Fledgling-ARC

FLEDGLING-ARC

Liaden Universe 10

By

Sharon Lee And Steve Miller

FLEDGLING-ARC

Sharon Lee &

Steve Miller

Advance Reader Copy

Unproofed

This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

Copyright © 2009 by Sharon Lee & Steve Miller

"The Liaden Universe®" is a registered trademark.

A Baen Books Original

Baen Publishing Enterprises P.O. Box 1403

Riverdale, NY 10471 www.baen.com

ISBN 10: 1-4391-3287-9

ISBN-13: 978-1-4391-3287-6

Cover art by Alan Pollock

First printing, September 2009

Distributed by Simon & Schuster

1230 Avenue of the Americas

New York, NY 10020

Pages by Joy Freeman:

www.pagesbyjoy.com

Printed in the USA

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Afterword

The authors would like to extend special thanks to the following people, all of whom made Fledgling richer, and without whom you might be reading some other book

Mike Barker, for his unflappable good nature, and deft touch with a wiki

Sam Chupp, the voice and the will behind the Fledgling podcast

Shaennon K. Garrity, who was kind enough to lend us the Antonio Smith Method

Donna Gaudet, for naming Melchiza

Robert Parks, for taking it to the street

Shawna Camara and Angela Gradillas, for their promotion work in Second Life

Toni Weisskopf of Baen Books, our patient editor

Jennifer Jackson of the Maass Agency, our marvelous agent

The many, many supporters of the Fledgling on-line project, and especially the denizens of the Theo^_Waitley Live Journal Community, who made it all happen, and happen well

Chapter One

Number Twelve Leafydale Place

Greensward-by-Efraim

Delgado

"Why do I have to go with her?" Theo demanded, and winced at the quaver in her voice. She'd meant to sound cool and remote and adult. Instead, she just sounded like a kid on the edge of a tantrum.

Housefather Kiladi looked up from his work screen and regarded her just a shade too seriously. Theo bit her lip.

"Because," he said in his deep, calm voice, "in the culture predominant upon Delgado, children – by which I mean those persons who have not attained what that same culture deems as their majority – are understood to be submissive to, and the responsibility of, their biological mother." He raised a strong eyebrow. "Surely you are aware of these things, Theo."

Well, she was. But that didn't mean she had to like them. Or live with them.

"You're the one who taught me that accepting cultural mores is a choice," she said, pleased that her voice was steady now, if still more heated than she would have liked. "I don't choose to accept these particular conditions."

"Ah." He leaned back in his chair, hands folded on the edge of his desk, considering her out of thoughtful black eyes. "But a decision to rebel against predominant standards is only half a decision. What will you do instead?"

"I'll stay here. With you." There. She'd said it.

Both eyebrows rose, and he tipped his head to one side, consideringly. Theo felt a brush against her knee, and a moment later black-and-white Mandrin leapt to the top of the desk and sat down primly next to the keyboard.

"A bold and straightforward plan," Father said eventually. "My congratulations." He reached out to scratch Mandrin's ears. "I must ask, however, if you have considered all the ramifications of this choice."

Theo eyed him. "What do you mean?"

"Decisions have consequences," he murmured, his attention seemingly centered on the cat, though she knew better. Jen Sar Kiladi had been her mother's onagrata for as long as Theo could remember. She knew him every bit as well as she knew her mother – and I like him better, too, she thought rebelliously.

"For instance," he told Mandrin. "Your mother will certainly be both shocked and saddened by this decision. She may exert her influence. Ethics and law are, as you know, on her side. How will you respond? To what extent are you willing to fund this choice? How much sorrow are you willing to cause? How much disdain are you willing to bear? Surely, your friends must recoil as you step beyond that which they feel and know to be proper. Your mentor may consider it incumbent upon her to alert the Safety Office, and the Safeties deem it their duty to intervene."

Mandrin shook her head vigorously, as if these possibilities were too awful to contemplate. Professor Kiladi smiled slightly and refolded his hands, gaze settling on the untidy stack of hard copy on the desk-side table.

"In fact," he told the papers gravely, "such deviance from the norm might come to the attention of the Chapelia, who would perhaps feel Moved to send a Simple to you, to ascertain if your rebellion might Teach."

He glanced up and pinned her in a sharp glance.

"If you were to ask me – which I note that you have not – I would say the price seems excessive for what may be at most a few months' inconvenience." He inclined his head. "You must, of course, please yourself."

Theo swallowed. "You don't know that it's only for a few months," she said, her voice unsteady again.

"Do I not?" he murmured in that over-polite voice he used when he thought you were being especially stupid. "How inept of me."

Theo looked down at the floor and the blaze of galaxies dancing there. Father's study floor usually projected the star fields; he said they helped to put his work into perspective. Theo's mother said they made her dizzy.

"Do you," she said, raising her head and meeting his eyes. "Do you know for certain that it's only going to be a couple months?"

"Child... " He came out of his chair in one of his boneless, catlike moves, flowing toward her across the pirouetting stars, silent in his soft, embroidered slippers. "Nothing in life is certain. Your mother tells me that she requires a few months to concentrate on her own affairs. She is, I believe, at a delicate point with regard to her career, and wishes to do all that she may to advance herself."

He paused, head cocked to one side. "Who am I to argue with such excellent reasons? Kamele is scrupulous in these matters, and I, at least, admire her determination. For I don't hide from you, Theo, that I am a lazy fellow. Indeed, if I did not already enjoy tenure and a position I would surely be too indolent to seek them."

"You're not lazy," she said sullenly, and took a deep breath. "And the fact is, you don't know when – or if! – she'll decide to come back here. She might decide to, to... "

...to choose another onagrata, which was – unthinkable. Theo took a hard breath. I won't cry, she thought. I won't!

"She may decide to remain separate from me," Father said, completing her thought smoothly, like it didn't matter. "She may decide to seek another arrangement for herself and for you. These things fall within her rights as an adult in this society. However, if you will give the matter only a little consideration, I believe you will discover that you have some rights, as well. For how long have we enjoyed our private dinner on Oktavi evening?"

She blinked at him. "Ever since Kamele started teaching the late seminar," she said. "Years and years."

"So, it is a long-standing arrangement to which your mother has given her consent. There is therefore no reason to discontinue our pleasant habit, unless you wish to do so."

"I don't!"

"Then there is no more to be said." He tipped his head, consideringly. "This is not, I think, something for Delm Korval."

He wanted her to laugh, Theo thought. Treating her like a kid. Well... she wouldn't laugh, that was all.

But she did feel, just a little, relief, knowing that the just-them Oktavi dinner would stand, no matter where Kamele –

The ancient mechanical clock wall mounted over Father's desk struck its two notes just then – one for the hour, and one for the eighth, which was seven – and a muted thweep from her pocket registered her mumu's agreement.

Professor Kiladi moved his shoulders in his familiar, supple shrug, and reached out to tousle her hair, like she was six instead of fourteen.

"The hour advances, child. Go finish packing. Your mother will wish to leave for the Wall before night opens its eyes."

"I – " She cleared her throat. "I'll come by your office on Oktavi, at the usual time."

"Indeed," he said solemnly. "I anticipate the occasion with pleasure." He smiled, then, gently. "Take good care, Theo. We need not be strangers, you know."

"I know," she said. Mustering her dignity, she turned to go, only to find her body overruling her mind, as it so often did. She spun, flinging herself against him in a hug, squeezing tight, feeling strong arms hugging her in return.

"You take care," she muttered fiercely into his shoulder. "Promise me, Father."

"I promise, child," he murmured, his deep voice a comfort. He released her, stepping back out of the embrace.

"Go, now. Be on time for your mother."

* * * *

Theo dropped the case containing her music slips into the packing cube, narrowly missing Coyster's inquisitive pink nose.

"Keep out of there!" she told him, turning back toward the desk. "You don't want to get packed, do you?"

Coyster didn't answer. Theo swept up her biblioslips, the extra thread and her back-up hooks, and went back to the cube, walking so hard that the simulated koi swimming in the floor mosaic dashed away to hide under the simulated lily pads.

Bending, she put her things carefully into the cube and sighed, staring down into the half-empty interior. Beside her, Coyster sighed in sympathy and settled onto the rippling blue waters, white paws tucked neatly under orange chest, amber eyes serious.

"Hey." Theo knelt and tickled him under the chin. "I'm going to miss you, cat," she whispered, blinking hard. "Don't play with Father's lures, 'k? You'll get in trouble if I'm not around to untangle them for you."

Coyster squeezed his eyes shut in a cat-smile, and Theo blinked again before giving him one last chuck under the chin and rising to her feet.

Her bed was stripped and folded away; the desk was clear. The desk itself, and the bed, were staying right here; all the faculty apartments in the Wall were furnished, Kamele had told her, adding that one desk was as good as another.

Theo doubted that, but Kamele had made it clear that the discussion period was closed, so she'd kept the thought to herself.

She took a deep breath. Really, she was almost done. All that was left was to take the pictures down, fold up the closet, and decide about her old books – and the mobile.

The mobile – that was hard. She'd made it herself for an art project, back when she'd been a kid. It was the Delgado System, with its space station and twin ringed ice giants, built to micro-scale. With Father's help, she'd hung it up where the air from the vent would move it. Coyster had discovered it as a kitten, and had hatched all kinds of plans to reach it – from leaping straight up from the floor, to taking a running leap off the top shelf over the desk – but the mobile remained uncaptured.

Lately, he'd gotten above trying to capture it, but Coyster still harbored a fascination for the flying, spinning thing. Theo would entertain him – and herself – by changing the speed or direction of the air flow from the vent, to make the mobile twirl wildly, or spin verrrrry slowly. She turned her head. Yes, he was watching it now from his tuck-up next to the cube, ears set at a calculating angle.

Theo grinned, then nodded. That settled it. The mobile stayed; it would give Coyster something to do besides stalking Mandrin and playing with Father's fishing gear.

The books... She wandered over to the shelf, koi beneath her shoes, and fingered the worn spines. Mr. Winter and the Mother of Snows; The Shy Kitten; I Can Find It! – stories for littlies, that Kamele and Father had read to her until she could read them herself, and did until she'd memorized them. Her fingers moved on, tarrying on Sam Tim's Ugly Day, and a smile tugged at the corner of her unwilling mouth. "Is it worth taking to Delm Korval?" she whispered, and shook her head, eyes blurring again.

"Well." She turned away from the shelf and looked down at the koi making lazy circles inside the floor. "No sense cluttering up my new room with books I never read anymore," she said, maybe to the simulated fish, or maybe to the cat drowsing by the cube. She sniffled a little, and turned on her heel.

Her clothes hung orderly in the closet: dark green school coveralls with Team Three's red stripes on shoulder and cuff; sweaters, jerseys, and slacks. She pulled her favorite sweater off its hanger, and slipped it on, her fingers stroking the border of bluebells 'round the cuff. It was too early for bluebells in the garden, of course, but –

She swallowed, blinking hard to clear her vision, and slapped the side of the closet harder than was really needed. It began to compress, hissing a little as the air squeezed out of her clothes.

Next stop was the control unit over the desk. She put her fingers against the keys, eyes closed so she didn't have to see the picture of Delgado from the space station's observation tower snap out of existence, or the picture of Zolanj, who had been Father's cat before Mandrin, and who had sometimes agreed to sit on Theo's lap, but never on Kamele's. Or the picture of the river camp where Father went to fish, or...

Her fingers moved across the keypad with cold deliberation, like they belonged to someone else, while Theo bit her lip and reminded herself that they were stored in the house bank, and that she easily could retrieve them when she came... back.

Her fingers touched one last button; she took a deep breath and opened her eyes, to look 'round at her denuded room.

It looked... peculiar... with blank walls and floor, without all of her things spread around – like a stay-over room on the 'station. She blinked again, reminding herself for the hundredth time that she was not going to cry.

"Is this move really necessary?" she asked Coyster, but he was absorbed in watching the mobile and didn't answer.

Theo shook her head. Something was wrong – really wrong – and whatever it was, the adults weren't talking to her about it.

"Pack up, Theo, we're moving to the Wall," she said, in a wicked – and deadly accurate – imitation of Kamele in her I-am-the-mother voice.

And Father – Theo sniffed. She'd been sure he would understand her position. But he was just as bad as Kamele – Don't be late for your mother! Treating her like she was a kid –

And that was wrong on a whole 'nother level, Theo thought, as she leaned over the ambiset again, turning off the aromatics, white noise and breeze. Father never treated her like a kid – even when she acted like one. Especially when she acted like one.

She chewed her lip, staring down into the blank floor. Kamele wasn't stupid – and neither was Housefather Kiladi, despite his frequent claims to the contrary. If whatever was going on was so twisty that they couldn't untwist it...

"Maybe we ought to take it to Delm Korval, after all," she said over her shoulder in Coyster's general direction. He sneezed, and she grinned, reluctantly.

Behind her came the snap of the closet's magnetic locks meeting and sealing. At that instant, her mumu thweeped its reminder – her mother would be waiting downstairs, with new keys in hand, and a determination to leave the house on Leafydale Place, where Theo had lived her whole life. 'Til now.

"Chaos!" Theo muttered. She grabbed the closet's handle and dashed back to the cube, sealing it with one hand while she dragged her bag over a shoulder with the other.

One last look then around the blank, bleak room. Then she took a firm grip on closet and cube and hurried out. Behind her, in the empty room, the left-behind storybooks trembled on their shelf, and one tumbled to the featureless floor.

Chapter Two

University of Delgado

Faculty Residence Wall

Quadrant Eight, Building Two

"Your room's just down the hall." Kamele waved vaguely to the right. "Why don't you take your things in and get settled? I've sent out for dinner – our first meal in our new apartment! An inauguration!"

Theo, closet and cube in tow, looked around the tiny, severely squared receiving parlor. The walls and floor were white ceramic – fireproof, explosion resistant, and certified safe, just like the whole rest of the Wall. Three plastic chairs sat in a semi-circle around a battered table that looked like it might actually be wood. The smooth floor was partially covered with a rug Theo had last seen rolled up in the storage bin at... home. Kamele had probably intended it to soften the space, but the faded yellow and red flowers only looked sad and beaten down by the shiny whiteness.

"Theo?" Her mother's voice had that bright, brittle quality that meant she was 'way too tired and stressed out. Not a good time to ask if the joke was over and could they could go home now.

"Sorry." Theo took a deep breath and got a firmer grip on the leads of her luggage. "I'll just go set up the closet."

Kamele gave her a too-fast smile and nodded. "I'll call you when dinner gets here."

"Great," Theo said, trying not to sound as worried as she felt. She steered her stuff carefully across the old rug and down the narrow hallway. When Kamele got into overdrive at home, Father would sit her down in the common room, bring her a glass of wine, and talk to her – about nothing, really. The weather. The cats. The fishing rod he'd seen in Nonactown. Theo wasn't sure if it was the wine, or Father's voice, or the warm, flowery breeze only he could coax from the ambiset, but whatever it was, all the bright, strained energy melted away and Kamele would fall asleep, and wake up her normal brisk and efficient self.

Theo wondered if there was any wine in the apartment – and then forgot about it as the door slid back to reveal her so-called "room."

The desk was directly across from the door, molded out of the wall, three short shelves above it, and two drawers below. Next to it was the bed, decently folded up at the moment, which was a good thing, Theo thought darkly, or else she wouldn't have fit inside, never mind her stuff.

She left the closet in the open doorway and gingerly maneuvered the cube into the corner to the right of the door, where it would be out of the way, more or less, dumped her pack on the floor beside it, took off her shoes, and threw her sweater over the back of the chair. Then she turned to survey the situation.

On inspection, there was only one possible place for the closet – the end wall to the left of the desk. Biting her lip, she shifted the folded-up closet back and forth between the narrow hall and the narrow doorway, trying to line up the the angle of entry.

Finally, she got the thing into the room and positioned it against the wall with a sigh of relief. She blew her bangs out of her eyes with a fuff, reached to the controls – and hesitated, reassessing the available space by eye.

Yes, she decided, again. The closet would fit.

Just.

While the closet expanded, she inventoried the desk, approving the neatly labeled connectors. She could hook up her school book, no problem; there was a socket for her mumu, and an extra, labeled "research."

Theo frowned. At home, she'd done all her research through the school book connection. She wondered if there were different protocols inside the Wall residences. A quick search of the desk drawers failed to turn up either hard-copy instructions or an official gold infoslip. Fine, then. She'd just ask the Concierge, the next time she jacked in her school book.

She turned to look at her pack, sitting slumped on the slick white floor next to the still-sealed cube, and frowned. Her solos were done; she'd made sure to finish them early, so she'd have time to pack, or – if Father had taken her side, which, in retrospect, she should've known he wouldn't – time to cook dinner and do a little recreational reading afterward.

"I'll get it tomorrow," she said to the room at large. "If it was that important, they would've left the instructions out where people could find them."

From the left came a bump, a wheeze, and a ping!, which was the closet's way of announcing that it was accessible, now. Theo went over to inspect, shaking her head. It fit, all right. Both ends were as tight against the corners as they could be.

"If I get another sweater, I'll have to keep it in the desk," she said, and bit her lip. She was used to talking to whichever cat happened to be in her room – lately, that had been Coyster, though Mandrin, Father's white-and-black, sometimes came by for a visit. Here in this new place, though, she was all by herself. She had to remember that. Chaos! Her mentor already thought it was weird that she talked to cats.

"Grow up, Theo," she muttered – and brought her fingers up against her lips.

Fingers still pressed to her mouth, she turned, skidding slightly on the slick floor, and wished she'd had the foresight to bring a rug. Maybe she could buy one at the co-op tomorrow. She had plenty of credit on her card; and if she could find one cheap enough, she wouldn't even have to have her mother's countersig. Now that she was fourteen, she could spend up to fifty credits a day on her own sig, much better than when she'd been a kid and had to have Kamele's sign every time she wanted to buy a fruit bar, or –

A gong went off, loudly. Theo jumped and spun, sock-feet slipping on the slick floor. She twisted, managing to stay upright more by luck than intent, and by the time she was oriented again, Kamele was calling her.

"Theo! Dinner's here!"

* * * *

They ate at the meal bar in the alcove between the common room and the shuttered kitchen, teetering on tall stools in the dim, directionless light. Kamele had ordered ginger soy noodles and plum soup, with juice for Theo and coffee for herself. Ginger soy noodles being one of Theo's favorite meals, her portion was quickly gone, and the plum soup, too, both reduced to smears of sauce at the bottom of the disposable bowls. She sat then, her hands tucked around her cup, recruiting, as Father put it, her courage.

Across from her, Kamele had eaten a few ginger noodles, and given the soup a long, thoughtful look. Mostly, she was drinking coffee, her movements sharp and not quite steady. Theo thought again about wine, but didn't quite know how to ask if there was any in-house, let alone suggesting if it might be a good idea for Kamele to have some.

The other question hovering on the tip of her tongue... She did know that this wasn't the optimum time for asking questions, with Kamele trembling at the edge of a crash. But she had to know – she had to know why.

Her mother ate another few noodles, washed down with a large swallow of coffee. Theo took a hard breath.

"Kamele?"

Over-bright blue eyes focused on her face. "Yes, Theo?"

"I'd like to learn the reason why we've moved here." There, she thought, that sounds calm, and grown-up, and non-judgmental.

The bright gaze dropped. Kamele used her hashi to poke at the noodles in her bowl.

"We've moved here so I can do my work more efficiently," she said quietly.

Theo blinked, thinking of the high-end access available at Father's house.

"You can work from home," she blurted, "and a lot more comfortably, too! Kamele, your office at home is bigger than this whole apart – "

"Precisely." Her mother was looking at her again, cheeks flushed and mouth tight. "A true scholar must value her work above all else. Living in Professor Kiladi's house, I – we have grown... accustomed to certain luxuries that are not necessary for – and indeed may be inimical to – the process of orderly and analytical thought."

