17
When Stephanie walked up to the entry from the hotel into the Enigmatic Riddle, her mind was a jangling confusion of various instructions.
Don’t stride. You’re not in a hurry. You’re actually a little nervous. Well, Stevie is, but differently than I am, you are. She’s nervous because she wants to have a big adventure. Meet people. Maybe find a holiday romance. Don’t think about why you’re nervous, Steph, up to and including that your first boyfriend is going to be in there. And you’re trying to get something on dangerous drug dealers, of course.
As she drew closer to the moment when she’d need to talk with the hostess, she nearly worked herself up to the point of turning on her fashionably booted heels and running toward where she could feel Lionheart’s comforting presence. The only thing that kept her from bolting was thinking about how Karl would react to her sudden appearance. He had Lionheart with him and Survivor in his air van, somewhere out on the parking field, because it was closer than the precinct house.
Right. I can’t act like a kid racing for safety. But why oh why is this so much harder than facing down a forest fire?
The hostess scanned Stephanie’s room key, then glanced at her ID.
“I’ll have to give you a bracelet indicating you’re underage,” she explained, following this with a conspiratorial wink, “but it doesn’t have to stand out. Here. This one will mingle well with the bangles you’re already wearing. Have a lovely evening.”
The team had scouted the floorplan of the club earlier, and Stephanie had already earmarked her destination: one of the high tables that gave a good view of most of the club, including the dance floor. The club was comfortably full, but not crowded. She found a small table and claimed it, remembering at the last minute to step up gracefully into the long-legged chair, not hoist herself on her hands as would be more usual.
Sound buffers around the dance floor kept the music at a comfortable level for those who didn’t care to immerse themselves in the current dance number. The piece playing now was perky, so Stephanie didn’t think it was out of line to tap her booted toe against the footrest while she scanned the in-table menu and placed an order for a provocatively named “Ruby Houri (virgin),” which was basically a blended juice drink served in a glass with more curves than Stephanie could ever hope to be gifted with by nature. The photo showed it as quite pretty, with swirling layers of reds and oranges that managed to evoke the veils of the dancing girl drawn in the illustration.
She longed to order a slice of an amazingly rich-looking confection that alternated layers of whipped cream, cherries, and yellow cake, but suspected that would not look sophisticated—and would probably ruin the elaborate artistry that Jessica had made of her lips. Instead, she settled for some little squares of dark chocolate she could place directly onto her tongue, while promising herself a slice of that cake some other day.
So equipped, she scanned her surroundings, deciding that this would only be natural for a young woman out on her own, hoping to make a connection or two. While there were numerous couples, the majority of the clientele seemed to be unattached. Many had come in groups, but didn’t necessarily restrict themselves to interacting with their friends. A few times she saw someone apparently being dared to go talk to someone in another group.
Human courtship rituals, Stephanie thought, trying to look cool and a little detached, not scared out of her mind. Or maybe “mating rituals” would be a more accurate term, because courtship is meant to go somewhere farther than just an evening’s fun right? But not all these people are looking for someone to have sex with, right? So mating isn’t fair, either. I wish I understood better. Maybe I am, like Trudy always said, just too much of a dumb kid.
In her pensive survey of the room, Stephanie completely missed Anders the first time, but she spotted him the second time, less for himself than because he was attracting a lot of attention from a mixed group of locals—she felt certain of this from the body language—who had just come in and were looking about, clearly seeking who was new and interesting this evening.
When Stephanie caught her initial glimpse of Anders, her heart flip-flopped, much as it had that very first time back in much less glamorous circumstances, when Dr. Hobbard had been introducing her—and more importantly, Lionheart—to the newly arrived Whittaker xeno-anthropological team. Then Anders had been dressed casually, but tonight… She fumbled with her Ruby Houri to keep herself from messing up her makeup by burying her face in her hands.
Oh! I’d forgotten how completely gorgeous Anders is.
And he honestly was. His button-down shirt was an indigo that drew attention to the dark blue of his eyes. As usual, he wore his wheat-colored hair pulled back, but tonight, instead of the usual utilitarian tie, he had it bound with a thick band of silver, printed with angular geometric holograms that sparkled in the shifting lights from the dance floor.
As Stephanie watched, a redheaded woman at least five years older than Anders came over and leaned on the table in front of him in a fashion that showed off an expanse of cleavage. She said something to him, and Anders laughed, tapping his wrist where a solid silver cuff showed.
Saying “Thank you, but I’m underage.”
Whatever the red-haired woman said next made them both laugh. In a few moments, Anders was leading her out onto the dance floor where a thudding bass and drumbeat-heavy piece was starting up.
