by Larry Kollar
Chapter 3 – The Plot
A sunny and dry late Thursday afternoon found Lodrán bored and restless. “I need to get out for a while,” he said. “The—the children. They made me nervous.”
“You’ll be alright, walking alone?”
Lodrán laughed. “An odd thing to be asking a Silent Artist, Chelinn!”
“Well hey,” said Chuck, “if you’re just going for a walk, how about walking down to Burger Billy’s and picking up some supper?”
“I could do that. It’s that way, right?” Lodrán pointed.
“Right. Just get three Number Threes to go, no drinks.” Chuck unzipped the pocket where he kept his wallet and took it out, then laid three bills on the counter. “That’s thirty bucks. The total will be around twenty-three and change, so give them all three. They’ll give you change.”
“Change?”
“Oh, sorry. When the guy at the register tells you how much, just give him this. He’ll give you some other paper and coins. That’s all you need to know.”
“Oh, and please resist the temptation to ply your skills while you’re out,” said Chelinn. “Chuck tells me that some of these devices can contact their owners with their current location. We don’t need any of that kind of trouble.”
Lodrán laughed, nodded, then took the bills and slipped outside.
This was the early part of what Chuck called “rush hour,” although it lasted several hours. Now that Lodrán was over his initial fright, this world was just one more strange sight in a lifetime of strange sights, and he found it fascinating. Few people walked anywhere that their cars could not carry them, thus the sidewalks were uncrowded. Cars clogged the street, making walking nearly as fast as driving. A woman passed him, a member of the Jogger tribe if he remembered correctly. She wore the Jogger uniform: a shiny tight singlet of gaudy colors, with matching shorts, showing off her spare figure. Her braided hair switched back and forth as she ran. Lodrán thought her clothing impractical—it could conceal none of his tools or weapons, let alone any prizes taken from the unsuspecting. Or conceal himself. Another strange custom: these people had so much leisure time, they had to engage in otherwise pointless exercise to stay fit.
The light changed up ahead, and he caught up to the Jogger woman at the corner. Lodrán thought her pace to be a rather easy one; he could match it for several miles without tiring. After a quick glance, she ignored him but continued to bounce as if running nowhere. At last, the lights turned green and she went her way.
The walk to Burger Billy’s was otherwise uneventful, as was procuring the food. People lined up in a sort of maze, delineated by ropes, then told the youngster at the counter what they wanted. They paid, then moved down the counter to pick up their food. “A rather efficient way to do things,” he said to himself, drawing a curious glance from someone behind him.
On the way back, Lodrán noticed someone ahead acting oddly, stealing glances over his shoulder and moving in a furtive manner. Amateur, thought Lodrán, ducking into the doorway of a boarded-up shop to see if he could identify the amateur’s target. Seeing no one obvious, he remembered the words of his first safehouse master: If you cannot find the target of such a one around you, the target may be yourself. Lodrán had no idea who might be interested in him, but he moved his knife to his belt, where the bag in his left hand would conceal it. He then resumed his walk, taking a few french fries out of the bag and popping them in his mouth, one by one.
The amateur ducked into an alley—the same one that the priest (may he rot in Hell) sent them not a week ago—taking an obvious glance back as he did. Lodrán muttered a curse and threw the last fry in his mouth, moving to the brick wall and slowing his pace.
Lodrán thought he could not have timed it better, had he tried. About two paces from the alley, the amateur stole his final glance around the corner. A moment later, Lodrán had him backed against the alley wall, hands raised, knife point at his throat.
“You,” he said, recognizing one of the fools from the store. “You were supposed to leave town, on pain of death, as I recall.”
“I—I—they left me!” the fool stammered. “I—I saw you going the other way. Just wanted to talk!”
“What do we have to talk about? If it had been Chelinn, he’d have stuffed your corpse in one of those iron trash boxes already.” Lodrán did a quick pat, finding no weapons. The fool wore shoes that resembled those of the Joggers, and those shoes could not conceal anything dangerous. “Where are your friends?”
“Like I said, they left without me! We took Shiv out to the hills and threw him off a bank. He musta still been frozen, ‘cause he went to pieces when he hit the rocks. I started puking, and Cal and Tommy jumped in the car and took off without me.”
“Hm.” Lodrán stepped back, knife still at ready. “Chelinn would probably cut you a break—is that how you say it?—in that case. If you’re telling the truth.”
