"What else did you learn?" Kendi asked.
"Klimkinnar's almost completely cut off from the Five Green Worlds," Gretchen said, glancing down at her screen. "Their local FGW ruler is called the Planetary Governor, and she's been trying to hold things together, but it's hard going. Some sectors-countries, if you like-are trying to assert their own sovereignty, and the Governor's working overtime to keep them in line. Klimkinnar also does a lot of farming and not much manufacturing, and their economy is dependent on selling food to the rest of the FGW. This means that a lot of imported manufactured goods-read, most of them-are going to get expensive until the shipping corps figure out how to operate without Silent communication. The local big corps are also taking advantage of the situation to consolidate some of their own power-surprise, surprise. It all adds up to recession, recession, recession."
"Jerry," Ben said.
"What?" Gretchen said blankly.
"Bedj-ka's name is Jerry," Ben explained as text crawled across his boards. "Names of slaves and their owners aren't privileged information on Klimkinnar after all. I found a slave boy, nine years old, named Jerry Markovi who's registered as belonging to a farm run by one Douglas Markovi. Jerry was a recent purchase, so the records were new and easy to find. Markovi's farm is about forty klicks away from the spaceport. Take us about half an hour to get there if we rent a groundcar."
"Praise be to Irfan," Lucia said. "Good job."
Ben shrugged. "A kid could've done it."
"Don't say it, Sister," Kendi said. Gretchen snapped her mouth shut. "It's still good work, Ben. If we play this right, Harenn'll have her son back after lunch and we'll be popping into slipspace before dinner."
"You want me to tell her?" Ben asked, reaching for his console.
"No," Kendi said quickly, and Ben halted. "Not one word. We still have an hour before customs arrive, and who-knows-how-much time for them to inspect. I'll try to speed things along with the magic of bribery, but it'll still be a while. No use making it worse for Harenn by telling her Bedj-ka's within shouting distance. Just say you're on the networks and have some high hopes."
"High hopes for what?" said Harenn, coming onto the bridge.
"For finding your kid," Gretchen said with utter blandness. "Red over there's already tracking leads while we wait for customs."
"I have money," Harenn said, "if you need to bribe them for more speed."
"There's plenty in the kitty," Kendi told her. "But I'll keep that in mind."
Harenn nodded. Her face, still hidden behind her customary blue veil, was unreadable, but her every movement was taut and filled with controlled tension. Kendi marveled at her discipline. If he had been this close to any member of his own family- He banished these thoughts. Right now they had to concentrate on helping Harenn. Then he could pursue his own agenda.
An hour later, the customs inspection team arrived. Because the Children of Irfan were known in some circles as slave-stealers and because the crew wasn't here to conduct official (read, "above-board") Child business, Kendi removed his medallion and ring, ordered Gretchen to do the same, and presented the inspector with carefully-forged documentation that identified him as a simple trader, the most common guise adopted by the Children of Irfan. He explained their lack of cargo by claiming they'd just finished a one-way delivery run to an outlying station. The customs inspector, a small, dark-haired man with a toothbrush mustache, lost interest in Kendi's story once a certain amount of freemarks found their way into his hands. The inspection itself-perfunctory in the extreme-only lasted twenty minutes. Once he was gone, everyone assembled in the galley, a tradition started by Ara. ("What better place for a briefing? Room to sit and close to the refreshments.")
Lucia, as was her habit, had put together a snack tray comprised of bite-sized vegetables, sweetened ruda nuts from Bellerophon, and crackers spread with mounded peaks of spiced cream cheese. A large pot of fruit tea sat among a set of cups. Kendi caught up a cheese cracker and raised it in thanks to Lucia, who smiled quietly at the unspoken praise.
"This is a good news briefing, troops," Kendi said. "Ben found Bedj-ka, or Jerry Markovi as he's called now."
Everyone pretended surprise and pleasure as Kendi finished explaining. Harenn gasped, then narrowed her eyes above her veil.
"You are a fine liar, Father Kendi," she said. "But only to those who do not know you. How long have you had this information?"
"Since about the time we landed," Kendi admitted sheepishly. "I didn't want you to have a freak, so I kept quiet. Sorry."
"If we only have to go to the farm and offer an outrageous sum to get my son back," Harenn hissed, "why are we sitting at this table?"
"Good point." Kendi rose. "I think Harenn and I can do this one alone. Ben, would you call a rental company and arrange a groundcar for us?" Ben nodded and Kendi continued. "The rest of you can stretch your legs or look around the city, but be ready to go the minute the two of us-the three of us-get back." He looked at all of them pointedly. "We've got other fish to fry after we catch this one."
"Nice metaphor," Gretchen murmured as Harenn all but yanked Kendi out of the room. He decided to pretend he hadn't heard, and Ara laughed in his memory again.
Tiq's spaceport was middle-sized and fairly well-appointed. The usual announcements blared from hidden speakers, and the smells of low-quality, high-cost food filled the air. People walked, rushed, strolled, or lounged everywhere. The vast majority of the crowd was human, but that was normal, in Kendi's experience. Most people preferred the company of their own kind, and it was rare for colony worlds to mix species.
Harenn strode through the crowds with single-minded determination, and Kendi had to hurry to keep up. He finally caught her by the sleeve.
"Slow down, Harenn," he warned. "I don't want to lose you in this crowd."
Harenn obeyed with obvious reluctance. "We are close, Kendi. I have been searching for nine years and it seems as if I can feel Bedj-ka's presence, even hear his voice. I want to push these idiots out of my way and run. I want to know if my baby is all right."
"He won't be a baby anymore," Kendi said.
"I know that. It is merely the way I think of him. It is not something I can help."
Kendi wet his lips uncertainly. He was afraid Harenn had pinned her hopes on a joyous reunion of mother and son and that she was setting herself up for disappointment-a position Kendi could empathize with. Kendi knew he should say something, but he didn't know what. An added complication was that Harenn was ten or fifteen years older than Kendi, not someone he would normally reproach or advise. Ara would have known how to handle the situation, and he felt an irrational flash of anger that she wasn't here to do so.
In the end, he decided to be direct.
"Harenn, please don't take this the wrong way, but I want you to be careful," he said as they approached the spaceport's main entrance. "We're going to get Bedj-ka back, I promise you, but don't think he's going to throw himself into your arms and cry 'Mama!' He won't. I hate to say this so bluntly, but Harenn-he won't even recognize you. He may not believe you when you tell him who you are."
"I am not a fool, Kendi," Harenn snapped. Then she closed her dark eyes for a moment. "All the things you have just said are the things I tell myself over and over. For every night since Sejal told me where Bedj-ka is, I have lain awake thinking about what it would be like to find him again. And I have thought long and hard about what I would do to Isaac Todd for taking Bedj-ka away from me."
"Is Isaac Todd your ex-husband?" Kendi said. "I don't think I've ever heard you mention his name."