Sitting back, the Human put her fingertips together, or tried to. The tips didn’t appear to want to meet, and Enris watched in fascination. When they finally did, Louli regarded him over the cage they formed. “Don’t you surprise me, Friend Enris,” she warned. “You get hospitality because Gurdo’s got a feel for opportunity and sees something in the two of you I don’t. I expect to see merchandise worth the effort. Legal. Portable. Not alive merchandise. Anything else gets complicated. Complicated drops you a layer. Get that?”
“A layer?”
“Local expression. Cause me trouble. Lowers the value. Complications? You don’t get so much in trade. Waste my time altogether, I won’t be happy. You don’t want me not happy. Fair enough?”
He copied her position, his fingers cooperating. “We won’t be happy,” Enris replied smoothly, “if you’ve wasted ours.” Naryn?
Here.
“No time for food. Our sample’s arrived,” he added, as the door to the Carasian’s quarters opened and Naryn stepped through.
Followed immediately by Haxel and Worin, his young brother.
Being outnumbered didn’t appear to bother Lawren Louli. “Don’t tell me. More wives. Bet that one doesn’t share.” A nod at Haxel, who might have been carved in stone after her quick assessing scan of their surroundings.
Enris ignored the obscure comment. What do you think you’re doing here? he sent to Worin, with a lash of worried anger.
Though he paled, the younger Mendolar stood his ground. He lifted the small crate he carried against his chest. They needed me to ’port this.
So Haxel could have free hands and Naryn look impressive.
Despite the fear that things could spiral out of control, Enris took a deep breath and gestured approval. It wasn’t Worin’s fault. “Lawren Louli. This is Naryn di S’udlaat, Haxel di Vendan, and Worin di Mendolar.”
Naryn did, he had to admit, impress. She’d taken the time to don her white Councillor’s robe, and her dark red hair fell in a magnificent cloak over her shoulders and back, loose but under control. Haxel, as always, had hers tightly netted. As well Gurdo hadn’t seen her longknife.
Though doubtless she’d want one of the force blades, too, once Aryl showed her.
Louli’s eyes were fixed on the crate. “This the sample? What’s inside? Let’s see.”
Your turn, Enris sent to Naryn, rising from his seat and giving her a small bow. This Human claims to know of a suitable home for us. If we have something of value to trade.
He hoped so, for all their sakes.
At a gesture from Naryn, Worin put the crate gently on the table and stepped back.
Louli rose to her feet as Naryn first pressed a finger to one corner, then tapped the remaining top corners in a specific pattern. The lid began to rise.
Enris held his breath.
Which was when Worin pointed to the floor below. “What’s Aryl doing?”
Chapter 3
“THEY SHOULD MAKE THE DOORS your size,” Aryl commented as Gurdo tilted its massive back, waved its claws vigorously in the air, and somehow maneuvered its bulk through the opening. The spectacle did clear a more than adequate amount of floor space, since anyone who’d been in the way moved quickly elsewhere. Spilling a few drinks.
A clawtip pointed up. “Lower layers support the upper; lower buildings support those above. Wide doors make the old-timers nervous.” That rain on metal sound. “Louli prefers I make them nervous,” it boasted.
Aryl carefully didn’t smile, though Gurdo, despite its formidable natural weapons and loud voice, seemed more a threat to unwary toes and elbows than individuals. She glanced at the upper level. The window walls worked in Louli’s favor. Where Enris sat with the Human was clouded from this side, allowing only blurred outlines to show. Her Chosen felt confident. He wasn’t, she thought dourly, always right to do so. “I should have stayed there.”
“Come. Have a drink. Enjoy the show.” The Carasian dipped its head closer to hers. “That way you won’t make me nervous.”
Astute being. Aryl made a “lead on” gesture. The stage, as they’d called it, was still empty. No one crowded them—crowded Gurdo, to be exact—but the rest of Doc’s Dive offered no room to squeeze between anyone.
Or peace. Between their shouted voices and the heavy thumping—with occasional shrieks of song—that made shouts necessary, Aryl could barely hear her own thoughts. “Do Humans enjoy this noise?”
