Off-Grid
Peck’s Market
Tekelia and Blays arrived at Peck’s Market early. They opened the basket Tanin had provided, and snacked on savory pie with cold, sweet tea, sitting at one of the tables between the pavilion and the trees, enjoying the warm breeze and the flow of the ambient.
Suddenly, despite the breeze and the sun, Tekelia shivered.
“Cold, Cousin?” asked Blays.
“Trying to imagine what it might be like not to…feel the day.”
Blays stared—then blinked.
“It’s probable that you won’t be able to sense the ambient on the ship,” she said, and raised a hand. “I know you told me that, but it’s so strange that I keep forgetting.”
She drank tea and put the bottle on the table.
“Do you think the Haosa will want to go on the ships?” she asked. “To leave the Ribbons, and the ambient—to become something other than Haosa?”
Tekelia raised an eyebrow.
“Are the Haosa nothing but our Gifts?”
“No, Cousin, that won’t do! The Haosa are much more than our Gifts, but without the ambient, there can be no Haosa!”
“You sound so certain of this,” Tekelia said. “Have you seen proof?”
“The merest exercise of logic—”
“But we can’t exercise logic against unknown conditions. We don’t know what the effects of being separated from the ambient will be. The Talents who came down with the trade team were Talents when they arrived. Colemeno’s ambient may have given them a boost, but they are very far from Deaf aboard their ship.”
Blays blew out a hard breath.
“No, you’re right; we have to know. But—does it have to be you who makes the test?”
Tekelia grinned. “Afraid of being left as Speaker for longer than a week?”
“That’s not an unreasonable fear,” Blays said primly.
“It’s completely reasonable. I offer that I’m the…sturdiest specimen of Haosa available.”
“That might be true,” Blays said slowly. “Depending, again, on what we’re measuring.”
“We have to make a start somewhere,” Tekelia said softly.
Blays bent her head in agreement—and looked sharply to the left.
Tekelia heard it, too.
“That will be the Warden’s car. Shall we go to meet him, Cousin?”
“I suppose it’s only polite,” Blays said, rising to walk with Tekelia across the grass to the drive. “Is it…protocol, the car? I thought the Warden is a teleporter.”
“He is,” Tekelia said. “He may have needed to carry something—or someone—more than just himself. Or, he might only have wanted to drive, it being an activity he enjoys, and which is not in the least like playing.”
Blays laughed.
The sound of the engine grew louder, and a small yellow car swept into the drive, pulling to a stop at the edge of the grass.
There was a moment when nothing moved, then the driver’s door opened and Bentamin chastaMeir emerged, impeccable as always in his city clothes. The passenger’s door also opened, and another man debarked, dressed like a sober and serious on-Grid merchant.
“Oh, pretty,” Blays breathed. “Who’s he?”
Tekelia looked more closely at Bentamin’s companion—neatly made, and certain in his movements, his cropped curls shining like spun copper in the clear morning light. His pattern was likewise neat, bright with connections, dense with purpose, honor, and not a little humor. There was no smallest glow of Gift or Talent, and that was the clue that established his identity.
“We haven’t been introduced,” Tekelia told Blays, and stepped forward.
Bentamin turned toward them and raised his hands, empty palms on display.
“I took a liberty,” he said. “If I’ve presumed, Councilor ziaGorn has agreed to sit under the pavilion with his paperwork.”
“It’s surely too beautiful a morning for paperwork,” Tekelia said, Feeling Blays’s agreement in the ambient. “Though I should warn Councilor ziaGorn that he may disappoint Trader yos’Galan.”
Copper brows rose over deep brown eyes.
“I would not willingly disappoint Trader yos’Galan,” Councilor ziaGorn said, his voice calm, which was at variance with the surprise Tekelia Saw in him. “I wonder if you would illuminate my error.”
Tekelia grinned.
“Actually, as I think more closely, I see that it’s Bentamin’s error.”
“My relationship with Trader yos’Galan has not been straightforward,” the Warden of Civilization said gravely. “Still, I wouldn’t want to disappoint her. What have I done, Tekelia?”
“Well, she had been looking forward to introducing me to Councilor ziaGorn herself.” Tekelia glanced at the red-haired councilor, meeting a speculative gaze. “She thought we might do each other some good.”
“In that case,” Councilor ziaGorn said, turning toward Bentamin, “perhaps we should simply tell the trader the truth—that we had all three—” He glanced at Tekelia—“four?—had the same good and useful idea nearly simultaneously.”
“I confess that I didn’t think of it,” Tekelia said, “but once she mentioned it to me, I could see that it was such a very good idea that the ambient must have delivered it to several minds, to insure that it wouldn’t be lost. Perhaps that’s the case to make to her.”
Tekelia bowed, lightly.
“I’m pleased to meet you, Councilor ziaGorn. I am Tekelia vesterGranz, Speaker for the Haosa. My companion is Blays essWorthi, Counsel to Chaos.”
Councilor ziaGorn bowed, also lightly, humor sparkling against the ambient.
“I’m pleased to meet Tekelia vesterGranz and Blays essWorthi,” he said.