That, Theo thought, sounded like a rote response, and if it had been Kamele asking and Theo answering, the rote response would have only earned her a closer interrogation.

Theo took a breath.

"Kamele – "

"I am not done answering your question yet, Theo," her mother said coolly. "Or have you decided that you don't wish to learn, after all?"

Oops. Theo bent her head. "I framed the question," she said quietly, like the well-brought-up child of an academic from a long tradition of Waitley academics; "because I wished to learn."

There was silence while Kamele drank more coffee, then pushed the considerable remains of her meal to one side.

"Research, study, and teaching are only three-quarters of what a scholar must do in order to... become prominent in her field," she said slowly. "A scholar must have contacts, allies; colleagues who support her work and whose work she supports in return. These associations cannot be built, or strengthened, by living retired in the suburbs. I need to be here, at the intellectual heart of the planet, in order to make the contacts I need to... The contacts I will need to further my career."

Theo opened her mouth, and hastily raised her cup for a swallow of juice.

"I've gotten out of touch," Kamele said, slowly. "And it has cost me. Cost us all. We can recover, of course. With work. Hard work. Work that must be done from the Wall." She looked up, bright eyes fierce. "I am a scholar of Delgado. I must be resolute."

She might have seen Theo staring, because she smiled suddenly – a real smile, tired as it was. "So, we will take up the professorial lifestyle, as our mothers and grandmothers have done before us. It will be an adventure, won't it, Theo?"

Applying Father's definition of an adventure being a series of unlooked-for and uncomfortable events, Theo guessed that it would be.

She cleared her throat, suddenly wanting to be by herself to think, even in that nasty little den of a room. Pushing back from the table, she barely remembered to say, "Thank you for sharing your thoughts, Kamele."

"Of course," her mother said. "You're not a child anymore, Theo. It's time you began to ask these questions and to plan how you'll manage your own career." She waved an unsteady hand.

"I'll deal with the clean-up. Go and get your rest. Tomorrow's a school day."

Like she didn't know that, Theo thought, but she slid off the stool without any other comment than, "Good-night, Kamele."

"Good-night, daughter," her mother murmured, but she was looking down at the tabletop, her brows drawn together in a frown.

* * * *

"Who knew that two people could make such a noise," Jen Sar Kiladi murmured, "that the house is so silent in their absence?"

He put his palm against the door to Theo's room, and paused on the threshold as the lights came up.

"Thorough," he noted. "We can hope that she spent most of her angst in turning off her room, and has none left over for her mother."

She is, the voice that only he could hear commented, right to be upset. And she will ask questions.

"Agreed," he murmured, crossing the room to pick up a fallen book. "Only they might, might they not, be gentle questions?"

He sighed down at the book: Sam Tim's Ugly Day. An unfortunate translation, but a useful conceit that had delighted a much-younger Theo. Though she appeared, he thought, stretching to put the book up with its fellows, to have outgrown the conceit, yet she might still recall the lesson.

"An awkward time for a separation," he said, perhaps to himself; "with the child dancing on the edge."

Yet Kamele's reasons are sound, countered the voice inside his head. You, yourself, encouraged her to do what was needful.

"Oh, indeed! Every bit of it – and more." He shook his head at the bare room, and turned to retrace his steps.

"Does it seem to you, Aelliana," he asked as he stepped out into the hallway, "that I may have become – just a thought! – meddlesome?"

His answer was a peal of laughter.

* * * *

The 'fresher was at the end of the hall. Theo showered and returned to her room, closing the door and unfolding the bed. It didn't take up quite as much room as she had feared, which was a blessing in a space where centimeters mattered.

Having put the bed down, though, she didn't immediately retire. The glare off the floor and walls set her teeth on edge. She went over to the desk to check the ambiset. If she could get some pictures – or at least some color! – into the walls; put a mosaic into the floor, it would make the place seem more like home, cramped as it was.

Except – there was no ambiset to be found. Theo went out into the hall, but there was no ambiset there, either. She actually compressed the closet, thinking that she must have placed it in front of the control center – but the only thing behind was more featureless, white wall.

"I do not believe this," she said loudly, her voice sliding off the walls and tumbling into the glare. She ran her hands through her hair and stared around the tiny room, even casting a not-exactly-hopeful look at the ceiling.

No ambiset.

"And this is supposed to focus my mind?" Theo asked the air.

The air didn't bother to answer.

All right. She took a deep breath. At least she knew what to do to about the jitters. She needed some handwork, that was all. Her needles and thread were in the cube. She'd lay down a couple lines of lace. In fact, there was that idea she'd had about making a lace flower like the new ones Father had planted in their garden.

She knelt by the cube, unsnapped it and lifted the lid, looking down into a dark maw lined with numerous needle-sharp teeth.

"Hey!" She dropped the top, caught it before it hit the floor and laid it gently down. Inside the cube, Coyster yawned again.

Theo sat back on her heels and shook her head, feeling the grin pulling her mouth wide.

"You're going to get me in so much trouble," she said.

Coyster shook out a dainty white paw and began to wash his face.

Chapter Three

Fourth Form Ready Room

Professor Stephen M. Richardson Secondary School

University of Delgado

"It's time to get up!" the clock announced in a cheery sing-song.

Theo snuggled tighter into her pillow, getting a face full of fur in the process.

"It's time to get up!" the clock sang again, slightly louder this time.

Theo sneezed and opened her eyes, coming nose-to-nose with Coyster, who was propped up on the pillow like a miniature – and very furry – human.

"It's time to get up!" The clock was beginning to sound a little testy.

Theo sneezed again. Coyster put a paw on her nose and looked disapproving.

"Theo Waitley," the clock said sternly. "If you do not get up within the next thirty seconds, a note will be inserted into your file. Mark."

"Gah," Theo said comprehensively, and flipped the blanket back. The floor felt cold and creepy against her bare feet as she crossed to the desk and pressed her thumb against the clock's face.

"There," she muttered. "I'm up. Happy?"

The clock, duty done, didn't answer. Theo sighed hugely and wandered out to the 'fresher to wash her face.

A few minutes later, slightly more awake, she pulled out a pair of school coveralls. She dressed, hasty in the cool air, and touched the closet's interior mirror.

The dark surface flickered to life, and she sighed at what she saw. There were dark circles under her dark eyes, like she hadn't slept at all, and her face was even paler than usual. Her light yellow hair was wisping every-which-way, which was unfortunately just the same as always. When she was a littlie, she'd been convinced that she'd wake up one morning to find that her fluff had been shed, like duckling down, and she'd grown sleek, dark brown hair straight down to her shoulders.

She combed her fingers through the fly-away half-curls, trying to make them lie flat, which never worked, and didn't this morning. Grumbling, she tapped the mirror off and turned away.

Coyster was still lounging against the pillow, half-covered by the blanket, eyes slitted in satisfaction.

"Get up," Theo said. "I've gotta put the bed away."

He yawned, pink tongue lolling.

Theo hooked him under the belly and dropped him to the floor.

"If I can't sleep all day," she said, pulling the blanket straight. "You can't sleep all day."

Coyster stalked away, tail high, and jumped onto the desk. By the time the bed was put away, he was curled and sound asleep, like he'd been there for hours. Theo shook her head – then bit her lip.

Last night, she'd filled a disposable bowl with water and shredded some old hard copy from a school project she was done with into the cube's inverted top. Coyster had let her know that he would tolerate these primitive arrangements for a limited time only, so Theo had added proper cat bowls, a litter box, kibble, and a can of his favorite treats to her growing after-class shopping list. She felt bad about leaving him all day without anything to snack on, even though she knew he wouldn't take any harm from it. Father always left cat food and water out in bowls in the kitchen, for Coyster and Mandrin to graze at their leisure.

"If I have to get used to everything being new..." Theo let the sentence drift off, blinking a sudden blurriness away.

She was going to have to tell Kamele about Coyster, she thought, considering the slumbering furry form on her desk. She hoped her mother was in a less edgy mood this morning. A good night's sleep... Maybe Kamele had had a good night's sleep.

Yawning, she bent down to retrieve her school bag.

"I'm going to school," she told Coyster. An orange ear flickered and Theo grinned. Not so sound asleep, after all.

Bag over her shoulder, she slipped out of her room, closing the door firmly. She didn't want Kamele finding out about Coyster until she had a chance to explain the situation.

Chaos, she was tired! Which was, she acknowledged as she headed down the hallway toward the kitchen, entirely her own fault. She'd spent 'way too much time working out the pattern for the lace rose she wanted to make. By the time she'd given up and tucked her traveling kit away into her bag, it had been late. Not as late as general lights out – that was a note-in-your-file – but well beyond the Strongly Suggested bed time for juniors who hadn't yet had their Gigneri.

Yawning again, Theo dumped her bag on the meal bar and put her hand on the kitchen door. Tea, she thought, was definitely in order. Some of Father's strong black tea with the lemony after-note. She'd just put the kettle on and –

"What!" she stood, staring stupidly at the bland lines and blank screen of a standard kaf unit. There was nothing else in the alcove. No stove, no cabinets, no refrigerator, no tins of tea lined against the back of the counter...

"Good morning, Daughter." Kamele sounded as tired, or tireder, as Theo felt, so it probably wasn't the smartest thing she'd ever done to turn around and point at the poor kaf like it was disorderly or something, and demand, "Are we supposed to eat out of that?"

Kamele frowned.

"Don't roar at me, Theo."

She swallowed. "I'm sorry. I was just – expecting a kitchen."

Kamele's frown got deeper, and Theo felt her stomach clench.

"This is the kitchen that most people eat out of," she said sternly. "It amused Professor Kiladi to bypass the kaf and cook meals from base ingredients, and I saw no harm in allowing him to teach you something of the art, since you were interested. If I had foreseen that you would scorn plain, honest food out of the kaf – "

"I'm not," Theo interrupted. "Kamele, I'm sorry. I'm not – scorning – the kaf. It was just... a shock. I was looking forward to making a cup of tea, and – "

"The kaf will give you a cup of tea," her mother said, interrupting in her turn. "All you need to do is ask."

Tea from a kaf unit was not, in Theo's estimation, tea. It was a tepid, watery, tasteless beverage that happened, via some weird and as-yet-uncorrected universal typo, to be called tea. Real tea had body, and taste, and –

Her mumu thweeped the eighth of the hour.

"I suggest that you choose your breakfast quickly," Kamele said, and stalked past her to confront the kaf.

Two sharp jabs at the keypad, a flicker of lights across the face screen, a hiss when the dispenser door slid up. Kamele slid the tray out and carried it to the bar. Acrid steam rose from the extra large disposable cup.

Theo wondered if kaf coffee tasted any better than kaf tea, but it didn't seem like the time to ask. Instead, she stepped up to the machine, punched one button for juice and another for hot cereal, and very soon thereafter was sitting across from her mother at the bar.

Kamele was drinking the coffee, though not like she was enjoying it, and staring down into her bowl so intently that Theo knew she couldn't actually be seeing it or her cereal. She sighed and dug into her own breakfast. Father and Kamele were both prone to sudden fits of intense abstraction, when they would simply... step away from whatever it was they were doing to pursue a certain fascinating thought. Theo guessed it came of being a scholar and having so many interesting things to think about, and she had early learned not to interrupt a fit of abstraction with small talk.

The cereal wasn't too bad, though it was sweeter than she liked; the juice was room temperature and astringent. Theo ate quickly, keeping an increasingly worried eye on her mother, who continued to drink coffee and stare a hole into her cereal.

Theo cleared her throat.

"Early class this morning, Kamele?" she asked, trying to sound bright and interested – and hoping to bring her mother to a realization that her cereal was getting cold.

Her mother glanced up, her eyes soft and not really focused.

"Yes," she murmured. "I do have the early class this morning, Theo. Thank you for reminding me. I'd best be on my way." She slid off the stool, carried her untouched bowl and the half-empty cup to the disposal.

Well, Theo thought, that didn't work, did it?

Kamele bent to pick up her bag.

"Don't dawdle," she said, slinging it over her shoulder. "I'll be a little late this evening – there's a meeting. If it looks like it'll go long, I'll text you." She bent and brushed her lips against Theo's cheek.

"Learn well," she murmured, and was gone, moving quickly toward the receiving parlor, her footsteps sounding sticky against the slick floor. Theo heard the outer door chime and cycle.

This, she thought, finishing her cereal hurriedly, is not good. She sat back, reaching for the leg pocket where her mumu rode. She'd just text a quick message to Father, and ask him to –

Or, she thought, hand poised above the pocket, maybe not. For all she knew, Kamele wasn't speaking to Father, and would refuse anything he sent to her. She was certainly behaving like – Theo took a breath. Until somebody told her something, she couldn't dismiss the possibility that Kamele had – had released Father. There were signs, she thought carefully. Before last night, Kamele had always referred to Father as "Jen Sar." "Professor Kiladi," in all its stiff formalness – that was how a junior academic referred to a senior, not how a woman spoke of her onagrata.

Theo sighed. She hated not knowing what was going on. Maybe the best thing to do was wait for Oktavi's dinner with Father, and ask him again.

Maybe he'd even give her a better answer than "local custom."

Grumbling to herself, she stuffed the disposables into the receptacle, shut the door to the kitchen, and glanced at the readout set into the top of the table. Still plenty of time to meet Lesset before class, if the bus didn't run late.

"Bus!" she said out loud, and smacked fingertips against her forehead. She didn't have to catch the bus today. She lived inside the Wall now; school was just a belt ride away.

"Great," she muttered, and slung her pack over her shoulder. "So I'll be early."

* * * *

She was at the Team's usual table in the Ready Room, working on the lace flower again, her tongue between her teeth as she tried to figure out how to make it 3D and all one piece, when Lesset wandered in – and stopped just inside the door, blinking.

"Theo! What're you doing here this early? Is something wrong?"

Theo frowned up at her. "If something was wrong, I'd be late, wouldn't I?"

"It would depend," her friend said reasonably, "on what was wrong."

"I guess." She sighed and reached for her pack. "Actually, something is wrong. Kamele moved out of Father's house. We're Mice now."

"You're living in the Wall? Really?" Lesset blinked, then grinned. "That's tenured!"

Theo eyed her sourly. "No, it's not." She bent to put her hook and thread away into her bag.

"Seriously tenured," Lesset insisted. "Where's your nest?"

"Quadeight Twobuild, right on the belt."

Lesset's grin went from wide to round. "Fact?"

"No, theory!" Theo snapped. "What'm I gonna do, make up the direction?"

"But that must be – it's gotta be... Chaos!" Lesset sat suddenly, her pack bumping the table, and there she continued to sit, staring right through Kartor and Roni when they came in. Kartor flopped into the chair on Theo's right, his eyes pinned to the screen of his mumu. Roni dropped her bag on the table and went over to Team Two's table, just like she always did.

"Any time you're ready," Theo muttered, and Lesset turned to her, putting a quick hand on her arm.

"I'm sorry," she said, though she didn't sound particularly contrite. "It just came to me that you're living – you must be living in, you know – her apartment."

Theo sighed, and wished she hadn't put her handwork away. "Her who?"

Lesset frowned. "Don't you ever read The Faq?"

The Faculty-Administration Quarterly carried the daily university news – lists, mostly. Lists of people who were applying for grants. Lists of people who had gotten their grants. Lists of people going on sabbatical. Lists of people coming back from sabbatical. Changes of address.

Kamele said that once, in the long ago past, The Faq really had only been published once a quarter, but the level of news generated by such a large faculty and administration forced a more frequent publication schedule. She read it, and Father, too, though Theo thought they had different reading experiences. For instance, Kamele called it The Faq or, sometimes, The News.

Father called it The Scandal Sheet.

"I skim it sometimes," Theo said, and made a face. "Bor-ing."

Lesset sighed and shook her head. "Information is never boring," she said in a prim voice that made her sound exactly like her mother.

"Long lists of names are boring," Theo answered, then prodded. "You were going to tell me who her is."

"Well..." Lesset chewed her lip. "Professor Flandin – the sub-chair of the History of Ed – "

"Lesset, I know who Professor Flandin is! Kamele's in EdHist!"

"All right, don't roar at me! How'm I supposed to know what you know?"

"I'm sorry," Theo said, noticing that her shoulders had climbed up nearly to her ears. She relaxed them, deliberately, and looked at her friend. "So you think we're in Professor Flandin's apartment? Why? She go Topthree?"

"Topthree!" Lesset laughed and patted Theo's arm. "You really don't read The Faq, do you? Professor Flandin didn't get promoted. She got disbarred."

Having delivered this last in a penetrating whisper, Lesset folded her hands on her knee, and gave a single, solemn nod.

"Disbarred?" Theo frowned. Now she came to think about it, she'd heard something...

"Falsifying data," she said, suddenly remembering. She looked at Lesset. "She falsified cites in her last two pubs."

Lesset smiled. "You do pay attention sometimes! So, anyway, if Professor Waitley's been assigned – Quadeight's only two ramps down from Topthree! – been assigned to Professor Flandin's apartment, that must mean the dean approved her temp-posting to sub-head. That wasn't in The Faq yet!"

"Maybe they're waiting to make the announcement at the Faculty Meeting," Theo said, but she was thinking about Kamele – Temp Sub-Head! – and she hadn't said anything – not a word. That felt pretty bad, like Kamele didn't trust her. But, Theo thought, her spirits rising considerably, if the temp appointment was the reason Kamele had moved to the Wall, then that meant they could go home after the search was finished and the department had appointed someone permanent!

The knot in her stomach eased, and she looked up with a smile as the first whistle sounded.

"Time to go," Lesset said, as she and Theo rose and shouldered their packs.

Roni rushed over from Team Two's table, grabbed her pack, and marched off, calling, "Don't be late!" over her shoulder.

Kartor rose automatically, his attention still on his mumu.

Lesset sighed, her steps not as brisk as they might've been. "Professor Appletorn first thing is cruel and unusual."

"He's not so bad."

"He's not so bad to you," Lesset retorted. "He doesn't loathe you."

"He doesn't loathe you, either," Theo said reasonably. "He's a teacher. His job is to make sure you learn."

"I'm so tense in his class I don't think I'm learning anything," her friend said, as they moved out of the Ready Room. She shuddered.

That was serious, if true. Theo had noticed that Lesset wasn't at her best in Professor Appletorn's class, but if she was letting her tension get in the way of performance, that was bad. Theo sighed, worried.

Professor Appletorn taught Advertence, which was core. If Lesset didn't pass, she'd not only pull the Team average down, she'd have to repeat Fourth Form, and clear a higher achievement bar, to cancel out the note in her file.

She looked around, suddenly worried on another head – and spied Estan and Anj, the last two members of the Team, rushing toward them from the pass corridor from the belt station. There must've been another Crowded Condition on the Quad Six beltway. That had been happening a lot, lately.

"Maybe you should talk to your mentor," Theo said to Lesset, as they turned left down the hall. They were walking so slow now that lazy-moving Kartor was ahead of them, and she could hear Estan panting from behind.

"I did talk to my mentor." Lesset sighed gustily. "She said I was learning how to deal with adverse conditions."

"Oh." said Theo. She frowned. "Are you?"

"I don't think so," her friend said mournfully.

Chapter Four

Scholarship Skills Seminar: Advertency

Professor Stephen M. Richardson Secondary School

University of Delgado

Four Team Three came around the corner into the seminar hall more like a loose gaggle than a team, Estan and Anj still sweaty and breathing hard.

Theo cringed. Professor Appletorn paid attention to such things, and graded for form. But Lesset's steps had gotten slower and slower the closer they'd gotten to the classroom, and Theo had lagged behind, too, to show support for her friend. It was important to support your friends, according their Social Engineering instructor. Even if you privately thought they were being just a little too sensitive.

Four Team Six was ahead of them, which wasn't unusual; their Ready Room was closer to Advertency by a good three halls. They shouldn't be showing bonus just for being ahead – fairness said that such advantage would be factored in to the Team averages.

