“Because you were ready to give up, and now you’re here.”
Donna rose and crossed the room, where she fiddled with her sundries on the vanity. “Is that the only reason I would have followed?”
“Isn’t it?”
“Do you suppose there ever was a Treasure Fleet?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Donna turned around in surprise. “Why not?”
“It only matters if Mother thought there was, and went looking for it. Remember the message Sofwari left on Harpaloon? We’ll find her down that path, whether a treasure lies at the end of it or not.”
“If you find her at the other end, would that not be treasure enough?”
The remark astonished the harper. But perhaps the Silky Voice had a gentler perspective on such things than Donovan. “I think…I think they had found a secret road somewhere in a place called California and they hoped to create a safe haven—colonies far to Rimward of the prehuman zone, from which they could strike the prehuman heartland from the rear.”
“And this secret road led them to the Wild? By the gods, girl! No wonder they call it the Wild! What could be wilder than such speculations?”
“But if there is…No wonder Mother went in search of it. What if there is a remnant out there of old Commonwealth technology? Something that would ‘ward us from the Confederation for aye.’”
The older woman grunted. “Like it warded the old Commonwealth? A great deal of hope to place in a couple of maybes and a fable.”
But Méarana was adamant. “Could a fable keep my mother from returning home? She is no fool. She must have known something else. There is something still out there. A Lost Colony—decayed, or devolved, or defunct—and this…” She brandished the medallion. “This is connected somehow.”
“Enter the Wildman, Teodorq Nagarajan.”
“Yes. He knows where these medallions come from and tomorrow he’ll tell me.”
Donna laughed—and Méarana thought she heard an echo of Donovan in the laugh. “He will tell you nothing. Your mother was no fool? Neither is he. What is your quest to him?”
“But, he told me…”
“He told you to come back tomorrow. His reasons are teleological. They are formed to an end—his end. He considers how he might delay that. So, he has not told the Boldlys where he hid the girdle. They delay the execution, hoping to learn. He tells you he knows where your medallion comes from. Maybe you have influence and can free him, or delay the execution. He doesn’t know that you do, but he doesn’t know that you don’t, either, and so the bet is worth the flyer. I don’t doubt he’ll play some similar game with those news people from Alabaster and Sumday He’ll put off his day of doom as long as he can with things like that. He’ll try to give everyone he comes in contact with some reason to stay the axe. He’s a clever sod. Don’t let that barbarian simplicity fool you.”
“Then, we have to rescue him.”
“Do we? Why?”
“Because he does seem to know something we need. Because being a man is not a crime.”
“It’s a crime here.”
Méarana looked the faux-woman in the eye and cocked her head.
Donna shrugged. “I never said I wasn’t a criminal.”
Méarana leaned her elbows on the writing table and rested her chin in her hands. “Now, how do we break him out? Security seemed rather loose. He could overpower the sergeant and walk out the front door.”
The old woman gazed toward the ceiling. “And how do you plan to take him off-planet? Buy tickets on the sky ferry to Charming Moon, maybe?”
“That’s Donovan speaking. There’s no need for sarcasm. Billy can rent a ship, bring it down to some agreed rendezvous, and haul us off. And then…”
“And then eight days’ crawl at least up to Stranger Station—where the the station police for the Joint Matriarchal Council will simply ignore our fugitive asses…? I don’t think so.”
“But actually, I was thinking of taking him legally,” Méarana said. “Maybe I can use my Kennel chit to commandeer him. That was how Greystroke pulled you off New Eireann.”
“You have a fairly broad definition of ‘legally.’ And while I admire the flexibility, remember your are not a Pup. I don’t know that the matriarch’s courts would hand him over to an ‘authorized representative’ with an expense chit.”
“You have a chit, too. Maybe if both of us…”
“Dame Teffna doesn’t have a chit, especially one that identifies her as Donovan buigh of Jehovah.”
“Oh.”
“Yes, dear. Oh. What you need is a ‘get out of jail free’ card.”
“A what?”
“A notarized League warrant, chopped by a Hound.”
Méarana slumped. “Where would we get one? Even if Greystroke is still on Yubeq…”
“He is.”
“…a swift-boat would need weeks to reach Siggy O’Hara and queue a message on the Circuit, and weeks for the O’Harans to swift-boat the answer back here…”
“Let me think.”
“And that’s assuming Greystroke gets the message and responds right away.”
“I said let me think!” Donna strode across the modest room and sat once more on the bed, where she fell into closed-eye silence. Méarana heard the other woman mutter under her breath in a tone that she recognized as Donovan’s. She rose and padded silently to the other side of the room, where she drew the curtain aside.
The sun was setting behind the hotel, throwing long shadows forward into Boditown, as if night were advancing on it in columns, like an army. It was a small town. Smaller than Jenlùshy, much smaller than Pròwenshwai, likely no larger than Preeshdad. But it was less ramshackle than either Preeshdad or Jenlùshy, the buildings solid, wider than they were tall, embracing central courtyards. Trees were plentiful, at least along the winding streets and in several parks visible from her vantage point, though sparser toward the red-lit horizon, where housing gave way to rolling grasslands and security bastions against the bad ones.
She heard Donovan say, “But we dare not draw attention to ourselves. We’ve only got the one.” And she turned from the window to see Dame Teffna rise from the bed and go to the ‘face on the writing desk.
“Do you have something?” she asked.
Teffna pulled from her scrip a standard brain, which she inserted into the receptor. “While I was changing into my dainty self back on Siggy O’Hara,” she said, “I sent a Circuit message to Greystroke. He heard back from Kàuntusulfalúghy, by the way. Sofwari last contacted the College of Scholars about eight weeks after Bridget ban dropped from sight. He was on Ampayam, heading out the Gansu Corridor to collect samples in the Wild. As far as they know, he never came back.”
“Then we should heigh for Ampayam as fast as e’er we can!”
“Don’t slip the leashes yet. First things first. There’s more than one world out the Gansu Corridor. Greystroke can’t leave Yubeq just yet, but he did send Little Hugh to Ampayam to suss things out. He also sent me a warrant.”
“A warrant! Then we can get Teodorq out of prison!”
“We could…except the warrant doesn’t say ‘Teodorq Nagarajan’ in the right places. I’ll have to make some changes the Gray One might not approve of. But if it works, we’ll be well away from here before the paperwork clears the Kennel. No Circuit station here.”
“Can we have it ready by tomorrow? I already set up an appointment.”
Dame Teffna shook her head. “I don’t know. It’s many years since I’ve practiced the skills. A League warrant is not the easiest thing to alter, and this is one world where I cannot call on the Brotherhood. There are any number of sisters in the Brotherhood, but I’d rather not lean on divided loyalties.”