songs to your teammates, just because they’re Aarouns and their genetics should make ’em trustworthy? You going to make your first converts to the cause with that bunch?”
“I do want to talk to them,” Ampris said, ignoring his sarcasm. “I’ve never been around my own kind much. I want to learn the Aaroun ways.”
“See?” he said, too shrilly. “No sense. Let me tell you about Aaroun ways. Ylea will slit your throat if she gets a chance. Not up here in the private quarters, because you’re guarded. But in the arena, she’ll turn on you and make it look like your opponent cut you down.”
“They can’t all be like her.”
“Why not?” he asked her in open exasperation. “Why not? Why look for the good in folk? Why waste your time? Why take the risk?”
Ampris let the silence spin out a moment beneath the rush of water around them, then she said in a quiet voice, “I don’t know yet what I’m supposed to be doing in this life, but I’m beginning to get an idea. Living in the palace got me a fine education. I can read and write and do higher mathematics. I know some history—both the real as well as the falsified versions. I understand music and art. I can read a basic star map and figure out where I am. I know how to survive court intrigues. I know protocol and I can speak Viis fluently. So what does that make me, Elrabin? A freak, or someone who sees what all abiru folk can be like if given the chance and opportunities?”
“No one gets a chance,” Elrabin said resentfully.
“There has to be a way to make chances,” Ampris said. “I was lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time, but we have to find a way to get around luck. We have to make our own opportunities, and show others how to do the same.”
“Save the speeches, Goldie,” Elrabin said with a jaw-cracking yawn. “There’s no one to hear.”
Hurt, Ampris backed her ears and swung away. Elrabin was so typical, so closed-minded and afraid to venture out, just like nearly all the others. He had many gifts and talents. He could be so much more than he was, if he would just believe in himself.
But then a voice rose up in the back of her mind, jeering at her. What did she expect Elrabin to be? He was a slave. He could not do as he pleased, go where he pleased, no more than she could. And besides, what was all her fine education for, except to make her aware of all the possibilities denied to her?
“The way I see it,” Elrabin said, startling her from her thoughts, “is we got to find us some rules here, Goldie.”
“What kind of rules?”
“Rules between me and you.”
She looked at him, trying to read his eyes and failing. “Explain.”
“I can’t trust you if I think you’re going to risk our necks by jabbering this junk at everyone you meet. So maybe we should just call it quits. You ask for another servant. Leave me out of this disaster you’re planning.”
Dismay filled her throat. “I thought we were friends.”
He wouldn’t meet her gaze. He was panting, and his fists were clenched. “Friends,” he muttered. “Yeah. Trouble is, you want to be friends with everyone. I hang with you, and you get your hide in trouble. Then I’m in trouble, too. You want to trust folk just ’cause they’re abiru, but there’s plenty of the abiru here who will run to turn in anything they overhear. Ruar is the biggest squealer in the place. And Okal—”
“You know Okal can be trusted,” she said quickly.
“Maybe. Yeah. He’s no squealer,” Elrabin admitted. “But who can tell with a Phivean? You know how weird they are.”
“Okal believes in the Eye,” Ampris said, touching the pendant around her neck. “That’s why I trust him.”
Elrabin backed his ears. “Don’t go asking me to judge folk that way! What kind of stupid idea is that?”
“Call it foolish if you want,” she said wearily. “I can’t explain it to you.” She sighed, feeling herself sag. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t
“I do want to talk to them,” Ampris said, ignoring his sarcasm. “I’ve never been around my own kind much. I want to learn the Aaroun ways.”
“See?” he said, too shrilly. “No sense. Let me tell you about Aaroun ways. Ylea will slit your throat if she gets a chance. Not up here in the private quarters, because you’re guarded. But in the arena, she’ll turn on you and make it look like your opponent cut you down.”
“They can’t all be like her.”
“Why not?” he asked her in open exasperation. “Why not? Why look for the good in folk? Why waste your time? Why take the risk?”
Ampris let the silence spin out a moment beneath the rush of water around them, then she said in a quiet voice, “I don’t know yet what I’m supposed to be doing in this life, but I’m beginning to get an idea. Living in the palace got me a fine education. I can read and write and do higher mathematics. I know some history—both the real as well as the falsified versions. I understand music and art. I can read a basic star map and figure out where I am. I know how to survive court intrigues. I know protocol and I can speak Viis fluently. So what does that make me, Elrabin? A freak, or someone who sees what all abiru folk can be like if given the chance and opportunities?”
“No one gets a chance,” Elrabin said resentfully.
“There has to be a way to make chances,” Ampris said. “I was lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time, but we have to find a way to get around luck. We have to make our own opportunities, and show others how to do the same.”
“Save the speeches, Goldie,” Elrabin said with a jaw-cracking yawn. “There’s no one to hear.”
Hurt, Ampris backed her ears and swung away. Elrabin was so typical, so closed-minded and afraid to venture out, just like nearly all the others. He had many gifts and talents. He could be so much more than he was, if he would just believe in himself.
But then a voice rose up in the back of her mind, jeering at her. What did she expect Elrabin to be? He was a slave. He could not do as he pleased, go where he pleased, no more than she could. And besides, what was all her fine education for, except to make her aware of all the possibilities denied to her?
“The way I see it,” Elrabin said, startling her from her thoughts, “is we got to find us some rules here, Goldie.”
“What kind of rules?”
“Rules between me and you.”
She looked at him, trying to read his eyes and failing. “Explain.”
“I can’t trust you if I think you’re going to risk our necks by jabbering this junk at everyone you meet. So maybe we should just call it quits. You ask for another servant. Leave me out of this disaster you’re planning.”
Dismay filled her throat. “I thought we were friends.”
He wouldn’t meet her gaze. He was panting, and his fists were clenched. “Friends,” he muttered. “Yeah. Trouble is, you want to be friends with everyone. I hang with you, and you get your hide in trouble. Then I’m in trouble, too. You want to trust folk just ’cause they’re abiru, but there’s plenty of the abiru here who will run to turn in anything they overhear. Ruar is the biggest squealer in the place. And Okal—”
“You know Okal can be trusted,” she said quickly.
“Maybe. Yeah. He’s no squealer,” Elrabin admitted. “But who can tell with a Phivean? You know how weird they are.”
“Okal believes in the Eye,” Ampris said, touching the pendant around her neck. “That’s why I trust him.”
Elrabin backed his ears. “Don’t go asking me to judge folk that way! What kind of stupid idea is that?”
“Call it foolish if you want,” she said wearily. “I can’t explain it to you.” She sighed, feeling herself sag. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t
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