by Doris Egan
"How much did you have in mind?" asked Loden, apparently forgetting Sim and me entirely.
The men looked at each other. "Twenty tabals," said Jeweled Bracelet.
"Thirty," said Loden.
I waved a hand to get his attention. "We were leaving, weren't we?"
He blinked at me slowly. "I'll only be a few minutes."
"That's right, gracious lady," said one of the men. "It shouldn't take us that long to pound him."
They started toward the far wall of tithball ranges. Loden paused to tie back the sleeves of his robe. I stopped next to him. "What were you about to tell me, a minute ago?"
"What?"
"A minute ago. You were going to tell me something about what you're mixed up in."
"Oh, that." He seemed to be turning his mind back to something that had happened years ago, and in another country. "No, I was just going to explain why I was here. I don't usually throw back this many winebowls in the middle of the day, but I had a fight with my girlfriend and I guess I was upset."
"You had a fight with Ruby?"
"Ruby?" He frowned.
"The girl you were with, Loden."
"Oh! Her. No, no, I had a fight with my girlfriend.'"
How many did the boy have? Jeweled Bracelet called, "Are you coming or not?"
"Don't get your shorts in a wad," said Loden cheerfully, fussing with his sleeves. He reached the edge of the range. "If I go first, you're never going to get a shot," he told Bracelet.
"Right," said his opponent, in the voice of one who humors an idiot. He put a ball in Loden's hand. "The phoenix has been fed."
"For the score," announced Loden, and he threw straight to the north wall, hitting the "thrower's choice" stripe. He grinned. "I'll go for eight hundred."
There was a murmur at this. I looked around and saw that a few people had already begun to gainer, scenting blood. A woman in an orange robe shook her head at what she clearly saw as foolhardiness. Sim's voice, beside me, whispered, "If he can't make his points in three throws, he'll lose. And at two hundred a wall, he'll need a lot of luck."
I knew nothing at all about tith stakes, but I knew that Loden and I were very different people. I would never make a bet like that, regardless of how good I thought I was.
Loden rolled the ball around in his hand, tossed it, caught it, and extended his arm experimentally. More bystanders gathered.
He threw. The ball bounced on the range floor, hit the north wall, ricocheted off the west, hitting scorable territory each time, and flew over the trap to return down the range to Loden. He smiled.
The bronze mouth of the phoenix opened, displaying a 400.
A pleased buzz came from the crowd. Someone had taken a wild chance and surprised them by pulling it off, and that was entertainment. Loden's popularity was probably hitting 400, too.
But they held back. They were an Ivoran crowd; and he still could screw it all up. Loden glanced at Jeweled Bracelet, whose face was carefully blank, and smiled again. Without preliminary, he let loose his second throw. East wall, north, bounce over the trap, and home.
The phoenix hit 800. So did the crowd. Loden was clapped on the back, congratulated, called everything good. His three betting opponents were the only unhappy looking people in the room. Jeweled Bracelet made his way through the knot of people around Loden; he put a hand in his robe to pull out his money.
The hand came out with something slim and shiny… I frowned. He slipped next to Loden and touched it to his wrist.
A hotpencil. I yelled, "Sim!" and tried to push through the crowd.
Jeweled Bracelet had taken hold of Loden's hand and held it in a vise grip. I saw panic rising in Loden's eyes. Then Sim took hold of Bracelet's shoulders and pulled him bodily away. Bracelet fought back with the weapon he had so conveniently handy, the hotpencil. He jabbed it in Sim's arm and kept it there while Sim's other arm reached for his neck. Sim sank to the floor.
I had once undergone training in how to fight, but unfortunately it was responsive training; I had no idea how to jump someone from behind. But I'd managed to get close to Bracelet, and I kicked him in the right knee joint. It buckled, and he lost his balance.
He let go of Sim, whose body was now splayed on the floor. He turned to me, looking angrier than I've ever seen anyone look.
Uh-oh. The crowd had withdrawn somewhat, but there were still too many pressed around us to run. I jumped onto the tithball range.
