Pathfinder (Pathfinder 1)

“I didn’t know that empty rationalization was part of your programming,” said Ram.

“We would not be fit companions for human beings without it.”

• • •

Rigg was down to one guard now, though he was an athletic-looking man who hardly spoke to him and looked as if he would like it if Rigg tried to run away, because it would be so fun to catch him. As they left the front door of Flacommo’s house one morning, Rigg said to him, “I think I need to go to the Library of Life.”

“That wasn’t your father’s area of research,” said the guard.

“Then it’s a good thing it isn’t my father who’s going there,” said Rigg cheerfully. “The decision to duplicate my father’s research was my own. There was no restriction placed on my access to the library.”

The guard looked for a moment as if he had no intention of believing a word Rigg said, but then he must have calculated how much time it would take to check, only to find out that Rigg was right. “If they throw you out, don’t blame me,” said the guard.

“Would it be all right if we ran there? Together, I mean. I haven’t had any kind of run since we got to Aressa Sessamo, and my legs are begging to be exercised.”

“No,” said the guard.

“I can’t outrun you—that’s why you’re the first guard I asked to let me run. Look at you. No matter how fast I raced, it would take you only three steps to catch me. And you like to run, or you wouldn’t have that body.”

The guard’s face showed his skepticism of Rigg’s flattery, but he was listening, and what Rigg said apparently made sense to him. “Stay in front of me,” said the guard.

“It’s you that must stay behind me. I’m stiff and out of practice—I can’t think of anyone who couldn’t beat me in a footrace.”

So they ran together to the Library of Life, the guard running lightly just behind and beside him, always close enough to reach out a hand and take Rigg by the hair. When they arrived, Rigg was panting, but the guard wasn’t even breathing hard. It’s no good for me to have let myself get out of condition, Rigg thought. What if I have to make a quick escape?

Not without Param, whatever I do. In all the years of her soft, indoor life, she’s never had to build up stamina or speed. She’s slender and there’s no muscle on her. However slow I am as a runner, I’m going to be faster than Param. That’s what happens when you’re a prisoner, however luxurious your surroundings may be. Your body gets soft and weak, so that even if you manage to escape, you’ll be easy to catch.

Inside the Library of Life, Rigg went at once to the main desk and asked the librarian on duty, “Is Bleht here today?”

“Who?”

“Bleht—she’s a microbiologist.”

“I know who Bleht is,” said the librarian. “Who, I would like to know, are you?”

“My name is Rigg Sessamekesh.”

The librarian glanced at the guard standing behind him. He must have nodded, because her face went a little red. “At once, of course.” Her manner was now obsequious as she left her desk and went in search of the great microbiologist.

“It never stops surprising me,” murmured Rigg to the guard, “that people still react to my name as if being royal meant something.”

“It means many things to many people,” said the guard.

“What does it mean to you?” asked Rigg.

“That I have to make sure you don’t get near anyone who would like to kill you.”

“What if the person who wants to kill me is you?” asked Rigg.

“You’re a strange boy,” said the guard. “But so was your father, and he was a good man.”

Only then did Rigg look to see if someone’s path inside the libraries had coincided with Father Knosso’s with any regularity, and sure enough, there was this man’s path, though he was young then, scarcely Rigg’s own age.

“You knew him,” said Rigg.

“I accompanied him to the library,” said the guard. “I laid him in the boat on his last voyage.”

“You saw the hands of the creatures that seized him and drowned him?”