She decided the dip of head dome to either shoulder was the Carasian version of a shrug. “They don’t have a choice,” it rumbled. “When the musicians tried to keep their tips, Louli had a ’bot band installed. A used one. Only plays like that. Smokeheads tell me it’s beautiful music, but they chew the ends of their fingers to pulp, so I don’t trust their taste. The smart ones wear plugs in their ears. It’s better when the show’s on.”
Probably no quieter, Aryl thought resignedly. Are you sure you don’t need me there, Enris?
I’m sure. He sounded distracted but hopeful. Enjoy yourself and don’t attract attention.
Aryl buried her reaction to that highly unnecessary bit of advice behind shields. I’ll blend in, she promised.
She took his tinge of disbelief as a dare.
“When’s the show?” Aryl asked Gurdo. Whatever it was.
“Now!” the Carasian bellowed unnecessarily.
White smoke billowed out from the stage edges and spilled overtop. It gave the illusion that the figures who suddenly appeared on the stage—to raucous shouts Aryl presumed indicated cheerful anticipation and not the blood lust of the pox pit, though the sound and facial expressions were quite similar—that those figures had ’ported there.
Except the swirling smoke around their feet made it obvious they’d come up on lifts.
The “music” changed at the same time, to something as loud, but more complex, almost pleasant.
A clawtip pointed to the curved counter. She understood. It had to get to work. There were stools there. An easy step from any of those, a leap, and she’d be at the door to Gurdo’s room and the stairs to Enris. Satisfied, Aryl nodded and followed the Carasian as it lumbered its way through the milling crowd.
Not that there was a free stool until Gurdo snapped a claw and two scrawny Humans jumped off theirs and disappeared into the shadow and smoke. Aryl didn’t bother trying to shout her thanks. Instead, she rapped her knuckles on the nearest part of the huge being, then took her seat.
About to turn to watch the stage, Aryl realized one of the many-armed servers behind the counter was asking her a question. “Yes?” she shouted.
The server’s mouth moved again. Aryl cupped her hand behind one ear and shrugged helplessly. Obviously used to coping with the din, three hands appeared with empty containers of different shapes.
It meant a drink, but what? Aryl looked at her neighbors. The most popular beverage had an alarming plume of dirty yellow smoke; those drinking it used a long spoon to approach from the side.
“Let me,” said a friendly male voice in her ear. “Two Pink Riders, Yirs.”
“Coming up, KaeCee.”
This KaeCee was tall for a Human. Aryl studied him warily as he took the stool beside hers. He smiled and seemed harmless. Seemed. “Thank you,” she said politely, when the drinks arrived and he passed one to her. It didn’t look daunting. A layer of pink froth over a green liquid. Fruit had been impaled on the stick rising from it, fruit cut in the shape of an implausibly endowed male. She glanced at her new companion to see where to start.
He pulled the stick and fruit from his drink and tossed it on the counter, then leaned closer. “Louli tells them to reuse the garnish.”
Whatever that meant. Aryl dutifully tossed hers aside with some regret. Enris wasn’t the only one to feel hungry. She sipped the froth, then gave KaeCee an appreciative smile. The pleasant taste included an interesting warmth down her throat. “This is good.”
“Better than the floor show, that’s for sure.”
The
figures on the stage? Aryl watched for a moment, non plussed when all they did was sway in time to the music and shed their clothes. The fruit on a stick had been not only implausible in size, she noted, but the wrong shape. “Much better,” she agreed, and turned away again.
“Personally, I’m more interested in beautiful strangers than dancing boys.” He edged closer on his stool. “I’m KaeCee. Tell me all about yourself.”
Aryl, busy taking another sip, glanced up in surprise. “No.”
“Beautiful and mysterious.” The Human licked pink froth from the hairs above his narrow mouth. All of his features were narrow, as was he. The hair on his head, an improbable blue, curled to his shoulders. When he ran one hand through it, Aryl noticed his fingernails were the same color. “Play nice,” he urged. “You know my name. What’s yours?”
Aryl put down the drink and frowned. “Go away.”