What was unusual was the fact that they were standing in front of the seminar room like a bunch of random nonacs instead of a functioning Learning Team, blinking at the door.

Which was shuttered.

Theo frowned.

"What's wrong?" Lesset asked. "Why are they standing in the hall?"

"The door's closed," Theo said.

"Closed?" Lesset repeated. "But why would it be closed? We have a class. Professor Appletorn insists that the door be open until he starts teaching!"

"Did we all miss a schedule jump somehow? Is it locked?" Kartor asked, as their group joined Six in front of the shuttered door.

Several people snatched out their mumus, fingers flying.

"Sched clean," came a mumble, followed by a group sigh of relief.

"Is it locked?" Kartor asked again, since the crowd of Team Six blocked his view of the status lights.

"No-oo," Vela answered slowly, looking at him over the heads of her teammates.

"Then," Roni said impatiently, "open it!"

"Do you think we should?" That was Simon, Team Six's proceduralist.

Before Estan, Team Three's proceduralist, could answer, Roni sighed loudly and lunged forward over Vela's shoulder, smacking her palm against the plate. Somebody on Team Six – probably Simon, Theo thought uncharitably – squeaked nervously, like he expected alarm bells or a team of Safeties. All that happened, though, was that the shutter folded out of the way, showing the bright, empty room beyond.

"Was that so hard?" Roni asked, still impatient.

Team Six traded glances.

"No," Vela said quietly. "It wasn't hard. But we didn't have consensus, Roni."

"To open a door?" Roni shook her head in visible disgust, which, Theo thought, Vela didn't deserve. They should have reached consensus – or at least let the proceduralists talk. Roni was weak on consensus-building – and consensus-reading, too. Consensus was one of the things the Team was supposed to help her with.

"As long as the door's open," Kartor said, "maybe we should go in."

Team Six exchanged another round of glances, and Theo didn't blame them. The teacher always awaited the class. The seminar room was the instructor's space, and students only entered with permission.

On the other hand... Theo heard the muted twitter from her mumu, the tone she used to warn herself that she was about to be in trouble...

"If we don't get to our stations soon," she said from the back of the group, "the room will mark us all late – as Teams and as students!"

Simon bit his lip, but he turned to address his teammates. "She's right," he said. "It's the student's responsibility to be on time, no matter the conditions!"

Vela nodded, gathered her team with a nod and a hand-wave of consensus, and entered the room. Roni, Kartor, Estan, and Anj followed, with Theo and Lesset bringing up the rear.

There was the usual clatter as they got to stations, adjusted table heights, set up their 'books, and logged into the Learning Group Space. Then, it got... quiet. Theo shifted and looked around, first at the empty teacher's station where Professor Appletorn ought to be standing, and then at her classmates – which was pretty much what everybody else was doing.

"Should we tell somebody?" Naberd asked. "Call the Safeties, maybe?"

Simon shrugged, and Estan looked up from his 'book with a frown.

"I can't find a procedure for what we should do if the instructor is..." his voice dropped, "...missing."

Silence. Then Vela spoke up. "I'm going to ask for consensus to call the Safeties."

"That won't be necessary, Ms. Poindexter."

There were quick loud steps and a clang and clatter as an Educator's Rod was tossed haphazardly into the corner, making everyone jump in startlement.

Professor Appletorn swept into the room, slapped the autoboard up and spun on the balls of his feet, a frown on his face.

"The correct and studied term would be late, rather than missing, Mr. Vanderpool, and within the bounds of my contract I am neither."

The professor stood there for some moments, hands behind his back, keeping the silent class rapt while he leisurely looked from face to face as if counting them, or verifying that both teams were in full attendance.

"Perhaps," he said suddenly, "Mr. Vanderpool will be so kind as to remind this august gathering of scholars of the basic tenets of Advertence."

Theo held her breath. Estan Vanderpool was a stolid, solid, meticulous boy who wasn't easily rattled. Normally.

"Well, Mr. Vanderpool?" Professor Appletorn's voice was sharp enough to slice cheese, as Father said, and he hadn't waited the full thirty seconds, either. It was like he was pushing Estan, only of course he wouldn't do that. Not really. Pushing was Physical Intimidation and that was 'way more trouble than just a note in your folder.

Estan took a breath so deep his shoulders lifted.

"Advertence is the quality of being heedful or attentive. It carries the connotation of consideration and deep thought. A scholar who practices advertency is a careful researcher who weighs what she has learned before forming a hypothesis to lay before her colleagues."

Text perfect, Theo thought with relief, right out of the first lesson.

Professor Appletorn rocked back on his heels, thumbs hooked into the pockets of his coveralls.

"Indeed," he said softly. "And what avenues are open to the study of an advertent scholar..." He paused, then stabbed out with a fleshy forefinger. "...Miss Tibbets?"

Theo frowned. Another of her teammates, not as stolid or as solid as Estan. Sometimes Anj was there, and sometimes – she wasn't.

This morning, though, she was home and answering her mail.

"The avenues of study open to the advertent scholar," she said crisply, "are: text, eyewitness, and primary source."

"Images?" Professor Appletorn asked, almost mildly.

"Images require an exacting level of observation and consideration, because they're so easy to manipulate. Primary source images, or those documented in the texts and which have provenance, are preferred, but even then the careful scholar will seek corroboration in another study-set."

Their instructor nodded in silent agreement, lips pursed, then jerked his head toward row three, toward...

"And what, Miss Waitley," he snapped, "do we say of the scholar who depends solely on primary sources, and shuns the validation of the texts?"

Theo blinked, and stupidly, the first thing she thought was that Professor Appletorn was targeting their Team, singling them out one by one.

"Well, Miss Waitley? Have you none of your priceless pearls to cast before us this morning?"

He wasn't just in a bad mood, Theo thought, he was angry. She took a breath, her fingers touching the keys of her school book, sending the link into the Learning Group even as she looked up into his big square face.

"Sir, I propose a textual validation as a starting point for forming an understanding of such a scholar." Her voice was cool and crisp, more like her mother's than her own. "I cite the paper published by Professor Monit Appletorn, an Acknowledged Authority in the field of research dynamics. Professor Appletorn tells us that those who seek out the treasure of the primary source are the most dedicated of scholars, instant Authorities, whose work validates the work of all those who come after."

Silence. Theo, watching the color drain out of his face, wondered if he was going to faint.

"Am I to understand, Miss Waitley," Professor Appletorn said, and his voice wasn't sharp, now; it was soft, almost a whisper. "Am I to understand that you have read and given consideration to this paper?"

"Yes, sir," Theo said, which was nothing less than the truth. Kamele would ground her for a month if she heard Theo claiming credit for research she hadn't done.

"Have you?" Professor Appletorn whispered. "Why?"

Why? Theo blinked at him in amazement.

"I am waiting, Miss Waitley." His voice was stronger again, and Theo took a breath to steady herself before answering.

"I was doing my preliminary research for the course," she said slowly, trying to figure out how she'd managed to make him even madder; "and your paper was cited in several of the texts. I – it was only what an advertent scholar would do, to pull up and read the paper."

"I see." The silence stretched thin and cool while he stared at her. "You are either very stupid or very clever, Miss Waitley." He said her name as if it tasted bad! He turned his head suddenly. "Which is she, Miss Grinmordi?"

Lesset actually twitched, her mouth forming a perfect O. Her voice was surprisingly strong at first, then faded suddenly away – "I, she, well... evidently..." There was a pause, as if words – never her firmest friends – failed her. She threw Theo a helpless look and then looked back to their professor.

"It, um, depends..." she stammered finally.

The whole class held its breath.

Professor Appletorn seemed to... deflate. Not that he became less angry, Theo thought, but that his anger had used up more energy than he had available.

He sighed.

"That is correct, Miss Grinmordi," he said temperately. "Evidently, it depends. We do not yet have sufficient data to make a determination."

He turned and walked to the front of the room, putting his hand on the control for the autoboard, just as someone's unmuted mumu chimed the first eighth of the hour.

Uncharacteristically, Professor Appletorn ignored the sound, apparently giving the autoboard his whole attention.

"Simon Joniger," he said, finally naming somebody who wasn't one of Theo's teammates. "Please share your links for our last study assignment."

* * * *

The rest of the seminar had been interminable, the students' mood not improved by the amount of solo work "for next time" in addition to that outlined in the syllabus. At the end of the session, the two Teams escaped as a group, silently, with only an exchange of glances in which relief and puzzlement were equally mixed.

Theo had to hurry to catch up with one of the victims, who was walking head down, eyes down, and at a dangerous clip.

"Phew. Lessie..." Theo ventured, finally gaining her friend's scowling attention.

"You see?" Lesset moaned as they got on the belt to the maths hall together. "I can't think when he snarls at me like that. My mind goes blank and I just want to be someplace else – "

"But you did fine!" Theo protested. Lesset blinked.

"I did? But he was so angry..."

"He was angry at all of us," Theo said, then shook her head. "No, he was mad when he came to class. Something must've happened before – the reason he was late, maybe. And he was trying to rattle us – specifically us, our Team." Which was, she thought, weird. What could Four Team Three have done to make Professor Appletorn so mad?

"But you said I did fine?" Lesset persisted. "How?"

Theo sighed.

"It depends was the right answer," she said. "It was correct, exactly the thing an advertent scholar would have said." She gave Lesset a smile. "I wonder how much data you have to have to decide that somebody's a nidj?"

But Lesset was off in another direction, looking vacantly at the walls and people sliding by for a moment before gathering together another question.

"Did you really read that paper? The one you cited?"

Theo turned to stare at her. "I said so, didn't I?"

Her friend lifted a placating hand. "You did, and I know you wouldn't ever lie about your research. It's just – why?"

"Because Professor Appletorn's an Acknowledged Authority," Theo said patiently, "and I kept coming across cites to his paper when I was scanning the prelim lit. Reading one more paper wasn't that hard."

"Fact?" Lesset obviously had her doubts.

"Fact," Theo said firmly, and, noticing that her friend still looked tense, tried a joke. "See what you could be reading instead of The Faq?"

"Oh!" Lesset's face went white, then red. "Oh!" she cried again. "That's just – antisocial!"

"Wait!" Theo held up her hand. "It was supposed to be funny – "

"To you, maybe! But I don't think it's funny to be laughed at." She took a deep, furious breath, and turned to walk away – or tried to, her upset making her oblivious to the direction of the belt's travel.

The ultra-safe, grippy surface of the belt would have assisted her flight, if she'd been properly balanced. Unfortunately, Lesset had thrown her weight at an angle to the direction they were traveling in, heedless of inertia. The resulting resistance knocked her off-balance; she staggered, her bag swinging forward over her shoulder, unbalancing her even more.

Theo snatched at her friend's arm just as Lesset threw herself backward in an awkward attempt to recover her footing, and the two of them went down in a heap, Lesset yelling.

The belt immediately slowed to a stop, and the other kids surged forward – then dropped back at the shrill sound of a whistle and shout of, "Safeties!"

"Stay where you are!" The taller of the two officials snapped when Theo tried to get up. "We have to run a scan."

This they speedily did, while Theo wished Lesset would get her bag off of her knee, and tried to figure out how late they were going to be for math.

"All right, you can stand."

Lesset stood first, head hanging. Theo flexed her bruised knee and followed.

"Names?" The shorter Safety asked, mumu pointed at them, the red "record" light showing.

"Theo Waitley," she said resignedly, and heard Lesset whisper her name.

"What happened?" The taller one asked.

Theo took a breath. "Lesset stumbled on the belt. I thought she was going to fall and tried to catch her."

"And instead of catching her, you both fell down, the belt stopped, and you, your Team, and all the rest of the students here are going to be late for class." The taller one shook her head and tapped her mumu. "I see you're flagged as physically challenged, Miss Waitley. Next time, I suggest you pay attention to your own balance and let your friend help herself." She gave Theo a stern look. "Unless you were trying to be disorderly?"

Theo gaped at her. "No!"

"Thumb-prints here," the shorter Safety said, presenting his mumu, screen up. "Three downs for Four Team Three, and notes in your files, Ms. Grinmordi and Ms. Waitley."

The Safeties stepped off the belt. "Everybody face front. Motion beginning on the count of three – One! Two! Three!"

The belt started up, slowly, steadily gaining momentum. Theo faced front, bottom lip firmly caught in her teeth, and pretended that she didn't notice Lesset's downcast look, or Roni's loud whisper to her belt-mate.

"Oh, yeah – Theo Waitley. She's the clumsiest kid in Fourth Form!"

Chapter Five

City of Efraim

Delgado

"They didn't have any Yummifish at the co-op," she told Coyster apologetically. He flicked his ears and looked at her reproachfully from his perch on the edge of the desk.

"I know, I know. I'm a bad provider. But, look. I brought you a ball." She put it on the desk by his toes, and gave it a push. It jingled across the surface, beady red eye-lights flickering enticingly.

Coyster yawned.

Theo shook her head in mingled amusement and irritation. "You're welcome," she said, moving across the room. She shifted the cube to the front wall, one end against a corner of the closet, picked up the lid and went up the hall to the 'fresher.

The shredded paper – unused, as far as she could tell – went into the disposal. The lid went into the sanitizer, just in case. She washed her face while it was being zapped and dragged a comb through her hair, wincing when she pulled knots, and wishing, not for the first time, that she had sleek, well-behaved hair like Lesset's.

The sanitizer pinged and she retrieved the top, wrinkling her nose in protest of the sweet, lingering antiseptic odor.

A rapid series of jingles greeted her as she opened the door to her room, but by the time she stepped inside, Coyster was sitting in the middle of the floor washing his face, his back to the ball.

Theo grinned, but pretended not to notice as she fit the lid onto the cube and crossed the room to her bag.

The Best in Five Worlds Kitty Pan had cost more than she'd expected – "Twenty creds!" she told Coyster as he inserted a supervisory nose into the assembly process. "I hope you're happy."

She pushed him gently out of the way while she finished programming the cycles, but he was inside almost before she'd gotten it into the corner.

While Coyster was inspecting his new facilities, Theo took the self-cleaning bowls out of their sanitary wrappings. She filled one with kibble from the sack she'd picked up – not, as it happened, the same kind that they fed the cats at home, but the only kind the co-op carried.

She stowed the resealed sack in the bottom drawer of the desk and went up the hall again to put water in the second bowl, coming back just as Coyster pushed his head through the crack between the door and the jamb. Theo frowned.

"Thought I'd closed that," she muttered, toeing him out of the way. She made sure the door was latched behind her before putting the water next to the food bowl, and sitting down on the cold, smooth floor.

The bowls were blue. In the co-op, they'd looked bright and cheerful; here, they looked – faded, and more than a little forlorn.

"It wouldn't be so bad," Theo told Coyster, who'd wandered over to sniff at the kibble. "If we could dial up a mosaic. All this white is... boring."

Coyster looked at her over his shoulder – accusingly, she thought.

"I know it's not the best kind, but it's all they had."

He blinked, executed one of his in-place precision turns and put his front feet on her knee, looking questioningly up into her face.

Theo smiled and rubbed his ear, smile wobbling wider as he pushed his head into it.

"If you really want to know," she said, "I had a lousy day. Professor Appletorn had a scope primed for our Team; I made Lesset fall on the belt, the Safeties gave the whole Team three downs and we were late for math, which was two downs more. Not only that," she continued gloomily, bending over so Coyster could butt her head with his. "Marjene wants to have a chat tomorrow after teamplay, and all the rugs in the co-op are made out of plaslin!"

Coyster burbled and tugged on a lock of her unruly hair.

"Thanks," Theo said, using both hands to stroke him down his whole length. Soft fur over wire-strong muscles. Not what you'd expect from a creature whose most strenuous activity was chasing a ball around the room for a couple minutes.

She stroked him again. He purred briefly, then backed gently from between her hands, executed another precision turn and faced the food bowl. He picked a single crunchy up in his mouth and munched it consideringly. Theo waited, wondering if she was going to get the emphatic left-hind-foot-shake that meant, so Father said, "This is not acceptable."

After a pause, Coyster bent his head again and began to eat.

Relieved, Theo rolled to her feet, socks slipping on the floor, requiring a quick twist of her shoulders to stay upright.

"Nidjit anti-social floor!" she muttered. "Whoever thought making everything out of ceramic was a good idea ought to be evaluated!"

She grabbed her bag and hauled it over to the desk, making sure to place her feet firmly. Most of her solo work was done, thanks to a double research period after math. She thought she'd go over the analysis trees for Advertency one more time, though – after today, she didn't want to do anything to call Professor Appletorn's attention to her ever again.

"Though it would be useful," she told Coyster, as she unslung her school book, "to know what made him so mad." Or maybe not, she thought, jacking the 'book into the cable labeled "research." It wasn't as if the class could do anything to prevent whatever it was from happening a –

Coyster, momentarily sated, was sitting with his back half-turned to her, looking high into a corner of the room. Just trying to fool her into thinking there was something there, the way cats did – but no! If he'd been at home, and finished with his after-school snack, that would be when she'd change the airflow to the mobile that by all rights should be hanging in that corner. Too late to bring it, and besides, it didn't look like the mobile's kid-safe auto-attach would work on the slick ceiling anyway. Theo ground her teeth. Why couldn't things have just stayed the way they were? Everything had been fine –

Warmth spread from the utility pocket where she kept her mumu. She pulled it out, flicking the screen on with a practiced one-handed motion.

It was a text from Kamele, short and, Theo thought, terse.

Agenda lengthy. Home before ninebell. Do your solos. Don't forget to eat.

Eat. Theo sighed wistfully as she slid the mumu away. She didn't suppose the kaf would be able to deliver one of Father's melted cheese sandwiches and a mug of evening tea. Her eyes filled, blurring the desk. She bit her lip, turned, her foot slid and she went down, hard, on her rump on the cold floor.

"Chaos!" she yelled – and began, to her utter embarrassment, to cry.

* * * *

She'd been lucky in her timing. Not only did she catch the direct bus to Efraim, which was Nonactown's official name, but she got a seat by the screen, where she could pretend to be absorbed in the map and condition reports and ignore the superior looks of the half-dozen Chapelia acolytes in their baggy gray uni-suits and half-face gauze.

She did bite her lip when the 'change for Greensward highlighted, but she didn't tap for a stop; she stayed in her seat, hands folded decorously on her lap, and only had to blink once or twice to clear her eyes as the bus continued on its way.

Strictly speaking, she should have had her mother's permission, if not an actual bluekey, for a solitary expedition outside the Wall. She had tried to text Kamele. All she'd gotten was the "away" message, though, which meant the meeting with the lengthy agenda was level two confidential or higher, a fact that might have been more interesting if Theo hadn't been focused on other things.

In the end, and after a consultation with Coyster, she'd left a short message in Kamele's in-queue, grabbed a sweater, and ran for the bus. There should be no problem accomplishing her errand and getting back to the Wall before Kamele's meeting broke up.

She did think that her mother might not be delighted to hear that Theo had been out alone to Nonactown. But it wasn't, Theo thought, like she was wandering. She had a goal and a destination – Gently Used, on Merchant Street. Father had taken her there – if not often, then at least several times. He'd introduced to the proprietor, too. While that didn't exactly put her or the shop on the Safe List, Theo felt sure that Father wouldn't have taken her anyplace dangerous.

Despite the bus being a Direct, transit time to Merchant Street this evening was slightly longer than she had estimated. The Chapelia de-bussed ahead of her, enmasse and in step, going right while she would be going left, and she breathed a sigh of relief to see them go.

Her feet had barely touched the street when her mumu sang sevenbells. Still, she thought as she walked down the pathway – no belts in Nonactown – or in the suburbs where her – where Father's – house was, either – it shouldn't take that long to buy a rug.