“I am! I am! All I’ve been able to think about is how quick and smooth you guys are. Whoever—whatever—you guys are, you’re for real. I was…” he looked down. “I was hoping maybe you’d show me how you do that.”
“You mean, teach you?” Lodrán frowned as the fool nodded. “I’m no safehouse master. In fact, I hope to be leaving town myself soon.”
The fool sighed. “Yeah. I know. You don’t owe me.”
“I might be able to show you a few things, though,” said Lodrán, wondering why he was taking pity on this fool. But The Hand guides one where it will. “What is your name?”
“Freddy. Freddy Wilder.”
“Very well, Freddy. Follow me.” Lodrán turned and left the alley, hearing his new student scramble to follow.
“Where are we goin’?”
“Back to the shop. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you can explain yourself to Chelinn. Worst that happens, he’ll tell you to leave town on your own. He’s not bloodthirsty, he won’t kill you if he doesn’t think you’re a threat.
“Now, here’s your first lesson in the Silent Art: your clothes are all wrong. Your pants are too tight, they won’t let you move freely. Your shoes would be good for indoor work; but for the street, you need a good pair of boots that can conceal a knife. Your jacket has too many insignia—”
“Too many what?”
“Those things.” Lodrán tapped several patches. “They give enemies a way to recognize you. You need to be plain, to blend into a crowd. Blue is not a good color, either. You need black or dark grey, so you can be a shadow among shadows. A jacket with an inner pocket is useful, too.”
“Yeah. That makes sense.”
“Most of what I’ll have time to teach you will be things that, as you say, make sense. And we’re here. Let me do the talking at first.”
• • •
“So that’s the way things are,” said Lodrán, standing with Freddy in the office in the back of the shop. “I think you said this once: a fool who wishes to improve himself is no fool after all.”
Chelinn folded his arms and glared at his friend. “A foul thing, using a man’s own words against him.” He smirked. “Very well. He can live, and learn from you, as long as he stays out of the way and does not try stealing from noted Robinson any further.”
“Yeah,” said Freddy. “I’m not that stupid.”
“And a wise man understands his limits.” Chelinn grinned. “Do we need to divide our ‘Number Threes’ with you?”
“Nah. I already ate.” But Freddy stared at the pile of fries, and Lodrán slid a fourth of them to his new student. Chuck brought out a large soda bottle, with four cups made of a strange white substance, and poured for everyone after Lodrán tried and made his cup foam over. Lodrán offered half of his large cheeseburger to Freddy, who waved it away with some reluctance.
“Anyway,” said Chuck, “while you were out, I was telling Chelinn that we need to get stuff packed up for the con. It starts Saturday morning, but we’ll be spending tomorrow night setting up our booth. I’ve already got you guys vendor pas
ses, which will get us into the auditorium the back way so we won’t have to deal with lines—”
“You’re going to that convention Sunday afternoon?” Freddy asked, wide-eyed.
“Well, it runs from Saturday morning through Thursday, but yeah. We’ll be there Sunday.”
“Shit. I heard some assholes say they’re gonna bomb it Sunday afternoon!”
“What?” The others started speaking all at once.
“Wait! Wait!” Freddy waved his arms. “One at a time!”
Chelinn looked around. “Freddy. Are we in danger now?” He seemed to swell and darken.
“No, no.” Freddy shrank back, as far as he could. “They’re gonna bomb the auditorium. Not this place.”
“Where did you hear this?”
“My uncle owns a bar called the American Eagle. The rednecks like to go there. I work there keeping the place cleaned up. It was last night, must’a been after last call, because I was sweeping the floor and wiping down empty tables. I heard four of ‘em at a table, talkin’ about how one of ‘em had a job at Engwald Auditorium. They said they could bring the bomb in Friday night while all the nerds were settin’ up and not payin’ attention. One of them said they could leave a rental car in the parking lot with a Koran in it, and the cops would blame it on the Muslims.”
“You’ve said several words that I don’t know the meaning of,” said Chelinn. “But that word bomb seems to be most important. What does that mean?”
Freddy gaped. “Are you for real?”
“They’re foreign,” said Chuck, looking grim. “It’s an explosive device, Chelinn. Same principle as a gun, just a lot bigger and not channeled. If it’s big enough, and in the right place, it could bring down the entire building.”
“Killing everyone inside, or near enough,” said Chelinn, turning back to Freddy. “I have many questions, but the one I think is most urgent is why? From what Chuck has said, the people attending the con are honest, harmless folk. What is to be gained from killing them?”
