"You could take advantage of my offer: a shelter for use as your church and food from the canteen."
"The church will return to where it is needed," said the monk evenly. "But I thank you, brother, for your concern."
Thoughtfully, he watched as the factor nodded and strode away. Del Meoud seemed tense and more on edge than normal, almost as if he had something on his mind or on his conscience and, by offering his help, hoping to make friends or amends.
Interestedly he looked ahead to where Adrienne sauntered with the tall grim figure of Ilgash, Jocelyn's bodyguard, a step behind. The woman seemed to be waiting for someone. With wry surprise, he realized that the person was himself.
"Brother," she said as he drew near, "may I talk to you?"
He looked at her for a moment before answering, his eyes studying her face. "Is something troubling you, sister?"
Irritably she shook her head. "No-yes-I don't know. Are you busy? Could we talk?"
"If you wish to unburden yourself, sister," said the monk evenly, "the church is at your disposal." He caught her hesitation. "I am on my way to Lowtown. If you would care to accompany me, we could talk as we go."
Adrienne nodded, her long legs easily matching the other's stride. "The summer is almost over," she said abruptly. "Shouldn't all those who hunt spores be back by now?"
"No, sister. Some of them make long journeys and many spores are unavailable until the very end of summer." It was his turn to hesitate. "Did you have someone special in mind?"
"Dumarest," she said curtly. "My husband invited him to share a meal with us. I have not seen him since. Do you know the man?"
"Yes, sister, but he could be one of those of whom I spoke." He sensed her desire to hear more and her bafflement at not knowing how to phrase her questions without betraying her interest. Skillfully, he changed the subject. "Your husband has done much to alleviate the distress of those living in Lowtown. The services of his physician alone are most welcome. And he has agreed to give passage to several wishing to travel to Jest."
"As workers, as indentured servants," she snapped.
"Until they repay the cost of passage," the monk corrected gently. "Even so, the offer is a generous one."
"The act of a fool," she said, suddenly angry. "I assume that he wants each one to spin a coin so as to decide his fate?"
"Not quite, sister. I have been given the task of arranging a lottery. Available space is limited," he explained. "Only a few can be accommodated. Your vessel does not have facilities for low passage, and quick-time does not come cheap." He was surprised at the venom of her reaction.
"Is that why I was denied?"
"Denied?"
"Yes, I-" She broke off; her lips thinned as she fought her anger. Was this why she had been refused use of the drug which would have eliminated her boredom? Under its influence an hour passed in a second, a day in a few minutes. She assumed she had been refused it in order to save the drug for the use of stranded travelers.
"Be careful here, sister," said Brother Glee as they approached Lowtown. "The path is somewhat rough."
The houses were also rough, were hovels in which men, women, even children lived. There were numbers of wide-eyed tots in rags chewing on scraps of fungus. Their bellies were swollen and their skins showed the inevitable results of their diet.
People were working on the huts, slowly making up the walls and strengthening the roofs. Many were past repair and the materials which had gone into their construction were used to repair others. Those not engaged in building collected masses of fungi for drying and storage.
Everywhere was the smell she had once noticed in the slums of Eldfane, the stink of poverty.
"My lady," said Ilgash softly in her ear. "I do not think it wise for you to be here. These people are unused to one of your stature."
He doesn't mean exactly that, she thought with sudden insight. He thinks that I lower my dignity by being here and, by association, his own. She looked at the children. Dignity? Among the starving, what was that?
She said to Brother Glee. "The children would require less quick-time and take up less room. We could take more of them."
"And what of the parents? They would willingly relinquish their children, but have we the right to present them with such a choice? Your husband recognized that we could not, and so the lottery. Some will be lucky; some of the lucky ones will yield their places to others."
He caught her inhalation of disbelief and felt her anger.
"You doubt that? You think the poor and desperate have no higher motivation than the beast impulse to eat and stay alive? Sister, you know little of the realities of life. You think your husband a fool because he does what he must; I tell you he is far from that. How often does the ruler of a world concern himself with the welfare of those less fortunate? You are indeed to be envied, having married such a man. There are so few who, having power, use it as it should be used, to aid and not to destroy."
She caught a reflection of his anger, the helpless rage born of frustration and the indifference of many, of watching children starve while men squandered money on things of transient pleasure, of seeing the arrogance of the wealthy and the unfeeling cruelty of rulers. Startled, she looked at the monk. The church, she knew, had power and many friends in high places. Where poverty lurked they were to be found but, also, their plain robes merged with the colorful garments of many a court. She compared him with Yeon. Cybers, also, graced the places of wealth and influence, but they never mingled with the poor.
She shook her head, baffled by novel concepts and a little annoyed because of them. Had she misjudged Jocelyn so badly? If the church regarded him with such favor could he be such a fool? More important, would they turn against her in times to come?
"My lady, it is time you returned to the ship." Ilgash was insistent.
"A moment." Adrienne looked at Brother Glee. "I am a stranger to Jest," she said. "But if you have no church there, you would be most welcome."
He acknowledged her offer with a slight inclination of his head. "You are gracious, sister, but the matter has already been arranged. A Brother will be accompanying you when you leave."
She was sharp. "Not yourself?"
Was his reply a rebuke? Adrienne examined the words, the tone, and shook her head. It was a simple statement of fact from an old and dedicated man who did what he could with what he had, a man who neither judged nor condemned.
Ilgash said deferentially, "My lady, with respect, it is time to return."
Thoughtfully she walked up the path, pausing as she crested the slope to look back, seeing the monk now surrounded by children and thin-faced women eager for news. The memory lingered all the way to the ship.
A fungus exploded dully to one side, releasing a cloud of yellow spores. They drifted in the soft wind from the sea, the yellow tinged with red so that, for a moment, they seemed a spray of orange blood.
* * *
"A parasite," said Clemdish. "A bad one. Get a spore on your bare skin and you're in real trouble."
Dumarest wiped the other's sweating face.
"Trouble," said Clemdish. "That's a joke. Who needs trouble when they've got me?"
"You had bad luck," said Dumarest. "It could have happened to anyone."
"I didn't listen," said the small man. "You warned me, but I wouldn't listen. I was greedy. I wanted it all. Now what have I got? A busted spine and ribs tearing my lungs to shreds." He coughed and dabbed at the fringe of blood around his mouth. "A cripple," he said bitterly, "a helpless cripple."
He lay against one side of the tent, resting on a bed of soft fungi, his almost naked body glistening with sweat. Rough bandages swathed his chest where Dumarest had set his broken ribs, but there had been nothing he could do about the broken spine.
Dumarest leaned back, his eyes closed, reliving the muscle-tearing effort of dragging the little man to a place of safety, of setting up the tent, of sterilizing them both and tending his partner's injuries. Since then it had been a matter of supplying food and water.
The water was running low.
"We've got to think of something," said Clemdish. "I'm no help like this. Hell, Earl, what can we do?"