Off-Grid
The Tree House
“But this is lovely!” Aunt Asta cried. She opened the cookie tin and held it out.
“Sit down, dear, and have a few cookies.”
Tekelia was already sitting, awkwardly, on the edge of Padi’s desk. The ambient glittered and shouted, as if in joyous welcome; the sudden weakness passed. Tekelia sighed, and took a cookie from the offered tin.
“Yes,” said Aunt Asta, putting the tin down on the desk by Tekelia’s hand. She drew a deep breath, lifting her face as if into a gentle rain.
“This . . . is beautiful,” she murmured. “If I go no further, it will have been enough.”
She lowered her head, and Tekelia saw tears shining in her eyes.
“Thank you, my dear. It was a heroic effort, and I ask no more from you. I can do without my cases for a few days.”
“I don’t think it will be as long as that,” Tekelia said, taking a third cookie.
Aunt Asta tipped her head.
“No?”
“No.” Tekelia sighed and stood. “I was not quiet, getting us out. I imagine Bentamin might have heard something.”
“Oh,” said Aunt Asta. “But—”
She was interrupted by a thump—really quite subdued—as a large case appeared on the floor near the bookcase.
A second thump accompanied the arrival of the second large case, neatly placed next to the first; followed in short order by two of the smaller cases.
This was followed by a tight, energetic swirl of mist that melted quickly back into the ambient. The Warden of Civilization had arrived, carrying the last, and smallest, case.
“Bentamin!” Aunt Asta exclaimed gladly. “How thoughtful of you.” She picked up the tin and walked forward to offer it. “Entilly’s cookies. Please, refresh yourself.”
“Thank you, Aunt Asta.” Bentamin placed the case carefully by the others, chose a cookie, ate it in two bites, and reached for another. Tekelia thought he looked more worried than angry, and wondered if that was a good sign, in terms of Aunt Asta’s removal from the Wardian, and, indeed, Civilization.
On the other hand, he had brought the cases.
“My thanks, as well, Bentamin,” Tekelia said. “I couldn’t quite manage it all at once, and going back wasn’t possible.”
“Of course not,” Bentamin said. “The loophole in the wards collapsed as soon as Aunt Asta was removed.” He sighed and took a third cookie.
“You might have exercised some subtlety,” he said.
Tekelia laughed.
“Have you looked at that working? If you’d left a bigger hole, Cousin, I might have managed subtlety, but I didn’t care to risk our aunt.”
“You could have reduced the risk to nothing, had you left her where she was.”
Tekelia blinked.
“Have another cookie, Bentamin; your thinking’s still uneven. It was you who created that loophole, or am I blind as well as unsubtle?”
Bentamin sighed, and took another cookie, which he all but swallowed whole.
“The loophole was mine,” he admitted. “Aunt Asta has earned her rest.”
“And the lack of a replacement Oracle?” Tekelia said.
Bentamin looked goaded.
“Civilization does not need an Oracle,” Aunt Asta said firmly.
“She Saw the end of Civilization and the Haosa,” Bentamin told Tekelia. “If that is an accurate Seeing—”
Tekelia glanced at Aunt Asta.
“Long Sight is open to interpretation. Context matters, as I believe we were both reminded only recently, Bentamin.”
“We were, yes. It was an apt reminder.”
He threw his hands wide, and looked to Tekelia.
“Will the Haosa have her?”
“She was ours from birth. However, as Speaker for the Haosa, I must protest the Warden’s new policy of casting his difficulties off-Grid. The Haosa are not your remote storage. We govern ourselves, and, just as we have no voice on the Council of the Civilized, the Council has no voice here.”
Bentamin’s face relaxed into a smile.
“There is the ferocity I value,” he murmured. “I will of course make a report to the Council. They would never have let her go, but getting her back—that, as you point out, Cousin, is much more problematic.”
Tekelia looked to Aunt Asta.
“The Haosa exist to be Civilization’s bugbear.”
“Unfortunately true,” Bentamin said. “Civilization needs to find its courage.”
Aunt Asta came forward, and placed a hand on Bentamin’s arm.
“Tekelia is exhausted, Bentamin, and ought to rest. I will make sure of it, no fears there. In the meanwhile, do, please tell the Council what I told you.”
“I intend to do precisely that, Aunt,” Bentamin said, and bowed.
“Good day, both.”
Mist swirled, and he was gone.