Part 35 (1/2)

(Kelexel wondered then why Ruth showed him this scene. He understood in a way the pain she must feel at seeing this, but how could she blame him or be angry at him for this? What had happened to her parents . . . that'd been Fraffin's doing.)

”That time we went to the county fair to hear the darky singers,” Grant said. ”In the mule wagon, remember? Joey didn't want to come along. He was mad at Paw for something, but Paw said he was too young to leave at home alone.”

”He must've been all of nine then,” she said.

Grant went on as though he hadn't heard. ”Then when Joey refused to leave the wagon, remember? Paw says: 'Come along, boy. Don't you want to hear them n.i.g.g.e.rs?' And Joey says: 'I guess I'll stay with the mules and wagon.'”

Claudie nodded.

Another thread came out of the drapery into Grant's hand. He said: ”I heard you plenty of times when you didn't want to go someplace say: 'Guess I'll stay with the mules and wagon.' We had half the county saying it.”

”Joey was like that,” she said. ”Always wanting to be alone.”

Grant's lips formed a harsh smile. ”Everything seemed to happen to Joey.”

”Was you there when he ran away?”

”Yep. That was after you was married, wasn't it? Paw sold Joey's horse that he'd worked all summer cutting wood to buy from old Poor-John Weeks, Ned Tolliver's brother-in-law.”

”Did you see the ruckus?”

”I was right there. Joey called Paw a liar and a cheat and a thief. Paw went to reach for the white oak club, but Joey was quicker. He must've been seventeen then, and strong. He brung that club down on Paw's head like he wanted to kill him. Paw went down like a pole-axed steer. Joey ripped the money Paw'd got for the horse outen his pocket, ran upstairs, packed the gladstone and left.”

”That was a terrible thing,” she said.

Grant nodded. ”Long as I live I'll remember, that boy standing there on the porch, that bag in his hand and holding that screen door. Maw was sobbing over Paw, dabbing at his head with a wet towel. Joey spoke so low we'd never've heard if we hadn't all been so scared and quiet. We thought Paw was dead for sure.”

”'I hope I never see any of you ever again,' Joey says. And he run off.”

”He had Paw's temper and that's for sure,” Claudie said.

Ruth slapped the pantovive cutoff. The images faded. She turned, her face composed and blank from the pressures of the manipulator, but there were tear stains down her cheeks.

”I must know something,” she said. ”Did you Chem do that to my father? Did you . . . make him that way?”

Kelexel recalled Fraffin boasting how the killer had been prepared . . . boasting and explaining how an Investigator from the Primacy stood no chance to escape the traps of this world. But why waste concern over a few suborders demeaned and shaped to Chem needs? Precisely because they were not suborders. They were wild Chem.

”You did, I see,” Ruth said. ”I suspected it from what you've told me.”

Am I so transparent to her? Kelexel asked himself. How did she know that? What strange powers do these natives have?

He covered his confusion with a shrug.

”I wish you could die,” Ruth said. ”I want you to die.”

Despite the manipulator's pressure on her, Ruth could feel rage deep inside her, remote but distinct, a burning and smoldering anger that made her want to reach out and waste her fingernails clawing at this Chem's impervious skin.

Ruth's voice had come out so level and flat that Kelexel found he'd heard the words and almost pa.s.sed over them before he absorbed their meaning. Die! She wished him dead! He recoiled. What a boorish, outrageous thing for her to say!

”I am a Chem,” he said. ”How dare you say such a thing to a Chem?”