The Worthing Saga by Orson Scott Card Page A

address, he entered.
    The nearest in blood was Talbot Worthing, a grandson of Ajax Worthing. But he lived on a planet forty-two light-years away. The other cousin was nearer in space: Radamand Worthing, a great-grandson of the first Homer. He was on Capitol, working as a government employee on the district manager level. Nice to know that a relative had done so well for himself. Jase asked for a printout. He heard the choke of a printer a few carrels away, and immediately went to get it, without signing off. On his way back he only happened to glance at the carrel he had been using.
    “Attention: You are required to remain where you are until a proctor comes to your carrel and gives you further instruction. Failure to comply will seriously endanger your academic standing.”
    Right now Jase figured it wasn't his academic standing at stake. It was his life. If the test results were enough to call for the proctors, there was little hope the results would be benign. Fortunately, it would be a while before they could get permission to call for Mother's Little Boys— that was a power far above what the university could normally command. The Swipe would bring that power, of course, But it would take time.
    If the test had convinced them he was a Swipe. How could he be sure? Whose mind could tell him the truth? He didn't know how to search at a distance, how to look for strangers that he couldn't see.
    Cousin Radamand was far enough away that he was well under the curve of the earth; Jase took a deep worm, and in an hour he stood in the anteroom of the office of Radamand Worthing, supervisor of district 10 of Napa Sector.
    “Do you have an appointment, young man?” asked the receptionist.
    “I don't need one,” said Jase. He tried to search for someone behind the door of Radamand's office, but without knowing who was there, or where in the other room he was, he hardly knew how to begin. As always when he could not see the person he searched for, he saw. Only flashes of random thoughts, connected to no one person, telling no particular story.
    “Everyone needs an appointment, little boy.” There was menace in her voice. Jase knew she was not to be trifled with. She looked decorative, but in fact she was trained to kill; Radamand kept a bodyguard in front of his door.
    Jase studied her a moment, took a potent name out of her memory. “Would Hilvock need one? If he came wearing white?”
    Her face went a deep red. “Never,” she said. “How did you know?”
    “Tell Radamand Worthing that his blue-eyed cousin Jason is here to see him.”
    “Do you think you're the first to pretend to be a relative of his?” But she stared at his pure blue eyes and he knew she did not doubt him.
    “I'm the first to know how much money he makes from opening the foundation space to manufacturing. And child labor, since Mother's Little Boys have no eyes down there.”
    He did not take this from her mind. He had finally found his cousin in the other room. And now he could not so much as notice, the woman who watched him. He could see only the memories in Radamand's mind. Radamand had the Swipe, all right; it was hereditary, all right; the question was if Jason would live to escape this place.
    Radamand was wise—he knew there was profit in knowing secrets. District supervisor, that was all he was—but he knew so much about so many, had such a quiet reputation, that his power extended far into the heart of Capitol. And power breeds power, for the more you are believed to have, the more you have— as others fear to cross you— Radamand knew that, too. Who could take him by surprise? He seemed to anticipate every move to thwart him. There were corpses here and there in Capitol that her had arranged for—but murder was not a thing, that pleased him much. He took far more pleasure out of watching people who thought they were fearless as they learned to fear him, tasting the panic when they realized what was known about them, things that no one