Perhaps he couldn’t hear her over the music, for he didn’t move. Instead, his eyes traveled over her. “You have the most remarkable hair. And that net you wear. Old. A family heirloom? I’ve never seen work like that. Where did you get it?”
About to repeat her warning, much louder, Aryl hesitated. “From home . . .” she answered, losing whatever else she might have said. “Before we left.” On impulse, she lifted her arm and showed him her bracelet. “This, too.”
“Nice work. But new,” in a dismissive tone. “My specialty is the ancient. The rare. Rare like you.” The Human reached for her hair. “What is it about you?” he asked, his voice gone strange, his eyes not quite focused. “There’s something . . .”
Don’t attract attention. Blend in. Which precluded slapping his hand away, she decided reluctantly. Her hair promptly retreated, twisting itself into an uncomfortably tight knot at the back of her neck.
Encouraging that unwelcome hand to pursue.
Hair wasn’t, Aryl realized, particularly clever. She slid off the stool and away from the hand before it touched. “I’ll be leaving,” she said firmly and did.
“Don’t go!”
Aryl joined the others pushing their way into the crowd around the stage.
KaeCee, undeterred, followed.
Aryl?
Remind me to tell you how well I blended, Aryl sent, not holding back a snip of outrage. Which wasn’t all because she was forced to run away. There was being surrounded by too many Humans, everyone with sloshing drinks and foul breath. There was breathing smoke and enduring brain-numbing noise.
Not to mention the floor was sticky.
Without warning, Aryl found herself pressed against the side of the stage by the crowd. She looked up naked legs and other parts to find herself staring into golden eyes the size of her fist.
“You!” she shouted.
“Wait!” KaeCee cried from behind.
There were times no action would end well. Aryl stared up at her quarry, quivering with the desire to leap on the stage and grab it, knowing she shouldn’t. It, meanwhile, began a graceful gyration to the left, traveling away from her as quickly as it could given the lack of space between its fellows and their lack of cooperation getting out of its way.
Unfortunately, not moving gave the persistent Human all the time he needed to catch up and breathe down her neck. Aryl dug a discreet elbow sharply into his ribs. As he gasped, she took advantage of a gap between tables to go left herself, keeping the golden-eyed creature in sight.
Only wise, she told herself, to keep all options available.
A sweaty hand gripped her arm. Shields tight, proud of her restraint, Aryl glared into his flushed face and said very clearly, “I will break your wrist.”
KaeCee let go, but didn’t retreat. “If you want the Aala, I’ll hire him for the night. Just come back with me.”
Aala. The golden-eyed creature had a name. Was male.
Night? How could she know for sure, down here?
How could she believe anything this Human told her? Aryl forced the edge from her voice. “I don’t need him all night. I need him to show me how to reach the top layer of this city.” To free her people. To take them to the sun and sky. She hadn’t realized the urgency of that need until now. Her breath caught. “Can you arrange it?”
This produced a beaming smile. Two of his teeth, she noticed, had been inlaid with tiny stones. “My dear beauty. I can do better. You don’t need him. I can take you.”
“You know the way?”
“Of course. You don’t think I live here, do you?” He paused as if waiting for a reply, then continued more quickly. “My offices are in the Sun Layer itself. I come down occasionally. For the scenery.” With a move closer.
Moved or was pushed. The music had increased in tempo, causing a mass shuffle toward the stage among the spectators. To express disapproval? From what Aryl could see, those who made it close to the stage either threw items to impede the footing of those on it or slapped them.
Then she noticed how those on the stage came perilously near its edge to provide flesh to be slapped, and how each slap left behind a patch of gold or silver.
Not disapproval. As for what it was?
Aryl shook her head. Watching pox eat their flop-eared prey made more sense.
“Here.” KaeCee pressed something small and round into her hand. “Why should Brocheuse get them all?” With a wave at a nearby gyrating Human, whose bare skin sparkled with patches. Among other things. Flecks of metal pinched his skin along lines that suggested the seams of clothing. That had to hurt. Maybe those watching gave him the patches out of pity, Aryl thought dubiously.