The evening breeze made her glad she had her sweater and reminded her that walking within the Wall, or in its shadow, made both time-keeping and weather-minding by sight difficult. Father did that – used the position of the sun in the sky to tell the time, and the type of clouds and wind-direction to predict coming weather – he said it "kept him close to the world" – and he'd taught Theo the way of it, to Kamele's amusement.

"We have devices called clocks, Jen Sar," she'd said, from her seat on the garden bench. "Which tell us the time when we're inside, too."

"Indeed," Father had answered gravely. "And yet sometimes – we are outside. And in some circumstances – rare, I allow! – devices fail."

Kamele had shaken her head with a small smile and returned to her book; and Father had continued Theo's lesson.

Speaking of time, Theo thought, shaking herself out of her memory, it was passing, and the clouds were moving from the west, on the back of the brisk evening breeze.

The street was busy this evening, light spilling out into the dusk from unshuttered shop windows and doors. Theo walked carefully, her stomach grumbling as the breeze brought the scent of frying spice bread to her. Almost, she crossed the street to buy a slice, but the recollection that there were only twenty-four creds left on her card moved her on past.

First, she told herself, she'd buy the rug. Then, she'd have a piece of fried bread.

The door to Gently Used stood open; on the walk outside, Gorna Dail was talking vivaciously to an old man with an electronic zither strapped to his back.

Theo slipped past the animated conversationalists and into the store. She passed the low counter with its light-guarded displays of rings, fobs, bracelets, and dangles with only a cursory glance. Father wore jewelry – a twisted silver ring on the smallest finger of his right hand – but Kamele said that honors were decoration enough.

The rugs were in the back of the store, piled together by size. Theo located the pile she wanted and knelt beside it, her fingers busy over the fabric.

"Is there something in particular you're looking for, young student?"

Theo gasped, and blinked up into the worn face and smiling eyes of Gorna Dail.

"Such concentration," the shopkeeper said, and the smile moved from her eyes to her lips. "Theo Waitley, that's your name, isn't it? Has the housefather commissioned you for solo flight?"

Theo looked down, and rubbed her hand over the nap of the rug she'd dragged across her knees. It felt good, springy and soft at the same time. Like Coyster.

"My mother and I have... relocated to the Wall," she said to the rug.

There was a small silence, then a neutral, "I see." Gorna Dail hunkered down next to Theo and ran her hand over the rug, like she was considering its merits, too.

"It's good to have something to break up all the white," she said, "inside the Wall."

Theo looked at her in surprise. "You've been inside?"

Gorna Dail laughed. "Long ago – and only for a semester. I was a Visiting Expert, so they gave me an apartment on – Three? – no, I'm wrong. Topthree. It was well enough. By the standards of fourth-class ship quarters, it was spacious. But I remember those walls, and the floors – all white and slick. Easy to clean and to sanitize, I suppose, but not very restful." She glanced at Theo. "In my opinion, of course."

"Not only that," Theo said feelingly, "you can hardly stand up without your feet sliding out from under you!"

"Yes," said Gorna Dail placidly. "I remember that, too." She stroked the rug on Theo's lap again, frowning slightly, and reached out, running an expert thumb down the side of the stack.

"You were a Visiting Expert?" Theo asked, diverted.

"Oh, yes. Years and years ago. Before you were born, I daresay. It's what I did, in those days, to make a name for myself. You won't believe me, maybe, but I have two master certifications, from University itself."

Theo looked at her, but the older woman's attention was on the rugs. "But," she blurted, "what are you doing in Nonac – in Efraim?"

That got her a sideways smile.

"Hah. I had forgotten that... Non-academic! Everyone who is not studying or teaching is non-academic! Do you think I should be living inside the Wall?" She shook her head. "I'm retired, now."

"Then," Theo said. "Why are you on Delgado?"

Gorna Dail laughed. "Because, after all my traveling, I wanted to settle on a nice, quiet, boring little world, where nothing of note ever happens. And Delgado – aside the college and its great work, of course! – is certainly that. Ah." She slid her hand into the pile of rugs, and pushed them up. "Pull that one out, if you will, and tell me what you think of it."

Theo grabbed the rug indicated, and pulled. It was heavier than she had expected, with a sheen to the mixed blues and greens that reminded her of water.

"Betinwool and silk," Gorna Dail murmured. "It's used, but whoever owned it before me took care of it. It could pass for new."

"New – " Theo snorted as she flipped the edge of the rug up and looked at the knots on the underside. "The new rugs at the co-op are all made out of plaslin."

"And you won't have that, eh?" Gorna Dail smiled again. "I don't blame you in the least, Theo Waitley. Now, tell me honestly – what do you think of this rug?"

Theo ran her hand over it, pleased with the way the nap silked along her skin, and smiled at the cool, swirling colors. It would almost, she thought, be like having her water mosaic again.

"I like it," she said to Gorna Dail.

"Good. Now, let's talk price."

"All right," Theo said steadily. "How much is it?"

Gorna Dail laughed, and sat back on her heels. "No dickering here, I see!"

Theo looked down, cheeks hot. "I don't know what you mean," she said, her voice sounding sullen in her own ears.

"A joke, Theo Waitley," the shopkeeper said placatingly. "Only a joke. On many worlds, in many cities, a price is... mutable. It changes with the weather, the time of the day, the demeanor of the buyer, the mood of the shopkeeper. It is not an entertainment of which Delgado partakes, more's the pity. So, for you, the price on the rug is forty cred."

Theo licked her lips, and ran her hand over the rug again, which was a mistake, because it only made her want it more.

"I can't spend that much today," she said, and looked up into the woman's face. "Could you – I can pay twenty-four cred today, if you can put it aside for me? And tomorrow – well, no, not tomorrow," she corrected herself. "I've got teamplay after class. But, I'll bring the rest the day after tomorrow for sure."

Gorna Dail tipped her head. "And carry the rug home on the bus?"

Theo paused, then found her solution. "I'll take a cab."

"Excellent," the old woman said, with a slight smile; "but I think I may have a better answer, if you'll allow me."

"I'd be glad to learn," Theo said politely, and wondered why Gorna Dail chuckled.

"I propose this: I will charge your card for the full amount – " Theo opened her mouth – and subsided when the shopkeeper held up a hand. "Wait until you've heard it all. What I propose is charging your card for the full amount, tomorrow."

Theo blinked. "Can you do that?"

"Easily," the woman assured her. "Also, because you're such an accommodating customer, I'll throw in a pack of grippers, so your rug won't slide all over that slick floor, and – " She paused and smiled at Theo. "And I'll have them and this rug delivered to you tomorrow evening, after teamplay."

"Really?"

"Really. All you need do is swipe your card and give me your direction. Will that suit you, Theo Waitley?"

"It will!" Theo smiled, relieved. "Thank you!"

"My pleasure, child," Gorna Dail huffed as she pushed to her feet. "My pleasure."

Chapter Six

History of Education Department

Oriel College of Humanities

University of Delgado

"So, then," Kamele Waitley said, with a calm authority she was far from feeling; "we're agreed."

She looked carefully around the table at her colleagues, who had not seen the need, who had not wanted to commit the funds – and whom she had one by tedious one brought to her side. She wished that it had been finesse or gamesmanship, pure reason, or anything other than brute will that had carried the day. If she had come back to the Wall sooner or, failing that, taken the necessary time to strengthen her ties inside the department – but she had come late, and reluctant, driven by what Jen Sar dignified as "necessity." If it were discovered – and it would be! – that the Educational History Department at Delgado University had failed to pursue an investigation after one of their own professors was dismissed for falsifying data – they would lose students, funding; perhaps their accreditation! And it would not happen, Kamele had sworn – not on her watch.

Your honor is in peril as much as the department's, Jen Sar had said, after listening to her lay out her observations and her fears. Of course you must do what is necessary to bring all into Balance.

Balance, as Kamele had learned over the years of their life together, was the Liaden ideal. And it was deucedly difficult to maintain.

Which did not mean that it should not be pursued.

"It appears that we have indeed agreed to an in situ forensic literature search," Mase Toilyn said quietly from half-way 'round the table. "In order to be certain that the two instances of dishonest scholarship of which we have become aware are, as we believe, the only such instances."

"It's expensive," Jon Fu said, which had been his constant objection throughout the meeting. This time, however, the note of complaint had given way to resignation.

"Expensive, yes, but prudent," Ella ben Suzan, Kamele's oldest friend and her only ally at the table, concluded firmly.

"...prudent," EdHist Chair Orkan Hafley repeated, sighing as her hands fluttered over her note-taker. Flandin had been her protégé; that Admin had allowed her to remain as chair was, in Kamele's opinion, worrisome. It hinted at alliances extending into the Tower itself, but even so, Kamele assured herself for the twentieth time, it did not mean that Hafley's position was robust, or that true scholarship could not prevail.

"Yes," Hafley said, finally, frowning down the table at Kamele. "Yes, Sub-Chair, we're agreed that it's our duty to husband the reputation of the college and its scholars. What we haven't agreed upon is which of the numerous protocols should be implemented, or, indeed, who should do the work. Perhaps," she concluded, with heavy irony, "you have a suggestion."

Kamele forced herself to meet that frown and counter it with a smile.

"But remember that the Emeritus Oversight Committee was formed for this very purpose!" she said with false cheerfulness. "We'll apply to them for dispassionate searchers."

"Well," the chair sniffed. "And the protocol?"

Kamele reached to the notepad, fingers dancing over the lightkeys. Three blue links hovered inside the Group Space at the center of the table.

"Please," she said, looking 'round at her four colleagues once more, "everyone contribute three links concerning your favored protocol."

Fingers moved; a set of yellow links joined the blue, and a moment after, green, red, violet...

Kamele nodded. "Now, if we do a branch-search," she tapped the command into the notepad, and watched with satisfaction as the trees formed and connected, closer and closer, until, at base...

"As you can see," she said, keeping her voice pleasant and calm. "Each of our favored implementations has at root the Antonio Smith Method. That being so, I would suggest that the basic Smith Method, which has not only been proved in rigorous field conditions, but has also birthed so many daughters, is best suited to our purpose."

There was some discussion of the suggestion, of course, though briefer than it might otherwise have been. She injected the possibility – nay, the probability! – that the search and approach they had agreed upon might eventually be adopted as an official protocol for the university entire, and with the calculating looks brought into some eyes and faces came a certain willingness to move at long last from talk, to action. When the chair finally adjourned the meeting, the responsibility for contacting the Oversight Committee rested satisfactorily in the hands of Ella ben Suzan.

* * * *

"I think you handled that very well," Ella said as the door to Kamele's office closed behind them. She stretched with vigor before collapsing dramatically into the visitor's chair, her head against the back and her eyes half-closed. "And you were afraid you'd lost your touch."

"I have lost my touch," Kamele said, casting a half-amused glance at her friend. "Honestly, Ella, you should have become a professional actor."

"And been disowned? No thank you. I like my comfort – now as much as then. Besides, hadn't my best friend already set aside childish pursuits to aim for a more realistic goal?"

Kamele sat down behind her desk and tapped her mumu on without looking at it. "With my mother's... strong encouragement."

"Mothers exist to guide their daughters," Ella murmured. "I'm quite content with the amateur troupe." She opened her eyes and squirmed into a more upright position.

"But enough of youthful reminisces! This evening you not only manipulated our honored colleagues of the EdHist Department into consensus, but you got Hafley into a corner, so that she had to back you or risk an open divide within the department, which she can ill afford. All of that, and you still insist that you've lost your touch?"

Kamele sighed and leaned back in her chair. "I was clumsy," she said. "If I didn't push them, I certainly drove them, and you're not the only one who saw the manipulation. Depend on it – Hafley saw what I was doing, and she'll find a way to make me rue it. Having me shoved in as sub-chair over her candidate – "

"And wouldn't Jon Fu have made a wonderful sub-chair?" Ella interrupted. "Yes, Chair. Of course, Chair!" Her voice had gone all wobbly and unctuous. "The wisdom of a thousand grandmothers could not teach us better than you do, Chair."

"Stop!" Kamele laughed. She raised a hand. "Stop – it's too perfect! His own mother would be deceived."

"Or she would pretend to be, so she could be rid of a bad job," Ella said darkly, then waved. "Hafley's light was fading even before Flandin's perfidy was discovered. The Directors won't be long in replacing her," she said, and grinned one of her wide, lunatic grins. "Kamele Waitley, EdHist Chair."

Kamele snorted. "Not likely."

"Nothing more likely, now that you're finally demonstrating the proper reverence for your career!" her friend retorted. "You'll see – and I expect my sabbatical to be quickly approved when you're made chair."

Kamele considered her. "Sabbatical? Isn't that out of sequence? In any case, it's my plan to name you sub-chair if your prescience is proven."

Ella shook her head in mock sorrow. "How many times do I have to tell you, love: First the sugar, then the rod."

"Yet you find hard work sweet."

"You know me too well," Ella said with a fond smile that slowly faded. "Speaking of hard work – how's Theo taking the... move?"

"She'll adjust," Kamele answered, surprised at the grimness of her own voice.

Ella laughed slightly. "Spoken like a loving and vigilant mother! And you?"

"I?"

"Don't be dense, darling."

Kamele glanced down and fiddled with her mumu for a moment. "I don't anticipate any problem readjusting to the Wall. I grew up a Mouse, after all."

"As we both did." Ella stood. "Well, you know where I am – not as high on the Quad as you, of course, Sub-Chair!"

She walked around the desk and bent down to give Kamele a quick kiss on the cheek. "I have rehearsal," she murmured. "You're not working tonight, I hope?"

Kamele shook her head. "Theo's home alone."

"Oh." Ella looked serious. "Well..."

"Ella..." Kamele said warningly.

Her friend raised her hands placatingly. "I know, I know! She's just a bit clumsy. It's a stage. She'll grow out of it." She sighed and lowered her hands. "If she doesn't do herself or someone else a serious injury beforehand."

"She'll be fine," Kamele said firmly.

Ella took refuge in a laugh, spun lightly on her toes and headed for the door.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Kamele."

The office door closed behind her and Kamele sank further into her chair, reaching up to rub her eyes.

Chaos and disorder, but she was tired! She'd crammed a week's worth of meeting prep into a working lunch and tea, and another week's worth of people-prep into odd moments before the meeting itself. She'd gotten what she wanted – what the department needed! – and the work ahead looked mountainous, indeed.

Among all the work that needed to be done, she had explicitly not needed Monit Appletorn importuning her in the break room this morning. Even if she had been disposed to consider him in the light of an onagrata, the timing and... boldness of his presentation would have given her pause.

Not that she considered Monit anything but a humorless, ambitious annoyance, or ever had. Kamele ran her hands into her hair, making the disorderly chaotic. Make that an egotistical, humorless, ambitious annoyance.

And then there was Theo. The child was nervy at the best of times, and she'd made it plain that the relocation had neither her approval or her support. Kamele sighed. Depend on it, had it been Jen Sar who had proposed they move to the Wall, Theo would have been brought over in a heartbeat, glowing with excitement and eager to help in any way she could.

Setting aside the fact that Jen Sar could charm wisdom from a Simple when he chose to, Theo adored him – a state of affairs that had previously seemed... benign. Surely, it was a good thing for a child to have a solid male role-model? Their remove to the Wall, however, suddenly threw Theo's attachment to her mother's onagrata into an awkward light. She had, Kamele admitted to herself, shirked her maternal duty. It was going to be bad enough after Theo's Gigneri –

"Which is borrowing trouble," Kamele said aloud. The earliest possible date for Theo's Gigneri was more than six months away. So much could happen in six months, when you were fourteen.

And when you were forty-four.

Her mumu chimed eight bells four. She'd told Theo she'd be home before ninebells. If she didn't leave soon, she'd break her word.

She reached for the mumu – and only then saw the Safety Office icon blinking ominously from the in box.

Her heart lurched. Gasping, she tapped the message open.

It was not, as she had foolishly feared, a note calling her to the infirmary or the hospital on her daughter's behalf – that was obvious from her first hasty scan.

Her second, calmer, reading revealed that the letter was a Parental Advisory. Theo had taken another fall on the belt between classes – and this time, she'd pulled someone down with her.

Kamele closed her eyes, recited the Delgado Senior Scholar's Pledge, and read the advisory a third time.

It would seem that Theo's victim was Lesset Grinmordi. Kamele grimaced; as thin as Theo's friend-loop was she could hardly afford to lose one; even a flutter-head like Lesset. Kamele sighed and looked back to her mumu. The report stressed that there had been no aggression involved, but was rather an accident, born of a lapse of judgment.

That much, Kamele thought, was a continuing positive point in her daughter's behavioral record. Whatever Theo was – odd, clumsy, brilliant, sullen – she wasn't aggressive.

The Safety Office recommended that Kamele review Theo's physical limitations with her again. It further recommended that the two of them contact the infirmary for an overview of the various medications – all perfectly safe! – that might be expected to alleviate those same physical limitations.

"Physical limitations," Kamele muttered. Jen Sar would have one of his mannerly fits if –

But Jen Sar, she recalled, around a gone feeling in her stomach, was out of the loop; the courtesies paid to the Housefather were no longer his due.

Which didn't make the prospect of reviewing Theo's physical limitations with her any more appealing. And she would see the university in ashes before she drugged her daughter to make her orderly – perfectly safe, or not.

For a moment she closed her eyes, seeking a restful pattern and only seeing the slow twirl of a receding star field. Her sigh was loud enough to startle her eyes open. It would be easier if she knew she still had the luxury of the occasional casual glass of wine and exchange of small gossip with Jen Sar. But there – necessity. She had known what this quest would cost her; and believed it to be worth the price.

Kamele touched the mumu's screen, filing the advisory. The next letter in-queue was from Marjene Kant, Theo's mentor. Kamele sighed and tapped it open.

Marjene reported that she had arranged to chat with Theo tomorrow after her teamplay. She appended the Safety Office report of Theo and Lesset's fall on the belt, and added her own commentary:

While it is not my intention to second-guess a mother's arrangements for her minor daughter, I cannot help but feel that this unfortunate incident would not have occurred if you had allowed me to prepare Theo for the upcoming alteration in her living arrangements. It's clear to me that her physical challenges are exacerbated by stress...

Kamele touched the screen slightly harder than was strictly necessary, filing Marjene's letter away.

The last note was from Theo. It stated, very briefly, that she had gone out to buy a rug for her room, and expected to be back at the apartment well before ninebells.

Kamele closed her eyes. A rug.

On one hand, a mother in receipt of a message not respectfully seeking permission to buy a rug, but informing her of the act, might – ought! – to be... annoyed.

Yet, on the other hand, she could scarcely blame the child. Theo had grown up in a sensation-rich environment; Wall quarters must appear... stark and inhospitable to her. In fact, she admitted, their new apartment seemed a bit comfortless to her, who had been a Mouse for her first twenty-eight years.

"Life would have been much simpler," she told the empty office, "if I hadn't gone to the chancellor's reception."

But that was nonsense. She had gone to the reception, all those years ago; she had met Jen Sar Kiladi, then newly come to Delgado to take the Gallowglass Chair, been fascinated by him, and eventually offered him the opportunity to become her onagrata.

And the fact was – the truth was – that her life would have been simpler, yes, and also much poorer. Leaving aside the mental, and physical, stimulation that came with his companionship, Jen Sar was a good friend – to her, and to Theo. The years she had spent in his company had been neither wasted nor extravagant.

Her mumu chimed again, warning her of the approach of ninebells. She stood, slid the device away into its pocket.

Time to go home.

Chapter Seven

Chancellor's Welcome Reception for the Gallowglass Chair

Lenzen Ballroom

Administration Tower Three

University of Delgado

"Where," Ella growled, shoving a glass into Kamele's hand and grabbing her elbow, "have you been?"

"Rehearsal," Kamele hissed back, allowing herself to be steered into one of the ballroom's dimmer corners.

