender woman who steps forward wears the wimpie and opaline smock of a passager. "The full credits of all my Outland holdings have already been transferred to an account in Solis. Upon my passing, it reverts to the city. Also, I have contributed twelve crates of psyonic core units. I came on them as an act of rebellion, my last act in the Outlands. I stole them from their manufacturer in Sky-Bowl the night that I left for here. I did it because I want to contribute more than just credit to Soils. I want to give you something tangible-a real piece of the silicon mind, of the world outside of here. Study these, children of the Iight. Know your enemy."
"Thank you, Grielle," Exu says with exaggerated gratitude and clicks to
Hannas, "What a rube!"
"Not at all," his mate disputes. "It's a fetish gift. People who want to die need a human place for that. This is her offering to Solis. Be tolerant, Exu. They're human, too." Hannas shows her teeth as she knows Grielle expects and says, "Solis welcomes your contribution, Passager Grielle."
"And we wish you swift passage," Exu cajoles.
"Show some dignity about this," Hannas scolds and recites the next name, "Sitor Ananta-"
The morph looks slender and slick as a newt to Exu, and the martian humclicks, "He looks as much a lizard as a monkey."
"Tsk! He's arranged to take the psyonics off our hands for full credit because he wants consideration. Ignore the fact that he's a Commonality agent, and remember his credit is as good as anyone's. Show some sense, Exu."
Hannas notes with a buzz of alarm the sullen humor in the Commonality agent's face, almost as if he understands their secret language. "Naturally," she says
to him, "your presence is funded in full by the Commonality, so you are welcome to come and go as you please. How long will you be with us?"
"Just long enough to conclude business," he answers with a knowing nod. "Then we wish you a satisfying visit. Mei Nili-"