A forfeit bell sounded. Apparently I'd crossed the boundary and would have to lose points. I ran down the middle of the range toward the back walls.
Now sirens were going off. I looked back and saw Bracelet had climbed onto the range after me. What in the name of heaven had possessed me to run into a dead end like this? North, east, and west walls enclosed me.
I knelt down, reached into the trap, and started pulling out balls lost earlier in the day. I threw one, missed. The second hit Bracelet on the side of the head. That gained me about half a second, and considering my aim it was all I was likely to get.
By now lights were flashing and hefty-looking parlor employees were approaching from all over. This was why I'd run into a dead-end—thank you, subconscious. An expression of uncertainty came over Bracelet's face. His companions had already fled. He turned and ran, jumping off the range into the crowd, who very quickly made way for him. Ivorans do not like to become involved in danger they feel rightly belongs to other people.
The Courts of Heaven bouncers helped me off the range, none too gently. One of them had turned Sim over and was feeling for a pulse. "Is he all right?" I asked, as they dragged me past him toward the manager.
The manager was a little man in an impeccable set of robes, about forty years old. He was nearly my height, amazing in an Ivoran male. When I reached him, he started to scream in a thick provincial accent. "What do you think you're doing! Tracking dirt all over my range, interrupting paying customers! Are you drunk? Are you crazy? Never, never do I want to see you here again! You owe us money! Money to clean the range, money to make up for lost time! We are a respectable business! Money to compensate for harm to reputation!"
I bowed deeply twice, to reassure the bouncers, then reached slowly into my belt pouch and took out a handful of ten-tabal pieces. I bowed again, held out my hands toward the manager, and started to count from one hand to another. "Ten, twenty, thirty, forty…" My voice was low, and his tirade drowned it initially, but by the time I reached fifty he'd trailed off and I was speaking in silence.
"Sixty," I said, holding it out to him.
He looked me over suspiciously. I said, "Though a barbarian, I, too, am from a respectable House. Please accept my apology, unworthy as I am, for the trouble I have caused. To harm the shining reputation of your business is the furthest thing from my mind."
I bowed again. The bouncers looked at a loss. The manager said, at last, "There should be a fine." But his voice had lost the conviction of righteous anger.
"Please send your bill to the House of Cormallon," I said. "If there is any disagreement at all in our compensation, we will be happy to submit the matter to any House of arbitration you like."
Sixty tabals was twice what he'd get in any arbitration. He bit his lip. "So be it," he agreed, taking all my money.
I looked toward the bouncers. "Is my companion all right?"
Sim. My responsibility.
"The player?" asked one of them. "He's all right, just a burn mark and a little shook up."
The hell with Loden. "No, the other one."
"The big fellow," said one man to the other.
"Oh. Lon's called for help to, carry him across the street. There's a healer lives over the Green Rush Light."
"He's alive?" I said.
"He's alive. Had a longer exposure to hotpencil than the other one, though. Don't know how he'll do."
I turned to the manager. "Cormallon will pay for any medical aid. He's one of our House. We want the best."
"Kat's all right," he told me. "She must see si
x pencil burns a week, in this neighborhood. Not to mention knife and pistol wounds."
He'd calmed down considerably, and I was just starting to get upset. I could feel the adrenaline tide receding in my veins. Should I ask to have Sim taken to an outplanet clinic? But time was important with pencil burns, and if this Kat were really experienced… I nodded. "Cormallon would be grateful if you'd see to his welfare." He smiled and bowed, understanding that I'd committed my House to looking kindly on his bill.
At once he said, "Kery! Jin! Make sure he gets to the healer's in one piece, and stay with him when you get there."
I dearly wanted to sit down. But if I did that, I might not get up again. I moved to where I could lean against one of the tile machines.
Loden was a few meters away, sitting on the floor, white-faced. He was holding one wrist, looking down at a red mark that traveled up his arm. If I were a better person, perhaps I might empathize; I'd felt much the same that day in Trade Square.
The manager followed my glance. "Come," he said, and motioned for me to accompany him to Loden's side. Speaking above his head, the manager said to me, "This one is not of your House?"