“I’m not sure what good I can do Councilor ziaGorn at the moment, Bentamin,” Tekelia said, “since we were meeting to introduce you to Blays, who will be standing as Speaker while I’m gone.”
“But you’ll be coming back, won’t you, Cousin? It’s an easier matter to reopen an acquaintance than to make a new one.”
“True. I’ve lately been given a lesson on neutral ground—which is to say that the location shouldn’t favor one party over the rest. There are shielded rooms above the market, Councilor, if—”
“I’m content to be out in the free air,” Councilor ziaGorn said easily. “It is, as you say, a beautiful day. Perhaps the Warden, though—”
“I believe I may tolerate an hour of mild exposure,” Bentamin said, and waved a hand toward the pavilion. “That seems a likely spot.”
“As you choose,” Tekelia said, glancing to Blays.
“I’ll bespeak a tray,” she said, and jogged off toward the market.
Tekelia turned toward the pavilion, gesturing Majel ziaGorn and Bentamin to follow.
“I mention, as a point of information, that the ambient is playful today, Bentamin.”
“Thank you,” came the placid answer.
“Brave to the point of bravado,” Tekelia murmured, and Bentamin laughed.
“That is, I believe, a defining trait of our family.”
Despite being family, Bentamin chastaMeir did not look a great deal like his cousin Tekelia vesterGranz, Majel thought. Both were dark-haired, and moderately tall, but there all similarity began and ended. The Warden was square in jaw and broad in shoulder, his complexion an even tan; his nose aquiline, his eyes a deep blue that seemed almost black beneath stern brows.
Speaker for the Haosa vesterGranz was more lightly built; round-faced, complexion decidedly brown, nose short and turned slightly up at the tip. Where the Warden’s dark hair was crisp-cut and disciplined, Tekelia’s was in a long braid, tied off with a bit of lavender ribbon.
And then there were the eyes.
Tekelia vesterGranz’s eyes changed. When they had first introduced themselves, the right eye had been blue and the left, brown. The next time Majel had looked, the right eye had been brown and the left, grey. The third time, they were green and amber, and at that point, Majel had told himself sternly to stop staring at Tekelia vesterGranz’s eyes.
Blays, on the other hand—Blays was near enough his own height, her figure lithe; complexion rosy; her brow broad and her chin narrow. Her eyes were the same shade of lucent amber; eyebrows slightly slanted. Her hair was a light color between blond and silver, that tumbled carelessly to her shoulders, some strands floating about her head as if she were attended by a gentle, private breeze.
Like Tekelia, she had chosen to come to a formal meeting dressed in boots, tough pants, and a sweater.
And here she came back, bearing a tray that was clearly too large and too heavy for her, though she seemed to have no trouble carrying it as she walked briskly toward the pavilion.
Majel began to stand, meaning to help her with her burden, and turned his head when he heard Tekelia vesterGranz say, “Ah.”
“Yes?” Majel said.
“Blays is entirely capable,” Tekelia said. “Not a drop will be spilled, I guarantee it.”
To Majel’s mind, that was hardly the point, but if her intimate was unconcerned…
He resumed his seat, and Blays arrived, leaning to place the tray in the center of the table.
“There,” she said, sliding onto the bench next to Tekelia, and smiling. “I think we’re well-provisioned.”
“Who was on kitchen?” Tekelia asked.
“Grazum—can’t you tell?”
“I had a feeling,” Tekelia admitted, and nodded to include Bentamin and Majel. “Let’s do this Haosa-style—please, serve yourselves.”
“I’ll be pleased to see you at my office, Counselor essWorthi,” Bentamin said. “Shall we make an appointment now?”
Blays eyed him.
“Is there a particular reason you and I must meet under the Grid? Do you anticipate a crisis?”
Bentamin smiled. “Merely, I thought you might like to see for yourself how we go on, so you know where our arguments and assumptions come from.”
“Tekelia will be away no longer than a week—”
“And yet you are Counsel to Chaos,” Majel ziaGorn said in his calm, reasonable voice. “Speaker vesterGranz may profit from your independent observations. In fact—” he leaned slightly forward. “Have you seen the Council at work?”
Blays didn’t laugh—not quite. Tekelia gave her full points for that.
“Pardon me, sir, but I’m Haosa. The Council room isn’t for the likes of me.”
Majel glanced first to Bentamin then to Tekelia.
“I thought that was about to change.”
“It’s the wish of the Warden of Civilization and the Chair of the Council of the Civilized that the Haosa be given a seat at Civilization’s table,” Tekelia said. “You understand that this has to do with a foretelling given by the former Oracle?”
“Yes—that Civilization will fall, and the Haosa, too,” Majel said crisply. “That has been shared with the Council of the Whole. If the Haosa are to share in Civilization’s fall, then surely they ought to have a seat at Colemeno’s table.”
Tekelia feared that Blays had sighed. Surely, the intensity of her interest had sharpened, becoming so bright and particular Tekelia feared Bentamin would notice.