“God only knows,” said Freddy. “Rednecks pretty much hate anyone who ain’t just like them. Nerds would be an easy target, too.”
“Another tribe by association. Rednecks.” Chelinn gave him a sour look. “I presume you have contacted the authorities with this information?”
Freddy shook his head. “There’s a couple of warrants out for my ass. Nothin’ major, but they’d just throw me in jail and not pay attention to anything I try to tell ‘em.” He matched Chelinn’s sour look. “Cops. Another ‘tribe’ I prefer to avoid.”
“An anonymous tip, then,” said Chuck. “We’d have to call it in from a phone booth to keep it anonymous, or maybe from an auditorium office.”
“But if the police are swarming this auditorium before they bring in their device, wouldn’t that spook the plotters?” Lodrán began chewing his mustache. “Then they could just melt away and wait for a more opportune time, no?”
“Not to mention the authorities prying into our own affairs. As Chuck puts it, we are here illegally by the definition of the law.” Chelinn grinned. “If only they could exile us home, we would simply turn ourselves over!”
“So three of us are afoul of the law, and the fourth might cast suspicion on himself by shedding light on a plot he should know nothing about.” Lodrán now chewed both ends of his mustache. “So we let this happen?”
“They intend to bring their device in tomorrow evening, and commit their mayhem come Sunday afternoon, no?” Chelinn thought for a moment. “If we allow them to bring it in, there would yet be plenty of time to sound the alarm.”
“But what good would that do?” asked Chuck. “They still get away, whether or not their bomb goes off.”
“Perhaps not. Use one of your devices to record an image of their faces.”
“Take a picture?” Chuck stared at the wall for a few moments. “That could work. If we find the right guys.”
“How do we do that?” Lodrán looked skeptical.
“I could spot ‘em,” said Freddy. “Three of ‘em are regulars at the bar. BJ and Terry Lewis, their cousin Sam Gross, and some out of towner, they call him Hunter.” He shook his head. “They’re mostly a bunch of loudmouths. If I hadn’t heard ‘em talking about it like it was a done deal, I’d never believe they’d actually do something like this.”
“You would have to join us, then,” said Chelinn. “Share our hazards. Chuck must attend to his business, so he would be out of harm’s way. But as our spotter, they might recognize you as well.”
“I’ll take that chance. I’ve pissed my life away doing stupid shit. My uncle keeps tellin’ me it’s time to man up. I guess he’s right.”
“You’ll be fine, anyway,” said Lodrán. “Chelinn is one of the best tacticians in all of Termag. He takes it personally if he loses one of his own.”
“Termag?”
Chelinn sighed. “We’ll explain later.”
• • •
“Second lesson,” Lodrán had said, “act natural. If you’re looking over your shoulder all the time, you’ll attract attention. And for our kind, any attention is unwanted. Part of being unnoticed is to act like you belong.”
Freddy slouched in a dark corner of the loading area, where he could see everything going on. He wore an old, dark grey suit jacket over a black t-shirt. Black jeans and sneakers completed the ensemble. His vendor pass, identifying him as an Age of Heroes employee, dangled from his jacket. If anyone noticed him at all, they saw only a slacker playing with his cellphone. Freddy smiled. When it came to slacking, he needed no coaching.
They’re here, he texted. Sam’s the aud employee. Others have white catering outfits.
“They’re posing as caterers,” Chuck told Chelinn, who was helping to assemble the booth, and muttering curses in the goblin-tongue among others. “I’ll call Lodrán.”
“I see them,” said Lodrán into his phone. “Tell Freddy to follow them in.”
“Hello?” said Freddy into his cellphone. “Yeah. Okay, I guess I can take a break from break time.” He was already moving, the targets ahead of him but in sight. He pocketed his phone and shuffled along, keeping pace, hands in pockets. This was like acting. He’d performed in several plays in middle school, and really got into his characters. Like with everything else, though, the crowd he’d wanted to be in didn’t act in plays. What Lodrán called “the Silent Art” was a lot more interesting than his old life, so far.
The cart, draped with a white tablecloth, rumbled right on by the concession area. Lodrán was waiting there, and Freddy joined him. Lodrán immediately started a mostly one-sided conversation, waving his hands and leaving Freddy to grunt, “uh-huh” from time to time. He was amazed how fast Lodrán picked up the local slang; even his accent was nearly gone. Then, Lodrán put a hand on his shoulder and turned Freddy down the corridor. “I gotta water the bushes,” he said.
