Back | Next
Contents

CHAPTER TWO

icon


I gave him a good, long look, half convinced that the raw fish fumes had somehow scrambled my eyesight. But as my father used to say, Seeing is believing, unless an illusionist or con man is involved.

I turned back to Selene. Her pupils had settled down a bit, but there was still a mass of confusion swirling around as she gazed at the boy. “Friend of yours?” I asked as casually as I could manage.

“No,” she said, still staring at him. “No, I’ve never seen him before. Gregory, what is he doing here?”

“No idea,” I said, studying the boy. He’d turned away from us again, and for a moment I wondered why he hadn’t smelled Selene the same way she’d smelled him. But the wind was now coming directly toward us, and he was surrounded by odoriferous fish, and maybe he was just too young and inexperienced to properly sort through all the scents around him.

All of which was speculation. With him standing twenty meters away from us, there was a much more straightforward approach to getting information. “Let’s just ask him,” I suggested.

“Do you think we should?” Selene asked hesitantly. “What if he has family? No, he can’t—I’d have smelled them. But—”

“It’s okay,” I said, taking her arm in what I hoped was a calming grip and backing us away from the storefront. Between the fish shop and the woodworking studio beside it was a narrow lane where she would be mostly concealed. “Stay here. I’ll bring him to you.”

“All right,” she said, still sounding a little lost. “Gregory—”

“It’s okay,” I said. “I’ll be right back.” I gestured to her own flow of white hair. “You’d better put on your scarf, too. We’re conspicuous enough as strangers as it is.”

She nodded mechanically and pulled her scarf from a pocket. I gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, then headed back to the storefront.

The crowd had gone down somewhat while I’d been getting Selene settled; clearly, the two fishmongers had their sales and packaging routine down to a science. I joined the end of the queue, studying the place as I waited. I’d already noted that the prep area where the Patth and the Kadolian boy were working was mostly a single open space, with storage and washing areas as well as the cutting tables. But from my new perspective I could also see that there was another room tucked away at one side, probably an office. The left end of the serving counter had a drop-leaf section the owners could use to move in and out of the shop, and there was a metal roll-down that would presumably be lowered over the serving area when the shop closed for the day. I could see no actual door into the shop; either it was blocked from my view by one of the storage racks in the prep room or else opened directly into the office.

The Saffi female in front of me got her order, grunted her thanks as she handed over payment, and it was now my turn. “Evening,” one of the men said as I stepped up to the counter, running a quick evaluating look over me. “What can I get you?”

“Evening,” I greeted him in return. “Those purple things back there, the ones the boy’s working on? I’ll take one of those.”

“Maybe,” the man said, turning toward the boy. “Tirano?” he called.

The Kadolian boy turned around. “Yes, Mr. Bicks?” he called.

“How’s the mari-mari doing?” Bicks called back.

“Not yet,” the boy said. He turned back for a quick sniff. “Twenty-three hours.”

“Got it.” Bicks turned back to me. “It’s still ripening,” he said. “You can have some tomorrow. Anything I can get for you now?”

“Wait a second,” I said, frowning. “Since when does fish need to ripen? That is fish back there, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he said, giving me another once-over. “You’re new here, aren’t you?”

“Just got in today,” I confirmed. “So what’s with this mari-mari? Does it really ripen like some kind of fruit?”

He shrugged. “We call it ripening. Don’t know what the ivy-tower types call it. Point is that mari-mari is best if it’s eaten within two or three hours of that one best minute. That’s why we won’t sell it until tomorrow.”

“Never heard of anything like that,” I said, and for once I didn’t have to fake interest. I really hadn’t ever heard of any non-plant that behaved that way. “So what does the boy back there do, use some kind of sonic probe on it?”

“The boy has his ways,” Bicks said, suspicion creeping into his voice. “So you want any fish, or don’t you?”

“Not today,” I said, nodding back toward the Kadolian. “I’ll come back tomorrow and give that mari-mari a try. Thanks.”

