Off-Grid
Deen’s Fallow
The sky was bright, the sun well-risen, and the breeze had an edge like a knife.
Firgus held out a steaming mug of morning wake-up, which Tekelia took gratefully, and drank while leaning against the News Tree.
“Thank you, Cousin!”
“No trouble to me,” Firgus said. “Thought you might be chilled.”
“Well, if you didn’t keep it so cold here,” Tekelia murmured, and the other laughed.
“That’s the Fallow’s business! I only live here.”
Tekelia sighed and straightened away from the tree.
“Tired already?” Firgus asked, taking the empty mug. “Visalee’s not next door, you know.”
“In fact, I do know,” Tekelia said, somewhat sharply—and instantly flung out an apologetic hand. “Your pardon, Cousin. Obviously, I’m in need of cake.”
“Right over here,” Firgus said, leading the way to a table bearing a plate of sandwiches, another of cake, a bowl of nuts, and a hot-bottle.
Tekelia took a slice of cake while Firgus refilled the mug, and filled another, for himself.
“Sit a moment and go over this nonsense with me again,” he said, settling onto the bench.
Tekelia raised an eyebrow.
“We spoke last night.”
“We did. Let it be known that I’m slow, and haven’t quite caught up. Why must Blays be brought to Ribbon Dance with no delay?”
“Because Blays is the only one of the three of you mad enough to agree to stand as Speaker for the Haosa while I’m gone.”
“Right,” Firgus sipped his drink, and pointed at the plates. “Eat.”
“Eating,” Tekelia said, choosing a sandwich.
“Why does anyone have to stand as Speaker for the Haosa while you’re—gone?”
“So that the Warden of Civilization has someone to contact, should the need arise,” Tekelia said promptly.
“Will the need arise?”
Tekelia half-laughed, and took another sandwich. “You know I’m not Sighted.”
“True.” Firgus reached for the hot-bottle and refreshed his cup.
“So you’re of a mind to play Civilization’s game?”
Tekelia sighed.
“Chaos is in it, Cousin—I don’t think it’s a game. I think the Warden and at least some of the councilors grasp the need for—change.”
“The Oracle’s last Seeing frightened them, you mean?”
“Well, it might have,” Tekelia conceded. “The end of Civilization and the Haosa? It serves warning that something needs to change. The offered chair at the council table isn’t a hoax, though I’m of two minds whether it ought to be me who sits in it.”
“And our cousins haven’t been helpful in that regard.” Firgus waved a hand. “Haven City is far away.”
“It’s on the same planet,” Tekelia countered.
“So it is. Well. While you’re gone and Blays is standing firm, I’ll make one more push for a consensus. May I use the file we built for our planning?”
“What, facts and projections?” Tekelia laughed and snatched a handful of nuts.
“Well, why not?” Firgus said. “Facts are interesting things, after all. Here’s one: The annual Census of Gifts reveals that fewer Talents were registered under the Grid last year, that number being significantly down from the previous year’s census.”
Tekelia considered him.
“Significantly.”
Firgus waved a hand. “I’ll send the reports to you, with my notes. But I haven’t told you the joke yet.”
Tekelia dusted cake crumbs from fingertips. “Better hurry.”
“Oh, it’s simple: The number of Deaf living under the Grid has grown…”
“Significantly?” guessed Tekelia, reaching for the mug.
Firgus gave it consideration. “I think that can be fairly said.”
Tekelia sighed. “You realize you’ve just given me another reason to take the damned chair?”
“Have I? Well. Maybe it will have the same effect on our cousins.”
Tekelia laughed and put the empty mug on the table.
“I’m away. Look for Blays and me this evening.”
Mist swirled.