“Yeah, me too.”
They passed the targets, standing in front of the elevator. Lodrán continued chattering, “I tell all my clients, don’t look back. Never look back,” he said. “Past behind you, world in front of you.” They ambled on, and Lodrán suddenly stopped. “Who’s calling now?” he asked, turning to face the way they’d come and fumbling his phone out. “Yeah?” He nudged Freddy. “Where are they going?”
Freddy whispered, “That’s an elevator. It goes up and down.”
“Yeah?” Lodrán continued to yap at his phone. “Well, can you find the stairs, then?” He nudged Freddy again.
“That’s the stairs.” Freddy nodded to the door directly across from them.
“Alright. Well, listen… I need to get moving here. Talk to you later?” Lodrán pocketed his phone. “Luck of the draw whether they go up or down, I guess. If Chelinn were here…”
“They’re going down,” said Freddy. “See the lights next to the doors? The down arrow is lit. That means they’re going to the basement.”
“Good work. You may be suited to the Silent Art after all. Find a pl
ace where you can watch the elevators, and call me if they come up.” Lodrán took his phone out again, and disappeared through the stairway door.
The stairway ended after two flights of steps, and Lodrán emerged chattering at his phone. “Yeah, I went downstairs, there’s too much noise up there.” I wish we had these things at home, he thought, it would make blending in so much easier. Up ahead, the targets glanced back at the sales guy who wanted a little privacy, and gave it to him. Lodrán continued to babble until they turned a corner, then pocketed the phone again and pulled off his boots. In bare feet, he could run without making a sound.
The walls here in the basement were much like those in the loading area: blocks of uniform size, but covered in paint that was a bare step short of white. The lighting—in Lodrán’s mind, the most amazing thing in a world of amazing things—was like in Chuck’s store. Long glowing tubes, burning with no smoke and little heat, but suspended from the ceiling rather than recessed. Except for the lighting, the basement felt like home.
Reaching the turn, he stopped short and listened to the cart rumble along. Lodrán suppressed the urge to steal a peek around the corner. If you know what to listen for, your ears are as good as your eyes, his safehouse master once told him. And your ears can hear around corners. Lodrán could paint the scene in his mind’s eye easily enough, since he’d seen it seconds ago: the man in the green jumpsuit leading the way, two men in white outfits pushing the cart, and the last man looking over his shoulder. More amateurs.
“In here,” came a voice. The cart stopped, then keys jingled and a door opened. The cart rumbled again, quickly muffled. Lodrán finally dared to risk a look; he walked across the opening, poking at his phone with a sidelong look down the hallway. One door was open, nobody standing watch. He stopped, phone to his ear, and counted: fourth door on the right. He turned and made his silent way back to the stairwell door.
“We have what we need,” he told Freddy, punching the buttons that would connect him with Chuck.
“Hello?” said Chuck.
“Hi,” said Lodrán. “They really did deliver the package. I found where they left it.”
“That’s good. Chelinn says you need to join us here, though. He’s got the booth set up, but we still need to unpack the merchandise.”
• • •
They gathered at the auditorium early Saturday, well before the con opened. Freddy slipped away, then returned and touched Lodrán’s elbow. “That room downstairs? It’s locked.”
“We expected that, right?” said Chelinn. “Lodrán heard them unlocking the door. It stands to reason that they would lock it behind them.” He grinned. “Not that a lock would slow you down much, Lodrán.”
“These locks are more sophisticated than what we face at home.” Lodrán shrugged. “Fortunately, I’ve had opportunity to practice. Given a few minutes, I will prevail.”
“Here they come,” said Chuck, in his wizard outfit. Down at the end of the auditorium, attendees crowded through the doors, an endless torrent of humanity.
“So many people,” Lodrán breathed.
“Heh. There’s more than this, but the others are at the keynote address.”
“What’s that?”
“Oh. That’s where someone gives a speech. It’s a local author this year.” Chuck grinned. “A lot of people who come to these cons want to be authors as well. It gives them a chance to network—meet other people, maybe someone who can help them along. They have writing workshops, critique groups, roundtables, you name it.”
Further conversation was cut off by the throng reaching Chuck’s booth. People swarmed around them, marveling at Chelinn’s and Lodrán’s “costumes.” Lodrán, who considered attention potentially fatal, quickly grew nervous.
