Breath of Life Page 8

  It seemed she’d already chosen some friends from the university as her attendants, a fact for which I was grateful. She made an off-hand apology, saying it was just more convenient to have them in the wedding party than a sister who lived light-years away, and of course I told her that was fine. And it was; if Sarzhin would only let me leave his home for three days at a time, I was sure there was no way he would allow me to travel all the way to Epsilon Eridani, a trip of several days even on the fastest subspace-drive ships. No doubt a battle would ensue once my family found out I couldn’t leave Lathvin to attend the wedding, but that was still some standard months off, and I figured I’d worry about it when the time came.

  Later that morning, Libba, Cole, and my mother headed into Port Natchez to do some shopping at the commissary. They tried to get me to go as well, but dealing with even the three of them was proving to be more work than I expected. I knew I didn’t want to go to the commissary and be surrounded by yet more people. Besides, I didn’t really know what my parents had been saying about my absence, but if the Port Natchez regulars had heard anything about me living with Sarzhin, then I guessed I’d be peppered with even more questions. So I demurred, saying I wanted to help my father in the greenhouse. No one seemed inclined to argue with that. I think they were all hoping I’d impart some of my secret Zhore-obtained gardening knowledge.

  Compared to the enormous structure at the back of Sarzhin’s home, the little setup my parents had seemed pitifully small. But the warm, humid air was familiar, as well as the scent of green, growing things. My father and I puttered a bit in companionable silence. He was probably glad of the chance for some peace and quiet as well.

  Then I said, “Mom told me about the transport.”

  He set down the delicate shears he’d been holding and picked up a misting bottle. “She did, did she?”

  “Yes. It sounds like she’s hoping Sar—the Zhore will drop dead and leave me all his money.”

  “Oh, good lord.” With his free hand he poked in the soil substitute at the base of a tomato plant. “She doesn’t mean any harm, you know.”

  “I guess.”

  During this exchange he had kept his attention focused on the plant, but now he straightened and set the misting bottle aside and gazed at me frankly. It was odd to be looking at a human face other than my own after so much time—his face was familiar, every line and feature immediately recognizable, from his graying dark hair to his blue eyes and square chin, and yet at the same time something felt off, as if I had expected him to somehow look different.

  “I didn’t tell you about the transport because I was specifically told not to. Odd fellow, that Zhore of yours.”

  “He’s not my Zhore.”

  “Figure of speech. Anyway, I noticed you didn’t say much about him.”

  “There isn’t a lot to say.”

  The look he sent in my direction following that remark was frankly disbelieving.

  “No, really,” I protested. “I mean, he’s made sure I’m more than comfortable—my bedroom is almost as big as this house—and if I need something for my coursework he gets it for me, but it’s not as if we’re hosting fabulous parties over there or something. We live a very quiet life.”

  “We,” my father repeated in significant tones.

  “Well, it is just the two of us, unless you count the mech.” Which you really couldn’t, since mechs didn’t exactly have personalities. They just did what they were told, in an unobtrusive way I guessed a human servant could never match. “But the Zhore works in his greenhouse, and I mostly stay in my room and do schoolwork, except for the times I go help him with the plants or whatever. It’s really pretty dull.”

  “All right…if you say so.” He picked up his shears and moved on to the next tomato plant. “So what do you think of all this wedding commotion?”

  “Libba seems happy,” I replied cautiously. I wasn’t quite sure what he expected me to say.

  “Oh, yes. She’s done very well for herself, our Libba.” His expression sobered, and he added, “I’ve often wondered if we really did the right thing by coming here.”

  I’d wondered the same thing myself over the past few years, but I doubted that was what he wanted to hear. I said, “Dad, it’s been fine—”

  “Has it?” He shook his head. “The GRC sold us a bill of goods, and I think both you and I know that. Sure, Libba’s fine, but the only reason she’s fine is because she got off-world. But what about you, Anika?”

  “What about me?”