I smiled and stepped out of line and headed back toward where I’d left Selene. I waited until I judged Bicks’s attention would be fully engaged with his new customer, then ducked into the narrow lane.

Selene was standing about halfway back, her scarf now covering her hair, and as I got closer I could see the tension still rippling across her pupils. “Did you talk to him?”

I shook my head. “I get the feeling Mr. Bicks has him on a tight leash,” I said. “Or maybe considers him less of an employee and more of a trade secret. His name is Tirano, by the way.”

A wince flicked across her pupils. “We need to talk to him, Gregory,” she said earnestly. “As soon as possible.”

“I agree,” I said, turning and looking down the alley at the western sky. So much for grabbing our rental and at least having time to take a drive up into the hills. “But there’s too much going on there right now. We’ll have to try again later. So are we talking a lost colony of Kadolians or something?”

“No, that’s impossible,” she said. “But if he was part of a family, I’d have smelled them.”

“Maybe they live out in the forest and he just comes into town to work,” I suggested. “That might explain why some of the people we passed on the way here seemed to recognize you. Or at least knew what you were.”

“Maybe,” she said. “Could you tell if Tirano is his full name, or if it’s a partial?”

“No idea. Why?”

Another wince. “It’s not important. What are we going to do?”

“The plan is to come back later and talk to him,” I said. “This seems to be the leading edge of local dinnertime, which is probably why everyone in town is out buying fish. But their sign says they’re open another three hours, so we’ll try again later after the big rush has settled down a little.”

“What if Bicks still won’t let you talk to him?”

“He will,” I promised grimly. I knew a lot of ways to convince people to do what I wanted, and not all of them were painless. “In the meantime, let’s head over to the Wellington rental place and get our car.”

“All right,” Selene said reluctantly. Reluctantly, and more than a little fearfully. Clearly, she wasn’t happy about leaving the boy here alone.

“And don’t worry about him,” I soothed as I took her arm and continued us toward the far end of the alley. “He’s clearly been here awhile. He should be able to handle another three hours.”

* * *

The rental place was another fifteen-minute walk toward the east. Along the way we passed Panza’s Café, a nice-looking place with at least a surface layer of sophistication and an aromatic hint of expensive alcohol.

After all we’d been through with Perrifil and Bicks, I was sorely tempted to at least go in for a quick drink and a preliminary assessment. But for the moment, tracking down high-ranking Patth would have to wait.

The vehicle rental procedure might have been reasonably quick by Bilswift standards, but by the runaround street-rental standards I was used to it was glacial. I’d assumed the owner would have filled out the paperwork in the time that had elapsed between Selene’s call and our arrival, but it turned out he hadn’t even started the forms yet. The fact that we’d come in on our own ship instead of arriving on Alainn aboard a liner or commercial vessel seemed to complicate matters even further.

Fortunately, it seemed to be more a matter of inexperience and incompetence than one of deliberate obstruction, which meant I didn’t get to trot out any of my persuasion techniques. Just the same, we had to stand around doing nothing for a good half hour while he got it all done.

But the vehicle we finally got was everything we could have asked for: impressively big, with large wheels and high clearance and a generous helping of power and traction. Whatever uncivilized terrain we ended up in, the thing should be up to the job.

It turned out I’d been mostly right about dinner-buying time in Bilswift. There was still a line at the counter when we arrived back at the Javersins’ shop, but it was much shorter than it had been earlier. We found a place to park our new car, then went over and watched from an inconspicuous spot until the last customer trotted off with his package. Then, as the two countermen began moving the empty trays back into the prep area, Selene and I headed over.

The man I’d talked to earlier, Bicks, spotted us as we approached the counter. “The mari-mari’s still not ripe,” he said.

“We’re not here for fish,” I said, doing a quick check behind him. The Kadolian boy and the Patth had moved back to the deep washtubs at the rear of the prep area and were busily cleaning the bins and utensils. “We need a word with your Kadolian.”

I’d expected the name would get a reaction, and I wasn’t disappointed. Bicks’s eyes widened, and he twitched back a little. “I—what are you talking about?”

