Tales from Kalgachia - 23
The park was a small one, little more than a scrap of ground between tenement blocks with some benches and crude playground equipment fashioned out of scrap timber. Given its location in the middle of Oktavyan City it was overlooked if not quite neglected - thus far, on this particular day, it had stood empty except for a few children hurriedly hopping through it's mixture of mud and thawing slush on their way to the Parish schoolhouse, and a single grizzled grandmother shuffing her way down the hill to do a little shopping.
The park's first proper visitor arrived in the form of a a young, faintly Nezeni woman - a teenager, in fact - dressed in a smart overcoat and hat of deepest black who looked rather too young to be shoving a perambulator through the rutted mud. But the baby inside it was not hers, as she had explained far too many times to the succession of Mishalanski babushkas who seemed to emerge from nowhere at the sight of an infant to offer their opinons and ask probing questions. Yes, his mother died. Yes, it is a shame. Yes, he is wrapped up warm enough. No, a single sneeze is not proof of a terminal illness. No, this discussion will not extend into the minutiae of his wet-nursing arrangements. Thankfully, the burly Laqi escorts moving around the background in the vicinity of girl and child were always on hand to shoo away the most persistent assailants. Now they manned the entrance gaps in the park's perimeter fence, scanning the deserted ground beyond as a ray of pale sunshine broke over the tenement roofs and began thawing the slushy snow a little more.
Rubina Yastreb - for that was who she was - had surprised everybody when she offered, nay insisted, on taking charge of her baby brother Falcifer after his birth had killed their mother, Ilessa. Her demise itself had been disturbing enough, but as Rubina's father Xantus had pointed out in subdued utterances since, mixing two Deep Singer genesets of different iterations was a hideous risk as far as the integrity of Ilessa's womb was concerned - Rubina's trouble-free birth had been a stroke of luck which emboldened both parents to conceive again, Xantus had muttered, and now they were all paying dearly for a recklessness which he attributed entirely to himself. He was, by all accounts, a broken man whose soul was lumbering through its darkest nights. His brethren on the Council of Perfecti had approached Rubina repeatedly, firstly with concern but more latterly something like quiet despair, for advice on what could be done to cheer him up. Their work, whatever it entailed, was beginning to suffer from Xantus' frequent lateness and absences from Council - when he did show up, his guilt-ridden grief had robbed him of the usual alacrity he showed in administering national affairs.
Rubina's reply to the Perfecti had been resolute - she was in no better a position to help than they were, and as far as she was concerned the situation was an oppurtunity for them to grow their own spines and practice some of the resilient anti-fragility they preached rather than leaning on her father all the time. Besides that, she reminded them, she had a grieving process of her own to deal with. She denied Xantus' culpability in her mother's death, not entirely out of sympathy for him but because, in fact, she blamed herself. After the incident with the knife, Xantus had warned her against compromising her mother' pregnancy with stress hormones but in hindsight, Rubina considered the damage to have been done at that moment, and she might have followed Xantus into depression and seclusion had her baby brother not emerged alive. It had quickly become apparent that Xantus had no interest in little Falcifer and, for the present time at least, wished as far as it was possible to forget his existence. Rubina suspected her father might have had the helpless child euthanised, or else his entourage might be incentivised to arrange for the baby's convenient demise - but looking at little Falcifer in his cradle, gurgling in oblivious contentment and occupying himself with the jolly limb-flailing the Lywallers called 'scroggling', she had been instantly compelled to protect him against the forces around him which, were it not for her intervention, would have been exclusively indifferent or malevolent toward his existence. This from a girl more interested in aviation and fencing, who saw babies as little more than despicable purveyors of ear-splitting noise and bodily excretions and had not necessarily been dislodged from that view by Falcifer's birth, but now found herself compelled by the same stirrings of protective compulsion which had caused her to almost kill a grown man during her Urchagin. In the circumstances, namely the loss of a woman whose national profile earned her a state funeral and the effect of her husband's grief on the process of Kalgachi governance, nobody had the attention span to offer more than vaguely snide comments about Rubina's desire to adopt the child - Xantus had signed the necessary paperwork himself, with no more ceremony than if he were approving a bureaucrat's promotion, before grunting at Rubina to leave him alone again.
