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12

Herman swallowed so hard his Adam’s apple rippled the skin on his throat. Then he leaned forward and, folding his hands between his knees, began talking.

“It goes back some T-months ago. I’d had a really busy day. I’d put the order together for the Câmaras’ restaurant, and I thought I had enough time to grab a late lunch before Frank dropped by. You’ve got to understand, I work hard, really hard, and even my meals are often part of my work, because I use them to taste-test samples that we’ve cleared as nontoxic. On the day I’m telling you about, I’d intended to do just that, but I was rushed so I decided the systematic testing could wait until dinner or maybe the next day. So I hauled out my wok, splashed in some oil, and put together a stir-fry using a mixed batch of the samples. Frank arrived just as I was finishing up my cooking and, since I was just about starving, I invited him to join me for lunch.”

Cordelia chuckled. “For a new recipe? Wow, you’re braver than I am.”

“I really am quite a good cook,” Herman said, relaxing slightly, “and I’d done a little sampling as I cooked, so I felt certain there was nothing that would taste horribly bitter or musty or anything. Actually, later, I wondered if even then the concoction was influencing me. One of the first things it does is mellow you out.”

Mellow enough to want to have lunch with Frank Câmara? Cordelia thought. That’s amazing.

“Anyhow, by the time we were done with lunch the drug—what did you call it? Baka bakari?”

Jessica laughed. Cordelia knew her well enough by now to know that the laugh was forced, but Herman didn’t twig to it.

“That’s Japanese for ‘nothing more than an idiot,’” Jessica explained, not adding that Karl had come up with the name. His girlfriend Sumiko had been of Old Terran Japanese descent, and her family had been into preserving some of the language and traditions. “Most people wouldn’t know that, though, so I’m guessing it’s an inside joke.”

“Well, it’s a pretty good name,” Herman said, growing serious once more, “because when Frank told me my cooking was terrific and asked if he could he have some leftovers, I gave them to him quite cheerfully. Normally, I’d never have done that, and when I—sobered up, came down—whatever term you prefer, I was horrified. I commed Frank and asked him to bring the leftovers back, since I hadn’t finished my tests. Not only wouldn’t he bring them back, he told me he’d already shared them with a friend, and he wanted more. When I protested, Frank offered to pay me, really generously. Since I had no idea, then at least, what sort of person he was, I agreed. I was actually a little pleased, and even found myself thinking that maybe I could copyright the recipe and make something from it.”

He shook his head, as if astonished by his own naïveté. “This went on for a while, a couple of weeks, maybe? We always have more mushrooms than we can use, which is why we started selling the safe ones. I was pleased to be making some extra money—Glynis pays me a good salary, but this job won’t last forever—and I felt clever for making money off of what would have otherwise been discards.”

“Were you still regularly eating your special stir-fry?” Cordelia asked, carefully avoiding the drug-related name.

“I was,” Herman admitted. “A fair amount, actually, because as long as I was supplying Frank, I might as well not cook twice.”

“Did Frank always ask for you to cook it for him?” Jessica asked. “Or did he ask for the ingredients so he could make it himself?”

“It might seem odd,” Herman said, “given the family business, but Frank doesn’t like to cook.”

“I get that,” Jessica said. “Kids either seem to follow what their folks do or reject it entirely. Frank definitely strikes me as a rejecter.”

Or reject, Cordelia thought.

“So,” Herman said, obviously forcing himself back to the subject, “let’s fast-forward. Frank started asking for more special stir-fry. Several times, I had to tell him he couldn’t have any, because one or another of the mushroom crops needed to replenish. That’s when Frank started asking just which mushroom created that nice mellow feeling, hinting that maybe he could just buy some of those. I had to admit, I didn’t know. I’d been curious myself, see? By then, I’d cooked each type separately, and none of them on their own created the buzz. Frank didn’t believe me, and insisted on coming over for a taste test. Well, by then, I was beginning to realize that he was the sort of spoiled rich kid who, if his folks weren’t so well off, would be called a ‘bully,’ but because they are pillars of the community is instead said to be ‘strong-willed’ and ‘someone who knows his own mind.’ When we did the taste test, I changed the names of as many of the mushrooms as I could, because I didn’t want him to try making the stir-fry himself. I didn’t need to bother. He just ate each one and got increasingly peeved when none gave him a buzz.”