"Rehearsal?" Ella repeated blankly, and then, more sharply, "You're late for the Chancellor's Reception because of a choir rehearsal? Have you lost your mind?"

It was, Kamele acknowledged, taking a sip from her glass, a fair question.

"I didn't think it was going to last so long," she said mildly, and made a show of scanning the room. Scholars as far as the eye could see, the ranks of dusky formal robes broken here and there by the brilliant yellow of a Director's coat.

"So," she asked, "where is he?"

"Your collar's crooked," her friend answered. "And your robe isn't sealed."

Kamele raised her glass, taking care to sip. She wasn't nearly as cool as she wanted Ella to see – junior faculty simply were not late to a Chancellor's Reception. And junior faculty most definitely did not over-drink at a so august a gathering. That was for after.

"Kamele..."

She sighed and put the glass into Ella's hands, turned so that she faced the corner, yanked the rumpled collar straight and slid her finger down the robe's front seam. Then she twirled once, slowly, as her friend's face threatened to add a wrinkle on the spot.

"All tidy, now, Mother?" she asked, taking the glass back and having another sip. She was, she told herself, calm. She had not missed the reception, and that was the important thing.

Well, one of the important things.

"Where is he?" she asked again.

"Who?" Ella blinked at her, and Kamele sighed.

"The new senior faculty member. Double – or is it triple? – Professor Kiladi. The Gallowglass Chair, remember? The reason this reception went to the top of your social calendar for the year?"

"Oh," Ella said, "him." She tipped her glass in an easterly direction. "Over at the receiving area, last I saw. Looks stiff and chilly and stern. He'll fit right in with the rest of the tenured."

Kamele grinned.

"I do feel for him," her friend continued; "just a bit. His back has got to hurt like destruction. Mine would, after all those bows."

"Bows?"

"One for each of the seniors, as they passed by on review," Ella said. "Very elegant, each one. The Chancellor and Director Varlin were positively aghast, you could tell by the way they just stood there next to him, like they'd been dipped in plastic and left to dry. I suppose they didn't go over protocol with him, or expect that he'd bring his own."

Kamele choked a little on her sherry.

"Did you introduce yourself?" she asked.

"I was waiting for you," Ella answered repressively.

"That was noble." Kamele had a last sip of sherry and regretfully placed the nearly full glass on a nearby tray. "Since I'm here, I guess we'd better do our duty and introduce ourselves, so we can be promptly forgotten."

"What else are junior faculty for?" Ella asked rhetorically, placing her glass on the tray as well.

"Waste of perfectly good sherry," she muttered, as she slipped her arm through Kamele's and the two of them stepped out into the light.

* * * *

Gallowglass Chair Professor Jen Sar Kiladi was not a tall man; indeed, Kamele thought, he was slightly shorter than her own somewhat-less-than-average height. He was, however, upright, and wore his formal robes with an air; right hand resting lightly on the head of the black ironwood cane that was the badge of his station. His face was sharp-featured, and displayed a certain patient politeness. One received the impression that he could stand there, coolly elegant and not at all discommoded, the whole night through and into tomorrow morning.

Arm-in-arm, she and Ella tarried at a polite distance while a junior in the dusky purple robe of the Hard Sciences offered a trembling introduction in a voice too soft for them to hear.

"Not a beauty," Ella whispered, leaning her head companionably against Kamele's. "More's the pity."

Kamele bit her lip. Ella had an eye for a pretty man, though surely Professor Kiladi was so far above either of them that it hardly mattered if he was easy on the eyes or a three-headed ogre.

The Gallowglass Chair had done with the trembling junior, who was walking rapidly in the direction of the nearest source of sherry.

"Our turn," Ella whispered. She slipped her arm free and stepped forward.

At the edge of the receiving area, she paused and brought her hands together in the Scholar's Text.

"Ella ben Suzan," she said, her voice perhaps, Kamele thought, a shade too crisp. "History of Education."

Professor Kiladi bowed, graceful as a dancer.

"Scholar ben Suzan," he murmured, his voice deep and grainy.

Ella gave him a firm nod and moved aside. Kamele stepped up to take her place.

Looking at a point just over his right shoulder, she brought her hands together to form the open book. "Kamele Waitley. History of Education."

Professor Kiladi tipped his head. "You are a singer, Scholar Waitley?" he asked, and for a moment she thought he had caught her out; knew of her lateness and the reason and was about to call her to the attention of the Chancellor.

Gasping, she met his bold black gaze – and managed a quick smile and a head shake.

"I'm a member of a chorale," she said, speaking carefully. "Recreational only, of course. My studies are my life's work."

"Certainly," he replied, "study illuminates the lives of all scholars. Yet there must be room for recreation as well, and joy in those things which are not study. I myself find a certain pleasure in... outdoor pursuits."

"Outdoor?" She looked at him doubtfully. "Outside the Wall?"

He raised an eyebrow. "There is a whole planet outside the Wall," he murmured. "Surely you were aware?"

Was there, Kamele wondered, a thread of dry humor in that craggy voice?

"I've heard it said," she answered, matching his tone as nearly as she might. "But tell me – what manner of pleasure may be had outside of the Wall?"

"Why, all manner!" he declared, bold eyes flashing. "Gardening, fishing, walking among the trees and growing things, watching the sun set, or the stars rise..."

"Watching the sun set?" Was he having fun at her expense? "That seems a very... fleeting pleasure."

"I have heard it argued that the highest pleasures are ephemeral, and best enjoyed in retrospect." He paused, then added, softly, "Though there are those of us who disagree."

Kamele caught a motion of robes from the edge of her eye and turned to look. Ella was moving away with the new adjunct from Mathematics – Norz? Vorz? She couldn't recall, though he was excessively pretty. And that was doubtless the last she'd see of Ella tonight.

Abruptly, she recalled herself, and looked back, surprising a look of... sympathy on Professor Kiladi's face.

"Forgive me," he began, but she stopped him with a wave of her hand.

"I think we must have been the last faculty to introduce ourselves," she said seriously. "Would you like a glass of sherry? I'd like to learn more about the pleasures of watching the sun set, if you'd be kind enough to teach me."

* * * *

Some time later, with the hall all but empty, they were still talking. Professor Kiladi had not grown prettier; indeed, the best that could be said was that he had an interesting face. Kamele found it became more interesting – found him more interesting – as they continued to talk. The black eyes were quick, and the humor disguised by the deep, rough voice surprisingly – and enjoyably – wicked. It was probable, Kamele conceded, that Professor Kiladi was something... less than... compliant.

"I have undertaken the impossible!" he declared at last, with a rueful smile and a regretful shake of his head. "I cannot teach you a sunset, Scholar. You must experience it at first-hand."

Kamele put her – second? third? – empty glass down on the tray and considered him. "All right," she said equitably. "Show me."

Both well-marked brows rose, and he lifted his hand, the twisted silver ring on the smallest finger catching the light.

"Scholar, you must forgive an old man his – "

He paused, his expression arrested, seeming scarcely to breathe. Concerned, Kamele dared to touch his deeply braided sleeve.

"Professor Kiladi, are you all right?"

He blinked as if he were bringing her back into focus and gave her a smile that seemed... less genuine than his other smiles.

"A consultation with my muse; I did not mean to alarm you." He glanced down into his half-full glass, then up into her face.

"If you wish it, I will be pleased to show you a sunset, Scholar Waitley. We merely need to find a time when our schedules – and the planet's rotation – align."

* * * *

"Thank you," Kamele breathed, her eyes still on the violet-drenched horizon. "That was..." Words failed her; she smiled and turned to face him. "Thank you," she said again.

He returned her smile.

"It was no effort of mine, I assure you," he said. "You might experience a sunset yourself every day, if you wished to do so."

"Not every day," she said wistfully. "You saw my schedule!"

"So I did," he acknowledged. "But the fact that you are here proves that there is at least one evening when you may partake of this pleasure."

She nodded, her eyes drawn again to the horizon, where the gaudy display was deepening to black.

"And this is only one of those pleasures you told me of," she said. "Is watching the stars as... glorious?"

"The stars impart a different, but I find, equally satisfying pleasure," he said softly.

"I imagine that it would be difficult to time that particular pleasure," she murmured. "Night Eyes open at tenbell."

"Surely the monitors would not consider someone quietly sitting and looking at the sky a danger?"

"It would be... odd behavior, even if it wasn't specifically on the danger list," she pointed out. "For the purpose of public safety, odd is dangerous."

There was a small pause, and a light sight. "I do keep forgetting," Professor Kiladi said ruefully. "Delgado is a Safe World."

"You say that as if it were... unsavory," Kamele said, turning to look into his face.

He raised an eyebrow. "Unsavory... no. Far different from other worlds? That... yes." He looked out though the final light had faded into night, and was silent long enough that Kamele dared a question.

"What are you thinking?"

"Eh?" He blinked and raised his head, offering her an absentminded smile.

"I was thinking that perhaps I should acquire quarters outside of the Wall."

She turned to stare at him. "Outside of the Wall?" she repeated, shocked to the core of her Mouse's heart.

"Indeed," he said coolly, as if there were nothing remarkable in the plan at all. "A small house, perhaps, down there – " He pointed downhill from their shared seat on the bench in the faculty green.

"In Nonactown?"

"Not, I think, in Efraim itself," he murmured; "the lights would spoil the stars. No... perhaps over there, to the right of town. A small house, with a walled garden, so that I might sit out all night if the fancy takes me, without embarrassment to the Directors."

"Would you do that?" Kamele looked at him doubtfully. His sense of humor was so dry that it was sometimes difficult to know when Professor Kiladi was joking. On this instance, however, he did appear to be serious.

He smiled at her. "I have, alas, been known to take odd fancies. Shall I escort you inside now?"

"Not... just yet," she said, looking down at the lights of the town. She struggled to understand him. To want to live outside of the Wall; distant by choice from one's intellectual colleagues. How odd. And yet – a sunset everyday? That might tempt, she thought.

"Will you grow... crops in your garden?" she asked, as if it were the most usual thing imaginable.

He laughed. "Flowers, I assure you! Perhaps some shrubs. A tree..." He took a breath, and shook his head slightly, as if amused by his own plans.

"Is that another – Outside pleasure?" she asked. "Growing flowers?"

"I fear that it may be," he confessed.

Lights were coming up in the town below. A garden, Kamele thought, with... flowers.

"I would like to see that," she said finally.

"I would be delighted to invite you, once all is accomplished," he answered gallantly.

"And I'd be delighted to accept the invitation." She smiled and rose. "I have to go in and grade papers," she said. She held out a hand and he placed his palm against hers. "Thank you again, Professor Kiladi."

"Please," he said, his rough voice serious, "let me be Jen Sar."

That was another shock, but a pleasant one. She smiled.

"And let me be Kamele," she said.

"Assuredly," he murmured. He stood and offered his arm. Together they strolled back toward the Wall.

Chapter Eight

University of Delgado

Faculty Residence Wall

Quadrant Eight, Building Two

Theo's mumu sang its you're-this-close-to-trouble tune as the bus pulled into the Wall terminal. She threw herself down the exit ramp and ran across the plaza for the entrance.

"Chaos and destruction!" Night Eyes opened at tenbell, but Mice who hadn't had their Gigneri were supposed to be inside by ninebells, or they'd better have a bluekey to show the Safeties at the entrance. Being Outside after curfew without a bluekey – that was a trip to the Safety Office, Kamele and Marjene called in for an instant meeting with a Safety Liaison, and herself presented with a Plan of Behavior. At least, Theo thought, running as fast as she could, that kind of trouble wouldn't pull down the Team average.

"You didn't get enough notes in your file for one day?" she muttered as she slapped her palm against the scan plate and waited in an agony of impatience for the main door to open.

Open it did, painfully slow. She slid through when the gap was wide enough to admit her skinny self, took a breath and walked – calmly – past the Safety station and the Eye, toward the belt platform.

Her mumu thweeped ninebells as she stepped onto the belt for Quadeight Twobuild. Theo sighed in relief – then shook her head. She'd managed to dodge trouble with the Safeties, but she still had her mother to face.

"The bus was late," she said experimentally. While this was actually true, it sounded like an excuse. Kamele – and Father too, if it mattered – would say that it was her responsibility to be sure of the timetable before she traveled, and to plan in advance. She had just assumed that the evening bus would run the same route, and take the same time, as the morning commuter bus – and she'd been wrong.

Unlike the daytime commuter, the late bus wandered the streets of Nonactown, picking up and setting down an astonishing variety of passengers, most of whom stared at her coveralls and sweater like they'd never seen a student before, and two who were definitely the kind of people that Father Looked At. People Father Looked At inevitably looked – and often moved – away. Without Father there, they stared, and then they'd moved, all right. They came over to sit in the seat behind her, whispering loud enough for her to hear.

"Fluffy-headed dacky girls shouldn't be on the bus all alone, should they, Vinter?" the first whispered.

"Dacky girls think the whole world's safe," the second, presumably Vinter, whispered back. "Dacky girls think the Eyes never close."

"The Eyes don't watch everything – even we know that!"

"Got another maybe," Vinter said.

"What's that?"

Vinter's voice sank, though it was still perfectly intelligible to Theo, where she sat very still, with her head turned toward the side screen, pretending hard not to notice them.

"Maybe not a dacky girl at all," he whispered.

There was a moment's silence, then the first one whispered hoarsely. "You mean – a Specialty? Down here?" As near as Theo could tell, he sounded genuinely awed.

"Happens," his friend said sagely. "Knew a techie saved up a whole half-year's cred to have a Specialty come down from the station all dressed up like a Liaden."

"But who'd pay for a fluffy dacky?" the first wondered, and the two of them laughed noisily. Theo bit her lip.

The route map she was staring at flickered, the upcoming stop limned in green.

"That's us, then," said the whisperer named Vinter. There was the sound of shuffling behind her as the two of them got up – while the bus was still moving! – and stepped toward the exit. Theo watched them out of the side of her eyes.

The first nonac looked down at her, giggled, and moved on, shaking his head, as he casually put his hand against the low ceiling, saying, "Wow, this is a rough section of road, ain't it? Hold on tight!"

As if his warning had made it happen, the bus hit a bump, bouncing Theo a little in her seat. The standing nonac slipped, and snatched at the ceiling, his hand covering the Eye mounted there.

The second... paused next to Theo. "Hey, dacky girl."

Theo turned her head carefully, trying to arrange her face into Father's Look. Judging by the way the nonac's grin widened, she didn't do a very good job.

"Be careful," he said, and before she understood what he was going to do, he'd put his hand against her shoulder and shoved her against the screen.

"Stop that!" Theo yelled, but the giggling nonac was already on his way to the opening hatch.

"Go back inside the Wall!" he called over his shoulder – "where a rough bus ride won't bang you around like that!"

His buddy smirked, took his hand off the Eye, and the pair of them were gone, down the ramp and into the low-lit night. The hatch rose, and with a whine of electrics the bus got moving again along its extended route.

Theo looked around her, but she was the last one on the bus. She settled into the corner of her seat, rubbing her shoulder where he'd pushed her...

The Quad Eight belt stop was coming up, she realized, her attention suddenly on the reality at hand. She grabbed the bar and swung onto the platform.

For a moment she stood still, eyes closed while she took a deep breath, like Father had taught her to do. She tried to clear her mind, too, but all her mind wanted to do was try to figure out how mad Kamele was going to be, and what she could say to defend her actions that didn't sound either stupid or antisocial.

Well, she thought, taking another deep breath; I'll just have to improvise.

* * * *

"Theo? I'm home!" Kamele's voice slid off the slick walls, coming back to her in a faint echo. There was no other answer to her call.

"Theo?" Half worried and half irritated, she walked into the dim, untenanted dining alcove. The door to the kitchen was shut tight. Frowning, Kamele opened the door, and touched the kaf's query button. As she had suspected, the last withdrawal on record was breakfast.

Kamele shook her head, irritation edging over worry. This antipathy to the kaf – obviously, she needed to have a chat with her daughter – now. Kamele spun on her heel and headed for Theo's room at a determined pace.

The status light showed that the room was occupied, and Kamele's irritation spiked into anger. Sulking in her room, pretending not to hear – she slapped the entry override.

The door opened, displaying the desk, school book jacked in, but the student nowhere to be seen. A small ball winked red lights at her from beneath the chair. The closet was against the left-hand wall, and a packing cube, too; on the right were two bowls, one filled with water, the other with kibble, and a litter pan. Regardless of the assurance of the status light, the room was empty.

Or not.

"Prrhp?" the orange-and-white cat commented, strutting out from behind the cube. He wove a long, welcoming hug around her ankles before strolling out into the hall.

"Coyster!" Kamele called, but the cat, predictably, kept to his route. She took a breath, adding smuggled cat to the list of her daughter's transgressions. How long had the girl thought she'd get away with that? she thought, snatching her mumu out of her pocket.

She tapped up the parental oversight section and keyed in the tracking request as she walked back down the hall.

Her mumu squeaked.

Startled, Kamele looked down at the screen.

Out of range. The letters were red. Kamele tapped the query button.

The unit you attempting to contact is not responding. The help text scrolled, as if she didn't know that. This may mean that the device has been damaged, or that it is presently located at a point outside the university network. A systemic lapse may, rarely, return a false negative. It is suggested that you wait a few moments and try again. If a second negative is returned, please contact the Office of Academic Safety.

Out of range? Kamele eased down into one of the rickety plastic chairs in the receiving parlor, and pulled Theo's message out of archive.

Gone to buy a rug, back before ninebells. Terse to the point of rudeness, with no please or thank you or request for a bluekey...

Kamele bit her lip, staring hard at the blameless floor. Request for a bluekey... If Theo's mumu was outside the college's network – but surely not! No question that she was headstrong and willful – but even Theo wasn't foolish enough to go Outside without a bluekey –

Unless, she interrupted herself, Theo had a bluekey. What if she had applied to Jen Sar?

Kamele shook her head. No. Theo might have asked, but she would not have talked Jen Sar Kiladi into violating the proprieties. Which left two possibilities: Either there had been a rare momentary stutter of the Wall intranet, or Theo had gone Outside without a bluekey, without asking permission, and without telling her mother where she was going.

Well, thought Kamele, there's a way to test that proposition.

But she didn't immediately tap her mumu. Instead, she sat with it in hand, her eyes on the rug she had brought from home. She and Jen Sar had bought it together, at an eccentric little shop in Nonactown. They'd laid it on the floor of the common room in his house, and there it had stayed, a delight to the eye and the foot until – Kamele shook her head. They'd put it away years ago – she no longer remembered precisely why – and forgotten about it until –

The apartment door twittered, clicked and opened. There was the sound of quick steps, and a quiet, "Oh no, the door!"

Theo stepped into the room.

* * * *

Her mother sat poised on one of the stupid plastic chairs, mumu in hand and an expression of cool remoteness on her face that Theo knew all too well. Kamele was in what Theo privately called her Mother Scholar Mode. What it meant was that Theo was about to be questioned, lectured, then questioned again to be sure that she had internalized her lesson.

She felt her shoulders crawling up toward her ears, fingers unoccupied with handwork curling in toward the palms. She tried to take a deep breath, but her chest was so tight, it –

"Prrpt?" The query was followed by a vigorous bump against her knee. Theo looked down as Coyster finished weaving himself around her ankles. He sat on her foot and wrapped his tail 'round his toes.

You should've told her about Coyster at breakfast, Theo scolded herself. She wouldn't have heard you, anyway.

"Good evening, Theo," Kamele said coolly. "Would you like to tell me where you've been?"

Well, no, Theo thought; I wouldn't. Unfortunately, she couldn't see any way out of it.

"I left a message in your queue," she said, sounding sullen in her own ears. "I went to buy a rug."

"I saw that message. You promised to be back before ninebells, but you failed to tell me where exactly you intended to purchase this... rug."

Theo bent down and picked Coyster up, which at least gave her something to do with her hands. He hooked his front paws over her shoulder and stuck his nose in her ear, purring.