“Go ahead,” her companion urged. “Have some fun. Be daring.”
The suggestion from one who belonged here was all Aryl needed. “I will,” she said happily.
And leaped on the stage in pursuit of the Aala.
Chapter 4
AS CHASES WENT, it was over too quickly. The Aala spotted her approach, eyes dilating, but when he tried to flee, his limbs tangled with those of his neighbors, knocking several down. On rising again, they began, most unfairly, to strike him with fists and feet.
The spectators appeared to enjoy this even more than the movement to music, raising their own fists and shouting. Some started to hit each other. Drink containers and chairs began to fly through the smoke.
All of which didn’t stop Aryl. She ran lightly along the stage, not touching anyone else, ball in hand. Once in reach, she grabbed the Aala from beneath a heaving pile of naked bodies, smiled happily at him, then slapped the ball against his receding forehead, leaving a gold patch. “Thanks for showing me the way here,” she said.
“That’s all you wanted?” the creature asked incredulously. “Directions to this place?”
“We’re from offworld,” Aryl explained. Before she could say another word, the Aala was pulled back into another skirmish.
She shrugged and jumped down, stepping over a body that crashed to the floor by her feet. Everyone was busy hitting one another. Or trying to. They weren’t, Aryl decided, very good at it.
Humans.
Where was KaeCee?
“Hold it, Femmine.”
The unexpectedly stern voice belonged to a Human male who wasn’t fighting. Unlike KaeCee and the others here, he wasn’t dressed in bright colors. Instead, he wore a simple black shirt and pants tucked into knee-high boots. Paired belts crossed his chest, with loops for various small objects. Another server, Aryl guessed. “I don’t want anything,” she told him, and moved away, looking for KaeCee’s bright red jacket.
The server blocked her way. “You can’t come in here and cause a disturbance.”
Why, when it was so easy to do? Aryl thought with some self-pity, but gave more attention to the Human. Not a server. “I was told to enjoy myself,” she explained.
“BY THE WORM-RIDDEN THIRD ARMPIT OF URGA LARGE, DON’T MAKE ME COME OUT THERE!”
Gurdo’s bellow produced an instant of silence, then everyone erupted into movement and noise again. A table smashed nearby.
“A f
ew drinks don’t give you license to break the law, Femmine. You’ll have to come with me.”
Why did Humans believe simply saying a thing would make it happen?
They exchanged measuring looks. What he thought of her, Aryl didn’t care. She judged him strongly built for a Human, but no more so than the performers on stage. If the objects he bore were weapons, she had her short knife and the force blade.
Which wasn’t, she realized belatedly, blending in. She gestured apology and tried a smile. “I’m sorry if I—”
“There you are.” KaeCee shoved his way past two females preoccupied with holding their shoes high above their heads, despite the risk to their bare feet. He had a bruise forming over one eye and his blue hair was matted with some green substance. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Not so fast, Gennine,” said the Human in black. “There’s the matter of a fine and—”
“Nonsense!” KaeCee stiffened, the good humor gone from his face. “What’s your name? I’ll have your badge!”
“Constable Gene Maynard.” The other looked unimpressed. Aryl wouldn’t have been either. “And you would be KaeCee Britain of Norval Antiquities and Otherworld Imports, looter of graveyards. Down to visit your suppliers, KaeCee, or for other diversions?” This with an odd look at Aryl.
Aryl—
At the faint touch from her Chosen, Aryl sent quickly, It wasn’t my fault. They started hitting one another. I haven’t hit anyone, she added proudly. Despite provocation. I’ve found a guide.
Triumph surged outward, so strong she wasn’t entirely sure Enris had heard her. I may have found a home. Louli’s impressed by our sample. She’s sent for someone to verify its value. You should be here. Come.
She should never have left, Aryl told herself, eyeing a pair of Humans wrestling on the floor a little too close for comfort. I’ll be there as—
“KaeCee! There you are.” As the Carasian clattered toward them, it used its closed lower claws to shove oblivious combatants out of its way. “Louli wants you topside! Now.”
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