Stephanie squelched a fierce flood of jealousy. Remember, you’re here to work. Can’t do that if both of you just sit around and watch. Now that Anders is working the crowd, what can you do?
Even with her resolve, it was hard not to feel like a wallflower, to wonder if, despite Jessica’s best efforts, she wasn’t very attractive. Stephanie knew she could get up and ask someone to dance, but here she hit a basic snag—she wasn’t very good at reaching out to others. She knew perfectly well that if her parents hadn’t insisted she socialize with people her own age, she would never have bothered, considering the majority of her age-mates “zorks” and “nulls.”
And how wrong I was, Stephanie scolded herself. She caught herself reaching up to pat Lionheart, as she often did when in an uncomfortable situation, and let her hand drop, thinking how odd that would look. Well, if anyone noticed, maybe they thought I was playing with my hair. I certainly have a lot more of it now.
Postponing the moment of truth just a little longer, she sipped her Ruby Houri and studied the crowd, hoping to find someone who she wouldn’t be scared to ask to dance. She also looked for signs that something other than alcohol and snacks were being dispensed. Certainly nothing strange seemed to be going on: no one was being whispered to by mysterious concierges in immaculately stylish evening attire, then being escorted to a slightly screened doorway, or anything else indicating secret transactions. Stephanie was just about to push herself into at least mingling, when she noticed someone drifting toward her table.
The person approaching was elegantly androgynous, with short-cropped dark hair that swept in wavelike bangs, overshadowing dark, slightly almond-shaped eyes framed with velvety dark lashes. It was a look that went amazingly well with close-cut white dress slacks, a dark purple shirt with pearl buttons, a white cutaway jacket with long tails, and high-heeled boots. Stephanie saw no jewelry, except for pearl button earrings that echoed the buttons of that shirt. When the fashion plate spoke to Stephanie, it was in a voice as subtle and soothing as Lionheart’s purr.
“I am called Xadrian.”
“I’m Stevie.” Stephanie felt very proud when her voice didn’t squeak.
“You are new here, perhaps? Would you like to dance?”
Stephanie wondered if Xadrian was on the club’s staff, someone paid to make certain that even wallflowers had a chance to bloom. Nonetheless, she was happy to accept the courtesy.
Hey, maybe Xadrian will prove to be a lead.
“Thanks, Xadrian. I’d enjoy dancing, but I don’t know this music and,” Stephanie decided she might as well confess her shortcomings up front, “I’m not a terrific dancer.”
“Then here, where the Enigmatic Riddle echoes, is where you can express yourself,” Xadrian assured her, tucking a beautifully manicured hand under Stephanie’s elbow. “Here, away from home, where there will be no one to bear tales.”
Stephanie forced a smile. “I’m game. It’s okay to be shy in a strange place, right?”
Xadrian nodded and smiled a silky smile. “Precisely right.”
Although Stephanie felt as if everyone must be staring at her, she knew that was her own self-consciousness speaking. She remembered how Cordelia had spoken of dancing as fun, had praised Stephanie’s natural grace.
All right. Let’s think of this as a new sport rather than me making an exhibition of myself in public. I wouldn’t be shy about not flying a new type of glider right the first time, would I?
As she and Xadrian moved onto the dance floor, the music was easing from something throbbing, slow, and romantic to a lighter, perky, tune that defied the listener to not at least try to dance. Under Xadrian’s subtle coaching, Stephanie felt she didn’t make a complete fool of herself. When the song ended, she didn’t feel the least desire to scurry back to her seat. The music was segueing into something whose introductory notes elicited squeals of delight and a general scurrying toward the dance floor.
“Ah!” Xadrian said, flashing white teeth. “This is a group dance. Not all that different, really, than some you might have done when much younger and in school. The steps are included in the lyrics.” Xadrian gave Stephanie a melting smile. “But don’t worry. I won’t abandon you.”
“Okay, coach,” Stephanie said. “I’ll give it my best.”
“Let me stand to your left, then,” Xadrian said. “That way I will be behind you and can whisper instructions if you miss a line of the lyrics. Besides”—a smile with a definite twinkle to it—“this way I get to put my hands on your waist. Ready?”
Stephanie found her hand drifting toward the non-present treecat at her shoulder and covered the gesture by playing with one of her earrings. “I’m set.”
The dance, which was apparently called Sixy-Snakey, did remind Stephanie of line dances she’d done in school back on Meyerdahl. She wondered if it might have been aged-up from a similar origin, because she was absolutely certain that none of those dances had contained such provocative hip and hand gestures. Here, though, performed by a lighthearted crowd, the hip thrusts and butt wiggles seemed less provocative and more a mockery of studied seduction.