Kamele raised her mumu and Theo saw the glint of red letters on the screen and the unmistakable shape of the Safety Office logo. She swallowed. Had the Eye reported her, after all? But she'd been inside before ninebells!

Perhaps a case of luck over intention, Theo? Father's voice asked from memory, and Theo bit her lip. Great. Like it wasn't bad enough that Kamele was going to lecture her...

"Could you," her mother said quietly, "be a little more specific?"

Might as well, Theo thought, reaching up to stroke Coyster, get it over with. She raised her head and met Kamele's eyes.

"I went to Nonactown," she said. "To a store called Gently Used." She hesitated, then decided that explaining a bit further wouldn't seem to be a excuse. "Father had taken me there, when... before."

Kamele... blinked, her expression wavering. She looked down quickly, and cleared her throat.

"I see," she said after a long moment. "And you went alone on this... expedition?"

"Yes," Theo admitted, adding, "I knew exactly where I was going," which might have been – just a small – excuse.

"Sometimes," Kamele said, glancing down again, "the unexpected happens, even when we know exactly where we're going." She sat up straighter in her chair and put the mumu on the battered table top.

"Traveling to Nonactown by yourself demonstrates an extreme lack of judgment, Theo. I'd thought you were more mature, but obviously I was mistaken. For the remainder of this grade-term you will go to school and to teamplay, and then you will come home. We'll revisit this subject at the Interval, and evaluate. If, at that time, I see evidence of more mature behavior, we'll discuss an adjustment to these arrangements. Am I clear?"

Theo stared. No lecture? And hardly any questions? That was so unlike Kamele that for a moment Theo forgot to be upset about being grounded.

"Theo," Kamele repeated sternly. "Am I clear?"

"Yes," Theo assured her, hurriedly. "However, I have... conflicts."

Kamele looked stormy. "And they are?"

"Tomorrow after teamplay, I have an appointment with Marjene," Theo said hurriedly. "And on Oktavi, I'm... Father and I meet for dinner."

Her mother sighed. "You may keep your appointment tomorrow with Marjene, of course, and will come directly home afterward. As for the Oktavi arrangement with Professor Kiladi..." She glanced down – maybe at the floor, or maybe, Theo thought, holding her breath, at the rug.

"I will consider that, and let you know my decision tomorrow. Is there anything else?"

"No, Mother," Theo said meekly.

Kamele nodded. "Where's your rug?" she asked suddenly.

"My – rug?"

"You went to Nonactown to buy a rug, you said. Where is it? Or didn't Ms. Dail have anything to your liking?"

"I... she..." Theo closed her eyes and concentrated for a moment on the solid presence of Coyster beneath her hands – soft over hard, she thought, and stroked him again before opening her eyes and looking at her parent.

"It's going to be delivered," she said steadily. "Tomorrow. After teamplay."

"Delivered," Kamele echoed, and sighed. Theo waited, shoulders tense despite Coyster's warmth – but Kamele only sighed again and shook her head.

"Very well. My last subject for the evening." She frowned. "Smuggling a cat into this apartment shows another disturbing lack of judgment. How long did – "

"I didn't smuggle him!" Theo interrupted, stung. "He brought himself!"

Kamele frowned. "I beg your pardon?"

"He brought himself," Theo repeated. "I was packing – he must've jumped into the cube when I wasn't looking, and then I was in a hurry, so I just sealed the lid without – and when I opened it here, there he was!"

"And you didn't bother to tell me?"

"It was late," Theo said, trying to be as diplomatic as possible about her mother's state last night, "and you were – you were tired. I was going to tell you tonight, but – "

"But other matters intervened," Kamele finished for her, lips pressed tight. She sighed. "Call Professor Kiladi, please, and ask him to arrange to retrieve his cat."

Theo stared at her, tears rising, hands pressing Coyster so tight against her shoulder that he grumbled a complaint and squirmed. She let him go, barely attending as he dropped to the floor and strolled over to sit next to Kamele's chair.

"Kamele..." Theo began, horrified to hear her voice quavering. Her mother raised a hand.

"Now, Theo."

Bottom lip caught between her teeth, she pulled her mumu out, tapped the quick-key, and raised it to her ear.

"Good evening, Theo." Father didn't sound surprised to hear from her. On the other hand, he didn't sound pleased either. Neutral, that was it. Inside her head, she could see the bland expression that went with that tone.

"Father," she said miserably. "Um..."

She took a breath, ducking her head to wipe her damp cheek on her shoulder. No word from Father. He would, Theo knew, wait until she told him what she was calling for. Silence didn't bother Father, like it did some people...

She cleared her throat. "Coyster's here," she managed, voice shaking.

"Ah. I'm pleased to know where he is. I'd thought he was angry with me for having misplaced you, and was sulking."

"No," Theo said shakily. "He packed himself into my cube and I didn't know he had come along until I opened it last night."

"I see. Well, he appears to have decided upon his posting. I can hardly argue with his choice."

"Yes, well... Kamele, um..." She closed her eyes, picturing him in her head, black eyes sharp, face attentive, waiting politely for her to continue. "Kamele asked me to call you and – and ask you to, to arrange to... take him back."

The silence from his side continued longer than she had expected. Her stomach had almost tied itself into a knot when he sighed.

"Theo," he said gently – no – carefully. "Please ask your mother if she will speak with me."

"Yes, sir." She diffidently looked to her mother. "Father... wonders if you'll talk to him."

For a second, she thought Kamele was going to refuse. Then she sighed sharply and thrust out a hand. Theo crossed the room and gave her the mumu.

"Jen Sar?" she began, in her briskest, coolest voice. "I – " She stopped. Closed her eyes. Coyster stood up, stretched – and jumped into her lap.

"Yes," Kamele said. "I am aware of your thesis that cats are symbiotic rather than parasitic. However, the fact remains that – " She stopped again, mouth tight. Coyster bumped his head against her free hand; she raised it absently and rubbed his ears. Theo held her breath.

"That's nonsense!" Kamele exclaimed. "There's nothing strange to her here! She has her Team, and her school work, and her – " Another sharp silence, while her fingers continued to rub Coyster's ears.

"Very well," Kamele said finally. "But only until the end of the term, are we – You're quite welcome, Jen Sar... Yes, of course – and you, as well." She turned the mumu off, placed it on the table next to hers, and sat staring at the pair of them for a long moment. Theo kept as still as she could, hardly daring to breathe. Father had talked Kamele into letting Coyster stay, but that didn't mean that Theo couldn't talk her right out of it again by being a nidj.

Finally, Kamele looked up, and gave Theo a small smile.

"Professor Kiladi makes a strong case for the benefits of Coyster's continued residence here – at least until the end of the term," she said moderately. She picked Coyster up and put him gently on the floor, then rose, brushing cat fur off her coveralls.

"It's long past time for dinner," she said, and held out her hand. "Shall we see if the kaf will provide anything moderately edible?"

That was a peace offering. Theo smiled, reluctantly, and came forward to put her hand into Kamele's.

"All we can do," she said, "is try."

Chapter Nine

Teamplay: Scavage

Professor Stephen M. Richardson Secondary School

University of Delgado

"Four Team Three is the next to lowest ranked team in Fourth Form," Roni said, loudly, as they left their Ready Room for the first class of the day. "Why do you think that is, Theo?"

You know better than to answer that, Theo told herself, and bit her lip. Roni wasn't just bad at consensus, sometimes it seemed like she was actively against it.

"I guess you never earned the Team a down," Kartor said, hotly. Theo blinked. Kartor never got into arguments.

" 'Course I have," Roni snapped. "But even you have to admit that five in one day is... exceptional."

Kartor's ears turned red. "What's that supposed to – "

"Casting blame is antisocial," Lesset spoke up. "We're a Team; we're supposed to help each other." She stared at Kartor, which was, Theo thought, trying to ignore the knot in her stomach, not fair. Kartor hadn't started the argument.

"Are we supposed to pretend that we don't know which member of our Team is pulling the rest of us down with her?" Roni rounded on Lesset, her chin and shoulders pushed forward. "We're supposed to practice intellectual honesty, aren't we?" She threw a nasty look over her shoulder at Theo. "And advertency."

Theo felt a rush of heat, and looked down to make sure of her footing as she mounted the belt.

"That's aggressive, Roni," Estan said sternly. Next to him Anj smiled absently and nodded.

"That's all right," said a cool, amused voice that Theo barely recognized as her own. "She's just peeved because, without me, she'd be the one who'd earned the most downs for the Team. Isn't that right, Roni?"

Kartor laughed, Lesset gasped, Estan looked stern, Anj kept on smiling.

Roni's face turned an interesting sort of purple-red color. Her lips parted. Theo watched her interestedly, wondering what she would say next.

But apparently Roni thought better of taking the argument further. She closed her mouth and faced front, shoulders stiff.

Theo took a shaky, secret breath, and looked around at the passing corridor, pretending she didn't see Estan frowning at her.

* * * *

In spite of the acrimonious start, the rest of the day went smoothly for Four Team Three. 'Course, Theo admitted to herself, as they filed into study hall, that was mostly because their Team mates had been very careful to keep Theo and Roni as far away from each other as possible. Theo did her part by grabbing the study table at the very back of the room, and opened her school book with a feeling of relief tainted by the knowledge that the worst part of the day was still before her.

She'd just have to hang back at teamplay, she decided. Four Team Three couldn't afford any more downs – Roni was right about that. The best thing to do would be to let her teammates play while she concentrated on not bumping into anybody, or falling, or tripping over the cracks in the floor...

Theo sighed. For the millionth-and-twelfth time, she wished she wasn't so clumsy. In her head, she wasn't clumsy at all. In her head, she could see a pattern of how she and all the people and things in her vicinity ought to move, but when she tried to move like the pattern, she'd inevitably trip over a teammate, or pull them down, like she had done to Lesset yesterday. Teamplay was worse, even, than walking down the hall; and scavage was worst of all.

She sighed again as she remembered that she was supposed to have a "chat" with Marjene after teamplay. As her mentor, Marjene was committed to helping Theo negotiate and internalize the intricacies of social and intellectual interaction – that's what the Concierge said. Theo knew Marjene wanted to help make things easier for her, and she felt guilty – a little – for not liking her better and for not taking her advice more often.

Still, she thought, in an attempt to cheer herself up, after she lived through teamplay and her chat with Marjene, she could look forward to the delivery of her rug.

...which was good, she acknowledged, frowning at her 'book, but didn't quite make up for the fact that Kamele hadn't yet given her a decision about Oktavi evening. She had to see Father. The 'book's screen blurred, and Theo bit her lip, blinking hard – and blinked again, staring at the unfamiliar icon sitting in the bottom left corner of the screen.

It was a small, even a demure, icon, in official-looking dark green: a coiled Serpent of Knowledge, Research floating above it in precise green letters. Theo frowned. She was certain the green icon hadn't been on her screen yesterday, so it must've been downloaded from one of today's classes, but... All their Sci work was done in Group Space, and Professor Wilit, their Social Engineering instructor, hadn't shared any links with the class today. Though Professor Wilit didn't always announce downloads or extra work assignments.

Well, Theo thought, it couldn't have gotten there by accident. She must've just not noticed the download.

"Advertency," she muttered, remembering Roni's jibe. "As if."

She touched the green icon.

It unfolded, like a flower blooming, until the entire screen was limned in green, with a query box centered.

Name? The floating green text asked.

A quiz, Theo thought, staring at the familiar layout. How in chaos had she missed that?

She keyed in her name. The center box faded as a new one glowed into being at center top.

Protocol, the floating text said. List primary line of inquiry.

Theo closed her eyes, thinking back to Social Engineering. She didn't remember Professor Wilit saying anything about a solo quiz, or an unscheduled paper. On the other hand, she discovered to her chagrin, she didn't remember much about any of the day's classes; it was like she'd been doing the work in her sleep.

She took a breath and brought her attention back to the screen.

Primary line of inquiry, for a Social Engineering solo? She chewed her lip. It had to be a Social Engineering solo, she decided. It was just like Professor Wilit. So. The little bit she remembered from today's class had to do with the mechanisms that societies put into place in order to enforce the goals of that society. She probably couldn't go wrong by initiating a line of inquiry into an enforcer protocol. The problem was narrowing the subject.

The Eyes don't watch everything, she heard the bus whisperer's voice again. Even we know that.

Which was, now that she thought about it, kind of an... interesting... thing to know. Especially since she knew that the Eyes did watch everything. It was knowing that, as much as the Eyes themselves, that kept society safe.

Except... getting pushed wasn't exactly safe, was it? she asked herself, and reached for the keys.

Primary line of inquiry: The Eyes, their purpose and their programmed watch cycles, she typed, and paused...

The box closed.

"I wasn't finished," Theo muttered, tapping the screen where the box had been. It did not reappear, but a third one did, at the right margin.

Result Sought: A graph or map, Theo typed rapidly, illustrating unwatched areas, with timetable.

The box faded, and a fourth came into existence on the left.

Deadline? it inquired, which gave her pause until she remembered that Professor Wilit never gave them deadlines for their work. She'd told them during their first class that she'd be doing a term-long study, and would share the results with them before the Interval. She'd said it would amuse them. Theo wasn't so sure – and, anyway, she liked to get her work done promptly. It wasn't like there was a lot of it, though if you listened to Lesset...

ASAP, Theo typed. The final box faded.

Accepted, came the message, and Theo nodded, fingering open a notepad and beginning to tap in a preliminary source list. She wondered if anyone at the Safety Office would talk to her about the Eyes, and if she should ask Professor Wilit for a study-chit. Each student got three per grade-term, and she'd already used one of hers. If the Safeties wouldn't talk to her, even with the chit, then she'd have wasted it, and would have only one in reserve for the rest of the term.

Her mumu was suddenly warm, signaling receipt of a message. Theo pulled it out of the pocket in her coveralls and thumbed the window up; her stomach clenching when she saw the text was from Kamele. If she couldn't see Father on Oktavi...

Theo, you may keep your dinner engagement with Professor Kiladi.

That was all.

Theo smiled and just sat there, holding her mumu and rereading that single line until the warning whistle sounded and it was time to pack up and go to teamplay.

* * * *

They'd changed clothes and got to the practice floor ahead of time with Roni's, "Don't be slow, don't be late!" echoing through the corridor the whole way. Of course they weren't going to be late – everyone on the team was trying to be on their mettle with the last few sessions worth of setbacks and point-bleeds threatening to drop Four Team Three to the lowest in the school for the year, much less to the lowest ever in the team's history. Seventy-eight Four Team Threes had come before them, and only five had had lower scores at this point in the year.

Father had once threatened to write a column for The Faq in order to gain, so he said, a greater audience for what he called the Fallacy of Infinite Comparability. Kamele had given him one of those frowns that quivered at the edges, like she was covering up a laugh, and said that if he wanted to commit academic suicide over a triviality it was up to him.

Apparently he had decided that publishing the Fallacy wasn't quite worth academic suicide, because the column never appeared. Despite that, Theo knew he had a valid point – comparing their team to teams from so long ago was... meaningless, really, given tech advancements, alterations in teaching theory and four dozen other facts. She felt the weight of team history anyway, and it wasn't made any lighter by the fact that she was the one holding the rest of them down.

Theo escaped the girls' dressing room with more relief than usual.

Roni'd been walking around with her shirt half-on explaining in a loud voice to the female team members the importance of bringing the Team average up, starting right now; and some more time complaining that she'd have to buy another new set of blouses, and maybe new shoes, too, because she was growing so much.

"Every one of us has got to start acting mature!" she'd said sternly, veering between topics like a honeybumble between two nectar-filled blossoms. "We've got to take responsibility for our own actions and support the team properly!"

Theo had tried not to cringe under the barrage of "mature, growing-up, and act-adult," sentiments Roni'd thrown around – it sounded like she was just re-broadcasting the last things she'd heard from her mentor. Worse, Roni had particularly stared at Theo's chest when when she'd said, "growing up."

It wasn't until Theo arrived at the game court that she realized why Roni had been talking quite so loudly and importantly. Normally, Roni wasn't much for the active games like Scavage – she said they made her sweat too much – but this was her second turn as captain, and Roni liked to be in charge!

That's antisocial! Theo told herself, and bent into her warm ups with a will, trying to focus on the Team, rather than the individuals.

As she warmed up, she heard the sounds of the balls being readied above the court; the slow clunks and chirps as they rode the ball-lift up to the ceiling feed tubes. Involuntarily, she looked up – but the launch bin wasn't open yet so she wasn't really trying to get a jump on the game.

The nearby smack of shoes against floor brought her attention to court-level again, stomach clenching as she saw that Roni was deliberately coming toward her. She was almost as noisy as Lesset, Theo thought, like she thought making noise was proof of effort. Roni came closer, the captain's band already around her arm, and her Team smile locked in place. Her forehead showed a sheen already, as if even the warm-ups were work for her.

"Theo, I just wanted to say – I don't believe those rumors that you knocked Lesset down on purpose," Roni said surprisingly. "I was right there and I saw the whole thing. It really was an accident! I think you really do try to be a good Team member, but you can't help it if you're clumsy!"

Theo stared, feeling her fingers curl in toward the palms. She needed her needle and her thread right now, she thought, or she was going to – going to –

Orange flashed at the edge of her vision. Gasping, she spun, and called out to the Team.

"Professor Viverain is on the court!"

Viverain was the acting head of the L & R department, but unlike Professor Appletorn, who held a full-time collegiate position, she was a traveling academic who sought work where she could now that her old college had been decertified. Viverain rarely instructed the Four Team students, but when she did she wanted them to play just as sharp as graduating Fifth Forms.

"Four Team Three, I expect everyone to be in position by the time the ball-bin is full!" Viverain called out. "We're going right to a game!"

* * * *

Groronk!

The first round buzzer went off and the bin overhead emitted a rumplety-bumplety sound as the balls loaded. The Team members stared up into the bin, trying to get a look at the balls they'd drawn – and each called a number. The Team Captain would then make the consensus call. Together, they had all of ten clicks to bid.

"Fourteen," said Lesset, which was predictable, because fourteen was about the least you could score on a round.

The greens... Theo thought she saw a lot of greens! Green was a high score ball if you could get a good shot...

"Sixteen," said Kartor. Theo thought that was a mite low... but the balls still weren't finished loading.

"Nineteen!" Estan and Anj called at practically the same second. That was starting to be high, in Theo's opinion... but no, maybe they'd seen how many greens there were.

Surer now, Theo called out her bid – "Eighteen!" – just as the bidding clock hit eight.

Roni stared, soundless, at the overhead... the clock hit nine, then...

"Twenty-one!" she called; the official Team bid. Everyone else gasped. That hadn't been a consensus call!

The buzzer double-clucked and the first ball began to roll down the spiraling wire chute, dropping toward to the launch spout. Roni hurried down court while her team members darted glances and shrugged shoulders at each other. Twenty-one would take a lot of luck.

Overhead, the chute vibrated and sang as the ball picked up momentum.

"Let's go!" Theo called. She pointed at Kartor, whose face was just shy of grim.

"Third Ring!" she said. "Estan, you back Lesset in Second. Anj – " but Anj had already drifted dreamily off down-court. Theo sighed. The Team Captain should've set the positions, but Roni didn't care where the rest of them were, as long as she was in First Ring, where scoring was easiest.

Roni liked to score.

* * * *

They did work up a sweat on the first round, with Theo's off-the-cuff positioning proving to be reasonable. She and Kartor were in the outer, largest, Ring. They could, if required, dive or drive into Ring Two. Ordinarily, you tried to get fast people into the middle ring... but having Lesset on one side of Ring Two wasn't too bad, because not only could Estan help her when she flubbed, but Team members in Rings One or Three could back her up, too. Depending how, and how bad, she flubbed, if the ball got back into Two or Three on the other side of the court, it might still be playable. Roni was hogging Ring One, even though she shared it with Anj.

