Stoneskin Page 25

  “Oh, the word is spy,” Moto said. “The Deep says we’ll need someone with his skills, and he was compatible as a Witch.”

  “Compatible? Him?!”

  “Well, yes,” Moto said, as he stared up at the sky. “The Deep says he’s got a broken heart.”

  Tembi groaned and fell backwards to sprawl flat on the roof with a heavy thump!

  “You don’t have to like him,” Moto said. “Can you trust him enough to work with him?”

  “Yeah,” she replied. “If our alliance helps the Sabenta? Yeah, I can trust him with that.”

  The stars were beginning to come out, little flecks of bright within the purple sky. Soon, there’d be bats, and wingbuds, and all the other night creatures of Adhama that were precious and familiar.

  “Hey?”

  A quiet voice, soft and timid. Tembi leaned to her left and peered over the roof to see a little boy’s face staring up at her. He was seven, maybe eight, with wide eyes and something of a scowl.

  “Hey,” she replied.

  As soon as the little boy was sure the noises on his rooftop weren’t caused by monsters, he turned fierce. “Get off of my house!” he shouted.

  “I used to live here!” Tembi said.

  The little boy reached inside the door and came out with a sharp metal bar. “Get off of my house!” he said again, as he started for the ladder.

  Tembi glanced over at Moto: he was laughing.

  “Fine,” Tembi said with a sigh, as she and Moto launched themselves into the night sky, the boy staring after them.

  _________________________________

  stonegirl come

  translate

  fight

  hurry

  hurry hurry hurry

  Excerpt from “Notes from the Deep,” 25 September 3468 CE

  _________________________________

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  On the day Domino was released from the hospital, Tembi was waiting. She had dressed in her best robes, the black ones with the gold trim, and wore the scarf which matched her golden birds to hold back her hair. She stopped at the edge of the crowd—for there was a crowd, mostly reporters for the channels, there to question Lancaster’s voice to the Earth Assembly about her health and the would-be assassin who, for some odd reason, hadn’t managed to kill anyone—and began to speak.

  For a woman who had recently been on the brink of death, Domino appeared hale and hearty. She wore her usual prismatic robes beneath her waterfall of rainbow hair, and she had painted her lips in silver. She walked with the help of a cane; when Tembi saw this, she felt cold fury at what had happened to Matindi all over again.

  Moto was here. He nodded and smiled to Tembi, exactly as he would have if she was still nothing more than a little girl from his homeworld whom he had taught to spar.

  “She’ll try to recruit you,” Moto had said the night before in the Deep’s dream. “Let her, but don’t make it easy for her.”

  Tembi had nodded, and wrapped the Deep around her like a warm blanket.

  She felt the Deep clearly today, pacing around her, wings and tail whipping back and forth. “Calm,” she whispered to it. “I’m fine, Moto is fine, and I’m going to be working with this woman for a long time. She’s one of your Witches, so you know there’s something good in her. We will put things right.”

  The Deep settled around her legs, muttering to itself.

  Domino stopped at the top of the stairs leading from the hospital to the greenway below. It was intentional—all of this was intentional—as Domino could have easily jumped herself to Lancaster Tower without having to deal with the media.

  “Good afternoon,” she said. “Thank you for your concern. I feel quite well, and my physicians expect me to make a full recovery.”

  Questions then, shouted out by the journalists. Domino appeared to know most of them and called upon them by name. The questions ranged across all topics from trade to treaty violations, but the journalists kept returning to the matter of the Sabenta.

  “I would like to make a statement on the Sabenta,” Domino finally said. This was greeted by chatter among the journalists, and the refocusing of a dozen different kinds of recording devices. “Since the time of our institution’s founding, it has been Lancaster’s policy to stay out of all conflict scenarios. This was done at the request of the Deep, and also because we felt it was impossible to make an objective determination of which parties held the moral high ground during war.

  “However,” she continued, long hair floating behind her as if the Deep was on the move. “The situation with the Sabenta was severe enough to cause the Deep distress. We were taking steps to aid in the relocation of Sabenta refugees when the Deep chose a new Witch, a young soldier named Kalais.

  “The Deep has never before chosen a soldier to become a Witch,” Domino said. “Never. The Deep always chooses younger persons, but out of the thousands of Witches in the galaxy, not one has ever had any military experience. After lengthy discussion with the Deep, we have concluded that it found Lancaster’s inaction in this matter to be the wrong course of action.

