The End Has Come Read Online Free

on Aren or the household — it reflected on the entire settlement. On the committee that ran the settlement. They could all be dragged into this.
    “Aren,” the man breathed.
    Enid wasn’t surprised the man knew. She was starting to wonder how her office hadn’t heard about the situation much sooner.
    “What can you tell me about the household? How do they get along, how are they doing?”
    “Is this an official interview?”
    “Why not? Saves time.”
    “They get their work done. But they’re a household, not a family. If you understand the difference.”
    “I do.” A collection of people gathered for production, not one that bonded over love. It wasn’t always a bad thing — a collection of people working toward shared purpose could be powerful. But love could make it a home.
    “How close were they to earning a banner?” Were. Telling word, there.
    “I can’t say they were close. They have three healthy young women, but people came in and out of that house so often we couldn’t call it ‘stable.’ They fell short on quotas. I know that’s usually better than going over, but not with food processing — falling short there means food potentially wasted, if it goes bad before it gets stored. Frain — Frain is not the easiest man to get along with.”
    “Yes, I know.”
    “You’ve already been out there — I wish you would have talked to me; you should have come to see us before starting your investigation.” Trevor was wringing his hands.
    “So you could tell me how things really are?” Enid raised a brow and smiled. He glanced briefly at Bert and frowned. “Aren had a romantic partner in the settlement, I’m told. Do you know who this might be?”
    “She wouldn’t tell you — she trying to protect him?”
    “He’s not in any trouble.”
    “Jess. It’s Jess. He works in the machine shop, with the Ironcroft household.” He pointed the way.
    “Thank you. We’ve had a long day of travel, can the committee house put us up for a night or two? We’ve got the credits to trade for it, we won’t be a burden.”
    “Yes, of course, we have guest rooms in back, this way.”
    Trevor led them on to a comfortable stone house, committee offices and official guest rooms all together. People had gathered, drifting out of houses and stopping along the road to look, to bend heads and gossip. Everyone had that stare of trepidation.
    “You don’t make a lot of friends, working in investigations,” Bert murmured to her.
    “Not really, no.”
    • • • •
    A young man, an assistant to the committee, delivered a good meal of lentil stew and fresh bread, along with cider. It tasted like warmth embodied, a great comfort after the day she’d had.
    “My household hang their banners on the common room wall like that,” Bert said between mouthfuls. “They stitch the names of the babies into them. It’s a whole history of the house laid out there.”
    “Many households do. It’s a lovely tradition,” Enid said.
    “I’ve never met anyone born without a banner. It’s odd, thinking Aren’s baby won’t have its name written anywhere.”
    “It’s not the baby’s fault, remember. But it does make it hard. They grow up thinking they have to work twice as hard to earn their place in the world. But it usually makes people very careful not to pass on that burden.”
    “Usually but not always.”
    She sighed, her solid inspector demeanor slipping. “We’re getting better. The goal is making sure that every baby born will be provided for, will have a place, and won’t overburden what we have. But babies are powerful things. We’ll never be perfect.”
    • • • •
    The young assistant knocked on the door to the guest rooms early the next day.
    “Ma’am, Enid? Someone’s out front asking for the investigator.”
    “Is there a conference room where we can meet?”
    “Yes, I’ll show him in.”
    She and Bert quickly made themselves presentable — and put on their reputation —