On good days Anj was their best player; and she could rove into Ring Two at need. Playing at the edge of Two, where Lesset should be, she could keep the errors to a minimum. Estan played opposite Anj except when back-up was required, and Lesset wandered between her supposed posts, sometimes blocking good passes and other times causing bad bounces.

On the whole, they did better then they had a right to on the first set. A typical ball started out on the spiral, gaining speed, rapidly, until one of the rotating tubular launch points matched the slot the ball was passing over. The circular court was entirely contained within a tall thinly-padded wall and it was Kartor and Theo's job to gather the ball off the wall, if that had been its trajectory, and sling it underhanded toward the center; or if it were falling elsewhere in the outer ring to make sure that it didn't continue to the outside or bounce away from the other team members.

Once in Ring One – or if lucky tossed or kicked from Ring Two – the ball had to be scored by getting it – for a single point – into one of the waist-high stationary chutes on a flaring parabolic column rising seamlessly from the floor and extending – with a similar flare at the top – to the ceiling. The three rotating chutes higher up the column scored more, with the highest, fastest and smallest chute scoring top points.

The column at school was well padded at the base and, like the spirals, formed of a lightweight open mesh fabric mounted on highly visible mechanicals. In the higher levels and in the pro game the column was a near invisible crystal structure which was often a nexus of collision, but which could be used to aim and deflect the ball to someone in better position for a shot. In this scholastic version, the column was less dependable as a tactic; its safety factor a minus rather than a plus.

Time was of the essence in every version of the game, because as soon as a ball crossed into Ring One, or numbered beats after it crossed into Ring Two, the next ball started down the spiral. It was bad form – and cost points – to scavage, or score, the second ball first.

They only did that three times, the scavage, and came out of the game with twenty-three points, which was good for a first go, and was aided by a lucky score on the part of Estan, who tossed the ball into the rotating upper goal just as the timer buzzed, and Roni calling for it from the other side.

* * * *

The second round was a disaster.

Lesset managed to toss two balls in entirely the wrong direction, causing two double scavages early in the set after Roni had bid a slightly more conservative twenty in the face of her teammates' grumbling of how lucky they'd been in the first game. Everyone rushed to try to make up the difference, the sounds of their running sounding extra clumsy to Theo, and it didn't help that Viverain added to the noise and confusion, by leaning over the wall of the Instructor's Tower, shouting suggestions for all of them.

Twice, Viverain called encouragement, as Kartor and Theo got the ball toward the center, but once into the Lesset Zone things tended to go astray. Lesset's shoes constantly scraped and squealed against the floor as she tried to get back to where she wasn't, and Roni's footfalls sounded like nads slapping water in the pool. In the end, the team missed their bid by five, with the instructor counting out their errors, loudly, the while.

* * * *

"Theo, you've got to get me the ball more!" Roni was panting, her face almost as red as her shorts. "I think if you hadn't kept passing to Kartor and Estan you really could have helped me score more. You know, maybe if you'd managed to get the ball to other females we'd've been in the game!"

Theo gritted her teeth. She'd counted. She'd passed the ball to Anj nine times, Kartor seven times, Roni five times, Estan four times, and Lesset three. Far more... oh, never mind. Roni's real complaint was that she hadn't scored when she had the ball, and that wasn't Theo's fault.

Viverain leaned over the wall. "Waitley, you've got a good touch on those passes. You might go to the inside a bit more, but otherwise... you're keeping Third Ring strong. And you, Grinmordi – you've got to keep an eye on where your tenders are. Instead of trying to intercept you ought to be letting some of those go through for the best shot."

Theo saw the look Roni gave her as Viverain clicked the remote for the round-buzzer. The balls tumbled into the rig and before anyone else could bid – without even looking up! – Roni called, "Twenty-five, Team, twenty-five!"

Theo caught the shock on Viverain's face, then she was running, because the first ball through was a blue one – the smallest and hence the fastest to the floor.

If the second set had been a disaster the third was always just one lucky move away from it. Lesset scored early on an improbable push shot using the column for a bounce-in, then Kartor went down against the wall hard digging another one out of the joint, his throw finding an off-balance Theo who managed anyway to fling it to First Ring, where Roni was in just the right spot to score.

They played hard, and finally it seemed there was some rhythm to what they were doing. Anj woke up, and they all started feeding the ball to her – everybody, that is, except Roni, who started calling for every shot to be sent to the captain. Three in a row went to her and were flubbed in a flap of mis-worn shoes, and suddenly there was a scavage, which was Estan's problem as he mishandled a cross circle pass from Theo, badly cutting their chance of making the bid.

The next-to-last ball was blue, bounding wildly off the wall before Kartor could get to it. Theo backed him up, snagged it and threw in the direction of Second Ring. It should've been Anj's play, but Lesset intercepted, and flung it purposefully but far too hard toward Roni. Roni bobbled the ball; the spinning goal rejected her throw and her rebound. By then a green ball was in the tubes. Roni called for the blue ball again, but Anj had it and made the goal with a casual one-handed toss.

Theo thought the green ball's momentum would likely bring it to her. She started moving, trying to position herself, but as the ten-tick gong sounded the ball found a slot and launched itself toward Kartor. He bobbled it, managed to push it to Theo, who was rushing toward Second Ring while the sound of approaching footsteps grew louder.

"It's mine, give to to me!" Roni's voice was loudest; but the others were calling out "Time!" and "Shoot!" and over it all Viverain bellowed, "Now, Theo!"

Theo's back was toward the goal; she held the ball lightly on her fingertips, and spun, ignoring the sounds of steps and the shouting; brought the ball up and threw it at the spinning top goal as hard as she –

Kathunk! Something hard slammed into Theo; she flung her hand out, grabbing for balance – there was a squeal of shoes, and a splat! The game buzzer went off at the same time as a high keening sound began and Roni's voice went from screech to howl.

"You killed me! Blood! Blood! I'm bleeding!"

Knocked breathless by the fall, Theo stared up at her, seeing blood all over the other girl's face. She tried to get up, then rolled away, arms folded over her head to protect it from Roni's kicks.

"Killer! Sociopath! Killer!"

"That's enough!" Viverain shouted. The yelling and the kicking stopped, but Theo still huddled on the floor, wondering dully how many downs she'd earned the Team this time.

Chapter Ten

Grandmother's Library

Quadrant Three Services Zone

Faculty Residence Wall

University of Delgado

A Safety arrived with the Aid Team.

Viverain pointed one A-Teamer at Roni, hunched over on the bench with a wad of disposable towels held to her face, and the second at Theo, sitting on the floor with her back against the wall, and her forehead against her knees. Then she frowned at the Safety.

"What do you want?"

The red-headed woman raised her hands, showing Viverain empty hands. "You called for an Aid Team, which means injuries. Injuries usually mean an unsafe condition exists. And, since one of those involved is Theo Waitley..."

"Theo didn't do anything!" That was Kartor, sounding... angry.

He better watch it, Theo thought dismally; or they'll put a note in his file.

"I'm sorry, Kartor, but that's not correct," Viverain said sternly. "Theo did do something. She played the game, and she pushed herself to excel for the good of the Team. That's not 'nothing.' "

"She tried to kill me," Roni moaned.

Viverain tsk'd. "Nobody ever died of a bloody nose."

The A-Teamer knelt next to Theo, medscan in hand. "What hurts?" she asked, her eyes on the readout.

Everything, Theo thought. She lifted her head with an effort, and took a deep breath that ended with a wince and a catch.

"Ribs ache?" the A-Teamer asked.

"A little," Theo admitted, and held still while the other scanned.

"Nothing broken," the A-Teamer said slowly. "There's going to be some bruising, and some discomfort for the next few days. I'm going to give you an analgesic and a muscle relaxant right now to take the edge off the discomfort and keep you from stiffening up..." She unrolled her dart pack. Theo held out her hand, barely noticing the minor sting.

"How'd you happen to get those bruises?" the A-Teamer asked as she re-rolled the pack.

Theo shook her head. "I don't really – "

"Her teammate," Viverain said, suddenly appearing over them. "The Team Captain, in fact – kicked her while she was down on her back on the floor with the wind knocked out of her. She was on the floor because the Team Captain knocked her down, trying to grab the ball out of her hands. I was astounded; and I hope never," Viverain said, in her scavage-court voice, "I hope never again to see such a blatant and damaging display of ego over Team!"

The court was silent. Viverain hunkered down next to Theo.

"How're you doing, Waitley?"

Theo looked down, biting her lip. "I'm all right, ma'am."

Viverain sighed.

"Listen to me, Waitley," she said, as the A-Teamer rose and moved away. "This wasn't your fault. You were doing the job that needed to be done. Mason put herself in the way; she got hurt, and then she did her best to hurt you. It's not you who's anti-social – and it's not you who's getting a note in her file." She paused. "Theo, look at me."

Slowly, Theo raised her head and met Viverain's eyes. The L & R professor grinned.

"That's the spirit!" she said and rose, holding down a broad hand.

Theo took the hand and Viverain pulled her lightly to her feet.

"Take a couple deep breaths," she said. "See how those ribs're feeling."

Theo nodded, carefully filling her lungs. It hurt, but not so sharp. Must be the analgesic, she thought, and looked up as someone else approached.

It was the red-headed Safety, and she was frowning.

"You need to have a serious talk with your mentor, Ms. Waitley. You can't help having physical limitations. However, you do have an obligation to society to insure that your limitations don't harm other people."

Like she didn't know that. Theo took a careful breath.

"I have an appointment with my mentor right after we're finished here," she said, her voice sounding thin and not too steady.

The Safety nodded. "I'll append my recommendations to Professor Viverain's report," she said. "Your mother and your mentor will receive both – and of course a copy will be placed in your file."

"Sure it will," Theo muttered, which was stupid, but if the Safety heard, she decided to pretend otherwise.

"All right," Viverain called as the A-Teamers and the Safety left the court. "Time to get going, people! There's another team coming in to play!"

* * * *

Marjene's booth was in Grandmother's Library, all the way over in Quad Three. Theo arrived late, which Marjene was bound to mark her down for. At the least, it was disrespectful to be late to a meeting. At the worst, according to Dr. Wilit, being late to a meeting could be seen as an attempt to assert superiority over the other attendees.

She certainly didn't want to be disrespectful of Marjene. Marjene was there to help her. And as for asserting superiority – if her ribs didn't ache so much, Theo might've laughed. And she really didn't want another note in her file.

Still, she couldn't quite make herself hurry across the Service Zone's wide lobby. She set her feet carefully, and kept to the edge, where there was less traffic, rather than cutting straight across the middle to Grandmother's door.

Most of the traffic came from the Mother-Daughter Center, where women who were secure enough in their careers went to arrange for a child. They passed Theo briskly, some by themselves, some arm-in-arm with a friend, some with heads together, giggling; some serious. Theo bit her lip. Kamele would have taken Aunt Ella with her, when she decided it was time; they would have gone through the files, and checked them against Kamele's Daughter Book, where she'd written down all the hopes and dreams she had for her own child. They'd have made their choice; filed it, and paid the fee. After the mandatory three-day waiting period, Kamele would have returned for the implant, confident in her choice.

Theo sighed, wondering bleakly if Kamele would have continued, had she known that all of her careful planning would produce a physically challenged daughter who couldn't go three days in a row without getting another note in her file.

Probably not, she decided. And as for the unknown sperm donor...

The door to Grandmother's Library was just ahead. Theo took a deep breath, wincing when her ribs grabbed, and put her hand on the plate.

She hadn't gone two steps down the row, when her mentor swept out of the booth at the right rear, and folded her into a voluminous embrace, pack and all.

"Sweetie! You must be exhausted." She stepped back, to Theo's relief; Marjene's hug had hurt her bruised ribs.

"Come on back," her mentor was saying. "I've ordered us some juice and cookies."

Theo sighed. Marjene always ordered juice and cookies. Sharing food was a social method of reinforcing a personal bond, Dr. Wilit said. Following Marjene down the dim, carpeted hallway to her booth, Theo wondered what shape their relationship might have taken without the frequent application of sugared snacks.

That's not fair, she told herself sternly, as she slid her pack off, and swung up onto a stool. Marjene was here to help her.

"Here you are, sweetie." Marjene put a disposable cup in front of her, and Theo bit her lip. Two "sweeties" inside of as many minutes was not good news. Marjene must've already read the incident report.

Theo picked the cup up, more for something to do with her hands than because she wanted the juice. What she wanted to do was get out her handwork, and just... be alone... for a while. Unfortunately, it didn't look like she was going to be alone anytime soon, and as for the handwork... Marjene would be disappointed if Theo succumbed to her "nervous habit," and Marjene was already plenty disappointed.

Theo sipped the tepid, too sweet beverage, put the cup back on the table, and folded her hands tightly together on her lap.

"That's better," her mentor said, sitting back with a smile. "You've had quite an eventful few days, haven't you? Is there anything you'd like to share?"

No, Theo thought crankily; there isn't. She didn't feel like talking to anybody. She wished she was sitting on the bench in the garden at home, the breeze in her hair, and the birds chattering in the jezouli bushes...

Marjene's face suddenly went all wavy and soft as Theo's eyes filled with tears. She tried to blink them away, but they spilled over. Horrified, she looked down, and the tears dripped onto the tense knot work of her fingers.

"I guess you've seen the reports already," she said, her voice wobbly. "How I made Lesset fall yesterday, and hit Roni with a ball just now at teamplay."

There was a small pause before Marjene said, "Well, yes, I have seen them. But they only tell me what happened. They don't tell me how you feel, Theo."

Theo sniffed and thought about Coyster, which was a mistake, because that made her think about her room at home, and her mobile, and her pictures, and the fish swimming in the floor...

"I feel bad," she said, and reached for one of the disposacloths Marjene always had on hand, dried her face and blew her nose. Her mentor waited until she had finished, and nodded encouragingly when Theo raised her head.

"Hurting other people does make us feel bad," Marjene said gently. She tapped the display set into the table before her. "Yesterday's incident report states that Lesset wasn't injured, which is very fortunate. Today, though – Roni was physically hurt, and badly frightened, too."

Theo nodded and swallowed. "She got in front of the ball."

Marjene looked at her with gentle disappointment.

"Roni may have gotten in front," she said, "but you threw the ball. I know you didn't hurt her deliberately, Theo, but you did hurt her. You must take responsibility for your own actions – and the consequences."

"I know," Theo sighed, and untangled her fingers so she could have another sip of too-sweet juice that did nothing to ease the dryness of her throat. "I did hit her with the ball. But she was in the wrong place – out of position. If she hadn't – "

"Theo," Marjene said sternly. "Are you about to cast blame?"

She bit her lip, put the cup down and stared at it, hard, for several heartbeats, as she followed the thought to its conclusion.

"Stating a fact," she said slowly, looking up into Marjene's round brown eyes, "isn't casting blame. I threw the ball – that's a fact. The ball hit Roni in the nose – that's a fact. Roni was out of position – that's a fact, too. And it's also a fact that she wouldn't have gotten hit in the nose if she'd been in First Ring, where she belonged."

Marjene blinked, and looked down at her display, lips pursed.

"I... see," she said eventually. When she looked up again, her face was sad.

"Theo, I'm going to tell you something that maybe I shouldn't, but I can't just sit back and let you continue to hurt people – and yourself! I want what's best for you, and this – this isn't good for you." She leaned across the table and put her hand over Theo's.

"Sweetie, you know you're physically limited. Your mother and I have talked to you about it; you've seen the notes in your file. What you may not have known is – we can help you, Theo. You don't have to, to knock down your friends, or hurt your teammates. There are medications – very simple, very safe medications – that can cure you!"

Theo wished Marjene didn't have her hand pinned to the table. She also wished that Marjene would stop looking at her like she was a wet kitten or something...

"The thing is, sweetie – your mother knows about these cures. The Office of Academic Safety has approached her several times, asking that she help you. And she's always refused." Marjene smiled, but even Theo could see that it was strained.

"I'm sure she has her reasons – very good reasons! But sometimes a mother's love... Well, we're not impartial about our children. That's why our children have mentors! And that's why I'm telling you this. You haven't had your Gigneri, and your mother has the right to refuse in your name – without consulting you. But, now that you're informed, if you were to tell me, right now, that you wanted to accept a cure..."

Shock brought Theo up straight in her chair, her hand snatched from beneath Marjene's and fisted in her lap. Her mentor was trying to talk her into – what was her mentor trying to talk her into, anyway?

"Theo? I know it's brand-new information. Take a couple minutes to think about how nice it would be if you never tripped, or hurt anyone else, ever again."

Theo blinked. A cure, Marjene said. And Kamele had rejected it. Why would she do that? Kamele didn't like the notes and reports that came in every time Theo broke something, or tripped, or – any more than Theo liked being the cause of the reports. She'd leap at a cure, if there was one.

Wouldn't she?

"Sweetie?" Marjene murmured.

Theo shook her head. "I – I think I'd better talk to Kamele," she said slowly. "I need to understand why she decided not to accept the cure for me. And... I want to talk to Father, too." Yes, she thought, she needed to know what Father thought about this whole thing – the cure, Kamele's refusal, and especially Marjene's motivation for telling her something even she said she had no right to share!

"Theo!" her mentor snapped.

Sheer amazement brought Theo's eyes up. Marjene never snapped! And – yes, her mouth was set in a thin, straight line, her big brown eyes glittering.

Marjene, Theo thought, beginning to feel a little irritated herself, was angry.

"Why shouldn't I talk to Kamele and to Father?" she snapped back. "I – "

"Stop that right now," Marjene interrupted, which was something else she never did. Theo bit her lip, took a breath so deep her bruised ribs protested, counted to twelve, and took another, slightly less deep, breath.

"Thank you," Marjene said more moderately, like she'd taken a couple of deep breaths herself. "Earlier in our conversation, you cited some facts for my benefit, did you not?"

Cautiously, Theo nodded.

"Yes, you did. Now, I'm going to cite some facts for your benefit. Listen closely." Marjene paused, as if to collect her thoughts, folded her hands firmly on the tabletop, and looked into Theo's eyes. Looking directly into a person's eyes was a domination trick, according to Professor Wilit, with the dominated being the one who looked away first.

Theo lifted her chin and looked right back.

Marjene's mouth tightened, but the only thing she said was, "It's a fact, isn't it, Theo, that your mother has taken a faculty apartment for herself and for you?"

"Yes," Theo answered, fighting the urge to look at her knees.

"Yes," Marjene repeated. "And is it a fact that Professor Kiladi did not accompany her to your new apartment?"

This not looking down was hard. Theo licked her lips. "Yes, that's a fact, too."

"It is therefore a fact that Professor Kiladi is no longer Housefather in your mother's establishment, is it not?"

"Yes," Theo whispered. Her stomach hurt.

Marjene nodded. "And it's a fact, isn't it, Theo," she said, gently now, "that you haven't yet had your Gigneri, or in any other way been entrusted with the record of your genes?"

Theo looked down at her hands, folded together so tight the knuckles showed white. "Yes," she said clearly, "that's a fact, too."

"And you do know that calling a man who is neither Housefather nor a Certified Biologic Donor by the honor-name of 'Father' is at the least disorderly, and possibly even anti-social?"

Theo closed her eyes.

"Really, Theo," Marjene said after a moment. "Do you need any more notes in your file?"

I'm going to be sick, Theo thought. She swallowed, feeling tears prickling the back of her eyelids.

"Theo? Sweetie, I know it takes time to get used to new arrangements. But you have to be flexible. You have to embrace change. You're entering a whole new chapter of your life, and that's exciting and a little scary. I know. But clinging to the past only makes the present scarier."

No, Theo thought. I'm not going to be sick. I'm going to, to knock over the table, and throw things, and –

Her mumu thweeped.

