Seeklight

She said nothing but merely followed him out of the room and then matched his hurried stride down the corridor. He noticed that the end of the flashlight he had seen her using was protruding from her jacket pocket, but the other object, whatever it had been, was jammed tight with her hand in her other pocket.

They emerged onto the deck, bright with one full moon. As they passed by several small crowds of mertzers, playing cards upon the bulkheads and lazily arguing among themselves, a few impassive faces looked up at them, then turned back to more interesting things.

Daenek glanced at the girl walking beside him. She was small but any trace of femininity was well concealed. It was easy to see how she was able to pass for a male. Hard, thought Daenek. Just like a rock.

When the two of them had descended into the guts of the caravan and threaded their way to the engine room, there was only one mechanic left on duty. He growled “About time,” and stalked off in the direc-iton from which they had come, his shoulders hunched in anger.

Daenek took the scrap of paper the chief mechanic had given him and went from gauge to gauge checking the readings. There was only one that didn’t match—Daenek tapped the dial’s dust-fiecked glass and the needle swung to its proper place. He turned around and saw Rennie expertly shuffling a worn pack of cards that had been left behind by the other mechanics. She gazed around the ill-lit space with a bored expression. “Care for a game?” she said when Daenek had caught her attention.

“We’ve got some other things to talk about.” He sat down on one of the upended boxes.

Rennie leaned against a battered metal column and looked at him with half-closed eyes. “Shoot.”

The engine room was quieter than when he had been in it earlier in the day. The air was filled with the murmur of the machinery that stretched away into the darkness on all sides of them. A dimly-lit world in the depths of another one, crawling slowly over the surface of yet another world. Daenek was quiet for a few moments, as he suddenly thought of the stars beyond the world. What of those people, and all the languages they spoke? There was an infinity beyond this small space.

“Well,” said Rennie, breaking into his thoughts.

He looked up at her sharp, almost cruel face. “I was just thinking,” he said, “that maybe we could come up with some kind of agreement between us. You know, something that would be to our mutual advantage.”

“Yeah?” She smiled. “What would that be?”

Hesitating, he took a deep breath and studied the girl’s amused expression. Still, he thought, what have I got to lose?

It’d be worse if she found out on her own. “You were right,” he said slowly, “I’m not what they think I am…”

He talked of being the son of the last thane. Of growing up surrounded by the villagers’ hate and fear. Of his mother, the Lady Marche, and the mute watcher. Then of the few words, clues that seemed like cracks in the wall that had been built to hide what had happened in the past from him. That which saddened the sociologist by the pool in the rocks, and Stepke refused to explain; the old bishop’s mur-murings after the killing of the bad priest; the key that the Lady Marche had given him as she was dying, and that had been lost when he was being hunted in the storm by the subthane’s men. And he spoke of what he had to do, the obsession that had settled in his chest, that beat through the same blood as his heart. To find what had happened to his father—the last thane.

“And that’s it,” said Daenek. “When I signed on board here, I figured it would be a safe way to get to the Capitol. And maybe, if I were careful, to find out a few more things before we got there. The answer has to be there.”

“Thane’s son,” mused Rennie. The mocking smile had gradually faded as she listened to him. “Yeah, you probably are safe here—for a while. I don’t think anybody outside your village even knew that the old thane had a kid. Except for whoever did him in, of course.”

“The Regent,” said Daenek grimly.

“Maybe. Seems the most likely, at any rate.” She scratched her chin meditatively, then looked directly at him. “But what’s all this got to do with me? I don’t know anything about what happened that long ago.”

“I thought you might help,” said Daenek simply. “We’re both outsiders here. Maybe we should stick together.”

She was lost in thought for a moment. Finally she stood away from the column she had been leaning against and thrust her hands into her pockets. “All right,” she said. “I figure a thane probably would’ve squirreled something away. There might be some profit in all this.”

“Profit?” Daenek looked at her, puzzled.

“Profit,” she repeated. “You know, cash. Money.”

The idea had never occurred to him. “I don’t know…”

“Come on.” Her voice was sharp-edged with disgust. “Maybe other people sweat for something else, but—Look, why do you think I got on board here?”