Beauty in the Bones: Season 1

Episode 39 (Part 2) Tidings of Discomfort and a Ploy

Clouds shrouded the sky, the stark white and gray promise of snow. As Father had mentioned, a blizzard loomed in the forecast for the entire Inland Lakes region. We had to fly out before noon to avoid the worst of it. The chartered limousine met Gerald and I in front of Knights Hall, right on schedule. We climbed inside while a gleaming custodian unit loaded our bags in the trunk.

Gerald rubbed his hands together for warmth. "Sometimes I regret choosing this place for school. Altair-7 will be paradise. I miss swimming and laying in the sun."

"So do I." I nodded my thanks to the chauffeur as he closed the door. "I'm glad Sahajia is in the summer hemisphere. It'll be a nice break."

The engine hummed, lev generators gliding over the frozen roadway toward the air terminal outside of Michigattan proper. It was about an hour's drive to the opposite side of the city. Gerald browsed the Net to pass time, his display visor glowing over one eye. Restless, I laid my head against the seat and watched the frozen landscape roll by.

There had been no farewell from Tamsin. It was to maintain the ruse of our relationship, but I was restless. A simple text message from her would lift my spirits. However, my inbox remained empty, desolate as my mood. I recalled our last meeting behind Pentworth, and the delights of her touch. The memory cheered me somewhat.

When we reached the terminal, the limousine dropped us off at the entrance platform. The robot unloaded our bags. I traveled light, as I had last interim, with only one suitcase and a carry-on. I'd brought all of my ritual tools, of course, and only the most basic clothing. My room at Highveld was furnished with a full and proper wardrobe. Such was the requirement for someone of my status, to be prepared for any occasion at our many properties.

I strode alongside Gerald, our luggage on hover behind us, and we headed for the private airstrip. The bright corridors were packed with students headed home for interim and their families, as well as the press and clamor of holiday travelers. I wasn't claustrophobic, but the bustling mass of humanity annoyed me. I was glad when we passed the security checkpoint and entered the quieter side, where only elite passengers waited for their private flights.

"Over here, son." Father and Mr. Forsyth sat upon overstuffed lobby chairs, their long overcoats and bowlers heaped on the nearest side table. He waved, a vision of affluent nonchalance and polish, one leg propped over the other knee. Cigar smoke billowed around him, emanating  the scent of his favorite imported Javana tobacco. 

They smothered their cigars and stood to embrace us.

"It's good to see you," Father said.

I threw an arm around him. "I've missed you, too."

"I know it's a trite remark, but both of you have grown much too tall since last interim," Mr. Forsyth said, tweaking Gerald's ear.

"And you don't look a day older," Gerald replied.

Father chuckled. "You have him well-versed in flattery, Archibald."

"A remarkable skill he inherited from my side of the family." Mr. Forsyth put his bowler on. "Though you've a good streak of your mother's charm as well, my boy."

"Well, let's not delay," Father said, checking the time.

"Indeed. I'll call Phyllis." Mr. Forsyth spoke to his wristcom. "My dearest lady." It  trilled in recognition, and the pulse of connection ensued.

Gerald whispered to me. "Ew. He always calls my mother that."

Father wrapped his wine-red scarf around his neck. "Won't this be fun, Gerald? You and your family will be staying with us at Highveld."