Jessica grinned. “I believe I heard Frank described as ‘strong-willed’ myself, back in the days when I was hanging out with Trudy Franchitti and her gang. Frank’s best friend, Stan, is Trudy’s beau, and a couple of times I got set up with Frank. Not my best memories ever. He definitely knows his own mind and isn’t happy when you don’t want to do what he wants.”

Encouraged by being believed, Herman hurried to conclude his tale of woe. “So, clearly, the mellow feeling was caused by an interaction between one of more of the ingredients in my stir-fry. The thing is, I didn’t know—I still don’t know—which ones. I can’t even eliminate the cooking process. An all-fresh batch didn’t do it.”

“Did you use meat?” Cordelia asked. “I don’t think you mentioned that?”

“I didn’t,” Herman said. “I’m pretty much a vegetarian, actually. Fungi can provide an amazing variety of nutrients, including proteins. And I love tofu.”

Cordelia nodded gravely, although she’d never been very enthusiastic about vegetarianism. She wasn’t Stephanie, whose genetically modified metabolism made low-calorie food unappealing, to say the least, but she did agree with Stephanie about tofu. The only tofu she liked was in a frozen dessert, and that only as long as it was served as part of a sundae, with at least chocolate sauce and whipped cream.

Herman went on. “When Frank started pressuring me to find out which combination created the happy, mellow euphoria, I realized that I was in trouble. As long as I could fool myself that he was just sharing with a few friends, I felt fine about taking his money and cooking party foods. When I realized that he was probably selling it, then I started getting scared. I got more scared after Frank mentioned in passing that one of the kids who’d had a weird accident—that skimmer dude—was someone he knew from another club. I started wondering if, all unintentionally, I might have been complicit.”

He unfolded his hands and slurped deeply from his rapidly cooling mug of coffee.

“You didn’t realize you’d created a new drug,” Cordelia said sternly, “one that was perfectly legal, because no one realized that it existed, but nonetheless could be dangerous?”

“I didn’t think about it that way,” Herman protested, gripping the mug. “People brew beer or make wine out of all sorts of astonishing things. No one calls the end result ‘drugs,’ even when they’re pretty high proof. I didn’t think I was making a drug, just a meal with a nice extra spice.”

His shifting gaze gave lie to his words, but Cordelia didn’t push him. While Herman might be the source, he wasn’t the problem, she realized. What if she called Karl or Stephanie in, and they ordered him to stop dealing with Frank? Would that be enough to stop the problem?

Probably not, she reflected. Frank was there for at least one sampling session. He might have a harder time finding some of the ingredients, but given that his dad’s in the food business, it would be easier for him than for a lot of people. I hate it, but we’ve got to let this go on, at least a little longer.

“So, how’s your analysis going?” Jessica asked, very much the inquiring young scientist. “You told us that cooking was necessary. Does dehydration change the effect?”

Herman nodded. “Raw ingredients dehydrated remain inert or, at best, provide a slight glow. Something in the heating process either releases the chemicals or changes them or something. The problem is, I’m not enough of a pharmaceutical chemist to know what to look for.”

“That’s a pain,” Jessica said sympathetically. “It’s like analyzing traditional herbal remedies—something my mom really got into. A lot of those traditional remedies work, but unreliably, because maybe a certain herb is more potent when harvested at a certain time of the year. Maybe the original directions say to harvest in the ‘dark of a summer moon’ and this gets changed to ‘dark of the moon.’ There are also cautions about using certain tools or even who can do the harvesting. Like with when to harvest, those cautions may have made sense originally. Saying ‘should only be harvested by a nimble-fingered maiden between the ages of ten and twelve’ might simply have meant ‘small fingers and a light touch,’ but over time it gets changed to a ‘delicate virgin’ and the actual, perfectly practical, directions get lost.”

Conversation went on in this vein for a time, with Jessica eliciting details as to how Herman was methodically testing the various mushrooms in different combinations, how he was beginning to suspect that one or more of his spices might be providing a contributing element. They were discussing the medical properties of capsicum when a tone sounded over the bone conductor mics Karl had insisted both young women wear.

