"And if that new and alien Cosma became pregnant..." Posy let it hang.
"One of those women would tell. They can't keep this a secret," Wynne objected.
"Of course they can," Ish argued. "These are men with multiple family homes. They wouldn't have to keep her existence a secret, only keep her in seclusion. It's not unusual for a man to be overprotective when his spouse is carrying the heir to the family line. She could grow used to the wealth and position over time, maybe even like it."
"Or die in childbirth," Posy offered and shrugged. "Plausible cause of death. It's a convenience when it comes to murder and it wouldn't be the first time. It's the progeny, not the Brides who are important. These men aren't like me, looking for love and companionship." He looked pointedly at Ish. "If they were, why not keep their mordata cosmas? They want an heir. Period."
"We need to find this Senator Riegard and keep an eye on him. He'll lead us to the auction." It was the first time Truca spoke and she sounded excited.
"First we have to find out if he's here," Tor told her. "We don't even know if there is an auction. What if Wynne's speculation is correct? What if this is only the delivery point?"
"Oh, there's an auction all right, and it's a live one. We have it on the best authority." Mohawk glanced at Ish and grinned.
"Whose?" Tor asked around the hunk of meat he'd slapped between two slices of bread. He'd finally started eating and Wynne took it as a good sign. They hadn't found a solution yet, but they were moving him away from working alone, and he was letting them do it.
"The stall keeper and her sons. The place where I bought the double blade."
"When did you do that?" Wynne had forgotten all about their appointment at the alehouse.
"While Tor was fixing your plumbing. Didn't think you'd want to be disturbed. A man needs concentration to fix that kind of leak."
Wynne shook her head and sighed. The man was hopeless.
"What did you find out from this shopkeeper and why didn't you tell us about it?"
"Not a fucking thing, except what we already knew," Ish said in admission that she'd been there, too. "We didn't tell you because there was no point in roasting the rabbit a second time. Honarie said he'd arranged for his brother to pick up a cargo that was worth enough for them to retire on the profits. He hinted that the cargo was female. Mama was thinking sex trade, not brides. She was going to try to wrangle a side deal for herself by selling you. They didn't know you were from Earth, but something exotic always brings a high price in the slave trade. They were disappointed you weren't with us," the Osana added in a sad and sorry voice. "I was, too. We could have made a tidy profit on the deal."
"And they told you all this over a glass of ale?" Wynne didn't try to hide her skepticism.
"Hell no." Mohawk looked at her as if she'd lost her mind. "We had a what-do-ya-call-it, a heated negotiation. That's it." He was pleased he could use Tor's words. "Ale came later."
"And did this heated negotiation include fists and knives?"
"No, we brought candy and flowers. The three big bruisers she brought along with her were so flattered they swore they'd name their first born after us." Mohawk flipped his hand in disgust. "Of course it involved fists and knives, a blaster, too. She must have thought an extra witless wonder would guarantee a win. She thought wrong. After a bit, Mama sang like that opera shit you and your sister listen to."
"Did the aria begin with please don't hurt my babies anymore?" Wynne asked, laughing.
"No. It began with kill the dumb fucks if you need to, but don't hold that knife to my throat," Ish picked up the tale. "I had to make her bleed a little first, though. She was shy."
"If we'd known it was that easy, we would have gone for her right off. Half the fun, but twice the time to drink later. Ah, well. You can't have it all." Mohawk sighed resignedly.
Tor's impatience flared. "The auction. What did she say about the auction?"
"That the fat fuck said the auction was for his brother. Orax wanted to see those Godan whoresons fight each other for a piece of meat they'd probably have to pay someone else to eat. That's a quote by the way. Doesn't sound like Orax has gotten past his envy of Godan cock. You nasty buggers get all the good stuff," Ish chided Tor.
"Not all the good stuff," Posy told her.
"Fuck you."
"Yes," Posy crowed and drove his fist into the air. "Care to join me in a swim?"
"You don't have time for anything but finding Senator Riegard," Tor told him.
