On the stone pathway that led to Tench’s farm, a collection of boxes and canisters were lashed to a battered platform that hovered lazily in the air, drawing a confused look from Merinel. She glanced at the mechanical dove perched upon the baggage.
“Where is Tench?” Merinel inquired.
“Tench is within,” replied the dove. “The top layer of containers are genuine, and contain plausible cargo for a pair of Humans making an overhull journey. Everything else is a disguise for Tench’s cocoon. If possible, you must dissuade others from handling containers below the top layer, lest the deception be discovered.”
“But why is the deception necessary in the first place?” Merinel asked, a note of trepidation creeping into her voice.
“I am not certain that it is. Nevertheless, an obviously humaniform cargo would naturally arouse curiosity, and such curiosity may not be to your benefit. There is no impairment to the unit’s functionality – the lifter features an integrated holographic display unit, which will indicate the cocoon’s status whenever you or Adimar place your thumb on this area.” The dove hopped onto the pushbar of the lifter to indicate an innocent-looking pattern of scratches.
Merinel cast a wary eye over the array. She opened a blue plastic cask – it contained bolts of temperature-adaptive cloth, exactly the sort of goods that a member of a civilized enclave might transport to the fallows on a mission of trade or charity.
“Adimar made it clear this morning that he does not consider his post to be honorary,” Merinel noted to the dove as she fingered the weave of the cloth. “And now you, who are largely incapable of overreaction, have gone to some trouble to make Tench invisible.” She closed the cask and tried to imagine Tench lying in a dreamless void somewhere beneath it. “Have I led a sheltered life? Is the world beyond the rim of the Dish so fraught with danger?”
The dove fluttered up to her shoulder. “Do not overcredit my efforts. The lifter’s disguise represents an insignificant component of my stewardship. Nevertheless, if you are concerned that your memories of Tenbor’s fallow period represent unrealistic expectations for your journey, you are correct. The Dish was an unusually stable and well-ordered fallow community. The settlements you will visit have all experienced civil strife within living memory and continue to experience crime, occasionally violent crime. The wild areas on your path are known to have well-developed ecosystems, including large predators, and may also prove to be temporary refuges for persons unwelcome in more civilized settings.”
Merinel looked back at the farmhouse. “Then it’s true. I’m marching him into danger, against his will, to allay my loneliness. Not to mention the danger to myself, or Adimar. Or the threat of orphanhood for Byx.” Merinel closed her eyes tightly and hissed the chant against tears in an angry whisper.
“I hear your Stoic, and your Provider. But you continue to speak of the journey as a predetermined fact. Merinel – I would not render my assistance in this matter if I considered the level of risk unacceptable. But I neither understand nor endorse your need to make the decision in such haste. The Szerar Entity’s condition has remained unchanged for hundreds of years. Its assistance will still be available in a week, or a month.”
Merinel shook her head, interrupting the chant and letting the tears trickle across her face. “I am dangerously close to accepting Tench’s condition. A week, or a month, might complete the process. Perhaps that’s a personal failing – I don’t care. I will not let it happen.” She rose from the lifter and walked back towards the house. “In any case, Tench was brave enough to heal you, despite the risk to himself, and now he deserves the same courage from me.”
“Is that a rationalization?”
Merinel swatted the dove from her shoulder. “Assuming the violent criminals, large predators, and social outcasts don’t get me first,” she replied, “we’ll pose that question to Szerar.”