"Absolutely not," I said.
"Cormallon takes no responsibility for him."
"None at all."
"Then he must pay a fine, too, for his involvement."
Fairness is not an issue here, in case you haven't gotten that point. Loden seemed oblivious to us, still staring into the other side of the mirror. The manager nudged him with one foot.
"Youngster! You owe a fine to the Courts of Heaven."
I couldn't commit Cormallon to paying for him later; that would link us publicly, and whatever Loden was involved in I didn't want it leaking over onto our House. And I had no money left, myself.
In any case, he seemed deaf. The manager squatted by his ear and shouted. "Do you hear me? You owe a fine!"
His head turned slowly. "I didn't do anything."
They'd never let him leave till he paid. I squatted down on his other side. From that proximity I could smell his cheap perfume. "Loden," I said, speaking slowly and distinctly. "Pay him, or I'll kill you."
After a moment he nodded, still slowly, and took out his money pouch. His movements were those of a hundred-year-old man.
The manager grabbed it from his hand in disgust and searched through it. He snorted. "Eight tabals." He threw the empty pouch back in Loden's lap and pocketed the money.
They left us alone then, and I peered into Loden's stricken face. I bit back the angry tone I'd been going to use and said softly, "Don't you think you should tell me about it now?"
Still staring into some blank awfulness, he started to cry.
Chapter 15
He was not in any shape to communicate on the way home. I helped him as we walked back to the house, through street after street, but I couldn't help much. I was near the end of my strength myself, and wished that I'd had money for a carriage or wagon. I kept jumping at noises, staring around to see if Jeweled Bracelet and his friends would reappear; probably it was nerves that kept me going.
When we got to the front door I had a decision to make: accept him, however temporarily, in the house, or dump him back in the parcel receipt. An ethical dilemma. Bringing him in was bringing danger officially, onto Cormallon territory; on the other hand, the boy was a mess.
I suppose the fact that Ran wasn't home that night decided me. I'd let him stay until tomorrow morning, and kick him out before Ran got back from Mira-Stoden. In arguing with a spouse, it's always easier to justify something that's already happened.
So I tucked him into a spare room with a cot, where he promptly went to sleep. It was early evening by then.
The doorbells startled me. I ran to check the spyscreen, and saw it was Kylla, carrying a bag of something from the corner cookshop. I'd forgotten she was coming this evening.
"Hello, Theo," she said, when I let her in. She dropped her bag on a table. "I've brought soup and rice and lots of sugar candies. We can stuff ourselves all night. Did you hear from Ran? How are you? Are you any better since this morning—" as she whirled and got a good look at me. "Theo, darling," she said at once. "You look terrible. What happened?"
"Oh, Ky. It's been a long day since yesterday."
"Sweetheart! Sit down. I'll do everything. I'll bring you tah and candies and you can tell me all about it." And she led me to the divan, sat me down, and fussed over me in a very satisfactory way.
She brought me soup first, insisting I put my feet up as I ate. As she went to get the other containers open, she called, "I'm going to check for any messages on the Net, all right?"
"Fine," I said. Kylla'd spent half her life in this house. I always felt a little funny when she asked for permission to use the Net.
Kylla likes her soup hot and spicy, and that's what we'd gotten. I could feel my eyes start to water as I sipped it, and the sting was comforting. I was well prepared to be catered to for the rest of the evening… though I ought to check on Loden at some point, I thought vaguely.
Kylla returned without the rest of our supper. "What is it?" I asked, seeing the look on her face.
"The steward at home says I've just gotten a written invitation for tah and cards tomorrow morning—at Eliana Porath's."
Well, that took nerve, possibly even raw courage, on Eli-ana's part.
Kylla looked at me. "Did you hear what I said? It's an invitation to Eliana Porath's!"
"I heard. You don't have to go, Kylla."
"The hell I don't. If that little pasty-cake has something on her mind, I want to know what it is. What do you think I should wear?"
I started to chuckle.
"This isn't funny, Theo!"
"No, of course not. Uh, your mint robe is very nice."