“There’s the small difficulty of convincing the Haosa,” Tekelia said, and paused, waiting for Majel ziaGorn to wonder why this would be a difficulty.
The Deaf Councilor, however, merely inclined his head.
“Naturally. They fear a trap, or at the very least a hoax. It was so when the Deaf came to the table, though we had fought to be there. Many are still wary, and—I beg your pardon, Warden—they are right to be. We took our seat, and we demonstrated what we could do from that vantage. Slowly—and it is a slow process—we build more trust among ourselves, and gain the respect of our fellow councilors.”
Tekelia smiled.
“Trader yos’Galan was right to advise me to talk with you.”
“Trader yos’Galan is a perceptive person,” Majel ziaGorn murmured. “May I ask—a delicate question?”
“By all means!” Tekelia said. “It will be a novelty.”
Blays laughed, and Majel ziaGorn smiled. Tekelia even felt a ripple of amusement from Bentamin, who was wearing his impassive Warden face.
“Well, then, delicately— Is there someone who is more favored than yourself to go into the Council Chamber?”
Tekelia laughed.
“No, you misunderstand the Haosa! My cousins are perfectly at peace with the notion that I accept the offered seat if it suits my whim. What they can’t agree upon is whether my promises will bind them.”
“I understand,” Majel ziaGorn said, and Tekelia Saw that he did. “Have you only one Counsel to Chaos?”
“Three. Blays is merely the most forward.”
“Utterly shameless,” Blays admitted, smiling into the Deaf Councilor’s pretty eyes. “I talk to everyone.”
“A useful talent in an advisor,” Majel ziaGorn said calmly, affecting not to understand Blays’s flirtation, though Tekelia thought there had been a…flicker in the ambient, before the man turned to Tekelia.
“If you were to recruit aides to assist your counselors, whose tasks would include speaking to”—a sharp glance at Blays—“everyone, you might be able to win the interest of more of your cousins. I assume that you or your counselors report to the villages?”
“Occasionally, I visit and make a formal report at a village meeting,” Tekelia said. “My counselors gather gossip and let me know what I should pay attention to.”
“A reasonable system,” Majel ziaGorn murmured, “but you won’t have time to travel to all the villages yourself, should you take the offered chair.”
Tekelia turned to Blays. “Well, Cousin? Are you willing to appoint two assistants, and stand up at Visalee’s meeting as the Voice of Chaos?”
“It had better be three,” Blays said thoughtfully. “If you won’t have time to attend meetings yourself, you surely won’t have time to chase down the Wild and coax them to talk with you.”
“The Wild,” Tekelia pointed out, “don’t share your skill in speaking with everyone—or even anyone.”
“True, but Ryanna’s uncle lives Wild, and is very sociable of his kind. There might be a connection to be made there.”
It was, Tekelia knew, one step closer to a commitment of time and effort that looked to overwhelm all the rest of life. And, yet—
“Change does need to happen,” Majel ziaGorn murmured, as if he had read Tekelia’s thoughts.
“And if not us, then who?” Tekelia turned both palms up. “I’ve been taking that lesson from Trader yos’Galan, as well, and no reflection on her, that I’m not an apt student.”
Tekelia looked to Blays.
“Find what’s possible. When I come back, the counselors will meet. Hopefully, we’ll be able to determine what we think.”
“That sounds like a reasonable way to go forward,” said Bentamin, speaking for the first time since he had invited Blays to visit his office.
“It does,” Majel ziaGorn agreed, and looked to Tekelia. “I’m at your service, if you find yourself with questions.”
Tekelia laughed. “Oh, I don’t doubt I’ll have questions! You might come to regret that offer.”
The Deaf Councilor smiled—truly smiled—and it was a thing of rare beauty reflected in the ambient.
“I think I’ll find it one of the best offers I’ve ever made,” he said. “Let’s see who’s right.”
“Done! Now—Blays, will you or will you not visit Bentamin in his office while I’m away?”
“Given it all, I suppose I ought to,” Blays said. She looked at Councilor ziaGorn. “I think you were about to invite me to watch the Council at work,” she said.
“I’d be delighted to seat you as my guest. During the session, you’ll be in a gallery with other observers—guests of councilors, and interested citizens. After, if you like, we can sit together to discuss what was done, and why. It might give you insight into the Council’s mind, and illuminate what needs to be changed.”
Blays raised her eyebrows. “I think you’re a revolutionary,” she said, sounding pensive.
Majel ziaGorn laughed.
“It’s one of the many things I value in him,” Bentamin said. “The Council knows its business too well, and Councilor ziaGorn keeps them on the off-foot.”
“No, ivenAlyatta is in the fore there,” Majel protested.
“Not so much as she had been,” Bentamin told him. “Lately, she’s been waiting to see how you’ll play.”
“Now, you’ve made him self-conscious,” Tekelia said.
“My apologies, Councilor,” Bentamin said, inclining his head.
“I,” Blays said, voice raised, “accept both of your kind invitations.” She produced a notepad from some pocket or another and flipped the cover open, tapping the screen to life.
“What days and times are best for you?”