"Why don't you just ask the front desk?" Wynne suggested.
"Which one of us would have any business asking about a senator?" Ish asked her, "And don't say you. It would be up to your patron to call and oops, he isn't here. Every com unit in the place comes with a vid screen."
"Ah yes, the downside of your high tech," Wynne laughed. "My head works in terms of low tech intelligence gathering. Truca can be our spy. She can flirt with that cute doorman we met today. He looks like her, so it wouldn't seem odd if a bored young woman tried to strike up a conversation."
"No. Truca stays out of it."
"She's an adult, Tor." Wynne's gentle reminder came with her hand on his arm. The young woman needed to be a part of this. "Truca should decide and it isn't dangerous."
Truca immediately agreed. "I'll do it."
"It would be easier than having me check out five hundred rooms," Posy conceded. "We don't have that kind of time. I can keep checking to see how many names we can come up with for the guest list. The more names, the better chance of finding someone who'll crack under questioning." He smiled. "If need be."
"If you can find out his room number," Wynne instructed Truca, "it would help. If you can find out if he's in his room and who he's talked too, it'll be even better. The key is to sound like you're chatting about nothing. You're not looking for information. She went on to describe some of the techniques she'd used when getting the scoop on Mira's next high school conquest.
Tor watched her carefully. "How do you know about all this?"
Wynne laughed at his suspicion. "My sister was the hunter, but I was the one she forced to track her prey."
"Mira hunts?"
"Not any more, Mohawk. Her hunting days were over once the war began, and then she met Roark. So..." She slapped her hands on her knees and looked around at the others. "Are we good?"
"No."
"I'm getting tired of that word, Tor." Wynne began clearing the used dishes from the table.
"No more so than I." He sighed and, elbows on knees, he lowered his head to his hands. "Once we find Riegard, what then? If he's in contact with Honarie, it won't be in public. Honarie's too smart for that. I doubt if Riegard or any of the buyers know where the women are being kept. We don't even know if they're in the city or being kept somewhere else. We're no further than we were before."
At least he was using 'we' instead of 'I'. Wynne mover her hand from her knee to his. "Posy can find them," Wynne tried to reason. "That's what you have to do, right? Before you, um, eliminate the problem, right?"
Posy smiled at the turn of phrase. "Yes, but an assassin's game is one of patience, Wynne. The problem can't always be eliminated quickly. Tracking your quarry takes time, especially if they know they're being hunted. We don't have the luxury of time. There's also the complication of saving the women. If we wait until they're sold..."
"No." Wynne raised both hands. "That's non-negotiable. We have to rescue them, too. Don't you see? They're exactly like Chubo and Nix. They're exactly like me."
"Wynne is not like Chubo and Nix," Chubo protested.
"But I almost was. It was only by the grace of God and your captain's conscience that I wasn't taken with the others."
"Kushma." The word, so softly spoken, was an apology. Tor gripped her hand.
"It's all right. I understand, but the fact remains. The Brides Brigade is part of this deal. It has to be."
Posy broke the silence that followed. "The best way is to draw one of the brothers o
ut into the open so I can follow him back to his lair. Once I know where that is, I'll find my way in. Riegard is the key to that, but what's the bait?"
"Me." Wynne's one word had all heads turning.
"No." The word was repeated by the three men. Ish remained silent, but with a half-smile and a speculative glint in her eye. Truca's eyes went wide, but whether with shock or fear, Wynne couldn't tell. The Hukas looked to each other first, and then to Tor.
"You said it yourself, Tor. I'm a princess of the House of Kronak, and I'm human, and probably GCP," She counted off on her fingers. "Though you shouldn't mention the probably part. I'm worth more credits than any of those Brides. What a coup to have your House allied with the House of Kronak through your heir. Ish said we can't ask for him at the front desk, but if we know what room he's in, she can knock on his door. She's my Companion and she's about to turn me over for more money than I could ever pay her."
Ish was nodding. "I like it, but more important, Riegard will buy it, and so will Honarie. Orax might even want to keep you for himself. His own personal...what did you call it?"
