“Are you getting this?” Ravna said to her remote link.
Woodcarver’s voice came back: “Yes. I don’t know what to think. I’m still pissed at Flenser for resurrecting Steel.” But Woodcarver sounded more sad than annoyed.
Jefri had eased up on Nevil. Jef’s smile didn’t have quite the deadliness of seconds before. “One more now,” he said.
Zek had disappeared again. So Amdi must be next. All eyes were on the stairway, but something made Ravna looked back at the crowd, especially around their ankles. The last six tendays had taught her to watch for low-flying surprises. Yes. There was a single snout poking out from between a couple of Children. Ritl was waiting in ambush.
Zek came back into view. He scanned the crowd, maybe pausing at the sight of Ritl. Then he arched his neck and waved at whoever was behind him.
The members that came to the top of the stairs were not as heavy as Ravna remembered, and one of the heads was slightly misshapen. “Amdi!” Jef shouted, turning away from Nevil. The rest of Amdi came out in rush, almost knocking Zek off the platform. They were all looking at Jefri. Amdi was saying something in Samnorsk, about Johanna, but it was so focused on Jef that Ravna couldn’t make sense of it.
The stairs were wide but not eight-wide, and Amdi came down like an avalanche.
Ritl streaked out of the crowd, babbling loud abuse. She swung around in front of Jefri and turned toward Amdi. For a moment she had both Jefri and Amdi balked. She was chastising Amdi, or perhaps mocking him.
Amdiranifani drew in on himself, not responding.
After a moment more, Ritl made a spiky, dismissive noise—and ran directly through Amdi. The Amdi pack didn’t scatter, but milled around, disconcerted by this foreign fragment of mind and fur and gender that was pushing and shoving past its members. Jaws were snapping and heads were turning, and when Ritl emerged on the other side, some of Amdi started after her. But Ritl didn’t stop, and all of him were left behind, watching her departure. Ritl continued on her way, but more slowly. She was still emitting abusive noises, but now her head was stuck snootily in the air. She climbed the airship’s steps, then turned to stand close to Zek.
All the packs were gobbling. Most of the Children looked puzzled, but Ravna suddenly imagined a human analogy. Amdi was like the teenage boy who long has been rejecting the advances of an aggressive girl. Then one day, she gives him a big smile and brushes close by him, running her hand through his hair as she walks—out of his life. And the boy is left looking around, relieved and suddenly wistful for what he’s missed.
Jefri must have noticed the same thing. He was laughing even as he ran to Amdi, even as Amdi recovered and surrounded him.
So these were all the prisoners they were going to get.
Jefri came out of his huddle with Amdi and strode angrily back toward Nevil. Ravna could guess the reason. Two of Amdi wore dark bandages on their heads. More torture. Amdi ran along after Jef, pulling at his trouser cuffs as if to restrain him.
“Hei, Nevil!” The shout came from uphill, at the edge of the forest. It was Bili Yngva. Giske was right behind him. She had both her sons! The older one was holding her hand, while she carried the other on her hip. Rolf walked just behind the trio. As she came closer, everyone could see that she and Rolf were smiling. Giske was clearly overjoyed; she couldn’t keep her eyes off her two boys.
Giske and company walked to the edge of where the river grass turned marshy. Nevil and most of the Children ran to greet her. “What’s this?” asked Nevil, his voice full of surprise.
Bili grinned back. “Giske has made a decision.” He gave Giske an encouraging nod.
“Ah, yes,” said Giske, looking back and forth across her audience. “Bili showed me what you’ve done up there in the caves. It truly is as comfortable as what we have on, on the coast. It was so good to see my husband again.” Rolf gave her a pat on the shoulder. “And it’s so wonderful to be with my sons!” She looked down at her kids and her smile blossomed. “I think that Best Hope is truly humankind’s best hope. Please let me join you.”
Ravna heard scattered gasps. Nevil looked as surprised as anyone. “Giske, you are welcome to join us.” He stepped forward as if to embrace her, then turned to face the crowd. “All persons of goodwill are welcome to be a part of Best Hope!”
It might only have been Ravna’s imagination, but in that instant she saw a flicker of revulsion cross Giske’s face. Giske had given up a lot to be with her sons; she had not given up what she believed. But she answered the crowd’s questions, still smiling, seeming to convince even her closest friends that she was happy in her decision.
Afterwards, Nevil looked well-satisfied with himself. Giske’s apparent change of heart gave him the ideal platform for his Best Hope sales pitch and distracted from everything else. “We have a good relationship with Tycoon, my friends. If we all—those living under Woodcarver and Ravna and those of us here at Best Hope—if we all can cooperate, I think we can convince Tycoon that villains are rare among the humans. Someday, hopefully someday soon, even Johanna Olsndot can be returned to us.” It was all a bit illogical, but he brought it off; some of the loyalist Children were giving him a serious listen.
Pray Nevil shuts down soon, thought Ravna. She wasn’t up to listening to the monster. She had get out of here, chat with Flenser and Woodcarver, decide how to deal with Tycoon’s failure to release Johanna.
Then Nevil looked her way, and she realized she should have walked away sooner. “So I’m pleading with you, Ravna. Will you and Woodcarver cooperate with us here at Best Hope?”
Ravna opened her mouth. No peace! Not without Johanna. Not without word about Pilgrim. For better or worse, she was preempted by words that boomed from the airship’s hatch: “I think the question is, will Ravna cooperate with the Tines of Tycoon?” It was Zek. At least, Zek was making the sounds.
Nevil turned toward the airship, a stupefied expression flickering across his face. “Um, yes. Of course, I meant—” Nevil was actually floundering! It was heartwarming, even if it took a crazypack like Tycoon to make it happen.
Zek’s voice rode over Nevil’s: “However much we are allies, we have independent interests. I want to know Ravna and Woodcarver’s intentions—”
“Yes, certainly—”
“—and I think a private meeting is in order.”
Nevil’s expression was fixed and blank. He turned and had a short, emphatic conversation with Bili. When he turned back to the crowd he was smiling again, literally putting the best face on the inevitable. “I agree, sir.” He gestured in Ravna’s direction. “I can only hope that Ravna has sufficient trust to meet with you.”
And now Ravna was the center of attention. “I’d be happy to chat with Mr. Radio. As, as for privacy, he’s welcome in one of our tents.”
In her ear, Woodcarver said, “Good.”
“That’s not really private.” Zek’s voice was uncompromising. “Please come aboard. My employer guarantees your safety. You may leave as soon as you wish.”
“No!” hissed Woodcarver. “Tycoon already has Johanna, and he’s clearly nuts.”
Across the field, Flenser was still visible, though beyond the range of focused sound. He was looking back at Ravna, and now gave her a surreptitious, encouraging wave. So this world’s deepest student of treachery thought she should trust Tycoon—but wanted that advice kept secret?