Genetopia Read Online Free PDF

wait.
    ~
    It wasn’t long before Tarn appeared, clean-shaven already and dressed in a long cloak.
    He nodded at Flint, then said, “You been working? Thought you were at Callum’s.”
    He sounded amenable today. Flint nodded. “I was at Callum’s last night,” he said. “But I woke early. I didn’t come back here to work. I’ve been looking for Amberline.”
    Tarn grunted. “Still hiding?”
    “I don’t know. I’m worried.”
    “Worried?” Jescka stood in the doorway. Where Tarn was a slack-bodied man, and tall like his son, Jescka was a strongly built woman, with a hard physique softened only by the years.
    “Amber,” said Flint. “No one has seen her since yesterday.”
    “But a whole night!” said Jescka. “She’s never been gone a whole night before. What’s she playing at?”
    Tarn stretched. “She’ll show up,” he said. “Or she won’t. She can look after herself.”
    Flint stared at him. “She could be hurt,” he said. “Something could have happened to her.” He looked at Jescka and she, too, looked worried, even scared. A moment of weakness on her part. He felt a sudden sense of empathy with his mother. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt something like that.
    “We saw the Tallyman yesterday,” he said. “Up by the Leaving Hill. He seemed... well... interested in Amber. We all know what kind of dealings the Tallyman is involved in: what if he’s done something? What if he’s tempted her away somehow? What if she’s been abducted?”
    Tarn stood, suddenly menacing. Flint met his glare, fighting the urge to look away. His father leaned towards him and paused, then turned and moved away. Over his shoulder he said, “I’m going to see Callum about some new bellycane grafts. There’ll be planting to do if he’s ready. I’ll expect you here by mid-morning, not playing hide and seek with your sister.”
    ~
    He found the Tallyman eventually. After asking around Trecosann, he finally came to the brewhouse old Tessum kept by the river.
    He was sitting on a shaded bench out front, playing blocks with two of Flint’s great-uncles.
    Out in the river, gulls followed two haul-boats carrying mutts south, the silver birds crying and mocking as they went.
    “Cline. Jambol.” Flint greeted his two old relatives, nodding to each in turn.
    Then: “Tallyman.”
    The old debt-trader’s face was revealed today, hood pulled back under the shade of the bench’s canopy. Flint was reminded of an observation he had made some time ago upon a visit to the Leaving Hill: how clearly, with some people, the skull beneath the face was apparent, where with most you had to concentrate to see the bones beneath the surface.
    The Tallyman stared at Flint, from deep, bony eye sockets. A few wisps of white beard clung to his jaw. He turned to his two companions. “Think this one buys favours or done give ’em?”
    The three cackled, and Flint stood uncertainly, confused by their innuendo and by the way the Tallyman mixed Mutter-pidgin with everyday speech. “I’m looking for my sister,” he said.
    The Tallyman nodded. “Amberlinetreco Eltarn,” he said. He drank some of his wild-herb tea, then narrowed his eyes and continued, “A fit one. Something of the Lost in her, I say. Eh, Jambol? Eh, Cline?”
    Cline leaned over the bench. “I always reckoned that,” he said. “See it in her eyes, the taint. ‘Something of the Lost’ is right, isn’t it? Should have been...”
    He stopped.
    Exposed . That was what he had been about to say.
    “Amber’s as True as you or I,” said Flint. “Her line goes back generations. She’s been ill, yes, but never with the changing fevers–as Granny Han will certify. Or would you argue with Granny Han, Great-uncle Clinetreco?”
    Cline leaned back again, mumbling under his breath.
    Flint turned to the Tallyman again. “Have you seen her since yesterday?” he asked. “When you saw us near the Leaving Hill–you appeared to be making certain... offers