To her surprise, Stephanie realized she was actually having a good time. Then the dance line curled around, Xadrian’s hands on her waist subtly steered Stephanie into a turn, and turning to face another coil of the line she found herself face-to-face with none other than Frank Câmara.
Frank was dressed up, at least for him, wearing a snug shirt that showed off his muscular upper body and arms. Heavy leather cuffs at his wrists all but hid his “underage” band. He’d not only combed his hair, but swept it back and plastered it down with some sort of styling product. To Stephanie’s surprise, he was wearing jewelry: a tough guy stud in one ear that looked like a bit of iron ore. He had his hands on the waist of a woman at least as voluptuous as Trudy Franchitti. Unlike Xadrian, whose touch was feather light, Frank kept a firm grip on his partner and all but publicly groped her when the opportunity presented itself.
The woman doesn’t seem to mind, though, Stephanie thought.
The steps of the dance required that Stephanie face Frank, while the Sixy-Snakey curving line moved two steps to one side, two steps to the next, before whirling around and continuing to weave around the dance floor. He didn’t appear to recognize her, though, and there was something vague and disconnected about his expression that made her doubt that he would recognize his own mother. Nonetheless, Stephanie barely managed not to sigh in relief when the tide carried Frank away. Soon after, the song ended.
She thanked Xadrian, then let her guide choose another partner, a choice made easier because Anders was using the general shifting as groups reformed to ask Stephanie if he might have the next dance. Stephanie knew Anders had probably spotted Frank as well, and wondered if it was wise for the two of them to be dancing together, in case Frank had recognized her after all.
A single dance can’t hurt, she thought, and accepted Anders’s gesture toward the dance floor with a shy nod that wasn’t entirely feigned.
When we were dating, we never went dancing. This is a first, and probably a last.
“I noticed you as soon as I came in,” Anders said, a perfectly normal opening line that nonetheless made Stephanie feel very happy, “but someone got in before me.”
She smiled. “This is fine. I haven’t danced so much in a long time.”
They’d steered themselves deeply enough into the crush that it was natural for them to move closer. Stephanie also felt fairly certain that even if someone was watching them, it would be unlikely that they could read their lips or anything.
“Frank,” she said, and Anders nodded.
“Yes, I saw, and he brought a pal, too. Rod Gállego.” He snorted at Stephanie’s grimace. Rodrigo Gállego, Frank, and Stan Chang had always been very much birds of a feather. “They’re hanging in a back corner, close to the bar.”
“Just them?”
“A couple of others came and sat for a bit. Your old teammate doesn’t seem to be a stranger, here.”
“What next?” Stephanie asked.
“I’m here as me,” Anders reminded her. “I’m going to pretend to notice them for the first time. Go over, establish my role as pissed off and looking for trouble.”
“Me?”
“Keep on as you have. Mix, though. Xadrian asking you to dance was good, raised interest.”
“What? Xadrian’s just hired help, right?”
Anders snorted. “Not from what I heard. More like Pharaoh who interprets the Sphinx’s Enigmatic Riddle. Xadrian showing interest in you means others will, too. See what you can learn.”
The song—three minutes or so of focused activity—ended. Stephanie had meant to go to her table, finish her drink, catch her breath, but apparently what Anders had said was true. Her stock was on a rise. Three or four dances later, when something slow and cuddly came up, she was able to make the honest excuse that she needed to catch her breath.
Her current partner said all the polite things, but let her go. Stephanie took a moment to slip into the ladies’ room, and check her costume. Jessica had done a good job, and despite Stephanie’s fears that some cosmetic might be running or have smeared, she thought she still looked pretty good.
“Her” table was slightly altered from when she’d left it. Her partially drunk “Ruby Houri” was gone, but the chocolate remained. As she pulled up the table menu, a server arrived, bearing a fresh drink.
“The other was getting stale,” she said, “and a patron asked that it be refreshed when you returned.”
Xadrian, Stephanie thought happily. I bet.
“Thank you. Could I trouble you for some ice water?”
“No trouble at all.”
She tried to sip daintily, though every ounce of her longed to down the sweet, sugary drink in a few gulps. She followed the Ruby Houri with the best part of the ice water, looking about with a new eagerness and enthusiasm.
I can do this! I can!
She didn’t notice that she’d lost track of exactly what her goal was, nor that her heart was racing far too fast, nor the self-satisfied smirks on the faces of two hulking young men who watched from the shadows near the bar.
Boldly, defiantly, Stevie Bitts sashayed forth, ready to conquer.
