She was hot now. She was opening the doors on secrets and spilling stuff of which I had seen only the vaguest glimmering reflections. "Do not defend him. I have had the power to investigate, and I did," she signed.
"He fled the Black Company. For my sake? As much excuse to avoid entanglement as reason. Why did he salvage me in that village? Because of guilt over children he had abandoned. I was a safe child. And while a child I remained a safe emotional investment. But I did not remain a child, Croaker. And I knew no other man in all those years in hiding.
"I should have known better. I saw how he pushed people away if they tried to get close in any way that was not completely one-sided and under his control. But after the horrible things he did in Juniper I thought I could be the one to redeem him. On the road south, when we were running from the dark danger of the Lady and light danger of the Company, I betrayed my true feelings. I opened the lid on a chest of dreams nurtured from a time before I was old enough to think about men.
"He became a changed man. A frightened animal caught in a cage. He was relieved when news came that the Lieutenant had appeared with some of the Company. It was not but a matter of hours before he was 'dead.'
"I suspected then. I think a part of me always knew. And that is why I am not so devastated now as you want. Yes. I know you know I cry myself to sleep sometimes. I cry for a little girl's dreams. I cry because the dreams will not die, though I am powerless to make them come true. I cry because the one thing I truly want I cannot have. Do you understand?"
I thought about Lady, and Lady's situation, and nodded. I signed nothing back.
"I am going to cry again. Go out. Please. Tell Silent to come."
I did not have to look for him. He was waiting in the conference room. I watched him go inside, wondering if I was seeing things or seeing things.
She'd certainly given me something to think about.
Chapter Forty-Three: PICNIC
Put on any deadline and time accelerates. The clockwork of the universe runs off an overwound mainspring. Four days went down the Jakes, zip! And I did not waste much time sleeping.
Ardath and I translated. And translated. And translated. She read, translating aloud. I wrote till my hands cramped. Occasionally Silent took over for me.
I spot-checked by slipping in documents already done, especially those both Tracker and I had worked. Not once did I catch a misinterpretation.
That fourth morning I did catch something. We were doing one of those lists. This soiree must have been so big that if held today, we'd call it a war. Or at least a riot. On and on. So-and-so of such-and-such, with Lady Who's-is, sixteen titles, four of which made sense. By the time the heralds finished proclaiming everyone, the party must have died or encroaching senility.
Anyway, along about the middle of the list I heard a little catch in her breath. Aha! I said to myself. A bolt strikes close. My ears pricked up.
She went on smoothly. Moments later I was not sure I had not imagined it. Reason told me the name that startled her would not be the one she was speaking. She was toddling along at my writing pace. Her eyes would be well ahead of my hand.
Not one of the names that followed clanged any bell.
I would go over the list later, just in case, hoping she had deleted something.
No such luck.
Come afternoon she said, "Break, Croaker. I'm going for tea. You want some?"
"Sure. Maybe a hunk of bread, too." I scribbled another half minute before realizing what had happened.
What? The Lady herself offering to fetch? Me putting in an order without thinking? I got a case of the nerves. How much was she role-playing? How much pretending for fun? It must be centuries since she got her own tea. If ever.
I rose, started to follow, halted outside my cell door.
Fifteen steps down the tunnel, in the grungy, feeble lamplight, Otto had cornered her against the wall. He was talking some shit. Why I had not foreseen the problem I do not know. I doubted that she had. Surely it was not one she faced normally.
Otto got pushy. I started to go break it up then vacillated. She might be angered by my interference.
A light step from the other direction. Elmo. He paused. Otto was too single-minded to notice us.
"Better do something," Elmo said. "We don't need that kind of trouble."
She did not appear frightened or upset. "I think maybe she can handle it."
Otto got a "no" that could not be misinterpreted. But he did not accept it. He tried to lay hands on.
He got a ladylike slap for his trouble. Which angered him. He decided to take what he wanted. As Elmo and I moved forward, he disappeared in a flurry of kicks and punches that set him down in the muck on the floor, holding his belly with one arm and that arm with the other. Ardath went on as though nothing had happened.
I said, "I told you she could handle it."
"Remind me not to overstep myself," Elmo said. Then he grinned and tapped my arm. "Bet she's mean on the horizontal. Eh?"
Damned if I did not blush. I gave him a foolish grin. It only confirmed his suspicions. What the hell. Anything would have. That is the way those things go.
We lugged Otto to my room. I thought he would puke up his guts. But he controlled himself. I checked for broken bones. He was just bruised. "All yours, Elmo," I said, for I knew the old sergeant was rehearsing a few choice words.
He took Otto by the elbow and said, "Step down to my office, soldier." He started dirt tumbling from the tunnel overheads when he explained the facts of life.
When Ardath returned she behaved as if nothing had happened. Perhaps she missed us watching. But after half an hour she asked, "Can we take a break? Go outside? Walk?"
"You want me to come?"
She nodded. "We need to talk. Privately."
"All right."
To tell the truth, whenever I lifted my nose from my work I got a little claustrophobic myself. My venture westward reminded me how good it is to stretch one's legs. "Hungry?" I asked. "Too serious to make a picnic?"
She looked startled, then charmed, by the idea. "Good. Let's do that."
So we went to the cook and baker and filled a bucket and went topside. Though she did not notice everyone smirking, I did.
There is but one door in the Hole. To the conference room, behind which Darling's personal quarters lie. Neither my quarters nor Ardath's had so much as a curtain closure. Folks figured we were off for the privacy of the wide open spaces.
Dream on. Up there there would be more spectators than down below. They just would not be human.
The sun was maybe three hours short of setting when we stepped outside, and it smacked us right in the eyes. Rough. But I expected it. Should have warned her.
We strolled up the creek, breathing slightly sagey air and saying nothing. The desert was silent. Not even Father Tree stirred. The breeze was insufficient to sigh in the coral. After a while I said, "Well?"
"I needed to get out. The walls were closing in. The null made it worse. I feel helpless down there. It preys on the mind."
"Oh."
We rounded a coral head and encountered a menhir. One of my old buddies, I guess, for he reported, "There are strangers on the Plain, Croaker."
"No lie?" Then: "Which strangers, rock?" But it had nothing more to say.
"They're always like that?"
"Or worse. Well. The null begins to fade. Feel better?"
"I felt better the moment I stepped outside. That's the gate to Hell. How can you people live like that?"
"It isn't much, but it's home."
We came to bare earth. She halted. "What's this?"
"Old Father Tree. You know what they think we're up to, down there?"
"I know. Let them think it. Call it protective coloration. That is your Father Tree?" She indicated Himself.