It wasn’t Sylvie’s job to tell what kind of magic her patients had, so she didn’t. She watched the girl get older, watched as she was forced to betray herself at five years old and was then pushed aside. She couldn’t do anything to help, and so Sylvie mostly ignored her.
But then she remembered that her brothers had loved her. That her teachers had encouraged her. That even the most senior students had congratulated her if she got a higher mark than they did. No one deserved misery. Sylvie couldn’t do anything big, but she might be able to help the girl in small ways. There was no reason to revisit the cruelty done to her onto someone else, just because she could.
So she watched, and she waited. She helped regrow a fingernail and taught the girl to control her power. She pretended not to notice when the girl slipped past the limits of the medical texts on board and started reading legal treatises and stellar cartographies. And when the time came, she gave the girl enough warning to hoard calories and escape.
Sylvie Morunt had come to the Harland with nothing, and she’d never leave it. But they’d never get her soul.
20.
NED BRANNICK’S FUNERAL WAS uncomfortably similar to his wedding, and all the more so because the two events took place so close together. Dulcie Channing officiated, and Pendt and Fisher stood at the front of the assembled crowd. The colonnade was crammed full, with people on the balconies to watch and screens in all the places where work couldn’t stop, even for this. The main difference was that everyone was sombre and quiet this time. And, of course, that Ned himself wasn’t there.
The colonnade had been decorated with black banners to commemorate his loss, and only a skeleton staff was working in operations so that as many station residents as possible could attend the service in person. They wore their normal clothes, but tied black ribbons around their arms, or wove them into their hair. There were flowers everywhere, by Pendt’s request. Ned had given her flowers when he showed her to the greenhouse that first time, and it was how she wanted to remember him. The funeral was a bit more colourful than it might have been otherwise, but no one took offense. They all knew what flowers were to Pendt. With no body to look at, the event was a bit shorter than it might have been, but Pendt still felt every moment of it weighing down on her shoulders.
When Ned was alive, out there in the black void being heroic, people had accepted Fisher’s rule and Pendt’s assurances. Without the promise of his return, they might need her to give birth as soon as possible, to ensure the baby was safe. Without the promise of his return, Fisher might not be enough for them, and that would hurt him more than anything. Pendt couldn’t stand the thought of Fisher being hurt any more than he already was, not if she could help it. She vowed to do everything she could.
Dulcie was winding down, and turning to offer Fisher his turn to speak, but Fisher had frozen where he stood. It was easy for Pendt to imagine what he felt at the loss of his brother. Pendt just took what she felt for it and multiplied it by several fingernails. Unwilling to let the moment pass without a speech from someone in Ned’s family, Pendt took a few steps forward. No one shouted her down, so she went all the way up to the podium Dulcie stood at and turned to face the crowd.
There were so many of them. She’d spoken at her wedding, repeating Dulcie’s phrases, but her back had been to the crowd, then. Now she faced them all, and she could see their worries and their fears. She’d never spoken to this many people at once, not even close, but she had to. She took a deep breath. This was for Ned. This was for Fisher. She could do it for Fisher.
“Ned Brannick was one of a kind,” she said. “Which is something of an accomplishment for a twin, from what I gather.”
Fisher smiled at that, and a polite chuckle rolled through those who were assembled. They loved the boys, she realized, they didn’t just serve the Brannicks because they had to. They were loyal, the result of generations of mutual goodwill.
“I didn’t know him very long,” Pendt continued. “But I know that he was the sort of man who tried to save one person while remembering to do his duty to everyone who relied on him. I know that, because that’s why I am here.”
Brannick Station knew the rules. They knew what was required to keep the station running. They knew Pendt was pregnant, and that she was sustaining the pregnancy. None of them seemed to hold it against her, now that she was standing in front of them. She was doing the job she had been brought on board to do, but it was time to tell them how much she was committed to serving the station.
“Many of you were at my handfasting a few weeks ago,” she said, an unexpected catch in her voice. “You know that I promised Ned to help him and to make sure his line continued. You know that I’ve been trying my best to learn how to run Brannick Station.”
They were nodding, now, and murmuring to one another. Yes, they had seen her working in hydroponics. Yes, they knew what she was trying to do in operations so that Fisher could have a break sometimes.
“We didn’t plan to tell you, but the day that Ned and I were handfasted, we had a second ceremony. A marriage.”
Gasps of surprise rushed through the crowd, echoing Ned’s protests from that day so few weeks ago. Marriage was beyond serious. It meant Pendt was theirs. It meant Fisher could order her to do whatever he liked, even if she knew he never would. It meant that, for Pendt, there was nothing beyond Brannick Station anymore.
“I’m telling you now, because I want you to know how committed I am to you,” Pendt said. Her voice rang out above the colonnade. “I was born a Harland, and raised a Harland, but I became a Brannick. I did it a little bit for me, I won’t deceive you. I wanted a home that I could never be taken away from. But I knew that I was also agreeing to a covenant with you, Ned’s people, not just with him.”
They pressed forward, hands reaching out to touch her. Dulcie put a hand on her shoulder to keep her steady. Fisher looked a bit alarmed but covered it well. He came to stand beside her.
“We know that it is a time to mourn,” Pendt said. “We know that Brannick Station has mourned more than its fair share in recent years. We know that you need time to grieve and time to understand how the changes will affect you.
“But we want you to be sure.” She looked down, and then back at the crowd. “I want you to be sure: I will do my best for you, always. This is my home, and I can’t begin to explain to you how important that is to me. I am yours for as long as you need me, Brannick Station.”
Fisher took her hand as the crowd threatened to overwhelm them. No one was angry, they just wanted to be close to her. She thought they would try to touch her belly, where the next Brannick hibernated, but they didn’t. They pressed their hands against her shoulders or the top of her head and called her precious and good. Many of them were crying, and Pendt was powerless to stop her own tears. A sure sign she was a Brannick, she thought. No more taking it on the chin. Brannicks fought back.