Now Rubina had decided to take the Falcifer from the labyrinthine depths of the Perfecti's chambers to the surface, to the same little park where her own mother had shown her the upper world for the first time. The baby was too young to throw snowballs or climb around the play equipment, so Rubina sat on a bench and idly rocked the perambulator back and forth while half-lost in the memories of her own childhood.
Eventually she lost track of the passage of time, but was roused from her reverie by the sight of an approaching figure whom her bodyguards had let into the park - it was her old friend Ogny, the deaf-blind Froyalaner with black obsidian eyes, whom Rubina had never seen on the surface - normally she remained in the tunnelled depths, scaring the wits out of passing officials. Rubina had always been protective toward her too, and the sight of her sweeping her way through unfamiliar ground with nothing more than the Tee-al whisker she used as a cane gave Rubina a jolt of anxiety, quite aside from bewilderment at how her friend had found her in this little park. Steadying the perambulator on even ground, she leapt from the bench and moved to Ogny's side, taking her free hand and tapping at her palm in the tactile sign language which they had developed over the course of many years:
+I'm here+.
Ogny smiled in recognition of Rubina's hand. +Hello Beans+, she tapped back.
+How you find me?+
+Remember you talk about here. You show it on tactile map you give for my birthday. They say you go to surface, so I take guess+.
+It dangerous you come here alone. Something bad may happen+.
+I had help+.
Rubina recognised this as the Troglodyti's catch-all term for assistance from entities intangible. +I guess true+, she tapped.
+Where baby?+
+Here+. Rubina led Ogny to the perambulator and guided her hands to Falcifer's pudgy infant face. The light pinch on his cheeks provoked a gurgle of joy, whose vibrations caused Ogny to smile back. She quickly took Rubina's hand again:
+He has your nose+.
+If you say so+, Rubina tapped back. +Face looks like boiled mutton+.
+You so mean+. Ogny giggled, a splutter of corvine cawing from one who could no longer hear her own voice.
+Seat here+. Rubina guided her down onto the bench, and thought of matters underground. +How are friends at coven?+, she tapped.
+Miss you.+ Ogny tapped. +But understand you busy with family. They send sympathy+.
+Thank them. I should meet them again soon. They could help+.
+They say you brave alone. More brave than your father+.
+Perfecti tell me this too, dear Ogny. It worry me+.
+You are fine. Coven cast runes. Runes fall well+.
Rubina clenched Ogny's hand a little tighter in response. +Be careful Ogny! If Prefects know you use Storish methods, you be executed and I may not able help+.
+Troglodyti use all methods Beans. You know!+
+Yes but keep it in Troglodyti. I have enough worry already+.
+I sorry+.
+Don't be sorry. I glad you visit me today. Nobody else wants see me.+
Ogny turned her face into the gentle, cold breeze which wove its way between the tenements, a few loose strands floating loose from her blonde plaited hair. Behind her inscrutable black eyes she was thinking - Rubina knew that much. Eventually she smiled and giggled.
+I have idea+, she tapped.
+What idea?+
+We go see Roy Stone. Show him baby+.
Rubina laughed. +We can't do that!+
+Why not?+
+My mama not approve. She dead now but I still not sure+.
+But Roy not protecting career. He is hobo in smart clothes. He not care about your awkward position. He already awkward+.
Rubina's hand slackened a little, causing Ogny to smile at the little victory. +True+, tapped Rubina. +But bodyguard Timur must come with. Or I get in trouble. I not allowed alone with Roy. Mama was think he rapist and tell Prefects. I not want Roy get in trouble+.
+You still love him?+.
Rubina paused a moment. +Yes+.
+Maybe he like you more with baby?+
+I not think he baby type guy. He exact opposite+.
+So were you. But baby changes people+.
Rubina sighed. +Okay. We go and see+. She led Ogny to her feet, and noticed with some relief that Falcifer was asleep. With a wave to her bodyguards, she led the way out of the park.