I rolled my eyes. Denial and lies were right up there with twitching as part of the standard reactionary package. “You want to waste your own time, fine,” I said. “But kindly don’t waste mine.” I gestured to Selene, standing a couple of paces behind me.

And as she stepped to my side she slipped back her scarf.

Bicks’s reaction to her white hair and alien face was even better than his first one. But I hardly noticed. My full attention was on the Kadolian boy in the prep room, who’d paused in his work and turned to face us. Now, as Selene revealed herself in all her own alien glory—

Nothing. No surprise, no flicker of recognition, no fear, no nothing. The boy showed no reaction whatsoever.

Which suggested that maybe he had spotted Selene on our earlier visit, but simply hadn’t cared enough to say or do anything about it.

Meanwhile, Bicks had recovered enough to get his nerve back. “Who are you?” he demanded. “Never mind—I don’t care. Darnell?”

“What is it?” the other counterman asked, setting down the tray he’d been carrying and striding over. His eyes flicked across us as he walked, lingering on Selene’s face. “What do they want?”

“I don’t know,” Bicks growled. “They’re asking about Tirano.”

“You can’t have him,” Darnell said firmly as he came to a stop beside Bicks. His hand moved across the counter, closed on the handle of one of the big spatulas he’d been using to load fish into its packaging. “He’s ours.”

“We’re not looking to hire him away from you,” I assured him. “All we want is to talk to him.”

“We have papers,” Darnell insisted. “They’re right back there in the safe. Lukki’s sig and the right endorsements and everything. He’s ours.

“So I’ve heard,” I said. “That’s a really nice spatula, Darnell. How many men have you killed with it?”

He blinked. “What?”

“I’m sure it’s great against dead fish,” I continued. “Probably not so much against something that might fight back.”

Bicks took half a step forward and picked up a spatula of his own. “Are you threatening us?” he demanded.

“All I want is a word with your employee,” I said mildly. “I’m just pointing out that you two are the ones holding weapons.”

For a long moment I thought they were actually going to be stupid enough to take things to the next level. I stood without moving, making sure my plasmic was visible to them but making no move toward it. A couple of passersby had stopped to watch, but no one seemed inclined to join the conversation.

Finally, Darnell set down his spatula. “Tirano?” he called, his eyes still on me. “Some people here to see you.”

I inclined my head to him and shifted my attention to the boy. He was still standing by the washtubs, but now his Patth workmate had also paused to watch our little drama. The boy hesitated a couple of seconds, then pulled a towel from the dispenser over the tub and started across toward us, wiping his hands as he walked.

“You’ve got one minute,” Darnell warned. “He’s still got work to do.”

“One minute it is,” I agreed. As my father used to say, Agree to whatever they want, then do whatever you need to. “A little privacy, if we may?”

Glowering, Darnell took a couple of steps back from the counter, gesturing Bicks to do likewise. I made a little shooing motion with my fingertips, and they reluctantly backed up the rest of the way to the long prep table. The boy glanced at Bicks as he passed him, but continued on to the counter. “What?” he asked in a flat voice.

Selene launched into a flurry of her own language. The boy hesitated, then replied with a few syllables of his own. She spoke again, got another terse reply. I tried to read the boy’s pupils, but he kept his eyelids half closed and I couldn’t get a clear enough view. He and Selene had one more exchange—

“Don’t mind me,” I put in. “I’ll just stand here.”

Selene turned to me, her pupils troubled and a little embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Gregory,” she said, shifting to English. “This is Tirano, he’s ten years old, and he’s been”—she hesitated briefly—“indentured to Darnell and Bicks Javersin.”

“Ah,” I said, a shiver running up my back as I studied the boy. Indentured—a nice, antiseptic word that was often a stand-in for enslaved.

But I still wasn’t getting anything from Tirano’s pupils. Did his emotions run a different pattern than Selene’s? “What happened to his family? I assume he had a family once.”

“My family is dead,” Tirano said, switching to English. “I am content here. Please leave.”