“There’s an incoming air van on my cruiser’s sensors,” Karl said over them. “Its transponder is registered to Câmara Comestibles. I’m willing to bet it’s Frank.” Cordelia and Jessica glanced quickly at one another. Karl and Stephanie might be legally barred from listening to their conversation, which meant they hadn’t heard Herman’s confirmation of Frank’s involvement, but from his tone, he clearly didn’t think Frank “just happened” to be flying in.

“Whoever it is,” he continued, “it’s coming in fast enough that I don’t think you could clear out before it lands—even if that wouldn’t make Herman wonder if you’d been warned. But I don’t want you two hanging around after he lands, either. So why don’t you start making your excuses now?”

“Do we move in?” Stephanie said from her own place beside him in the cruiser, feeling every muscle in her body tighten with the desire to be there to help her friends.

“Not until Frank’s on the parking field,” Karl replied. “Then I’ll ease us closer, using the forest canopy for cover. Hopefully, we won’t be needed.”

“I hate waiting,” Stephanie said from between clenched teeth.

“But you can do it,” Karl reached over and patted her arm. “We both know that.”

Meanwhile, Cordelia had glanced at the chronometer, and interrupted the increasingly technical discussion between Herman and Jessica—a conversation in which Jessica had held up her part, even as Karl’s briefing had come through.

“Hey, Jess, I just got a look at the time. Didn’t you say you had to meet your mom and then go by the hospital? If we don’t hurry, we’re going to need to six-leg it to get you there in time. Remember, we’re not in Twin Forks.”

Jessica jumped to her feet. “Ooh…Am I going to get it. Thanks for talking with us, Herman.”

“You’ve given me a lot to consider,” Herman said. “Maybe we can talk again.”

He was walking them toward the parking area when, turning a bend in the path, they would have slammed directly into Frank Câmara if Valiant, pacing them along the rooftops, hadn’t bleeked warning. Cordelia and Jessica pulled up short, so fast that Herman nearly ran into their backs. He was starting to say something when he saw Frank and the words vanished.

“Frank!” Jessica said, giving the burly young man a playful swat. “Still rushing from place to place. I never would have expected to see you here.”

Frank managed to regain his cool with a swiftness that would have done credit to the maître d’ of his father’s most expensive restaurant.

“Hey, Jess. What brings you here at such an early hour?”

“Hanging with Cordelia,” she said. “Cordelia’s brothers asked her to drop off a few things they’d fixed. I came along because I’d heard how amazing this place was. I think these buildings are so cute! Don’t you?”

“They’re all right,” Frank said. “Kinda weird, really.”

Karl’s SFS cruiser lingered in hover, just below the treeline, while Stephanie watched the conversation on its directional camera. Now she melted in relief as Jessica swatted Frank.

“Jess is going to get them out of there. She always was cool-headed. Even the short time she’s been working at the hospital has added to that. I think we can relax.”

“For now,” Karl said, looking worried. “But Frank isn’t stupid, for all he acts like a hulking gorilla. If he started remembering that Jessica and Cordelia both know us—if even only because of the treecats—Herman Maye could find himself getting a Nosey Jones style warning.”

“Certainly nothing like that,” Stephanie protested. “They need him.”

“I wish I could put cameras up here like we did at Nosey’s,” Karl said, “but we’d need permission.”

“Can’t you just ask Mack and Zack Kemper?” Stephanie was asking, when Cordelia and Jessica pulled up alongside Karl’s cruiser.

“Let’s get out of here,” Stephanie said over her uni-link. Then, leaving the connection open, she repeated her question. “Can’t you just ask Mack and Zack Kemper if we could put observation cameras around the place? It’s their land.”

“That’s a legal gray area, at absolute best,” Karl said just a bit repressively, “as I’m certain you remember from our law classes on Manticore. Yes, the Kemper boys own the land, but Glynis is the tenant and Herman is her representative. Ask Jessica how she’d feel if the Franchittis gave the SFS permission to put a remote watch on her family’s house, especially if they had done nothing at all illegal.”

“Seriously creeped out,” Jessica responded. “But Karl, Stephanie doesn’t want to spy on Herman. You and she want to keep him safe.”