"Coup. It's like a victory."
"Yeah, a victory. It's the best chance we have, Tor. She won't be alone. I'll be with her and if Riegard decides to pay me off, Posy will be there in the shadows."
"I don't like it. Why not wait another day or two and see what we can come up with?"
Mohawk's suggestion of delay surprised her. Wynne expected a protest, but thought it would be more about his exclusion than the timing, since he took her safety so personally. Maybe the old warrior was beginning to feel his age.
What was more surprising was Tor's agreement with him. It made her wonder if he was still following his own course and had only offered lip service to throw them off track.
"It wouldn't hurt to wait. There's not much we can do tonight," he said. "Posy, you keep looking. Mohawk, you're with me. Wear that uniform. You can ask the laundry staff where a poor and lonely co-pilot can get a reasonably priced drink while I borrow a uniform. You see what you can find out in the alehouse. I need to find the Communications Office and set up those alibis for Posy and Ish."
"I thought you already... Oh, alibis. I got it. Sounds like a plan." Mohawk almost fell out of his chair in his haste to go change.
"They won't need an alibi," Wynne argued. "You'll have the Brides' Brigade. You'll have me. When Riegard takes me to either of the brothers, I'll be an eyewitness."
"We'll call it a backup plan."
Tor rose and walked to the pile of bags that were still waiting to be sorted and put away. He found the one he wanted, a very small one compared to the rest. He dumped its contents onto the floor and refilled it with items from another, larger bag. That one she recognized. It was the one Mohawk had left on the floor of Alamandria's workroom. With his back to the room, Wynne couldn't see what he took. Bag packed and sealed, he headed for the door.
"Ish, you stay here and keep an eye on things." His eyes slid to Truca and Wynne.
Wynne followed him. "Where are you really going?"
Tor cupped her cheek in his palm. "Still don't trust me?"
"With my heart, yes. Anything else? Not a bit." She turned her face into his hand and kissed his palm. "When can I expect you back so I know when to start worrying?"
"I won't be too late. I'm only going to the roof. The Gates of Heaven is the tallest building on the boulevard. From up there, I can see who lands or leaves on the other hotels. That's why I chose it, not for Riegard." He leaned down to kiss her. "Get some sleep and keep the bed warm. I'll wake you when I get back."
His kiss was short, and warm, and sweet, and not at all like he was saying goodbye. That, more than anything he said, reassured her.
It didn't stop her, though. As soon as the door closed behind the two, she turned to Truca. "Let's go find something in Alamandria's stash for you to wear. Hopefully, we can put together an appropriate outfit for a shy, but flirtatious, young woman. And hopefully, that adorable doorman is still on duty."
Ish stood in front of the bags and trunks, arms crossed and feet planted firmly. "Tor said to keep an eye on you two."
"Good," Wynne told her, "You can do it in the lobby. You're my Companion. You didn't think I'd let her go alone, did you?"
Chapter 29
Wynne surreptitiously admired their handiwork from the seat she'd chosen in the lobby. As she had before, Ish had sorted through the stack of garments, throwing this aside and that on the bed. Based on what they'd seen on the street, Truca chose a pair of trousers with flowing legs that looked like a full length skirt when she stood still. It was Nix who matched the pants with a tight fitting top cropped a few inches above the waist. A sheer and flowing tunic covered the top. Bred as a handmaiden, it was Nix who made it all fit. Her fingers flew as she whip-stitched Truca into the outfit.
"Nix must be ready at all times to see to the lady's repairs," she said in reply to their praise.
Her own outfit was easier. She was a mordata cosma and not a young girl. Her strapless bodice sparkled with crystals. Her skirt was a swirling mix of all the colors of the rainbow. Wynne loved the look until she stood in front of the full length mirror. The skirt was as sheer as Truca's tunic and showed what her grandmother would call 'everything but what she had for breakfast'. It made her feel self-conscious and that was not what she needed to present to the world.
Ish's comment didn't help. "Tor's not going to like that."
"Tor's not the only one." Wynne began looking for something to use as a slip.
