Free Forgotten Suns by Judith Tarr Page A

in the system.”
    Nothing at all in the system, but neither of them needed to
know that.
    Rashid sat back, cradling his mug in his hands. “So I’ve got
a new hire to do the paperwork on, and he’ll probably up and take off before I
get it all filed.”
    “Why bother?” Khalida said. “He’s on walkabout. He’ll earn
his keep while he’s here, and the rules won’t let you pay him, just feed him
and give him a place to sleep. Vikram can look after him.”
    “That’s what Vikram said,” said Rashid. Khalida held her
breath, but he did not seem to find it suspicious that they had their story so
carefully rehearsed. Marina, who was more likely to smell a lie, had curled up
with her head on Rashid’s shoulder and fallen abruptly and deeply asleep.
    Khalida observed her with envy. Most people lost that talent
when they grew out of childhood.
    Rashid was still wide awake. His eyes rested on Khalida,
clear-sighted in the crimson moonlight. “You’re looking better,” he said.
    She shrugged. “It had to happen sooner or later.”
    “I’m glad it happened sooner.”
    That was as close to sentimentality as anyone in their
family was likely to come. Khalida shot it down before it reduced them both to
mawkish sobs. “Can’t wait for me to go wandering off again, can you?”
    “Just make sure you get everything catalogued before you go.”
    “Oh no,” she said. “I’m not staying here for the rest of my
life.”
    “That’s too bad,” said Rashid. Half of it was mockery, and
half of it was not.
    Khalida pushed herself out of her chair and kissed the top
of his head where the hair was starting to thin. “Don’t worry. I’ll stay till
the hordes have blown off down the spaceways. I’ll even help clean up after
them.”

11
    The first few days after everybody got back were always
crazed. The schoolbot stayed on shutdown, and Aisha and Jamal had to help get
all the new people settled and deal with the tourists and make sure nobody got
into anything they shouldn’t. Mother and Pater were itching to get back to
excavating, but the best they could do in the uproar was make sure last season’s
work was still there.
    To add to the confusion, the tribes had finally followed the
antelope to their winter camps. Of course the tourists wanted to take their
shuttle and harass the “ dear primitives”—that was what they were saying, loudly, as often as they could find
someone from the expedition to screech at.
    It was never any use to try to explain the difference
between a real primitive, if there had ever been any such thing, and a postapocalyptic
remnant. The most one got for that was a blank stare and, if one was Aisha or
Jamal, a cloying, “Oh, isn’t that
darling?”
    The parents had the usual plan in place, but that always
waited for the tourists’ next-to-last day. Meanwhile everybody suffered, and
staff got to take turns leading tours of ruins as far as possible from any
tribal camps. The city by the eastern ocean, which was built all in circles,
was especially popular—and it took so long to get there by rover that people
had to stay overnight.
    While that went on, the rest of the expedition could finally
start setting up the next round of digging. Some of the Blackroot men came
straggling in to help, hung with amulets and smelling of the smoke they’d
bathed in to keep the curses off. There would be more later; Aurochs and Far
Passes weren’t hopelessly afraid of the ruined city, either, and they had a
great liking for the bolts of cloth and the copper ingots they got in return
for digging in the dirt.
    There was no way Aisha could get away to visit Blackroot
camp until everything was set up for the season. She was supposed to be
studying patience.
    It helped that she was terribly busy. That morning she was
running back from the staff cabins with a load of laundry for washing in the
main house when she heard a squawk from inside the barn. It sounded as if
someone was getting strangled.
    She dropped