We talked clothes for about half an hour, while the food got cold, and shortly thereafter the bells sounded again and the Poraths' messenger appeared at our doorstep. She was a girl of nine or ten, with a set of robes in three shades of red. She bowed and offered Kylla a small sky-blue envelope. Kylla then vanished into the downstairs office to compose her reply, and I offered the girl sugar candies. I ate one first, as etiquette required, then gave her three extra to put in her pocket and take home.
When she'd left with the acceptance and the candies, Kylla came and sat next to me on the divan. "Want to finish our supper?" I asked.
She shook her head. "I'm not hungry."
I was starved to the marrow, so I opened a container of rice and steermod beef. The smell filled the room, and Kylla started to pick at it. "I'm sorry!" she said suddenly, putting down her fork. "You were going to tell me what happened today."
"It's a long story—" I began.
She frowned. "Do you really think the mint robe is all right? It's got a shawl collar."
"It's beautiful, and it suits you."
She looked at me, blushed, and we both started to laugh. I patted her hand. "It's all right, it's an obsession. I understand."
She fussed with the supper bowls, and her eyes fell on a copy of the Capital News. The delivery people hadn't wanted to trouble to send them on to Kylla's house, so when they found they couldn't get the slot open they'd been dropping them outside the parcel receipt. For the last few days Loden had been stepping blindly through them, scattering them in the gutter. This morning he'd actually thought to leave them in a pile by our door.
"I didn't know you got Court Follies," she said. Court Follies is a scurrilous, politically oriented sheet, less acceptably illegal than the Capital News.
"I don't," I said, looking at the address on front. "The neighbors on our left do."
"How did you get it?"
"Loden, the idiot." I spoke from the heart, without thinking.
Of course, Kylla wanted an explanation. It was a long one. Finally she turned to me, eyes shining. "You've been letting that gorgeous security guard stay with you?"
"Trust me," I said. "It's an overrated experience."
When I got
up in the morning I made the same call I'd made before I went to bed the previous night: to the Inner Courts of Heaven. The healer they called Kat didn't have Net access. Both times the manager sent someone across the street, and both times he gave me the same answer: Sim was alive, and his recovery looked promising. "We'll notify you at once of any change," the manager said. "But Kat keeps saying he should be all right. The exposure wasn't long enough for permanent damage."
I thanked him and cut the connection. As far as I was concerned, Sim could have all the cherry jam he wanted, as long as he came back in one piece. Another message appeared on the Net just as I was getting up: from the Porath code, the Net said.
The Poraths again? Why would they call me?
I accepted it and found Eliana Porath's face looking out of my wall. Inexperienced at Net customs, she blatantly used the visual circuit. "Lady Theodora," she said, "I'm so glad you're home.
"Uh, lady Eliana. Nice to see you again."
"I have a favor to ask."
"Oh?"
"I've got, ah, a bit of a problem. My father seems to have asked your sister-in-law to join us today for a tah and card party. I only found out this morning, and we're racing to get everything ready."
"Oh."
"Yes. Well, this is very awkward… at this late hour it will seem too much like an afterthought… but would you consider attending as well?"
"Me? I don't really know any card games."
"That's fine," she said, with fervent eagerness. "It doesn't matter. It's just that, you see, right now Kylla is the only guest, and even with Auntie Jace or Leel to make up the table, it really wouldn't be much of a game. You see my point?"
"I do indeed." There's safety in numbers. Eliana Porath was no fool.
"I would truly be most grateful if you'd come. And it will only be for a couple of hours. We can have a nice meal afterward, in the garden—our cook is a wonder—"
"It's all right, Eliana, I'll come."
"You will?" She let out her breath in relief. "Thank you so much. It's at the sixth hour, and I'll tell the gate to expect you. I'd better run now and see if we can get the table… thank you." And she was gone.
Well, chance in all forms was clearly to be my lot. Raucous machine-play and tithball yesterday, and genteel gambling with tah-and-cards this morning. I was about to sign off when it occurred to me, belatedly, to check for any messages.