  “I will be presenting these findings in person to the Earth Assembly,” she said. Her gaze turned to Tembi as she spoke; Tembi felt that Domino was speaking directly to her. “And will petition the Assembly to consider immediate action to stop the conflict in Sagittarius.”

  Aggressive chatter from the journalists.

  Domino ended the press conference, but stayed to talk with some of the reporters. Tembi was near enough to hear her quiet laughter, to hear her say, “Off the record, off the record,” over and over again.

  When it was over and the crowd had dispersed, Domino crooked a finger at Tembi. The girl rose from her seat on the hospital stairs, and walked over to meet the mountain-tall Witch.

  “Moto?” Domino said. “I wish to walk alone with Tembi.”

  Moto nodded and fell back several dozen meters, out of earshot but close enough to jump to Domino’s defense should the situation arise.

  “You don’t actually need a bodyguard, do you?” Tembi asked.

  Domino gave the slightest of nods, and began to walk towards the hospital’s gardens.

  Tembi stepped around Domino and put herself directly in the tall Witch’s path. “I know you poisoned Matindi,” she said, chin and ears high.

  Domino’s silver lips twisted up at their corners. Not a smile, no, but perhaps a second cousin to a smile. “Are you here to challenge me, little sister?”

  “No,” Tembi said. “I’m here to learn why.”

  That answer took Domino by surprise. She cocked her head at Tembi. “Oh?”

  “Matindi says you’re fair,” Tembi said. “No matter what, you’re always fair. Which means you had a reason to try and kill her, and all the others.”

  “Child,” Domino said, as she resumed her walk along the garden path, “I never tried to kill them.”

  Tembi and Moto had already guessed at this part of it, but she had thought it was important to hear it from Domino. Confirmation and diligence were their new watchwords. “What?” she asked. “Really? But—”

  “They are my friends, my colleagues…” Domino paused to move an injured sun moth from a patch of shade onto the branch of a nearby tree. “…I’d never forgive myself if I truly hurt them.”

  “They weren’t sure Matindi would be able to wake up.” Off-script, but Tembi needed to know the answer.

  “It was a plant-based toxin,” Domino said, as she resumed her slow, precise walk along the path. “It reacted poorly with her genome. It was a consequence I should have foreseen and prevented.”

  “Aren’t you sorry?”

  Domino glanced down at her. “No,” she said. “Matindi lived, and for a time it prevented Lancaster from joining the Sabenta.”

  “Each time there was a poisoning, it slowed down the Tower Council,” Tembi realized.

  The tall woman nodded. “Small delays are more effective than large ones,” Domino said. “A sin
gle large delay forces those involved to make contingency plans. Small delays result in small, seemingly manageable changes. Over time, small delays become cumulative, and no one has noticed.”

  “That’s smart,” Tembi said. “Did Moto help?”

  “Why would he?” Domino said. “Here is my advice to you, little sister—if something must be done that will cause pain, do it yourself, and accept the burden.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Tembi stared at Domino’s face. The woman’s skin was flawless, and harder than stone. Maybe harder than steel.

  “Did you abduct us? Me and Bayle?” she asked.

  Domino twisted her lips twisted into the tiny smile of a teacher who is especially proud of a student who’s figured out a difficult problem, but is nevertheless picky about the methods used to express the solution. “Yes.”

  It was another mystery that Tembi had figured out. Well, Bayle had figured it out—Bayle had jumped them back to Atlantis, and the two of them had walked through the streets of her hometown as Tembi told her about Moto and Kalais and the rain and the heat gun and the building and Domino and…

  …and everything…

  …and Bayle had gone silent, and then asked if Moto had been the one to stick them into stasis for two months, because if he hadn’t, then…

  “…you put us in stasis,” Tembi said slowly, her hands pressed flat against her robes so she wouldn’t do anything stupid, such as try to slap that tiny smile off of Domino’s face. “For two months? How did you hide us for two months?”

  Domino kept walking, and that tiny smile grew a little bigger.

  Tembi tried another approach. “It was another delaying tactic, wasn’t it? If we were caught on their ship and accused them of abducting us? It would slow down the Council’s decision to become involved with the Sabenta.”

  “And it would also send a message to the Sabenta, “Domino clarified. “They kept pushing for more. They wouldn’t have been satisfied with the relocation of refugees—they would have wanted our help with every aspect of their movement.

  “Never do anything for one purpose, Tembi,” she added. “Always be running two games at once.”