  “I know you were disappointed that you couldn’t go away to school. And now, this arrangement with the Zhore—” A wave of anger passed over his face, and he abruptly tossed the pruning shears onto the gardening cart that stood a few paces off. “I should never have agreed to that.”

  Trying to sound calm and reasonable, I said, “What else were you supposed to do? And it’s not that I mind. Really.”

  I had intended only to reassure him, but I realized as I spoke that I meant what I said. Something in the quiet life I had been leading appealed to me in ways I hadn’t even considered until I had a chance to step back and think about them from a distance. I liked having enough time to study and do my work properly, and not sandwich it in between all the chores I’d had at the homestead. I liked learning about the plants and flowers Sarzhin raised. I liked the meals we shared and the discussions we had. In short, I liked him.

  My father sent another of those skeptical glances my way. “You don’t mind living there.”

  “No.” I hesitated, then said, “We get along pretty well. In the time I’ve been there, I’ve—well, I guess you could say I’ve become rather fond of him.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I realized I’d probably made a mistake.

  My father frowned. “Fond?” He sounded as if he had never heard the word before. A warning note entered his voice. “Anika—”

  “Oh, Dad, don’t turn nothing into something. I am fond of him—he’s smart and polite and well-read. He treats me with respect. That’s it.”

  For a few seconds my father didn’t say anything, but just watched me carefully. “You’ve never said why he wanted you there.”

  “That’s because he’s never told me. Maybe he just wants the company. The mech isn’t a great conversationalist, after all.”

  “Maybe,” my father remarked, but he didn’t sound convinced.

  I held my breath, waiting for the follow-up question.

  It never came. My father retrieved the misting bottle and moved down the row of plants, then stopped at one and bent over a leaf. “Could you take a look at this squash? I’ve never seen brown spots like this before.”

  And I went over to inspect the plant in question, relieved he’d apparently decided to let the matter go. I didn’t like having to lie to him.

  Maybe it was because I had just begun to understand that I was lying to myself as well.

  The following day the whole lot of us went to see the Mirsalis Caves, which were Lathvin IV’s one interesting geological feature. I couldn’t extricate myself from this outing without appearing completely antisocial, so I went along with as good grace as I could muster, although spending two hours squeezed in the back of the transport as we bumped along poorly maintained roads was not exactly my idea of a fun time. I hadn’t seen the caves since I was twelve, though, and therefore I told myself the expedition wasn’t a complete waste of time.

  It was clear that my parents were trying to do everything they could to keep Cole entertained during his time here on Lathvin. What they planned after this, having already exhausted the commissary in Port Natchez, I couldn’t guess. However, I supposed it wasn’t my problem, since I was going to be leaving the next morning anyway. That little tidbit hadn’t gone over very well with my parents or my sister, but I’d stood firm and told them it was impossible for me to stay any longer than that.

  The caves were beautiful, though, their walls encrusted with minerals that refracted light every which way, pale stalactites r
eflecting in pools of black water that had never seen the sun. Even having a bunch of tourists tromping around in the caves couldn’t quite break their spell.

  I did notice Cole didn’t appear quite as enchanted as the rest of us, and once or twice I was pretty sure I saw an expression of boredom flit across his features. Well, compared to the rarefied and intellectual atmosphere of the university on Eridani, I supposed this was all pretty tame stuff. Most likely he was just enduring this trip for Libba’s sake and couldn’t wait to get away from her bumpkin family and Lathvin in general. Truth be told, this was an inconsequential backwater planet, one that might be useful in another fifty years once the atmospheric generators had done their job but in the meantime wasn’t worth much. I couldn’t even find it in me to dislike Cole for his disinterest. It wasn’t as if I thought Lathvin was so great, either. And he had come all this way, which meant he had to care about my sister enough to do that much.

  He did stay close to her, and several times I saw him reach out to steady her by the elbow when the footing in certain parts of the cave got a little treacherous. As I watched them together, I couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to share that closeness with someone. And for some reason I recalled the feel of Sarzhin’s hands as they had closed around mine, the strength of his arm beneath my fingertips. How his arms had gone around me in my dream.

