especially what she used to do. Is ‘Broken’ the one Andrew calls ‘B’?"
"Yes. I’m not sure why."
"Oh, he likes to give people nicknames. You’ll see. So, got any stories about Jane from before? What did she do? What was she like?"
Michael shrugged. "No idea. I didn’t know her; Broken did. She doesn’t talk much about the past, either."
"Is she really a bum? Lyddie said she was."
"She is," Michael confirmed. "But she wasn’t, once."
* * *
Dinner came, and the entire rhi , plus Michael, crowded into the kitchen to eat. "Rätons don’t have a separate room for dining," explained Andrew, though Michael hadn’t asked. "That’s why the house doesn’t have one. In fact, they often eat alone. But we like to be together at dinner, so we are."
"Ah," said Michael. The food looked edible, at any rate. Whatever it was Lydia was slathering onto their plates, it sure had lots of sauce.
"Is your, ah, friend joining us?" Andrew asked.
"Couldn’t wake her. She’ll be out for leftovers," Michael said, helping himself to a roll.
"Well, then. Everyone, this is Mike. He and his friend B are going to be joining us for awhile. They have a baby that Jane is taking care of." He beamed proudly. "Mike is a political dissident. An anti-Reformist artist ."
There were grunts of assent all around the table.
"Mike, you’ve met Lyddie, Jane, and my Lyasti— that’s Monica." Each one of them nodded in turn.
"My nickname means 'little student,’ " Monica explained to him.
— Fire…
"Let me introduce Shawn, who’s on your left." Shawn nodded. He was of medium height, with sandy bro
wn hair and a surly expression. He was probably in his thirties, Michael guessed.
— Fire…!
"Over here is Janeane. "
"Hello." Janeane said. She was a tiny, dark-skinned woman with a smooth, shaved head and bright, expressive eyes. Michael couldn't look away from them.
— Waves lapped against the shore. The sea rose and fell in the distance. The tide came in and went out. The world turned, and everything was quiet, calm, peaceful...
—Endless sea.
—Peace…
What? Michael blinked, clearing his vision.
The corners of Janeane's mouth quirked up as she studied him through half-lidded eyes. He resolved to look into her a little more closely.
"Fred isn’t here. He works a night shift; he’s a security guard down at the electronics outlet. But he’s a nice guy, he’ll stop in and say hi before he goes to bed." Andrew beamed again. "Let me just say how wonderful it is to have new people in the house, our rhizhandi . It is especially joyous for me to have a baby here, even if it is only temporary."
"Agreed," murmured Janeane. Her voice was soft, rich and low. Michael immediately hoped she’d speak again.
"Hear, hear," Monica added, glancing at Jane. Ian was bouncing and gurgling on her lap. Jane smiled down at him and made little nonsense noises. Michael noticed that she hadn’t eaten a bite during the meal.
He felt an overwhelming urge to leap up on the table and beg them to leave the house any way they could, as fast as they could. He wanted desperately to tell them about fire and the approaching mob. But why would they believe him? Only Broken seemed to believe him when he talked about his visions. Cassandra.
Shawn didn’t say anything to Michael throughout the meal, which was just as well. Michael got the impression that Shawn didn’t like him much. Janeane chatted idly with everyone as they ate, and asked Michael a string of questions about where he was from, what he had done to be on the run, how he got started as an artist, and on and on. Michael made up a number of stories he hoped he could remember later. He tried to keep it as simple as possible.
He could hear Joe’s voice: Complicated lies never hold up. Joe had always been full of practical advice.
Lydia seemed more interested in Andrew’s day than in Michael, Broken, or Ian. It turned out that Andrew worked in a store in Queens,
"Yes. I’m not sure why."
"Oh, he likes to give people nicknames. You’ll see. So, got any stories about Jane from before? What did she do? What was she like?"
Michael shrugged. "No idea. I didn’t know her; Broken did. She doesn’t talk much about the past, either."
"Is she really a bum? Lyddie said she was."
"She is," Michael confirmed. "But she wasn’t, once."
* * *
Dinner came, and the entire rhi , plus Michael, crowded into the kitchen to eat. "Rätons don’t have a separate room for dining," explained Andrew, though Michael hadn’t asked. "That’s why the house doesn’t have one. In fact, they often eat alone. But we like to be together at dinner, so we are."
"Ah," said Michael. The food looked edible, at any rate. Whatever it was Lydia was slathering onto their plates, it sure had lots of sauce.
"Is your, ah, friend joining us?" Andrew asked.
"Couldn’t wake her. She’ll be out for leftovers," Michael said, helping himself to a roll.
"Well, then. Everyone, this is Mike. He and his friend B are going to be joining us for awhile. They have a baby that Jane is taking care of." He beamed proudly. "Mike is a political dissident. An anti-Reformist artist ."
There were grunts of assent all around the table.
"Mike, you’ve met Lyddie, Jane, and my Lyasti— that’s Monica." Each one of them nodded in turn.
"My nickname means 'little student,’ " Monica explained to him.
— Fire…
"Let me introduce Shawn, who’s on your left." Shawn nodded. He was of medium height, with sandy bro
wn hair and a surly expression. He was probably in his thirties, Michael guessed.
— Fire…!
"Over here is Janeane. "
"Hello." Janeane said. She was a tiny, dark-skinned woman with a smooth, shaved head and bright, expressive eyes. Michael couldn't look away from them.
— Waves lapped against the shore. The sea rose and fell in the distance. The tide came in and went out. The world turned, and everything was quiet, calm, peaceful...
—Endless sea.
—Peace…
What? Michael blinked, clearing his vision.
The corners of Janeane's mouth quirked up as she studied him through half-lidded eyes. He resolved to look into her a little more closely.
"Fred isn’t here. He works a night shift; he’s a security guard down at the electronics outlet. But he’s a nice guy, he’ll stop in and say hi before he goes to bed." Andrew beamed again. "Let me just say how wonderful it is to have new people in the house, our rhizhandi . It is especially joyous for me to have a baby here, even if it is only temporary."
"Agreed," murmured Janeane. Her voice was soft, rich and low. Michael immediately hoped she’d speak again.
"Hear, hear," Monica added, glancing at Jane. Ian was bouncing and gurgling on her lap. Jane smiled down at him and made little nonsense noises. Michael noticed that she hadn’t eaten a bite during the meal.
He felt an overwhelming urge to leap up on the table and beg them to leave the house any way they could, as fast as they could. He wanted desperately to tell them about fire and the approaching mob. But why would they believe him? Only Broken seemed to believe him when he talked about his visions. Cassandra.
Shawn didn’t say anything to Michael throughout the meal, which was just as well. Michael got the impression that Shawn didn’t like him much. Janeane chatted idly with everyone as they ate, and asked Michael a string of questions about where he was from, what he had done to be on the run, how he got started as an artist, and on and on. Michael made up a number of stories he hoped he could remember later. He tried to keep it as simple as possible.
He could hear Joe’s voice: Complicated lies never hold up. Joe had always been full of practical advice.
Lydia seemed more interested in Andrew’s day than in Michael, Broken, or Ian. It turned out that Andrew worked in a store in Queens,
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