The Rowan Part 4

Lusena flipped back the cover and the Rowan's response was all that Lusena could wish: delight and incredulity.

'Is it really a barquecat?' she asked, her eyes flicking up to Lusena's face with the first glint they'd held since that morning at Favor Bay. Impulsively she reached out and then secured her arms to her ribcage, knowing better than to disturb a barquecat's slumber.

'A really truly live barquecat cub. Even if it doesn't like you, remember to be very grateful to Gerolaman for the chance.' 'Oh, it's so lovely. I've never seen a fur so spectacularly marked and l.u.s.trous.

Tawny tips and creamy base and such an unusual pattern on the tips!

There wasn't one like that in the Animal Index of the Galaxy.

It's simply the most lovely creature I've ever seen.' Once again her hands fluttered over the caribox. 'Lusena, when will it wake?

What do we feed it? How can we hide it from her?' 'I don't know, it's omnivorous, and she never intrudes on your quarters.' Lusena answered all the questions in one breath, immensely relieved at the girl's resurgence.

'So as long as it doesn't escape, Siglen's not likely to know it's here.' Even if they had to return the cub, its presence had shaken the Rowan into some awareness beyond her loss.

'Oh, look, it's stretching. What do I do now, 'Sena?

What if it doesn't like us?' Her face suddenly went dull again.

'Purza had to like me but the cub doesn't 'Well, we'll just have to hope it fends merit in you, then, won't we?' Lusena was certain that she had struck just the right note in her reply. For all her Talent, for all the potential of her ability, and despite more frequent glimpses of maturity, enough of the child still remained in the Rowan to require support and rea.s.surance. Could a tiny bundle of fur provide that need?

It stirred. The tiny mouth opened and the white fangs were visible around a pale pink tongue curling in a yawn.

The dainty seven-fingered toes of the front paws extended the tiny blunt claws of the breed. Its back arched and it twitched its full banded tail before rolling on to its stomach. Then it opened its silvery-blue eyes, the pupils mere slits in the bright room.

It looked with momentary disdain at Lusena whom it was facing before it turned its cla.s.sic head toward the Rowan. With one of the grating cries for which the breed was famous, it rose to all fours and with great deliberation padded over to the girl. Lifting its forepaws to the edge of the box, it tilted its head inquiringly at her.

'Oh, you darling!' the Rowan said in a whisper and slowly extended a finger for the barquecat to sniff. It did so and then promptly b.u.t.ted the finger with its head, turning slightly so that the Rowan could scratch behind the delicate ear. 'Lusena, I've never felt anything so soft.

Not even . .' she broke off but more because the barquecat was insisting on an energetic caress than because she couldn't finish the sentence. 'It wants to drink. Water.' The Rowan blinked.

'It didn't ever speak to you, did it?' Lusena was astonished.

Quickly the Rowan shook her head. 'No, it didn't speak to me. I felt no mind-touch at all. But undeniably I know that it is thirsty, specifically for water.

'Well!' and Lusena brought both hands down hard on her knees and rose. 'If that's what that rascal wants, then water it shall have.'

She tried to keep the elation she felt within bounds as she headed for the kitchen alcove.

'I have been awful, haven't I, Luse?' asked the Rowan in a soft, apologetic tone.

'Not awful, Rowan, but terribly bruised by Purza's loss.' 'Silly then. Mourning the loss of an inanimate object.' Lusena returned with a bowl of water which she handed to the Rowan. 'Purza was never an inanimate object in your eyes.

Just as the Rowan put the bowl in the caribox, there was a quick rap on the door. She had the lid down when the door slid open and an anxious-faced Bralla came in.

'I was so positive we had one that I never thought to really look . . - sorry to be so abrupt but she's in such a state . . . Bralla looked from one face to another, her body in a posture of entreaty.

'What are you talking about, Bralla?' Lusena asked, for the T-4 often forgot to project.

'You DO have a recent hologram of the Rowan, don't you, Lusena?

Surely you took some at Favor Bay?' 'I did, but why the flap?'

Lusena had no trouble finding the holograms which she hadn't even unpacked from the caricase. There were several very good ones of the Rowan.

Lusena picked one of her, smiling, standing alone by the stern of the boat, her silver hair wind-whipped like a bright, ragged ensign.

'Oh, thank goodness, Bralla stopped fluttering for a moment.

'Reidinger insists on having a recent hologram of you, Rowan. It has to be dispatched immediately and I can tell you, Siglen's in no mood on account of that, too. Oh, now that's a very nice one!' She threw a pleased smile at the Rowan who was trying as un.o.btrusively as possible to keep the barquecat from poking the lid up with an importunate head.