  That was just crazy, though, and I gave myself a little mental shake as I followed my parents up and out of the caves. We’d been wearing breathers the whole time, as the cost of sealing off the caves to keep a breathable atmosphere inside would have been prohibitive. However, there was a small restaurant and souvenir shop near the caves, where we all stopped to get some lunch, and of course we were able to remove the breathers once we were safely inside.

  I was quiet as we all took a table off in one corner, thoughts still occupied by those unwanted remembrances of Sarzhin’s touch. At least, I told myself they were unwanted. Probably I was just feeling isolated and something like a fifth wheel, and Sarzhin was the only real companion I had at the moment. I supposed it was only natural I’d be thinking of him. Who else would I think of? Eli Barleigh, who was the mechanic’s assistant in Port Natchez’s one and only transport repair shop, and who’d drunk too much of that nasty retsina the night of Libba’s going-away party and decided it was his chance to back me into a corner and steal a kiss? Not likely. Even now the memory was enough to make me shudder.

  My mother and Libba began to discuss more wedding details, and I tuned them out, instead looking up to read the menu offerings on the electronic board on the wall next to us.

  But then I heard my sister say, “Of course Anika will come,” and I blinked, focusing on her for the first time since we’d sat down.

  “Come where?” I asked.

  “We’re going to take a little expedition up to the duty-free center on Four-A tomorrow.”

  “Four-A” was slang for the larger of Lathvin’s two moons, the one with the spaceport. “I can’t go shopping with you tomorrow,” I said flatly. “I have to head back to Sar—I have to head back. I can’t be any later than noon.”

  Libba scowled at me. “Don’t be silly. It’s just a hop and a jump. We’ll take the early shuttle. You’ll be back by thirteen hundred at the latest.”

  “Which is already too late,” I told her. “Since I just said I had to be back at the Zhore’s house by noon.”

  My sister sent a pleading look in our mother’s direction. “But I wanted to buy her an outfit for the wedding. I’m trying to do something nice.”

  “Anika, what difference could one hour possibly make?”

  With them massed like that against me, I knew I didn’t have much of a chance. If I begged off, then I was just being ungrateful, since Libba was ostensibly doing me a favor by buying me something I could wear to her wedding. That she probably had decided to do me this “favor” simply so I wouldn’t embarrass her by showing up in something unsuitable didn’t really enter the equation. And if I said I wouldn’t even be attending the wedding because there was no way I could leave Sarzhin for that long, then I’d be opening a can of Centauri ink worms, and I really didn’t want to fight that particular battle right then.

  “I don’t know,” I replied. I knew I sounded as sulky as a thirteen-year-old caught skimping on her chores, but at the moment I didn’t care. “I guess it’ll be all right—as long as we take the early shuttle.”

  “Not a problem,” Libba said promptly. “I’d already planned on it, just to accommodate you.”

  Right, I thought, but I decided silence was probably the wiser course. I nodded and even forced out a smile, but something inside me knotted—and it wasn’t because of hunger pangs. I didn’t want to contemplate how angry Sarzhin might be if I were late returning home.

  True to her word, my sister was ready very early the next morning, early enough that we could catch the eight hundred shuttle from Port Natchez. I was feeling less than sanguine about the success of the day, but it seemed so far everything was going according to plan. We took the first shuttle and were up at the Four-A spaceport in less than half an hour.

  The stores there operated around the clock, as of course incoming and outgoing long-distance flights didn’t bother to adhere to local time. We tromped around the duty-free area as Libba had me try on various outfits and then ended up rejecting them one by one. The whole procedure only served to make me increasingly irritated, as I knew she was just wasting my time—even if she didn’t realize it yet. Besides, I had clothing back at Sarzhin’s house as nice as the pieces she was selecting, but whenever I tried to point that out, she responded in typical fashion by either rolling her eyes or ignoring me.