  Tembi heard herself gasp. “You were a spy,” she realized. “Lancaster’s spy—Lancaster has spies?!”

  “Of course,” Domino said. “What kind of job did you think I wanted you to do?”

  Hands flat, Tembi reminded herself. Chin up. Ears high.

  “I thought you needed someone to take Moto’s place,” she said, and reminded herself it was fine if her voice was a little weak. She was seventeen, and oh! the games this woman played were so far out of her league—

  “Moto doesn’t have the patience for espionage,” Domino said. “He burns too strong, bless his heart. I need someone with a cool head. Someone who sees the logic in doing what must be done, even if the methods disturb her.”

  “You still want me to work for you?”

  “Of course,” Domino said again. “If it’s of any consolation, this work gets easier over time.” She glided over to a mossy garden bench in the shade of a bottle tree and sat, patting the bench beside her.

  Tembi tucked her robes behind her legs and joined her, keeping a suspicious eye on Domino. “Why do you do this?” she asked. “This…work.”

  “Because someone has to,” Domino said. “The galaxy isn’t fair. People like me? They try to make sure there’s a balance between what happens, and what needs to happen.”

  “Okay,” Tembi said, very slowly, as if tasting the edges of the word. “But how is any of what you did fair to the Sabenta?”

  “It’s not,” Domino said gently. “It’s fair to Lancaster. What I did was to preserve our laws, not theirs. I know it’s unpleasant, but I’m but merely one woman. I represent Lancaster’s interests as best as I can.

  “If it makes you feel better,” she added, as she pushed a stray lock of rainbow hair behind her ear, “the Tower Council has now committed our resources to helping the Sabenta. So, now? I work on their behalf as well, and I will fight for them to the best of my ability.”

  “If you put your mind to it, you could probably end the war for them this scraping afternoon,” Tembi muttered to herself.

  Domino’s ears twitched, and she very nearly smiled. “I know it’s complicated,” she said. “Look at it this way—Lancaster is an institution that must be protected, sometimes from itself. Change is necessary, but not always for the best. I don’t agree with the Council’s decision to help the Sabenta, but what I want doesn’t matter.

  “Our traditions are everything,” Domino said. “The rule to keep the Deep from being used in war was valuable—a core of our institution. And now? That’s gone. Each war will have to be weighed on a case-by-case basis, to see if it is worth our intervention, because…”

  Domino trailed off, waiting, her eyes tracking every move of Tembi’s face.

  “…because they’ll all be worth it,” Tembi finished for her. “We’ll have good reasons to get involved in all of them. At least, to some degree.”

  “Very good,” Domino said. “Yes. You understand, then. There will always be wars.”

  “Yes,” Tembi said, her chin and ears high. “There will.”

  _________________________________

  they come

  mother father

  not far

  Excerpt from “Notes from the Deep,” 10 July 4402 CE

  _________________________________

  Acknowledgements

  Thank you for coming along on Tembi’s first journey into the Deep. Supply chains are one of the most important innovations in history, but we take them for granted. We can’t help it: we’re the kind of creatures who will, no matter how far we travel, always remember the sharks and dinosaurs, and quickly forget about the chickens. Now, Tembi has to navigate a war, where the mundane details of transportation can save (or destroy) civilizations. I hope you get the chance to come along for her journey. She’ll be a little older, a little wiser, and able to hear the Deep, and none of this will prepare her for what’s about to come.

  Brown, you put up with my nonsense and give so much good in return. As always, know that I love you and that I’m lucky to have you as my husband.

  This book couldn’t have been written without help. Thanks to Seanan, Tiff, Kevin, Fuzz, Gary, Cora, Sara, and especially Sigrid. I couldn’t have poked this world into shape without you.

  Thanks also to John Rogers, who knows exactly why spaceships need coffee mugs on strings, and to Danny and Jes for the copy edits!

  And good wishes to Iolanthe!

  About the Author

  K.B. Spangler lives in North Carolina with her husband and two awful yet wonderful dogs. They live in the decaying house of a famous dead poet. She is the author and artist of the webcomic A Girl and Her Fed, and numerous novels and short stories. All projects include themes of privacy, politics, technology, civil liberties, the human experience, and how the lines between these blur like the dickens. Additional information on Tembi’s world, as well as other projects and stories, can be found at kbspangler.com, and on Twitter at @kbspangler.

  The Rachel Peng Books

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  State Machine

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  A Girl and Her Fed

  Rise Up Swearing

  The Russians Came Knocking

  Greek Key