'This is perfect. Though I don't know as you'll ever get it back.

Shall I copy first?' 'If you would . . .' and Lusena wasn't sure if Bralla heard the request for she was out of the door as if 'ported away.

'Why would Reidinger want a recent hologram of me?' the Rowan asked, hastily lifting the confining lid over the now squalling barquecat. It was not the least bit interested in leaving its box but it evidently resented being covered.

After a cursory look about the room, it went back to drinking.

'I'm not really sure,' Lusena said, covering her thoughts because she knew exactly why Reidinger wanted one: he could then focus his thoughts directly to the Rowan. Oh dear! Would she be up to the sort of a searching interview for which Reidinger was famous? Lusena looked down at her ward, at her total absorption in the barquecat and gave a discreet sigh of relief. If Reidinger gave her even half a chance When the cub had finished drinking and had eaten sparingly of milk-soaked bread, it preened briefly and then curled up for another nap to rest from such arduous exercise. As soon as its breathing settled, the Rowan made for the keyboard and accessed information on barquecats, fact and fiction 'What he should eat,' she said, handing Lusena the first few pages, 'and what he is likely to want to eat. I want to catch Gerolaman before he leaves for the day. Be right back.' She was out the door before Lusena could protest. Oh, Lord, what time was it on Earth? Lusena ground her teeth. She wanted to be near the Rowan when - and if Reidinger did contact her directly.

By that evening, there was no doubt that Rascal approved of the Rowan. Waking from his second nap, the cub had looked around for a litter box (for Lusena had thought to provide a temporary affair) and then hauled himself up her arm, settling companionably on her shoulder, claws hooked into the fabric of her s.h.i.+rt.

'Don't fuss, Luse,' the Rowan told her, 'he's not sinking them in deep.' She giggled and gave a funny shudder. 'But his whiskers tickle.

There, now, Rascal.' Although the cub appeared to be settling down for a lengthy residence, he suddenly vaulted from the Rowan's shoulder to the back of the couch, running along it to the opposite end. He turned then and sat glaring at the girl accusingly.

'What on earth did I do?' 'Why -. .' Lusena began in surprise and then saw the Rowan suddenly tense to an erect sitting position.

'Yes, Prime Reidinger?' I've been meaning to address you directly, Rowan, the deep voice said as clear as if he had been beside her on the couch and speaking audibly. Even I, and Reidinger added a chuckle, require a talisman on which to focus and I have added your hologram to those on my special access list. I have, by the way, informed Siglen that you are to take whatever regular holidays are current in Altair's schooling system. She may drive herself but there are rules which apply to minor children that must be observed.

I haven't minded, Prime Reidinger. There is a lot to be learned A loyal child, too. The discussion I just had with Siglen should clear the air over several misapprehensions on her part.

And about your future training. Let me make this plain to you as well. Rowan: you have the right to contact me directly on any question you might have. A suitable hologram is on its way to you to make that contact easier. You have the range. The Rowan heard the smile in his voice. Use it. You should also be receiving holograms from David of Betelgeuse and Capella.

It won't hurt for you to get to reach them mentally from time to time. Good practice as well. They both studied with Siglen.

The Rowan caught the dry note in his mental tone and wondered about it.

One more thing: Gerolaman is to conduct a Tower Basics course and I wish you to join his students. Tower management is not merely mental, you know. There was a distinct pause and the Rowan wasn't sure if she should respond with thanks for his intercession or what. You have a barquecat cub? Well, my dear young lady, you have been honored.

Yes, sir, I think so, too. And thank you for the holidays and the Basics course and . . . and everything.

Never fear, Rowan. I'll take it all out of your hide at a later date.

Then the s.p.a.ce he had occupied in her mind abruptly became empty and the Rowan blinked with surprise.

'Rowan?' asked Lusena tentatively, leaning across the table to touch her hand.

'Earth Prime Reidinger was speaking to me,' she replied and then she looked down the length of the couch to the tawny cub. 'He knew about Rascal,' she added in a mystified tone.

'Reidinger probably would,' Lusena remarked caustically, glancing quickly at the cub as he now marched toward the Rowan again along the back of the couch.

'How could he?' Lusena shrugged. 'The Reidinger Family have always had unusual Talents and perceptions. They've been Talents for centuries. What else did he say?' The Rowan grinned with pure malice.