Climbs Quickly was not precisely certain why Death Fang’s Bane had wanted him to stay with Shining Sunlight, but by now he had learned that there were certain places where the two-legs did not care for People to go. This tall, sky-touching nest which held the mind-glows of many, many two-legs must be one of those places. But Death Fang’s Bane had entered it willingly and, although he tasted apprehension in her mind-glow, he caught the tang of excitement and anticipation, as well. A new experience, then. She had felt like this often when they had gone to the place of blue trees and many, many different scents.
At least the mostly empty nesting place where Death Fang’s Bane and her friends had set up camp meant they were separated by less distance than had often been the case on the other world he had visited with her and Shining Sunlight. But he had been greatly relieved when Shining Sunlight had invited him into the flying thing and they had moved still closer to his two-leg. It was not that he thought she went seeking trouble; it was just that she seemed to find it so easily.
Still, he trusted Shining Sunlight. He knew how determined Shining Sunlight was that nothing evil would ever happen to Death Fang’s Bane, and although Shining Sunlight was focused and intent, his mind-glow tasted of anticipation, hope, and a familiar trace of the exasperation he often felt when Death Fang’s Bane was involved, but only the tiniest edge of concern. So, although he kept alert, Climbs Quickly knew the situation was under control. Besides, he had Keen Eyes as company, an assortment of tasty treats, and while he would have preferred not to be restricted to the interior of Shining Sunlight’s flying thing, he was not at all unhappy.
Climbs Quickly was pleased when Death Fang’s Bane’s mind-glow shifted, losing a great deal of its apprehension and instead taking on tastes that he associated with her being immersed in learning. At one point he felt a spike of fear, but that dulled quickly. Not long after, he felt the confusing blend of emotions that he associated with her usual reaction to encountering Bleached Fur. These were a little more intense than she had been feeling lately, but no matter for concern.
Climbs Quickly was contemplating whether—now that darkness had spread and the movements of People would not be seen by the night-blind two-legs, especially if the People in question kept to the shadows—he and Keen Eyes might convince Shining Sunlight to let them go exploring, when he felt Death Fang’s Bane’s mind-glow begin to shift. She had been growing increasingly happy and confident, but this came after a lull, when he thought she might be taking a break from whatever exertions she had been about.
The change was so sudden that had the emotions he tasted been those of fear or anger, he would have believed she was being attacked. This though… This was something he had never felt from her before. Even when Death Fang’s Bane launched herself into some danger—as when they had rescued the Damp Ground Clan from the spreading fires—her mind-glow was never without a core of calculation. The only time she did not think was when she was angry—and she was not in the least angry now. She was, instead, ebullient, the shape of her mind-glow reminding him of how a waterfall might feel as it launched itself over a precipice, to plummet in a perfect dive that created rainbows and mist.
Climbs Quickly bristled. Whatever this new mood was, it was wrong, very, very wrong. He hissed as he would at a death-wing that threatened the clan’s kittens, causing Shining Sunlight to turn from where he had been studying something on the make images thing that came and went within the flying thing. Keen Eyes, who had been stirred from a drowse by the sudden agitation in Climbs Quickly’s mind-glow, looked at him, his own hackles half-risen in reaction.
<What troubles you?>
<Death Fang’s Bane. Her mind-glow. It is wrong.> He shared the sensations with Keen Eyes, and saw his friend’s fur rise in response.
<Wrong. Yes. And so sudden. She does not seem unhappy or frightened, but…>
<She does not, yet I sense in her something of the intensity she brings into a fight, but this time without any of her usual prudence. There is no anger, so I do not think she is actually threatened, but… She feels as if she is running?>
Keen Eyes turned to Shining Sunlight, who was making mouth noises at the two agitated People. As with all mouth noises, these were meaningless, but clearly the young male two-legs was trying to comfort them. Then there was a sharp alert from the thing all the two-legs wore and into which they frequently made mouth noises. Bleached Fur’s voice, tight and measured, backed by some sort of loud, rhythmic noise, came forth. Shining Sunlight made short, clipped mouth-noises, and began to get out of the flying thing, motioning for the People to remain within.
Climbs Quickly was having none of this. He snarled at Shining Sunlight. As he had anticipated, Shining Sunlight, who was no fool, hesitated in the face of those bared white fangs and Climbs Quickly slipped past him and ran, ducking over and under the host of flying things at rest in the large hard field. His route was the most direct line to Death Fang’s Bane. She was still ebullient, but that ebullience was now colored with annoyance. Climbs Quickly hoped he could reach her in time because, better than most, he knew what damage Death Fang’s Bane could cause if she became truly angry.
