The Green Ones

Episode 1, Part 12

The woman tilts her head. “Neca, I’m surprised to see you. Am I to assume this unscheduled visit is bad news?”

Neca bows subtly. “Potentially.”

“And your friend?”

“She possesses something Centavo seems to think will be of great interest to you.” Neca squeezes my hand.

I bow, throwing in a curtsy—something my mother showed me for impressing people of position. “I humbly request your help.” Looking down, I realize I’m caked in mud. Phasing through the shield wall dried it. Some has chipped off since, but I’m still a mess. Hesitantly, I glance up.

The woman smiles, gesturing for Neca and I to join her on the lift. “She’s pretty, even through the mud.”

“Yes, she is,” Neca winks.

The tension having passed, I drop his hand. The doors close and we start to rise.

“You’re not thinking of dumping me for a younger woman, are you?”

“What? Never,” Neca sidles up next to the immortal. “The two of us aren’t even friends. She’s got her heart set on the academy.”

The lift slows to a stop, and I can’t say I’m enjoying the banter at my expense. At least I hope it’s banter. The thought flickers through my mind that such a thing could exist as an occetahtli for immortals. Surely Neca isn’t that desirable.

“Ah, a Masa girl. Good news for me, I suppose.” The doors open. The woman faces us, barring the exit. “And her name?”

“Calli,” I interrupt before Neca can introduce me. “Calli Bluehair. I’m a dye trader.”

The woman raises an eye at this. “Of course. I should have noticed.” She gestures toward my braid, “May I?”

The request confuses me. No one except my mother has ever handled my braid. Surely this strange immortal woman is not suggesting to do so.

“Ah,” Neca takes the woman’s hand cordially and leads her off the lift, “she’s a bit of a prude. Very traditional, I’m afraid.”

The woman straightens. “Oh, I’m sorry. I meant no offense.” She sighs, “It’s been a very long time since I’ve lived in Worker City. Sometimes I rather envy Centavo Huehue.”

At the mention of Centavo, Neca eyes me apologetically. Of course he knew the old man was immortal. I guess he was obligated to pretend he didn’t. None of this matters now. Saving Olin is the only thing that matters, and it’s time we get down to it. Stepping off the lift, it becomes obvious why Centavo sent us here.

My jaw drops, and I feel an instant kinship with our host. Clearly functioning as both a place of residence and work, the large suite is half-filled with plants, watering systems, coolers and lab equipment. The immortal is a botanist. If there is anyone who can help my brother, I know it is this woman.