I looked at Selene. Her pupils were still troubled, but there wasn’t anything else I could get from them. “Glad to hear it,” I said. “Who’s this Lukki person Darnell mentioned?”

“She’s a broker,” Darnell called from the prep table. So much for giving us privacy.

“Where do I find her?” I called back.

“You can’t have him,” Bicks bit out.

“Who says I want him?” I countered. “Maybe I just want to hire a Kadolian of my own.”

Bicks pointed at Selene. “You already have one.”

“It’s sometimes good to have a spare,” I said. “Where do I find her?”

Bicks looked at Darnell, got a shrug and a reluctant nod in return. “I don’t know where she lives,” he growled. “We did our business with her at Panza’s Café.”

“Really,” I said thoughtfully. So Lukki and our gourmet Patth both hung out at Panza’s? Suspiciously convenient.

Or maybe not as much of a coincidence as it looked. The Patth back there who’d returned to his scrubbing work had to be from somewhere. Maybe Lukki had a whole stable of slaves for sale.

I’d never heard of Patth selling each other into slavery. But there was a lot about the Patth that no one had the first clue about. For all the economic dominance they and their high-speed Talariac Drive had achieved throughout the Spiral, they were remarkably restrained on both the bragging and promotional fronts.

My personal theory was that their carefully constructed public image of a stable, monolithic culture wasn’t even close to the truth. But given their collective secrecy, I wasn’t expecting to have that assumption confirmed anytime soon.

Meanwhile, we had more pressing business on our plate. “Let’s go see if she’s in tonight,” I said. “Tirano, you can come with us—”

“Whoa,” Darnell cut in, starting back toward me. “He’s not going anywhere. He has work to do.”

“What if we rented him for a couple of hours?” I suggested. “That way—”

“I have work to do,” Tirano said. “Thank you for your concern. Good-bye.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned his back on us and headed across the prep area toward the washtubs. I started to call to him, felt Selene’s warning touch on my arm, and instead just nodded. “Thanks for your time,” I said to no one in particular. Taking Selene’s arm, I headed us toward our car, noting that the passersby who’d been watching the drama had also resumed their own various travels. If they’d been hoping for violence, they were disappointed.

Still, given Tirano’s status and the Javersin brothers’ apparent disinclination to let that status change, the onlookers might get another chance.

“We can’t let him stay there,” Selene said tautly as we reached our car. “We have to get him out.”

“I agree,” I said, glancing around casually as I unlocked the car door. Pedestrians moving along the walkways, vehicles driving placidly along, stores open with customers visible through the windows—it all looked fine and normal.

But something out there didn’t feel quite right.

I climbed into the driver’s seat as Selene got in beside me. “What if we go to Lukki and buy him back?” she asked.

“Not sure how that’ll play with the admiral’s budget,” I said, looking around again. “Did you smell anything odd out there?”

“Not really,” she said, her thoughts still clearly on Tirano. “Gregory, we need to—”

“Try again,” I said, rolling down the car’s windows. “Take a good sniff.”

Her pupils flashed annoyance that I was sidetracking the more important issue of Tirano this way. But she obediently leaned out her window, her nostrils and eyelashes working. “Humans,” she said. “Some Narchners, Saffi, Drilies—all the species you saw buying fish earlier.”

“Cooking odors?”

“The same ones I smelled earlier,” she said. “Including the Patth and the one I couldn’t identify.”

“So there’s Patth food here,” I said. “What about Patth themselves?”

“The one at the shop,” she said, her pupils starting to look a little cross. “Possibly there’s one eating at Panza’s. The—”

She broke off, her eyelashes fluttering a little harder. “There are more,” she said, her voice and pupils going subdued. “One more. Maybe two.”

“Nearby?”

“Yes,” she said slowly. “Yes, I think so.”

I looked out around us again, a fresh knot forming in my stomach. I hadn’t actually seen them, but old bounty hunter observational reflexes had picked up on the subtle offness of normal citizens reacting to something unexpected that they could see but I couldn’t. “Any Iykams?”

“No,” she said, her pupils frowning as she looked at me. “Is there a problem?”