Chuck soon noticed Lodrán’s discomfort. “Go outside,” he said. “Take a walk. We’ll be alright here. Keep an eye out for you-know-who.” Lodrán nodded and left before Chuck could change his mind.
The front entrance was still crowded with people lined up to get in, and Lodrán went to the loading docks. A security guard let him through, after a quick glance at his vendor’s pass, and Lodrán breathed a sigh of relief in the dim quiet. He considered slipping downstairs and picking the lock on the door concealing the bomb, but dismissed it. The lock would give way, but then what?
He considered his options: stand in one place, or get some fresh air outside? As he’d done plenty of the first already this morning, he chose the second option and went to the parking lot. So much iron here… Chelinn had already bought several large boxes of nails, as much iron as he could carry, for the return trip. Imagine your car to be made of gold, he’d told Chuck, and you’ll understand how we feel when we sit inside one. He wandered between the cars, lost in thought.
“Hey!” a woman’s voice called out. “Hey!” Lodrán cursed himself for his continued lack of vigilance, then turned in the direction of the cry. A woman stood next to one of the cars, making a “come here” gesture. Lodrán looked around—he was the only other person in sight—then shrugged and made his way over to her.
The woman was round and soft, not the standard of beauty here, but close to Termag’s. She wore tight clothes that made her curves bulge, and her shirt was imprinted with lettering. Chelinn had thrown himself into learning the local script more than Lodrán, but after a moment he made out a cryptic message: GEEK GIRLS RULE. Her hair was much like Chelinn’s: the same color, straight, but cut shorter.
“Hey,” she said again as he approached. “Could you call someone for me? I locked my keys in my car. And my phone. And my purse.” She sighed. “Great way to start a con, huh?”
“This is your car?” Lodrán asked, getting a nod in response. “I have some, uh, locksmith training. Maybe I can get it open.”
“Oh, could you? You’d be my hero!” She laughed, a little self-conscious. “I’m Annie Chester.” She looked at Lodrán’s vendor badge. “Wow, that’s a strange first name.” After some discussion with Chuck, Lodrán insisted on keeping his name but chose “Roth” for a surname. “How do you pronounce it?”
“Much like it looks,” he said, pronouncing it for her. “It’s from my mother’s side of the family.” He took out the leather pouch that held his lockpicks. “This might take a few minutes, but I don’t think it’ll get the better of me.”
“Nice outfit, by the way,” said Annie, as Lodrán got to work. “Where’d you get it?”
“Um… I made it myself,” said Lodrán, slipping his first picks into the lock. “You should see my friend Chelinn though. He should be at the booth. I got—what’s the word?—too many people, so close together…”
“Claustrophobic. Wow, that’s gotta be rough at a con.”
“Crowds and closeness are not the problem, so much. But I was stuck in that booth and couldn’t move around.” Lodrán twisted his picks and heard a click. “Ah!” He pulled on the handle and the door swung open. “That went a little quicker than I thought it would.”
“Yes!” Annie squealed and hugged him, then gasped and froze a moment before releasing him. “Sorry. I got a little excited.” She looked embarrassed.
“I’ll survive.” Lodrán grinned. “I think there’s still a line at the front. I can bring you in the back if you like.”
“Tempting. But I’d need to get my pass and stuff anyway.” Annie scrutinized Lodrán’s vendor pass again. “Age of Heroes. Will you be there?”
“That’s my home away from home this week.”
“Okay. Well, thanks again. I’ll swing by when I get inside. Hey… what are you doing tonight? You wanna show an out-of-town girl around?”
“I’m from out of town myself, but maybe we can discover this place together. N— Chuck says there are parties in the hotel every night, and a vendor badge will get me into most of them.”
“Sounds great! I’m staying in the hotel, so I won’t have to drive anywhere.” She grinned. “We’ll work out the details when I come by.” She threaded her way between the cars, jiggli
ng in ways that made Lodrán smile. He walked back to the rear entrance, thinking about how a mere scrap that The Hand threw your way could make a difficult situation so much more bearable. Even if he never saw her again, it was… well, Chelinn would approve of him plying his trade this way.
• • •
“We did some fantastic business today, so I thought I’d treat my staff to some decent food for a change.” Chuck grinned and raised his beer mug. “You guys were part of it, at least.”
“Lodrán, why don’t you step into the lobby to wait for your friend?” Chelinn sipped his beer, then smiled and took a longer drink.