Climbs Quickly doubted he could successfully moderate such an extreme mood from a distance. Her mind-glow felt almost as if another Person was there before him, muddling the channels of her mind. As he raced to her rescue, he heard Keen Eyes behind him, Shining Sunlight’s pounding feet, his mouth noises coming between breaths, snatches of Bleached Fur’s voice, more muffled since they were carried by the noise thing. Then, miraculously, stronger, ahead of him, an outline in a shape of multicolored light that proved, when Climbs Quickly angled toward it, to be a large opening such as two-legs made in their structures.
Normally, Climbs Quickly would avoid such a place. Too many two-legs, too noisy, but this was the way to Death Fang’s Bane. He dodged stranger two-legs, followed the trail of Death Fang’s Bane’s increasingly chaotic mind-glow, a mind-glow so turned in on itself that it hardly seemed to hold the brilliance that was Death Fang’s Bane at all.
Around Climbs Quickly, two-legs shrieked, screamed, shouted: a pack of crazed grass runners in full panicked cry. They parted about him, and he was glad because he did not wish to hurt a single one of them, but he would if they kept him from Death Fang’s Bane. Close as they now were, Climbs Quickly could feel her heart was racing faster and faster, her ability to form coherent thought vanishing in a whirlpool of giddy confusion.
Then there she was, smelling not quite like herself, but herself, her beloved, beloved self. She was being restrained by Bleached Fur and a stranger two-legs, and they were having difficulty doing so. Tiny as she was, Death Fang’s Bane was fierce and very strong.
Gathering his five legs beneath him, pulling in his claws, Climbs Quickly leapt, first hitting onto one of the raised things upon which humans put what they ate and drank, then kicking off to launch himself, soft-pawed onto Death Fang’s Bane. Every fiber of him wanted to merge with Death Fang’s Bane in her crazed, heart-racing, joyful insanity. He remembered what Keen Eyes had shared of the madness that had driven the Trees Enfolding and Swaying Fronds clans to war not long before. Privately, he had thought he would be able to resist an emotional intensification loop, but now that it was his bondmate, his heart, his dearest beloved, friend, partner, life-light, he felt himself nearly drawn into her madness.
Only one thing kept him from being swallowed. Death Fang’s Bane needed him to anchor her. She needed him to be a rock to dam the raging, cascading waterfall she had become. She needed him, and he would not fail her. He would not, would not, although the power of her mind-glow, brilliant as the sun, was enough to blind them both.
Climbs Quickly leapt into her light, stumbled, felt Death Fang’s Bane’s warmth, beneath him. That physical contact centered him. He had dealt with her anger and moodiness since she had been but a youngling. Now with her smell around him, the touch of her, her arms automatically gripping him close, he was where he must be. He was in his truest home.
Now that he was here, Climbs Quickly could put all that he was into calming her. Distantly, he was aware of Bleached Fur making rapid mouth noises, of the noise ebbing around them, of new, familiar sounds and mind-glows: Windswept, Dirt Grubber, Awakening Joy, Stone Shaper. These felt as distant as the bright lights in the sky, for his journey was inward, riding the currents of Death Fang’s Bane’s unnaturally exhilarated mind-glow. He purred, he patted her with his tail and true-hand. He sent calm and rest and quiet memories to her.
Gradually, something of her manic mood receded, but he could still feel her heart racing, her breath coming fast. He sniffed: that scent he knew from Healer’s place, from where Darkness Foe worked upon the injured. Healers had arrived, healers who knew how to help a sick two-leg. Reluctantly, refusing to completely leave his bondmate, Climbs Quickly released enough of Death Fang’s Bane’s body that the healers could inspect her with things from their healer’s kit.
There were many mouth noises all around, but Shining Sunlight made the most. Windswept was helping the healers—no surprise that. Bleached Fur had stepped back and was gripping hard onto Dirt Grubber, while the wise old gardener did his best to soothe the frightened young male. Awakening Joy stood holding Stone Shaper, shoulder to shoulder with a stranger two-leg that Climbs Quickly thought might be the one who had assisted Bleached Fur in restraining Death Fang’s Bane.
Climbs Quickly felt the change after the healers gave Death Fang’s Bane something that calmed her racing heart as he had her drifting mind. She slept then, breathing only a little faster than she should. Eventually, under Shining Sunlight’s guidance, all of them except for the healers—even the stranger and all the People—went out of the now nearly deserted gathering place, to a smaller nesting place.
The mouth noises rose and fell as the two-legs consulted. For once, Climbs Quickly felt none of his usual curiosity regarding what it was they did. He curled close to Death Fang’s Bane, guarding her, even in her dreams.