Mahogany Trinrose by Jacqueline Lichtenberg

Author:Jacqueline Lichtenberg [Lichtenberg, Jacqueline]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780867211290
Publisher: Berkley Pub Group
Published: 1981-01-01T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

All eyes were on the door as Sels approached, paused to note the anticipatory attention from within the room, and entered.

With the door closed behind him, Sels blended his nager into the room's ambient with Farris delicacy and moved toward Joeslee.

Now that the senior channel was handling the fields, Ercy could let go, and she felt herself shaking all over, as if an overstrained muscle was now being relaxed.

Grant made her sit down on the bed as her uncle continued to watch Joeslee. Finally, the elder Farris said, "Joeslee, have you been in this room all day?"

She seemed to withdraw more into herself if that were possible. Sels said, "Joeslee, I asked you a question. You will answer."

Nobody defied a Farris who spoke in such a tone, but Joeslee clamped her mouth shut and averted her eyes. Sels reached out one tentacle and moved her face back toward him. "Answer civilly!"

Grant took one step toward Sels. "Hajene—by her customs it is not civil to look at you directly. Don't touch her. You're only making it worse."

Sels glanced at the Gen. "I'm not a student of the gypsies. If you can get through to her, go ahead."

"I know little of her people," said Grant, "but I think it's obvious she's taken all the pushing around she's going to take."

Ercy said, "I think she's been here all day, hiding in the bathroom."

The smoldering eyes came to Ercy, but Sels's field made a barrier between them.

"All right," said Sels. "Assuming you've been here all day, then you're guilty of not answering your page—every five minutes for hours on end. You've not attended any of your classes or made your Gen therapy contacts. You've not even eaten today…"

"Slow down," suggested Grant. "Her Simelan wasn't very good yesterday."

Sels added more slowly, "You've risked your sanity by remaining in this understimulating environment."

Joeslee spat at Sels. He moved so it went by the edge of his sleeve. Ercy was stunned. She never guessed that people did that outside of stories.

Grant laughed, his powerful mirth brightening the room, every color painfully vivid and every shape a sensory delight. It made Ercy feel flushed and warm all over, a completely new sensation.

Grant said, "Well, Joeslee, you've broken your silence. You may as well talk to Hajene Sels—or have you nothing of interest to add to that comment?"

"So that's what you're going to do to me—solitary. Well, you can do your worst. You can't break me."

"No, Joeslee, the Tecton's only method of discipline is the simple withholding of transfer into attrition, if necessary."

"Shidoni?" whispered Joeslee—death by attrition.

The horror in the girl was palpable enough to waken in Ercy the memory of her four aborted transfer attempts.

"No, no," said Ercy. "The Tecton will never let you die— certainly not like that." She reached out to touch her fellow student, trying to be reassuring. "The rule here is one hour transfer delay per penalty point earned. It's a punishment that strengthens your ability to withstand deprivations and makes you a better channel.

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