Off-Grid
The Tree House
“And what did you think of Majel ziaGorn?” Padi asked, as Tekelia handed her a glass of the green wine.
“I liked him a great deal,” Tekelia said, settling beside her on the couch. “He thinks we can do each other some good. I only see one side of that coin, frankly.”
“Tekelia hardly does him justice,” Blays said. She was sitting on the edge of Tekelia’s desk, wine glass in hand. Her hair drifted and flowed around her face like a snow squall, and her amber eyes were bright.
Padi tipped her head.
“I take it you think well of him, too?”
“Think well of him!” Blays cried. “He was magnificent, sitting full under the ambient, as cool and ordered as you please, while the Warden of Civilization cowered behind his shields!”
Padi blinked, and heard Tekelia murmur inside her head, Blays is smitten.
So I apprehend, Padi answered. Is she always this warm?
Warm moreso than cool, though this seems rather warmer than usual. On the other hand, he is pretty.
Aloud, Tekelia said, “Not cowering, Blays.”
“Well…perhaps not. His shields weren’t entirely closed.”
“You know,” Padi said, suddenly struck. “I also value Majel ziaGorn. He has been a good and stalwart friend, and I would not like to see him come to harm. He is Civilized, is he not? Will he take any harm from his boldness, sitting out unprotected?”
“Councilor ziaGorn isn’t Civilized, Padi; he’s Deaf,” Tekelia said. “The ambient isn’t there for him. It’s exactly as if his ears were stopped; music would be lost to him.”
“That doesn’t mean he’s lesser,” Blays put in strongly. “In fact, based on today’s display, I would say he’s of far more use than your typical Luzant. Neither the ambient nor the Grid acts on or distracts him, so he’s able to keep his wits about him—always.”
“Yes, exactly,” Tekelia said. “He lives in Haven City, under the Grid—which is also invisible to him. Civilization calls him and his folk Surda, not Luzant—and they have only recently won the right to sit at the council table and speak with an equal voice. Not too many years ago, Deaf businesses were required to accept the oversight of Civilized boards, it being believed that, otherwise, the Deaf would fall victim to unscrupulous Citizens.”
Padi stared.
“Why not control the unscrupulous, then?”
Blays laughed.
“Yes! I like her! Why not, indeed!” She pointed her wine glass at Tekelia.
“A question, Cousin.”
“Ask.”
“Will you want a report of my meeting with the Warden and my day observing the Council? In fact, how will I get in touch with you, if I need advice?”
“Suddenly,” Tekelia said, wonderingly, “she’s serious.”
“I am taking my lesson from Majel ziaGorn,” Blays said primly, “who would surely wish to know something similar, if he were left to speak with your voice.”
“Would he?” Tekelia asked, apparently charmed by this assertion.
“Wouldn’t he?”
“He did seem very organized, and quick to point out that the Counsels to Chaos will themselves require counselors, as—if—their role expands.”
“That will be an agreement,” Blays announced to the room at large.
“Yes, but as to your question—”
“As to your question,” Padi interrupted, pulling a card from her sleeve-pocket, and offering it to Blays. “That is my comm code aboard Dutiful Passage. Call it and I will connect you to Tekelia.”
Blays smiled.
“Thank you, Padi.”
“Yes,” Tekelia said. “Thank you, Padi. I should have been more forward-looking.”
“It is,” Padi murmured, “a new adventure for you.”
Tekelia laughed and rose.
“I suggest we go to the potluck, if you’re both ready?”
“Ready and hungry!” Blays said, sliding to the floor.
“Actually, I am hungry,” Padi said, it being perfectly acceptable to discuss such things among the Haosa. She extended a hand. Tekelia took it and she rose, only then seeing that Blays was quite frozen, eyes wide.
“I told you,” Tekelia said.
“Yes, Cousin; yes. You did tell me. But hearing it and seeing it are very different.” She bowed. “Please forgive me; I’m only a Wild Haosa with no wits to support me.”
“I should mention that Blays indulges from time to time in sarcasm,” Tekelia said, leaning to kiss Padi’s cheek. “Let me get the basket, and we can be on our way.”
“Does one walk to a potluck?” Padi asked, and Tekelia smiled at her over one shoulder.
“If the evening is as fair as this one—yes.”
Padi turned toward Blays.
“Have you ever seen Tekelia…discorporate someone?”
“Ribbons avert! I haven’t. Tekelia is very careful of us.”
Padi closed her eyes, trying to order her next question, only—
“Am I going by myself, then?” Tekelia called.