okay?” she asked, her hands still working their task.
“He’s fine,” Shan said. Physically the young man was fine, and Shan was not an adequate judge of his mental state.
Cyla sighed and paused for a second before finishing the spraying. Shan glanced over at Ista Songwind, hoping she would get the hint and give them some privacy, but the woman was standing with her arms crossed in a pose that suggested she was not moving. Shan turned his back on her and moved closer to Cyla.
“I promised Temar I would see how you were doing. Worker Songwind says you aren’t going to church.”
Cyla frowned and put the board to one side. Now that the acid had washed away the impurities, someone would have to go over every circuit board to remove any residue left by the base solution. But that residue would be large and crystalline and easy to remove, compared to the tiny impurities that would coat a computer surface after any time exposed to Livre’s atmosphere
“Church was more his thing than mine.”
“Maybe he needed it more,” Shan suggested, trying to give the girl some opening to explain what might have happened. However, if she didn’t know about her father’s abuse, he didn’t want to tell her. Cyla carried enough burdens now, and he knew the guilt that came with having been ignorant when a loved one had suffered.
“Maybe he just liked to sit in the back and pretend that his life wasn’t fucked up from the time he was born,” she said with bitterness. “Not that anyone did anything to help either one of us.” She looked him up and down with disgust, making it clear that she considered him one of the people who should have done something. Shan leaned back in surprise. Okay, slavery had not dulled her tongue.
“You seem to be learning a good trade.” Shan changed the subject, hoping that a more neutral subject might put her at ease. After all, few slaves had the advantage of learning a trade, most, like Temar, labored at unskilled jobs. “Are you washing the circuits, or are you learning to scrape crystals, too?”
Songwind took a step forward. “That work’s too delicate for someone who can’t remember to neutralize the acid immediately.”
Shan sat silent for a moment, not wanting to return barb for barb with Ista Songwind. At least Cyla had found an owner who could match her, sharp, bitter comment for sharp, bitter comment.
“No doubt, after ten years under such a capable woman, you’ll know skills enough to either become a skilled worker or easily earn an apprenticeship to finish your training,” Shan said with a smile.
“And Temar?” Cyla demanded. “What skills will he learn in some farmer’s fields? Tell me that George Young didn’t get his contract, because if he did, I’ll trade with him right now. Hell, Temar would be better with this crap than I would, anyway,” she said with a wave of her hand at the table of circuits. Shan looked at the work table. The circuits were lined up by type. A wide control panel circuit was on the far end, its pink glass structure winking in the sun. A half dozen small circuits were attached to a board that had been covered with a dust shield, and the panel Cyla had just finished had a dozen more small-scale circuits. Obviously, Red Plain had suffered some storm that had required them to pull many of their circuits for cleaning. The loss of this many computers must have the town functioning on minimum resources. Shan was surprised that they hadn’t asked Landing or Blue Hope for some equipment to tide them over.
“Ben Gratu bought his contract. He’s as well as he can be,” Shan reassured her. “Worker Songwind, if you have need of assistance with so many computers down, Landing can send a few trained workers or some equipment over to assist you,” he offered. Worker Songwind scowled at him, but that seemed to be her most used expression.
“We’re fine.”
Shan didn’t have an answer for that, so he turned his attention back to Cyla. “Is
“He’s fine,” Shan said. Physically the young man was fine, and Shan was not an adequate judge of his mental state.
Cyla sighed and paused for a second before finishing the spraying. Shan glanced over at Ista Songwind, hoping she would get the hint and give them some privacy, but the woman was standing with her arms crossed in a pose that suggested she was not moving. Shan turned his back on her and moved closer to Cyla.
“I promised Temar I would see how you were doing. Worker Songwind says you aren’t going to church.”
Cyla frowned and put the board to one side. Now that the acid had washed away the impurities, someone would have to go over every circuit board to remove any residue left by the base solution. But that residue would be large and crystalline and easy to remove, compared to the tiny impurities that would coat a computer surface after any time exposed to Livre’s atmosphere
“Church was more his thing than mine.”
“Maybe he needed it more,” Shan suggested, trying to give the girl some opening to explain what might have happened. However, if she didn’t know about her father’s abuse, he didn’t want to tell her. Cyla carried enough burdens now, and he knew the guilt that came with having been ignorant when a loved one had suffered.
“Maybe he just liked to sit in the back and pretend that his life wasn’t fucked up from the time he was born,” she said with bitterness. “Not that anyone did anything to help either one of us.” She looked him up and down with disgust, making it clear that she considered him one of the people who should have done something. Shan leaned back in surprise. Okay, slavery had not dulled her tongue.
“You seem to be learning a good trade.” Shan changed the subject, hoping that a more neutral subject might put her at ease. After all, few slaves had the advantage of learning a trade, most, like Temar, labored at unskilled jobs. “Are you washing the circuits, or are you learning to scrape crystals, too?”
Songwind took a step forward. “That work’s too delicate for someone who can’t remember to neutralize the acid immediately.”
Shan sat silent for a moment, not wanting to return barb for barb with Ista Songwind. At least Cyla had found an owner who could match her, sharp, bitter comment for sharp, bitter comment.
“No doubt, after ten years under such a capable woman, you’ll know skills enough to either become a skilled worker or easily earn an apprenticeship to finish your training,” Shan said with a smile.
“And Temar?” Cyla demanded. “What skills will he learn in some farmer’s fields? Tell me that George Young didn’t get his contract, because if he did, I’ll trade with him right now. Hell, Temar would be better with this crap than I would, anyway,” she said with a wave of her hand at the table of circuits. Shan looked at the work table. The circuits were lined up by type. A wide control panel circuit was on the far end, its pink glass structure winking in the sun. A half dozen small circuits were attached to a board that had been covered with a dust shield, and the panel Cyla had just finished had a dozen more small-scale circuits. Obviously, Red Plain had suffered some storm that had required them to pull many of their circuits for cleaning. The loss of this many computers must have the town functioning on minimum resources. Shan was surprised that they hadn’t asked Landing or Blue Hope for some equipment to tide them over.
“Ben Gratu bought his contract. He’s as well as he can be,” Shan reassured her. “Worker Songwind, if you have need of assistance with so many computers down, Landing can send a few trained workers or some equipment over to assist you,” he offered. Worker Songwind scowled at him, but that seemed to be her most used expression.
“We’re fine.”
Shan didn’t have an answer for that, so he turned his attention back to Cyla. “Is
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