'I'm to have the same holidays that schools give here. And I'm to join Gerolaman's course on Tower Basics.' Lusena paused. 'I didn't know he was giving one.

The Rowan laughed. 'According to Reidinger he is.' 'Then he is.'

When Gerolaman arrived late that evening to check on the cub's settling in, he was looking exceedingly pleased with himself. He accepted the brew that Lusena offered and sat opposite the Rowan, whose lap was occupied by a fist-sized ball of fur. He raised his gla.s.s to her.

'I thought you'd make the grade. I'll make it official and you'll get the papers direct from the Captain of the Mayotte. He said to tell you Rascal is from a line of real champions.' 'I can see that,' the Rowan replied, smiling fatuously at the sleeper. She hadn't so much as twitched a muscle since Rascal had curled up after his supper.

'It's been a good day,' Gerolaman said, stretching comfortably.

'Placed a barquecat and got notice that a fully subscribed cla.s.s of young T-4s and 5s are arriving next week all the way from Earth, to learn what there is to know about Tower management and maintenance.

Siglen says that it's a mark of her standing in FT&T that Altair has been chosen.' Gerolaman winked at Lusena who chuckled. 'You're included, Rowan. I was told to inform you myself. You'll be in the Tower as usual in the mornings, but you'll attend my cla.s.ses in the afternoon and evening. OK?' The Rowan nodded acknowledgment and Lusena silently applauded her discretion.

'I haven't taught you all I know yet by a long stretch, but now it's official. You mind yourself with these imported Talents, girl.

It's a mixed bag, T-4s, 5s, kinetics, empaths, a couple of mechanicals, but only one true telepath. Still, it'll give you more insight into some of the other manifestations of Talent. And perhaps a friend or two your own age.' 'How many?' Lusena asked, noting the Rowan's sudden wariness.

'Eight, I'm told.' 'That many? Surely Siglen won't permit them to be quartered at the Station?' 'Not on Station. Over at the guest facility,' Gerolaman replied with a knowing grin. 'My wife's moving in to keep them under control. Not much gets past Samella even if she is only a T-6. Strong empathy, especially for teenage nonsense. Smells it before it can happen.' He drained his brew and rose. 'I've got a lot to organize before they get here so I'll leave you, ladies. Oh, and I'll get you what you need for the cub on my way home. The Mayotte Captain gave me a list. Bring it in tomorrow.' The Rowan once again expressed her deep grat.i.tude for the barquecat.

'I should have thought to get you one a long time ago, Rowan,'

Gerolaman said in a gruff voice and, with a curt nod of his head at Lusena, left.

The next day the Rowan found that Siglen was by no means delighted with the thought of her Station as a training facility. But this distracted her to the exclusion of any other topic, including the Rowan's recent behavior.

Siglen fired orders to Bralla and Gerolaman who, the Rowan observed, both pretended to be disgruntled over the 'invasion'. They had so many complaints to lodge with Siglen over suitable accommodations, lecture room, which part of the big landing field beyond the Tower would be far enough away to avoid interference with these lamebrained numskulls that they'd have to pamper and instruct.

By midday, Siglen got so fl.u.s.tered that she rounded on Bralla.

'If Earth Prime Reidinger has chosen Altair for this course, then we must cooperate with him in every possible way, and I am heartily tired of listening to your laments.

Prime Reidinger knows exactly what he's doing. And that's the end of that.' The Rowan could not help but notice the sly and secret glint in Bralla's eye: the diversion was successful; Siglen had had to resort to upholding Reidinger's decision. The Rowan began to look forward to having company in her lessons.

Later, when she asked Gerolaman, he handed her the ID file on his prospective pupils.

'Facts and figures and holograms, he told her with a grin. 'Get to know them a little. They won't know you're not the same general level as they are: Reidinger's orders,' he added when she stared in surprise. 'That's why there 're no indigenous Talents in the course.

Make it easier for you to integrate in the group.' She took the file back to her quarters and ran it. Each entry included a hologram, academic record, and a coded strip, obscuring private details from prying eyes but the open information rea.s.sured the Rowan. Three boys and one girl were Earthborn: the twin brother and sister who were only a few months her junior, came from Procyon, the other two girls were Capellans.

She called up the holograms and sat for a long while examining the likenesses and trying to imagine the personalities. She stared longest at one of the Earth boys because Barinov was as handsome as a tri-d performer, with blond and curly hair that he wore long to his bare shoulders: he'd been hologrammed in swimming briefs.

He deserved to be. He was as muscular and gorgeous as Turian.