“And with good reason.” Karl nodded. “We can ask the Chief about it—we have to brief him on this fungus cocktail of Herman’s, anyway. He may be able to give us a little more insight. Like I’ve said, we probably could get a warrant to set up surveillance if we had evidence a crime had been committed. But we don’t—not really—so I’m pretty sure we’d have to have Herman’s permission even if Chief Shelton thinks it would be a good idea.”

“Should we just go ahead and ask him, then?” Jessica asked.

“I…don’t think so,” Karl said slowly. “While I agree with you that Herman seemed to be lying to himself about just how complicit he is, that doesn’t mean he isn’t actually perfectly aware of it. Maybe he’s an excellent liar. Maybe at this very moment, rather than him being intimidated by Frank, they’re actually collaborating on how to keep fooling the stupid kids. If I felt absolutely certain about Herman, I’d ask him if he’d mind if we put up surveillance equipment, but I don’t.”

“What if,” Stephanie said, thinking out loud, “we put the cameras where they could observe the area, but not exactly Mr. Ack’s? So we could see what vehicles were approaching, like that?”

“Still a gray area,” Karl replied, “especially with so little justification for doing so. Remember, Herman isn’t doing anything illegal. That baka bakari he’s making might never be made illegal. It might end up classified a permissible recreational drug, like alcohol or tobacco, or be ignored entirely.”

“We could put them up for an SFS study, tracking wood rats or something, and they could ‘just happen’ to be placed to cover the parking apron,” Stephanie suggested.

“And if any imagery they captured ended up being part of a criminal prosecution, the defense counsel would subpoena the paperwork on the study.” Karl shook his head. “Since there wouldn’t be any, he’d argue—correctly, by the way—that the real purpose had been to set up an illegal surveillance, which would automatically make anything we learned from it—directly or indirectly—inadmissible in court. Not going to happen, Steph.”

“But…”

“Stephanie,” Karl said more sternly, “just accept that this is one of those times when you can’t go by your ‘It’s better to ask forgiveness than permission’ creed. Maybe you need to remember there are reasons for rules, even for clever people like you. Anyhow, you’re not eleven anymore.”

Stephanie nodded, knowing that he was perfectly right, adding silently to herself, But things were a lot easier when I was.

Although the night air was crisp, Heart Stone chose not to wear the made-fur that Life Shaper had given him when he went out to explore. The made-thing was very useful for keeping him warm during those times that he was sitting still, working on a scraper or knife, but it did have an annoying habit of collecting bits of twigs and leaves in a manner his natural coat did not.

Earlier that afternoon, there had been a large gathering at Second Nest, one attended by many two-legs, some of whom Heart Stone recognized as visitors to Life Shaper’s home, including several young males who seemed to have interest in bonding with some of Life Shaper’s littermates, or so he speculated, based on behaviors he had witnessed when the pairs thought themselves unobserved.

Climbs Quickly and Fierce Fighter had come to the gathering, as had Sharp Sight and Determined Defender. Even Plant Fancier and Feels Strongly had come. Heart Stone had spent a very enjoyable time helping the quiet plant-loving Person tuck a variety of little tubers into sheltered areas near the bases of various trees. When the right season came, these would blossom forth, with the added benefit of providing tasty treats for the two-legs. Only Strikes Like Lightning and Flame Crest had not joined the festivities, but this was not uncommon. They lived very far away, and Heart Stone had gathered that Flame Crest’s calling as a healer kept him very busy.

All in all, it had been a pleasant day. When night drew on, the guests departed, leaving Life Shaper and her littermates to finish restoring order to the friendly chaos. Well-fed and guessing, based upon the presence of the carry-thing that Life Shaper brought with her whenever they were going to be long from the central nesting place, that she was sleeping here tonight, Heart Stone set out to explore.

During their many other visits, he had familiarized himself with the immediate area around Second Nest, but had not ventured too far because—especially after the intrusion of Stench—he had not liked to leave Life Shaper unguarded. Tonight, he felt free to range farther. One of the great problems with always going places in the flying thing was that he had no clear idea how various important places were situated in relation to each other. Based on travel time, he knew that three places—Life Shaper’s central nesting place; this secondary nesting place; and the Rich Dirt Grove—were, as the flying thing flew, closer to each other than many of the others.

