Part 38 (2/2)
He looked up. ”My greetings, Imperator Skolia.”
She sat across from him. ”I got your message. Is anything wrong?”
”Your nephew arrived.”
”You mean Taquinil?”
”Yes. Taquinil.” Tikal rubbed his eyes. ”He disappeared as soon as he got here. I tried to reach him at the Pharaoh's residence, but no one answers.”
”That's why you wanted to see me?” What could be so dire about Dehya and Eldrin's son arriving on the Orbiter?
”You aren't concerned?” Tikal asked.
”Should I be?”
He grimaced. ”It's bad enough having one invisible genius loose in the web. At least the a.s.sembly Key is sane.”
Soz tensed, a snap of anger ready in her voice. Then she paused. She felt Tikal's concern. He was genuinely worried. She made herself speak in a quieter voice than she had first intended. ”Taquinil is sane.”
”Is he?”
”He's been stable for decades.”
”It was my understanding he a.s.saulted his psychiatrist at Harvard.”
”You mean while he was a student?” When Tikal nodded, Soz thought, Node C, get Taquinil's college file. Give me a summary of anything about an a.s.sault.
He attacked Doctor Maria Sanchez after she determined he was suffering from multiple personality disorder, C thought.
What did he do? Soz asked.
Trapped her in a building, struck her, and threatened to kill her.
That doesn't sound like Taquinil.
One of his personality fragments exhibited violent tendencies. However, Sanchez managed to draw out his core personality. He let her sedate him and call in help.
That's incredible. Soz knew Taquinil only as a gentle scholar, with a humble nature that belied his staggering intellect. She could no more imagine him committing violence than she could see herself as an Aristo. Does that personality still exist?
No.
Tikal was watching her. ”Do you have a record of it?”
She nodded. ”Yes. I do. Barcala, you don't need to worry. That was over thirty years ago. Taquinil has been fine since then. He's a charming man. You'll like him when you get to know him.”
”How?” he growled. ”He's just like his mother. Invisible. No one has seen him since he arrived.”
”Do you want me to check on him?” She had a mind to do that anyway, to growl at her aunt, if Dehya really hadn't welcomed her son home.
”I'd appreciate it, Imperator Skolia.”
”Soz.”
”Soz?”
”That's my name.”
He blinked. Then he smiled. ”Ah. Well. Good. Soz.”
After she left Mentation, she rode the magrail to Valley, where she was staying in the stone mansion Kurj had used as his second residence. His first residence, the desert house, had remained untouched since his death. Soz couldn't face it yet, that memorial to the brother she had admired, feared, criticized, and loved.
She walked to Dehya's home among the trees. The pager at the door played a ripple of music that brought to mind a whisper of insect wings, the burble of water, a bird's trill. Soz liked it.
The door slid open and a man gazed out at her. He stood about five-foot-ten, with a slight build and glossy black hair. His most notable features were his eyes, which s.h.i.+mmered gold and were fringed by long black lashes.
”Soz!” Taquinil smiled at her. ”Come in.”
”My greetings.” She stalked into the house. ”Where is Dehya?”
”In the web.”
She scowled. ”What, your mother calls you home, then ignores you?”
Taquinil laughed. ”Ah, Soz, you're as ornery as ever.” He pulled her into a hug. ”G.o.ds, it's good to see you.”
She hugged him back, her annoyance softened by his good spirits. ”I'm glad to see you too.”
Stepping back to look at her, he said, ”I thought you would be working in the Lock.”
”Tikal told me you were here.”
”Tikal? I haven't even seen him yet.”
”He was concerned you hadn't been properly welcomed.”
”Mother and Father met me in the docking bay. We had lunch here together.”
”Well. Good.” Soz stopped being annoyed at Dehya. ”Tikal is a bit...” She stopped, feeling awkward. ”I think he'd just like to know what you're doing.”
His smile faded. ”Why? To see if I foam at the mouth?”
”I didn't say that.” Gently she added, ”Barcala means well.”
Taquinil sighed, a fey sound Soz recognized. Regardless of what anyone else thought, she liked her nephew. Given his background, a B.S. summa c.u.m laude in economics from Harvard on Earth, a doctorate from the Economics Inst.i.tute at Royal College on Metropoli, and tenure as a professor at Imperial University on Parthonia, he could have been an arrogant pain. Instead he was humble. She knew he considered himself flawed because of the personality disorder created by his Rhon mutation, but as far as she was concerned his ability to succeed despite so many obstacles made his prodigious accomplishments that much more impressive.
As they talked, she felt his distraction. He spent most of his time in the web, far more at ease in its universe than with people, whose minds he had such trouble blocking. He was the extreme end of a spectrum, a telepath so sensitive it was impossible for him to survive without medication and solitude.