And only three years older than she. It was just as well moria wasn't Talented. Then Rascal managed one of his incredible leaps from her tape sheif to her shoulder, demanding attention now that he had awakened from his latest nap.

The students all arrived on the same official pa.s.senger shuttle which the Rowan and Gerolaman met. They had obviously had a chance to become acquainted during the short transfer. They were in high spirits as they crowded through the doorway, laughing and joking, their personal effects bags bobbing behind them in a display of kinetic skill. Then one of the boys noticed Gerolaman and the Rowan and two of the bags dropped to the ground.

'Tsk, tsk,' Gerolaman said, grinning a welcome. 'Stationmaster Gerolaman, T-5, and your instructor in this course.' He nudged the Rowan discreetly who was staring at Barinov. He was even more handsome in the flesh, even flesh covered by casual clothing.

'My name is Rowan,' she said. 'I hope you'll like it here on Altair.' She berated herself for her lapse in manners and smiled impartially around. She felt two, no, four distinct mental touches, more like handshakes than intrusions. She let them see her excitement at meeting new Talents and deflected.

'Sure beats gloomy old Earth,' one of the boys said, raising a hand in greeting. The Rowan recognized him from the hologram as Ray Loftus, born in the South African mega-city. He shaded his eyes with one hand as he looked across the flat landing field toward Port's low skyline and whistled. 'Is that all the city you folks got?' he asked, adding a low disparaging whistle.

'Abort, Ray,' laughed Patsy Kearn. 'Don't let him make fun of your city, Rowan. That's all he's used to, cities.' 'Not cities, Pat, city, a proper high-tech skysc.r.a.ping city,' Joe Toglia said, making outlines of huge buildings with a flailing of arms. 'I'm as much citified as he is even if my folks live at the perimeter of Midwest metro. Hi, there, Rowan. The Rowan responded to the friendly warmth emanating from the two Procyons, Mauli and Mick, the twin empaths.

Theirs was a curious Talent since it had an echo effect: the second mind reinforcing what the first mind projected. They weren't even attempting to s.h.i.+eld so anyone could hear them.

No-one quite knows what to do with that trick, Mauli told the Rowan.

They would like to very much, Mick spoke almost simultaneously.

They're certain we can be extremely useful If they can only figure out where, how, why.

'That's enough of that,' Gerolaman said, scowling in mock reproof at all three. 'Not all of us are telepaths. But every one of you knows the proper manners to display, don't you? Now, whichever of you is kinetic, bring the gear and we'll get you settled in your quarters.'

He shooed them toward the big pa.s.senger land vehicle.

The Rowan clambered in last and sat next to the tall thin dark-haired Capellan, Goswina, who had a very private air about her.

There was the faintest tinge of green to her skin. Her eyes were also greenish, but closer to yellow.

Seth and Barinov appeared to be continuing an argument but Barinov looked right at the Rowan and winked. She wasn't quite sure what she should do. She certainly wasn't going to imitate moria's arch coyness.

'Altair is a lovely planet,' Goswina said in a gentle voice and the Rowan was grateful for the interruption. 'Capella is a very harsh place. Are those really trees?' She pointed toward the wooded hills rising behind Port Altair.

'Oh, yes.' 'And people can visit them?' 'Oh, yes,' although the Rowan realized that she'd never been to the forest. An uneasy memory stirred in her mind but she lost the thought as she saw the rapt expression on Goswina's face as she continued to gaze in that direction.

'Will we be allowed to visit the forest?' 'I don't see why not.

You're eighteen and old enough to go unescorted anywhere.' 'You don't have problems with indent gangs?' Goswina looked mildly relieved.

The Rowan lifted the explanation of this phenomena from Goswina's public mind: indent meant indentured, and on Capella groups of indentured persons would often indulge in unlawful activities once their worktime was over.

'Not on Altair. We don't have that many indentured people here yet.' 'You're lucky! When there are a lot of them, they display the only talent they have: a propensity for violence.

Then the land vehicle drew up in front of the guest accommodations and Ray Loftus whistled again, this time in appreciation.

'Hey, not bad! Not bad at all. Glad I came!' He grinned broadly and hopped out of the vehicle, to be the first inside the facility.

Samella was there and Ray's grin faded a little as he immediately recognized her supervisory att.i.tude.

The Rowan remained through introductory remarks from both Gerolaman and Samella on privileges, the conduct expected of the students, and handed out daily schedules. Then each was a.s.signed a room and told that they were free until the evening meal.