“I don’t know yet,” I said, trying to think. “Let’s think this through. The admiral thinks we’ve got a portal out there. The fact that there are at least a couple of Patth on the ground, with more on the way, is a vote in his favor.”

I waved out at the city. “Having our gourmet and presumably head honcho headquartered here in town makes sense. He’s a supervisor and probably not interested in getting his shoes dirty until there’s something solid for him to look at.”

“I’m just wondering why these other Patth are here in town,” Selene said slowly. “Shouldn’t they be out looking for the portal? It’s still a couple of hours to sunset.”

“That’s certainly where I’d have my minions during working hours,” I agreed. “Especially since they almost certainly know by now that you and I are here.”

“Maybe the ones I’m smelling aren’t with the portal group,” Selene suggested. “There’s that Patth at the fish shop. Maybe the others I’m smelling are his family.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that works,” I said. “They’re Patth, presumably under the authority of anyone higher on the pecking order than they are. You think a sub-director or even a conciliator would hesitate half a second before walking him out of the fish shop—him and his family—handing them shovels and weed cutters, and tossing them out into the field with everyone else?”

“Maybe they’re trying to keep a low profile,” Selene said. “Just because you and I are here doesn’t mean we know anything important.”

“Okay, fair point,” I agreed. “But if that’s what they’re hoping, maybe we can pull a little sleight of hand on them.”

Selene peered off toward the western sky. While we’d been talking to Tirano and the Javersin brothers the sun had disappeared behind a layer of dark clouds, the kind that promised late afternoon or early evening rains. “We take a drive into the mountains?”

You take a drive into the mountains,” I corrected her. “Nothing fancy or dangerous—you’re not going to try anything or even get out of the car. All you’re going to do is drive along the road, do some judicious sniffing, and see if you can narrow the playing field a little.”

“All right,” she said, a hint of suspicion in her pupils. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to find this Lukki and see what she has to say for herself.”

“Yes, I thought that was what you were going to say,” Selene murmured, the suspicion shifting to concern. “Are you sure you want to face her alone?”

“I’ll be fine,” I assured her. “Nice friendly conversation, nice public place with lots of witnesses. Besides, she’s a businesswoman. As long as I don’t make trouble, neither will she.”

“Maybe,” Selene said, her pupils not necessarily buying that argument.

But she recognized that our primary job was to hunt down the portal, and adding Tirano to the list was going to require some juggling of our schedule. “I suppose that makes sense. Do you want me to drop you off at Panza’s on my way out of town?”

“Yes, please,” I said, starting the car. “You have your plasmic?”

She nodded, patting her jacket over the spot where the weapon was holstered. Selene usually preferred to keep a lower profile than I did on such things. “I suppose you’ll want me to leave my phone with you, too.”

I grimaced. I didn’t like the idea of being out of touch with her when she was heading out on her own. Actually, I actively hated it.

But phones could be tracked, and even though ours had been specially programmed to give false locations, all the gimmicking in the Spiral would be of limited use out in the middle of nowhere. A false location mark that nevertheless showed her traveling through dense forest or across a river at highway speeds would quickly unravel the trick. Out in the forest east of Bilswift, with only one or two roads available, it would be child’s play to take the phone’s theoretical location and recalibrate it back to reality.

Selene out on her own was bad enough. Selene out on her own with bad people knowing exactly where she was was an order of magnitude worse. “I suppose that’s a good idea,” I conceded. “The car probably has its own tracker—rentals usually do. I’ll make sure to disable it before you leave Panza’s.”

“All right,” she said. “Gregory . . . are you sure you want to do this? It doesn’t have anything to do with the job.”

“No, but it has a lot to do with you,” I said firmly. “Last I checked, you were my partner, not Admiral Sir Graym-Barker. So, yes, I’m sure.” I turned on the engine and pulled out onto the street. The rain I’d anticipated was starting to come down, and I sent up a silent hope that I could get the car’s tracker disabled fast enough to avoid getting soaked. “And who knows? Maybe Panza’s will have some decent barbeque.”


Back | Next
Framed