Nix came to the rescue there, too. Still lowering the hem of Truca's pants, she reached for a garment Ish had tossed to the floor. "Try this."
The white silk skirt was more narrowly cut and when slid beneath, seemed perfect. "What do you think?"
"The bulk makes your waist look too fat," Nix answered promptly and giggled at Wynne's look of dismay. "Nix must always tell the truth unless the lady does not wish to hear it."
"Too late," Wynne muttered. She turned away from the mirror. "Nix, about your truthfulness. You obviously can lie, right?"
The little woman's smile faded. "Nix will remember next time."
"No, no, not about this. I meant other things." Wynne hesitated and then spoke the words she didn't want to think about much less say aloud. "If things don't go well, if the police, I mean peacekeepers become involved, could you say you were told you belonged to a man called Orax?"
After criticizing Tor for expecting Truca to bear false witness, here she was asking this poor woman to do the same. God forgive her, she was breaking the eighth Commandment to protect the man she loved.
Nix apparently had no religious qualms. She shrugged. "Chubo and Nix's captors said the Sky Hawk had a new owner. Chubo and Nix belong to the Sky Hawk. Yes?"
"Yes, and thank you." Wynne wasn't sure it would work, but if Tor was right, it might encourage the court to be lenient.
The little woman had patted her hand. "Chubo and Nix understand consequences to their actions. Chubo and Nix are loyal members of the crew."
Using what she'd learned from Alamandria, Wynne applied their makeup; lightly for Truca, more heavily for herself. Truca wore no outer covering. Wynne wore a white cloak with crystal trim along the opening and around the edge of the loose hood. She was to pretend to be waiting for her patron to arrive to take her out for a night on the town.
Ish wouldn't let them leave without one last addition to their ensembles. "Where are your knives?"
"The Osana equivalent of a fashion statement." Wynne laughed as she raised her foot to a chair, lifted her skirts, and attached the strap as if it was a sexy garter.
Truca laughed with her and did the same. "No well-dressed woman should be caught without one."
Ish didn't see the humor and now stood by Wynne's side with a forbidding scowl that discouraged anyone from saying hello. There were several other women waiting as she was and Wynne wouldn't have minded a little conversation, but Ish was adamant.
"K
eep your mind on the mission."
Not bothering to hide her boredom, Wynne watched Truca play her role to perfection. The young woman played it so well, Wynne began to think Truca wasn't acting at all. She chattered and giggled and blushed, and looked like she was enjoying herself.
The young doorman was enjoying it, too, though he tried not to show it. He stood stiffly at his post and was attentive to his duties, but his head kept tilting down to look at Truca and his mouth kept moving in response to her comments and questions. Every once in a while, he would smile and then blush and become straight faced again when he remembered where he was.
Guests came and went and Wynne was becoming concerned that Truca's behavior would soon come to the notice of the young man's boss. She was just about ready to call it quits when another chair arrived.
The man exiting was Godan, an older man by the grey in his hair and the more pronounced ridges in his forehead. By the gold braids hanging from the shoulders of his dark grey tunic, and the diamond studded medallion at his chest, he was a man of some importance. He ignored the young doorman's offered hand and his greeting. He paused only long enough at the entrance to make sure the two men who shared his chair took their places behind him. They were dressed in matching dark suits and Wynne assumed they were body guards.
The trio wasn't much different than several others that had entered and exited before except that once the man was halfway across the lobby, Truca began to hop around and wave her arms like she was cheering at a basketball game. Their quarry had arrived.
Ish swore and Wynne rose. Showtime.
"Catch Truca's eye and get her out of here. Then call Tor," Wynne whispered as she moved to the front desk.
Senator Riegard was being fawned over at the reception desk. She caught the room number and little else as the maître d'hôtel handed over an electronic square that must have contained the man's messages. His body tensed, and frowning, he looked around. Beyond where she stood to the side as if waiting to make her own inquiries, he spotted whoever he was looking for.
Tor (Women of Earth Book 2) Page 28