From his explorations of the area after he had left Bright Water, he had a sense of the relationship between Second Nest and Central Nest. Tonight’s goal was figuring out the relative position of Second Nest and Rich Dirt Grove. For all that Rich Dirt Grove had many structures, he knew it was a newly built place, having watched Life Shaper and her friends help create one of the structures in an amazingly short period of time.

An added benefit of his exploration would be testing how great a distance he was comfortable going away from Life Shaper—something that would be useful to know if he did decide to accept Sings Truly’s invitation to visit Bright Water. In his youth, like many male People, Heart Stone had been a hunter. Even after he had discovered his passion for working in stone, he had often gone to hunt for food for his family. Although the clan would have been happy to support him in exchange for his stone work and his teaching the art to others, he liked feeling he had not completely lost his touch.

One of the advantages to being an older Person was that the distance one could travel from one’s mate tended to increase with the length and complexity of the relationship. Having young also often strengthened the bond. Mind singers speculated this was because when the female was nursing a pair’s kits, she had to remain behind while her mate did all of the hunting. For these reasons, before the gray death had taken his Golden Eye, the then Stone Shaper had been able to range quite widely without the least anxiety.

Is that why I left my voice behind when I nearly followed Golden Eye into death? Heart Stone wondered. Perhaps I called after her until I had worn my voice thin into breaking, but the glow of her passionate desire that I live after her kept my mind-glow alive.

Life Shaper had a powerful mind-glow, as, he had noticed, did each of the two-legs who had bonded with a Person. The mind-glows were different, even as the colors in a rainbow were different. If mind-glows were colors, Fierce Fighter’s would be a brilliant yellow. Determined Defender’s would be the deep violet that is least often seen but most beautiful when glimpsed. And Life Shaper’s? Red, perhaps, or bright orange, like a warming fire. Whatever the “color,” her mind-glow did not fade as Stone Shaper leapt from tree to tree in a gradually expanding exploratory spiral. He chose this pattern rather than a straight line because, although he was confident of the direction in which Rich Dirt Grove lay, based upon the times they had taken a flying thing there from this point, he enjoyed creating a mental map of what he felt was part of his new territory, if for no other reason than that no other People were currently using it.

The area proved very interesting. Here and there, he found definite indications that two-legs had once dwelt in the area in larger numbers—quite possibly the reason no clan had settled in such a pleasant area. He was not Plant Fancier to have carefully studied plants, but People did eat nuts and berries as well as fresh meat, so he had some sense of how long it took some of the faster growers to spread. Based upon that, he guessed that the time when many two-legs had lived here was long enough gone that Air Dancer, Life Shaper’s youngest sister, might well have been a squalling kit.

Although the People had not chosen to show themselves to the two-legs, that did not mean that some of the bolder scouts had not watched them. Heart Stone recalled memory songs, shared when he had still been Stone Shaper, of a great sickness among the two-legs. Some People had speculated that at the rate they were dying, they might soon vanish from the People’s lands.

A plague, then, Heart Stone thought, one that may have killed some of Life Shaper’s clan. Our hearts have sung similar songs of loss, our spirits have had to learn how to live when dying would have been easier than grief. No wonder we meshed so simply. We are alike in other ways than in that we both chose to fight a battle when the odds were so against us.

Even as he grieved that Life Shaper, who he gathered was not among the oldest of her clan, should have suffered so much, Heart Stone felt happy to know that if they had both possessed mind-voices, they would have discovered shared experiences beyond those that had brought them together.

Life Shaper’s mind-glow was still a strong fire, if perhaps one that flickered a bit with distance, when Heart Stone scented the unmistakable scent of Rich Dirt Grove. It was not an unpleasant scent: rich and loamy, damp, promising tasty bark chewers, interesting insects and grubs, and the sort of rot that meant new growth, rather than sickness and death.