Before she realized what she was doing, Theo was off the stool and grabbing her pack. She made herself look up into her mentor's astonished face and say, as calmly as she could, "I have to go now, Marjene. I'm expecting a delivery."

She turned without waiting for an answer and all but ran out of Grandmother's, leaving her mentor gaping after her, and probably composing another note for her file.

Chapter Eleven

University of Delgado

Faculty Residence Wall

Quadrant Eight, Building Two

A sandy haired man wearing a green sweater and gray work pants was turning away from their door. He had a large roll balanced on one shoulder, casually held in place with one big hand.

"Hey!" Theo jumped off the belt, not bothering with the safety grip, wincing when her sore ribs complained. "Sir!"

The man continued his turn, sandy eyebrows up and an amused look on his ruddy, unlined face. The sleeves of his sweater were pushed up, displaying muscled arms thick with blond hair.

"Student?" he said courteously.

"I'm Theo Waitley." She was panting a little, her face hot and her hair sticky, and she made herself walk slowly, to spare any more twinges from her bruises. "I think that must be my rug. I'm sorry I'm late."

"Theo Waitley's the name on the delivery slip, right enough, and nobody said you were late." He gave her a cheerful grin. "Ms. Dail guessed fivebells would find you home after your game, and I'm a couple ticks early. Truth is, I was going to go looking for a cup of something cold and maybe a snack before I came back to see if you were home yet." The grin widened. "Ms. Dail pays half up front on delivery work, the rest when we bring her the signed chit. Untrusting woman. But smart as new paint."

"You're very nice to bring this to me," she told the man, whose name, she realized suddenly, she'd forgotten to ask. "Mr – ?"

He laughed. "Just Harn," he said, and jerked his head at the door. "If you'll get the door, I'll walk this in and lay it out."

"Oh, you don't have to do that!" Theo protested.

"No problem at all," he assured her. "Besides, you might need some help getting it down right, 'specially since you're gonna be using stickystrips."

"Well, if you're sure you don't mind, I'd be glad to have your help." She stepped past Harn and opened the door. He walked in after her, deftly maneuvering the long roll in the small space.

"My room's this way," Theo said, leading him down the hallway. She triggered that door, scooped Coyster up as he made a dash across the threshold and swung out of the way.

Harn walked past her at the absolutely correct angle, dropped to one knee and let the rug roll easy off his shoulder onto the floor. He looked around.

"Gonna need them stickystrips on this surface."

Theo stepped inside and dropped her pack in what had become its usual place near the wall. Coyster squirmed against her shoulder. She put him down and he pranced away, tail high, gave Harn's knee an enthusiastic bump, and sniffed at the rug.

Harn grinned. "I got a cat," he said. "Not that friendly with strangers, though." He glanced at Theo. "Where d'you want it?"

Theo looked up at the folded bed. Harn followed her gaze, and nodded. "Like to have this under your toes when you get up in the morning. Good idea." He picked Coyster up and moved him out of the way before touching the bindings.

Released, the rug unrolled slightly, showing a flow of greens and blues around a plain white sealpack.

"All right, now, Theo Waitley," Harn said, reaching for the sealpacks. "I'm going to need your help keeping this friendly cat of yours out of my way while I'm working. We don't want him to get stuck in the strips, and I sure don't want to lay the rug over him." One of the packs unsealed with a loud zzzzZZZIIITTTT and Harn looked at her over his shoulder. "Can you do that for me?"

"I'll lock him in the 'fresher and come back to help," Theo said. Coyster wouldn't like that, but it would only be for a few minutes.

"Nothing to help with," Harn told her, rising and sending another calculating glance around the room.

Theo understood. Her room was so small, she'd only get in the big man's way if she stayed.

"Call if you need anything," she said.

He nodded, absently. She grabbed Coyster and carried him to the kitchen, despite his demand to be put down this minute!

"You heard what he said," she muttered, holding his squirmy furry body against her shoulder one-handed while she punched the kaf's buttons with the other.

"Hey! Watch the claws!"

"Gnrrrngh," Coyster said, twisting so hard she almost dropped him. She counter-twisted, which hurt, but managed to hold on to him and to the cup of soy milk she'd taken out of the kaf.

"You are not going back there to supervise," Theo told him. "You'll get in trouble."

Coyster sighed, deeply. Patiently. Theo felt a grin wobble around her mouth.

"I know, you never get in trouble. Except sometimes." Just like me, she added silently. She grabbed a disposable plate from the kaf's supply shelf and knelt carefully on the floor.

By the time she'd poured a dab of milk into the plate, Coyster was squirming to get away again, the need to supervise Harn apparently forgotten. Theo let him go. He walked straight down her chest, until his face was in the milk, then stopped, back legs braced against her belly, barely shot claws anchoring him to her coveralls, visibly vibrating along his entire length. Milk was a rare treat; too much wasn't good for cats, Father sa –

Theo caught her breath against a pain that had nothing to do with her ribs. She counted to twelve, then drank some of the milk from the disposable cup.

What does Marjene know, anyway? she thought, and drank some more milk. Coyster, finished with his tithe, did an about-face, propped his paws against her knee and bumped her elbow with his head.

"No, you can't have any more," she told him. "And if you make me spill mine, I'll have to lock you in 'fresher while I clean up the mess." She looked at him dismally. "Maybe I'd better lock us both in the 'fresher."

Coyster's response to this was interrupted by a loud voice, echoing weirdly off the walls.

"Hey, Theo Waitley! Come see what you think of this!"

"That was fast." She gulped the last of her milk, and rose gingerly, careful of her ribs, dropping the cup in the disposal on the way by. Coyster galloped past her, tail up, and by the time she got to her room, he was on his back among the shimmering blues and greens, feet in the air, eyes slitted in a cat-smile.

"Looks like you made a good choice," Harn said from his lean against the desk.

"Ms. Dail made a good choice." Theo walked over to the rug, put her foot on it and deliberately shifted her weight. The foot braced against against the floor slid a little, but the rug stayed put.

Harn nodded. "Those stickystrips are top-grade. If you do ever want to move the rug, just roll it up, then peel the strips off the floor, reset 'em where you want 'em and put the rug over 'em." He pointed at the folded-up bed.

"What I did was make it so there'll be some rug on both side of the bed when it's down."

"Thank you for your help," Theo said, "and for coming all the way from – from Efraim."

"What Ms. Dail pays me for," he said cheerfully, and pushed away from his lean. He pulled a datastrip and a light pen out of his pocket. "What I need you to do is sign that the delivery's complete, so I can get the rest of my pay."

"Sure." She signed the strip; he slipped it and the pen away, and gave her a nod.

"I'll be on my way, Theo Waitley. Nice meeting you."

"It was nice to meet you, too," she said politely, leading him down the hall. She stopped suddenly as they reached the parlor, suddenly remembering –

"I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed, feeling her face get hot. "I – did you want something to drink, or – "

Harn laughed, holding up a big hand. "I'll take care of that on the way home." He smacked his sizable chest. "Not gonna fade away for lack of food for a while yet, eh?"

In spite of herself, Theo smiled. "If you're sure," she said. "I really do thank you."

"No trouble at all," Harn assured her as she opened the door. "I like to deliver inside the Wall."

"You do?" Theo looked up at him. "Why?"

"Reminds me of why I live down in town," he said and stepped out into the hall. "Have a good evening, Theo Waitley. You and your cat together."

* * * *

Coyster was right, Theo thought, the rug did feel nice. Just sitting on it made her feel better. 'Course, it also made her feel better that, except for Coyster, she was finally alone, with hook and thread in hand.

She closed her eyes, letting her fingers shape whatever they cared to, finding calm in the patterned movements. Her ribs hurt, and so did her head, and she should really get up in a minute... or two... jack in her 'book and finish her solos. Thread slipped between her fingers, the needle moved, and she sat cross-legged on the rug, Coyster's purrs helping the thread relax her; and relax her some more, until she was more asleep than awake, and –

Her mumu chimed.

Theo jumped, eyes snapping open; mumu at her ear before it sounded a second time.

"Theo?" Lesset whispered loudly. "How are you?"

"Terrible," Theo said. "Why are you whispering?"

There was a pause, as if Lesset had blinked. "I don't know," she said in a more normal tone. "But – terrible, you said. Is your side hurting you?"

"Some," Theo admitted, "but..." She bit her lip and looked down at the shape her fingers had been making. Not a flower, but something kind of uneven and blobby. An amoeba, maybe.

"I had to see Marjene after teamplay," she told Lesset.

"Oh, no! Did she already have the report?"

"Worse than that, she yelled at me – "

"Your mentor yelled at you?" Theo could picture Lesset's eyes getting round, rounder even than her mouth.

"Close enough. And she acted like it's some kind of Crime Against Society to call Father like I always have, and..." Theo paused to draw breath, and ran her hand over the rug, watching the nap flow from green to blue.

"Well, it is," Lesset said. "I mean, not that it's a Crime Against Society. But it is kind of... strange to hear you calling Professor Kiladi 'father' when your mother's set him aside and – "

"Kamele has not set Father aside!" Theo interrupted hotly.

There was a pause. "He's not living with you, is he?" Lesset asked pointedly.

Theo sighed. "He's not living with us right now, no," she admitted, feeling her stomach starting to cramp up again.

"Then she set him aside," Lesset said, like it didn't matter. "My mother says that's a good thing. Professor Kiladi has served his purpose, she says, and now Professor Waitley's sub-chair of her department, and – "

"That's only a temp assignment," Theo protested.

"My mother says Chair Hafley's out of favor with Admin. Your mother could be the next EdHist Chair. That would be tenured and published!"

Theo's stomach twisted.

"Will you invite me to your apartment on Topthree?"

"We're not going to Topthree," Theo said, breathless. We're going home, she told herself. Kamele's going to finish her temp post and then we'll go home!

"You don't think Professor Waitley's good enough to be chair?"

"She's at least good enough to be chair!" Theo snapped, then blinked, seeing the trap too late. "I just don't think Admin'll pick her, is all," she finished lamely.

"Well..." Lesset let the word drift off, unwilling to argue on Admin's side, and Theo grabbed at the chance to change the subject.

"What're you going to do for Professor Wilit's solo?"

"Whose solo?"

"Professor Wilit," Theo repeated patiently. Lesset tended to put off her work until the last second, which Theo had never understood. She probably hadn't even opened her 'book yet. "There's a – "

"Hang on," Lesset interrupted. A woman said something unintelligible in the background, to which Lesset answered, "Theo."

Something else from Lesset's mother, her voice fading as she moved out of mumu range.

"Yes, ma'am," Lesset said, and then, her voice louder, "Theo, I've got to go. I'll see you tomorrow, 'k?"

"Okay – " she said, but might've saved the breath. Lesset had already cut the connection.

Sighing, Theo put the mumu on the rug beside her. She picked up her handwork, but couldn't seem to focus on it. Finally, she put it next to the mumu and stretched out, carefully, on the rug.

So soft... she thought, and closed her eyes – then opened them as Coyster put his nose against hers.

"Prrt?" he asked, amber eyes staring down into hers.

Theo rubbed his cheek. "Quiet," she said. "I've gotta think."

"Prrt!" Coyster stated, and curled around on her shoulder, purring immediately.

The last thing Theo remembered was thinking how nice that was...

* * * *

Kamele dropped her research book on her desk, and rubbed her eyes. She was going to have to stop running at triple speed soon – but there was so much to do! If she could get a decent night's sleep... she shook her head, mouth wobbling. She'd thought the move back to the Wall would be... comforting. After all, she had come home...

...only to find that home had shrunk, or that she had grown in... unanticipated directions, so that the once-comfortable embrace of the Wall now chafed and irritated.

And it could hardly help matters that she had become unaccustomed to sleeping alone.

Her head hurt. She reached up and pulled the pins loose, letting her hair tumble down to her shoulders. It was so fine that she had to keep it pinned tight, else it wisped and wafted around her face and shoulders. Uncontrollable stuff. And Theo had inherited it, poor child.

Kamele massaged her temples, and finger-combed her wispy, unmanageable hair. She thought about going down to the faculty lounge to pull a coffee, and decided against it. She'd had enough caffeine for one day – no, she'd had more than enough – and caffeine was the only reason to drink coffee from the department's kaf.

She sat down at her desk, and pushed the 'book aside, glancing at the privacy panel as she did. Yes, the door status was set to "open." Office hours would be done by sevenbells and she could go home. Perhaps she'd stop at the co-op on her way and pick up a bottle of wine. She wrinkled her nose, remembering the last time she'd had wine out of the co-op.

Or perhaps not.

There being no students immediately in need of her attention and advice, Kamele pulled out her mumu and tapped the screen on.

There was a message from Ella in queue, assuring her that the Oversight Committee was already moving on their request for the forensic lit search. They, at least, said Ella, took the possibility of an accreditation loss very seriously indeed. Kamele nodded, pleased.

After Ella's note, there were a dozen or so routine messages from colleagues and Admin. Below them were two marked "urgent" – one from the L&R Department and the other from Marjene Kant.

Panic pinched Kamele's chest. She took a deliberately deep breath to counter it, and opened the message from L&R.

Professor Viverain wrote a clean, terse, hand, and Kamele was very shortly in possession of the facts of Four Team Three's scavage game. Viverain took the trouble to state not once, but twice, that Roni Mason had put herself into a position of peril, in defiance of the rules of both the game and of good sportsmanship, and, upon being injured, had immediately begun to kick Theo, who had already been knocked to the floor by the collision.

In summary, Viverain praised both Theo's teamwork and her growing skill in scavage and hoped that Professor Waitley would not hesitate to contact her with any questions she might have about the incident.

Kamele closed her eyes. Roni Mason was spoiled and unprincipled, following, Kamele thought uncharitably, properly in her mother's footsteps. Well. She opened her eyes. There was more, she was certain.

And indeed there was. The appended Safety Office report suggested that the incident might have been avoided, or at least stopped short of bloodshed, had Theo not been involved. The reporting Safety fielded the theory that Roni Mason had been trying to kick the dropped ball, not realizing, in her distraction and pain that (1) the game was over, and (2) that she was kicking Theo.

This was so transparently mendacious that it seemed unlikely that anyone would believe it. On the other hand, Theo had a long string of notes in her file documenting instances of her horrifying clumsiness, all the way back to first form. Whatever her discipline problems – and Kamele had heard they were not inconsiderable – Roni Mason was not tagged as "physically limited."

Lips pressed tight, Kamele called up the A-Team report: Theo had suffered bruised ribs; the A-Teamer had administered analgesic and muscle relaxant, suggesting that the same be given before bedtime to prevent stiffness and to insure a restful night.

Kamele took a deep breath and exhaled, forcefully. Unfortunately, the exercise did very little to prepare her for Marjene's message.

I feel compelled to inform you, it began without preamble, that Theo ended our scheduled meeting this evening precipitously, standing up while we were in the middle of a discussion and announcing that she was expecting a delivery. I understand that her problem on the scavage court had distressed her, and that the topics we had before us were unsettling, but this sort of rudeness toward one who –

Kamele closed Marjene's message and filed it. After consideration, she also filed Viverain's report, with attachments.

Half-a-dozen taps notified her students and the Department Chair that she had canceled what remained of her office hours. That done, she slipped the mumu away, changed the room status from "open" to "closed," gathered up her 'book and left the office, walking rapidly.

* * * *

Someone close by was singing something soft and abstract, like honeybumbles in the flowers. Beneath the song was the soft, familiar click of keys. Kamele sang like that sometimes, Theo thought, drifting comfortably awake, when she was concentrating. It was a different kind of singing than she did for the chorale – more like a cat purring contentment. Theo sighed, broke the surface of wakefulness and opened her eyes.

Barely two hand-spans away, Kamele sat cross-legged on the rug, her 'book on her knee, face down turned, fingers moving gently on the keys, her hair wisping around her shoulders in disorderly waves. Coyster was sprawled on the rug at her side, snoring.

Theo sighed again, and her mother looked up from her work, the song murmuring into silence.

"I'm sorry," Theo whispered.

Kamele's eyebrows rose. "Sorry for what?"

Sorry for the song ending, Theo thought, but what she said was, "There's another note in my file – probably two." She bit her lip. "I guess you got the report from Viverain..."

"Professor Viverain was extremely complimentary," Kamele said. "She praised your skill and your commitment to your Team."

Theo blinked. "She did?"

"She did," her mother answered, glancing down to fold up her 'book and set it aside. She looked back to Theo. "The Safety Officer was another matter."

"I know," Theo whispered, remembering the red-haired Safety. "She said I had a societal obligation not to hurt other people." She tried to sit up, gasping as her ribs grabbed, sending a bright spark of pain along her side.

"Easy." Cool hands caught hers, and Kamele helped her up. Theo closed her eyes, waiting until the sparks subsided into a sullen ache.

"The report said your ribs were bruised, and that the A-Teamer gave you an analgesic and a muscle relaxant. Have you taken anything since you've been home?"

Theo shook her head. "The rug got delivered, and then I talked to Lesset, and then Coyster and I... took a nap."

"An excellent idea," Kamele said, not even asking if her solos were done. "You haven't eaten anything?"

"I... had a cup of soy milk."

Kamele half-smiled. "That's something, I suppose. Well..." She pulled her mumu out, and sent Theo a questioning glance. "I'm calling for dinner. What would you like?"

"Um... veggie fried rice?"

Her mother nodded, tapped a quick message into her mumu and put it on top of her 'book. On the rug, Coyster extended his back legs, pink toes stretching wide, and relaxed all at once with a tiny, satisfied moan.

Theo smiled, and leaned over – carefully – to rub his belly.

"I went to see Marjene," she said slowly, watching Kamele out of the side of her eye. Her mother nodded, looking politely interested, which, Theo suspected darkly, she'd probably learned from Fa –

She took a breath and sat up, her hand braced on the rug next to Coyster's tail.

"Marjene says – she says there are drugs that can..." She stumbled, not liking any of the words available. Marjene had said cured, but was being clumsy an illness?

"She said, if I may make a supposition," Kamele said coolly, "that there are drugs which can prevent you harming other people through your well-documented 'physical limitations.' Is that correct?"

Theo nodded, all the misery of the afternoon suddenly back, and her stomach starting to ache again. "She said that – you refused them – the drugs – for me?" She paused, took a breath and said, properly. "I'd like to understand why."

Kamele put her elbow on her knee and her chin in her hand. There was a tiny line between her eyebrows, and her eyes were serious.

"It's a complex issue," she said gravely, "but I'll do my best to answer, all right?"

Theo nodded.

Kamele sighed, then said slowly. "It is, of course, our obligation to do what we can to promote order and safety within our society of scholars. In a perfect intellectual society, such as the Founding Trustees envisioned, tending to our personal obligations and responsibilities would be enough to ensure that order is preserved." She smiled slightly. "Unfortunately, the Founding Trustees had been... a little too optimistic about human nature. So, we created the Office of Academic Safety, to help us maintain the environment to which we aspire." She paused.

Theo nodded to show she was following this. She knew the story of the Founding, of course, but her teachers hadn't even hinted that the Founders were human, must less capable of what Kamele seemed to be saying was an... well, it was a protocol error, that's what – but Kamele was talking again.

"Sometimes, because it has so much to do, the Safety Office... becomes overzealous. When this happens, so some of us feel, it is our responsibility to oppose it, just as much as it is our responsibility to work for orderliness in our everyday lives."

There was a pause. Theo frowned.

"So you decided not to follow the Safeties' advice because of a... philosophical difference?" she asked slowly.

Kamele actually laughed. "Not quite. What I mean to say is that we're obligated to scrutinize the recommendations the Safeties make to us; to do our own research and to draw our own conclusions. We're scholars, and this is how scholars deal. So," she waved her free hand – maybe at her mumu, maybe at the desk.

"So," she said again. "When this issue of the drugs – of the so-called cure – first came up with the Safety Office, I did what any scholar would do; I did my research. And I found a number of... interesting... facts.