  Of course my mother was no help. She just would say, “Do this for your sister,” or “What difference could one more outfit make?” In the grand scheme of things, maybe not that much, but by the time we walked into the fifth store I was ready to scream. Really, how many shops could a spaceport in such a backwater system support?

  In fact, I did let out a little shriek when I stepped out of the dressing room in the last store, only to see that the chronograph on the wall opposite read 11:55.

  “The shuttle’s leaving in five minutes!”

  Libba sent a languid glance over her shoulder at the chronograph. “Oh, foo. That’s nothing. Besides, they never leave on time.”

  “How would you know?” I retorted, and immediately retreated to reclaim my own clothes so we could get the hell out of there. This procedure only took a minute, and I bolted for the door even as I finished shaking my hair free of my tunic’s collar.

  “Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic?” Libba demanded, as she and my mother started trotting after me.

  Of course the final store just had to be located on almost the opposite end of the facility and two levels down from the shuttle pad. Somehow I managed to keep from running, but I did speed-walk the entire length of the spaceport and then burst into the disembarkation area—only to see the gates closed and the sleek shape of the planet-hopper blasting up into the black sky.

  I let out an incoherent sound of dismay and ran to the window, a huge expanse of vacuum-rated clear polymer. There I paused, hands pressed flat against the cool plastic, as if somehow I could force myself through it and on into one of the seats of the disappearing shuttle.

  “Oops,” said Libba, and I rounded on her.

  “This is all your fault!”

  Her green eyes widened. “Oh, please, Anika, can you spare me the Greek tragedy? It’s just a missed shuttle—the next one will be along in…” She paused and looked up at the board above the ticketing desk. “Four hours.”

  “Four hours!” I wailed, and then ran for the comm station at the far side of the waiting area.

  But when I typed in Sarzhin’s comm code, I got only a hiss of dead air. My hand shaking, I tried again. Nothing.

  Ignoring my mother and sister, who looked at me as if I’d just lost my mind, I practically ran ove
r to the ticketing counter. “Excuse me.”

  The clerk there didn’t even look up from his computer screen. “Mmm?”

  “Your comms don’t seem to be working.”

  He gave a laconic shrug. “Solar storms. Been playing havoc with our systems the past two standard. It’s a mess getting signals down to the planet. You’d have better luck direct-dialing Eridani. Heh.”

  I didn’t find anything remotely funny in the situation. All I could do was turn away from him and stare out the windows in the waiting area. I couldn’t even see the shuttle anymore.

  My mother shook her head at me. “Goodness, Anika, you’re acting like your best friend just died. You can just explain to the Zhore that you missed the shuttle and the comms were down. It’s certainly not the end of the world.”

  I stared at her, at my sister, seeing in their blank, mystified faces absolutely no comprehension or sympathy. How could I explain to them that I had promised Sarzhin I would return on time, and how betraying that promise now seemed like the worst thing I could possibly have done to him? They would never understand. I hardly understood myself.

  “No, it’s not the end of the world,” I told her in curt tones I would never have used on my mother a few months ago. I turned away from her to stare at the black heavens outside. “At least, I hope it isn’t.”

  The joy definitely went out of the shopping trip after that, and even when my sister offered to buy lunch at one of the spaceport’s cafés I barely ate anything, but only took a few token sips of my soup while she and my mother snacked on soufflés and sparkling water. They appeared to dismiss my black mood as an outrageous case of the sulks and mostly ignored me from there on out as they discussed menus and color schemes and the sorts of flowers available on Eridani. At least my sister knew better than to ask me to try on any more clothes. I did follow them grimly as they went back to a few of the shops where I had had no luck but Libba had seen something she liked, and she did end up purchasing a few outfits—all on Cole’s tab, I was certain. Somehow I managed to hold my tongue and not ask her whether she’d be over her weight allowance for the return trip if she kept adding new clothes.