“I’m that obvious?”
“No. Someone would have to know you very well to note that your attention is divided. I just happen to be one of those people.”
Lodrán laughed, finished his mug, and stood. “Whoa. This is stronger stuff than back home.” He shook his head once, then slipped away.
“She’s welcome to join us!” Chuck called after Lodrán. He smiled, thinking about the young woman who had come by the booth at the tail-end of the initial rush. Like nearly everyone else, she’d gushed over Chelinn’s “outfit” but then told them how Lodrán had unlocked her car for her. Chuck suggested a party with an open bar that started at nine tonight, and the deal was sealed. He looked at Freddy, and grew sober. “We need to talk about tomorrow.”
“I thought that was already figured,” said Freddy. “Lodrán will open an office around ten, and we’ll phone the cops from there. Then we hightail it back to the booth and get ready to pack up the important stuff and evacuate.”
“There’s an outside chance that one of the staff will discover it before we make the call. What do we do if that happens?”
“I don’t see how it changes things much,” said Chelinn. “Either way, we can’t break camp without raising suspicion, until we get the evacuation order.”
“The thing that really worries me is what happens if we don’t get the order,” said Freddy. “What if the cops decide if it’s a hoax? Or if they have someone at the 911 place to make sure a call doesn’t go through? I ain’t gonna stay around to find out.”
“A fire would get everyone out,” said Chuck. “Too bad you can’t teach me a spell to start a fire, Chelinn.”
“It takes a certain temperament for a beginning mage to work Fire magic. Mine, for example.” Chelinn grinned. “Your temperament, I think, would be better suited to Air or Water spells. But given your technology, the Principle of Necessity would normally demand that you start fires in the usual manner.”
“If I hadn’t seen what I seen, I’d think y’all were just yappin’ about some game.” Freddy drained his mug.
“Normally,” Chuck agreed. “But this isn’t a normal circumstance, is it? Besides, someone carrying flammable materials through a crowded building would be remembered when the fire actually starts.”
“Hey!” said Annie, with Lodrán in tow. “Thanks for inviting me, I was gonna go find a fast-food joint.”
“No problem,” said Chuck. “What are you drinking?” He flagged down the waiter. “I think we all need a refill on our beers. No more shop talk, folks. Time for happy-babble!”
“A Cabernet for me.” Annie laughed. “Have you guys already ordered?” They nodded and she took a quick glance at the menu. “The Chicken Salad Oratorio looks good, especially since I ordered red wine.”
“Now there’s someone who has her priorities straight,” Chuck laughed. “Wine, then food!” Everyone, including Annie, joined the laughter.
The waiter brought their drinks. “Your entrees should be ready shortly,” he told them. “The salad won’t slow things down much, so we’ll bring them out together.”
“A toast.” Chelinn raised his freshened mug. “To friends well-met on a strange journey.”
“And to friends well-come in time of need!” Chuck matched Chelinn’s grin.
“I’ll drink to that!” said Annie, giving Lodrán a nudge. He smiled and drank with the others.
Some hours later, Lodrán and Annie tottered up a hotel hall, arms around each other. Annie laughed on occasion at their stumbles, while Lodrán tried to remember how the elevator worked and how he would find his way back to the exhibition hall. The style of dancing here was chaotic, but he did well enough to get a compliment from Annie. Not that it required much more than letting go of one’s inhibitions, and the drink made that simple. He’d not drank so much since that night he found himself peering into the chambers of Lord Tarchus’s daughter. He never could bring himself to break up that stolen necklace, more wealth than he could spend in a hundred years—
“Here we are,” said Annie, fumbling a small card out of her pants pocket. Lodrán watched as she inserted it in a slot above the door handle, then withdrew it. Lodrán heard a click, and she opened the door then gave him a hesitant smile. “You wanna come in?”
Lodrán looked down. “Annie, in… where I come from, if a woman invites a man into her chambers at night, it’s not to drink tea.” He looked at her and smiled. “But I’ve enjoyed our time together, and I wouldn’t mind extending it a few more hours.”
“It’s not all that different here,” she said. “I usually don’t do this, but you’ve been nice and… well, I don’t get out a lot. Maybe it’ll be more than a fling. I hope so.”
“I can’t promise much beyond this night, Annie. But not because I have anyone to go home to.”
“Hell, at least you’re honest.” Annie laughed. “Maybe we can have room service bring us breakfast in the morning.”