Jen Sin’s Private Quarters
They had left it that Tocohl and Mentor Jones would collaborate on an appropriate answer to the Lyre Institute. When they were satisfied, they would bring it to him. As first light keeper, it would be his honor to release it to its mission.
Jen Sin had returned briefly to the tower, intending to review the schematics—and caught himself slipping into a doze before he had even accessed the file.
“It has been an eventful day, Light Keeper,” he said. “After all, how often does one make the acquaintance of Cousin Theo?”
“Are you well, Cousin Jen Sin?” Tocohl asked from the ceiling grid.
He smiled, and rose.
“Only tired. I to my quarters. If there is need, call me.”
“Yes.”
As little as he wanted to sleep, he should make the attempt this shift. Board rest only advanced one so much before the debt was called in, and he very much feared he had reached that point in the transaction.
He took off his jacket, tossed it on the bunk, and turned toward the fresher, spinning back at the sudden thump.
The jacket had slid to the floor, and when he picked it up, he saw that the courier envelope had escaped its pocket.
He bent down to pick it up, a substantial packet, well wrapped in green scan-proof fabric, sealed with wax and code buttons. The dependent ribbons were no longer quite so bold as they had been, and several were stained with blood—his blood—as was the fabric.
It was curious to think that, had the hand-off gone as intended, had there not been treachery to send him scampering into the arms of those who wanted him dead if they could not have him alive—he would never have raised Tinsori Light, nor taken what decisions he had.
Such a thin thread, to change the course of his life so radically.
Well.
He rose, slipped the envelope away, made sure of the pocket’s seal, and—
A scent reached him—alluring and familiar. He was immediately hungry, and for one thing alone.
The seed-pod that Cousin Theo had given him was ripe.
He had it out of the pocket he had thrust it into. Sitting on his bunk, he opened his fingers, and stared at it resting green and desirable in the center of his palm. Tree-fruit. Which he had surely never thought to behold again, much less one meant for him…
The pod shivered, and broke apart into quarters, the scent intensifying. There was no resisting such an allure. He picked up a quarter and put it in his mouth.
Flavor exploded. One could never decide what Tree-fruit tasted of, precisely, except that it was the most satisfying taste in all the universe.
Jen Sin ate the rest greedily, his heart racing, breath coming in gasps, as if he had been running for far too long at the top of his speed.
The pod was gone, and with it his hunger. He looked at the few pieces of shred in his palm, closed his fingers over them, and rose, bringing his jacket with him, meaning to hang it up, and wash his hands.
A bolt of bright painless green flashed through his head; his muscles seized, and he fell across his bunk.
The jacket slipped from his fingers to the floor again.
After a few minutes, sensing no movement, the lights turned themselves off.