He angled toward it, and was on the outskirts, near where Mends Things and Colorful Splotches had built a thing that put dirt into carry bags, when he heard the hootings of two-legs in contention. When he had been broken Stone, foraging among the leavings of the two-legs for tools and bits of food, this would have been a signal to flee, but he was Heart Stone now, and he thought that the thinner, shriller hooting and howling belonged to Rich Dirt Grove’s resident, and Life Shaper’s friend, Musty. The other…

He sniffed the air and the fur along his spine rose as he caught the unmistakable odor of Stench. Two males clashing. That was as natural as night following day. Even among the People the ability to share feelings and thoughts did not eliminate disagreement. Among those many creatures who did not use mind-speech, disagreement frequently culminated in violence. And, as Sharp Sight’s scars showed, even among the People disagreements could degenerate into physical violence.

Heart Stone considered fleeing the budding conflict, but a shift in the wind brought him the scent of other two-legs. Stench hadn’t come alone. This was worrisome. Two-legs seemed to be largely diurnal, so several two-legs coming together well after dark to a place where one two-leg lived alone did not bode well for the solitary two-leg.

Heart Stone felt a growl rising unbidden deep within his throat. He knew how it felt to be alone, facing off attackers without a clan to call upon. He’d survived, but sometimes just barely. Moreover, this was Musty’s territory. Was Stench trying to drive him away from it and had brought herd members to aid him? Having Stench settle so close to where Life Shaper’s clan nested seemed like a very bad idea.

Despite the ingrained caution that had kept him alive during the many season turnings of his self-imposed exile from Bright Water Clan, Heart Stone crept closer. He knew what he was doing was dangerous. The healing scars on his battered hide reminded him of the cost the last time he had decided to assist a two-leg, but he didn’t hesitate.

And this time I am not alone. Life Shaper and I are bonded. If she is not asleep, she will feel my mind-glow. Knowing her, she will be concerned.

Springing lightly from tree limb to tree limb, Heart Stone came to where he could get a better view of what the two-legs were about. There were a hand plus one in all, not including Musty, who stood a bit apart. One of the intruders was smaller than the others—all of whom were much larger than Musty, and reeked of excitement and malice—and one particularly large one stood near the dirt-eating thing. That one had his—Heart Stone felt fairly certain that this one was a male—foot raised, resting on the edge of the thing, pushing just hard enough to rock it. Musty was making mouth noises at him, frantic and rapid, so that Heart Stone did not believe that what Kicker did was at Musty’s request or to his liking.

Stench stood a short distance away, beside and slightly behind the smallest of the two legs. Heart Stone was still learning two-leg body language, but he thought that this position meant that Stench was subtly deferring to this other. That was interesting, given that most of the time Stench swaggered like a horn blade in rut. From this, Heart Stone decided Little was probably the leader, perhaps a female as dominant as any old memory singer.

The two remaining two-legs seemed content at this point to stand back and let Little, Stench, and Kicker interact with Musty, but they were no less a threat. Musty was outnumbered, and one did not need to be as experienced in life as was Heart Stone to understand what was happening.

Little wanted Musty to do something—probably give over this nesting place into which he had put so much labor. Musty did not wish to do so. Little was escalating the conflict, threatening the thing that bundled the dirt, and using Kicker as her extra legs. Stench’s role was less certain. Did he belong to Little’s clan? If so, he was a very junior member. Perhaps he was present because he had been the scout who interacted with Musty to prepare for this hunt.

In the distance, Heart Stone felt a warmth that told him that Life Shaper was awake and aware of the shift in his mind-glow. That was good, although he hoped she would not come out into the night alone. Nonetheless, he did not dampen his apprehension or his determination. He did not wish to frighten her, but she should know that this was a problematic situation.

Below, Kicker rocked the dirt bundling thing harder, so that it swayed like a branch in the wind. The shiny legs creaked in protest as they strained against their anchored feet. Musty wailed in frustration or fear or both.

Life Shaper’s brothers made that thing, Heart Stone thought. They were very pleased that day. I don’t think they would be happy if Kicker broke it. Perhaps I can at least stop that. Life Shaper is definitely coming, but if I wait she may arrive to find her friend driven from his home. That would not do.

Mind made up, Heart Stone rippled the length of his spine down to the tip of his tail. Then, pushing off from the tree limb, he leapt down into the midst of the warring two-legs.


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