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Off-Grid

Ribbon Dance Village

Meeting Hall


“Well, of course they’ll stay with us!” Yferen exclaimed. “Where else would the poor wee things go—Ukarn?”

There was a general murmur of agreement with this sentiment, which was no surprise, either to Tekelia or to Village Administrator Arbour poginGeist.

“No one can argue with your instincts,” Arbour assured Yferen. “Of course, we wish to shelter and preserve the innocent. The Haosa are rightly known as champions of the defenseless. These children call to our instinct to protect. But the children are not the only vulnerable parties in this.”

“What, is Civilization in need of us again?” asked Kencia, who had not much love for those on-Grid. “We had best draw up a schedule of fees, Cousins.”

“That has been under discussion,” Tekelia said. “But in the case, no—the other vulnerable party is—ourselves.”

The response to this was blank silence. The Haosa were accustomed to thinking of themselves as tough, resourceful, and strong.

Nor were they wrong. If they had a fault as a group, it was that they undervalued guile and deceit.

“The children are sent to us by their cousins kezlBlythe, who expected them to fail.”

“Yet, they have not failed,” Arbour murmured.

“They have not failed,” Maradel reiterated from the front row.

Tekelia gave her a nod.

“Wherein lies our danger, Cousins. View the matter from the stance of the kezlBlythe. Vaiza and Torin are the last of xinRood, which kezlBlythe has made it their business to eradicate. It has been supposed by the Warden and others who pay attention to such matters, on-Grid, that the kezlBlythe wanted xinRood’s fortune.”

Tekelia paused and looked over the room. The gathered Haosa were rapt, as who would not be, given such a story?

“Vaiza and Torin are only eight years old. The kezlBlythe stand to gain everything they were thought to want, upon their deaths. The Warden allows us to know, Cousins, that eliminating two small children and their guardian norbear would disturb kezlBlythe sleep not at all.”

“Instead,” Arbour murmured, “they were sent to us.”

Tekelia nodded.

“And the Warden—who is not an idiot—wonders what has, in this last, straightforward matter, kept the kezlBlythe’s knife in its sheath.”

“Perhaps they thought the Warden was watching too closely, and they would be cheated of their profits,” said Yferen.

“Perhaps,” said Banedra, “they thought the ambient would do their work for them.”

While not out of the kezlBlythe’s range, it had a sobering effect on the gathered Haosa. Off-Grid was no place for Civilized children, where even well-shielded and sober adults might become erratic under the influence of the ambient.

“I have examined the children, as Tekelia has. They show no signs of breaking under the ambient,” Maradel said. “I speak with Geritsi daily, and with Torin and Vaiza. They are somewhat more subdued than I like to see in children, but that’s not surprising, given their losses. They are beginning to trust Geritsi a little, and of course Dosent is a favorite.”

A chuckle ran the room at this—what child could resist a waist-high feline who would occasionally allow herself to be persuaded to bear very good children on her back?

“So they outsmarted themselves?” asked Tanin the baker. He looked at Arbour. “The kezlBlythe, I’m meaning. If the twins are alive, the kezlBlythe don’t profit. The youngers hold what’s theirs, even if they’re not Civilized.”

That was, Tekelia acknowledged, how the law was written, though it was often enough circumvented by the sorts of qe’andra the kezlBlythe chose to serve them. However—

“They may have done,” Tekelia said. “But, Cousins, I confess to you, I hear a question in the ambient. And the question is: What do they want? It seems to me that it must be something—other—than the goods that would be theirs, had they only once more extended their hand as they have done many times before.”

There was a moment of silence.

“You mean,” Banedra said quietly, “that the kezlBlythe want something from us—from the Haosa? And that the children are—bait?”

“I fear it,” Tekelia said truthfully.

“But—what could they want?” Yferen demanded, irrepressible. “Civilization wants nothing to do with the Haosa! We’re all ample proof of that!”

Arbour cleared her throat.

“I think, Cousins, that the kezlBlythe may not—quite—be civilized.”

Another ripple of amusement ran the room.

“The sense of the village is that Torin, Vaiza, and Eet the norbear will remain with us, where they will be protected and cherished,” Arbour said. “Is there more to be said on this topic?”

“One thing more,” Tekelia said. “The twins are accustomed to going to school, and they miss the camaraderie and, I gather, the structure. We currently have no other children among us. Were the kezlBlythe not involved, I would suggest that they be sent to the school in Pacazahno, for the basics, and arrange for tutoring appropriate to their Talents, in-village.”

“No, that’s not eligible,” Yferen objected. “If these kezlBlythe are as disordered as you say, we not only endanger our children, but the whole of the Deaf village.”

“Agreed,” said Banedra, “we cannot use the old solution.”

“Why not bring the school here, then?” asked Tanin.

Every Haosa in the room turned to stare at him.

“What?” he said, staring back. “Pacazahno is our nearest neighbor. There have always been good relations between us. Why not bring the children and the teachers here for a six-day together—is school run by six-days, Cousins? It’s been some while for me . . . ”

“Merely a detail,” Banedra said, leaning forward. “Go on, Cousin. You’ve given this some thought, it seems.”

“Well . . . ” The baker looked embarrassed. “In a general way, the topic interests me. This matter of seeing the children among children and learning what young things need to know—that merely . . . crystallized what I had been thinking about, in no ordered way.”

He took a breath.

“So, as far as it goes, my notion is to bring what teachers and children might like it to us for a six-day together. We have enough spare rooms between us, I think. The teachers will do their usual work, teaching the basics, as Tekelia says, and when those who are Talented go for their tutoring, well—I would be willing to teach those who might like it a little about baking. Perhaps there are others of us who might—”

“Yes!” said Maradel. “I will be pleased to teach basic medic skills, if any are interested.”

“There’s the orchard, for pleasant work, or the gardens,” said Yferen.

“Yes,” said Arbour. “I think we have the basis of a plan that will limit danger while strengthening our ties with our nearest neighbor. It happens that I have a meeting with Village Speaker joiMore upcoming. I will bring this proposition to her.”

“In the meantime,” Banedra said, “there’s no reason not to share out the basics, so our children don’t fall behind their agemates. I can tutor in number-craft. Yferen might teach off of his maps.” She paused and smiled at the baker. “And Tanin has already volunteered to teach baking.”

“Excellent!” said Arbour. “Banedra, will you coordinate?”

“With pleasure,” Banedra said. “I’ll go tomorrow and speak with Geritsi and the children, to see what they would like, and find the levels and subjects that they have already conquered, so we don’t bore them.” She paused, brows drawn, and raised a hand.

“Yes?” said Arbour.

“Shall I tell them about the scheme to bring school to them?”

“Let me speak with Konsit and get her reaction first,” Arbour said.

“Yes,” said Banedra.

“The topic of schooling is being addressed. Is there anything else we ought to talk about this evening, Cousins?”

There was silence for a long count of six.

Arbour stood up from behind the table, and bowed to the room.

“This formal sharing is adjourned,” she said solemnly, and then grinned.

“Let’s eat!”


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