“Yup,” Chio said. “I can see the marks. See there, Tinibu. That tidy row of abrasions under his eye, and the same on his jaw, and under the cut on his forehead. That’s from the quahahn. It’s a very distinctive pattern.”
Tinibu and Qualhuan released him. Humiliated, Prax turned his back on the other three. A few seconds later he heard the door open.
“Sorry, Prax,” Tinibu’s voice said. “We had to know.”
Prax glanced over his shoulder and saw the tall guard standing in the doorway. “Why?”
Tinibu looked almost angry. “Because it’s different with a quahahn. Going after you is one thing. Everybody gets mad sometimes, especially when jealousy is part of it. Taking a quahahn with you when you intend to start a fight is something else entirely.”
The big Terran turned to follow Qualhuan and Chio out the door, and it closed behind them. Prax lay down and covered his eyes with one arm.
PRAX had almost drifted off to sleep when a loud clanging noise sounded in his room. He jumped up from the bed, confused, and then ran into the hallway.
A Terran man came out of one of the on-call rooms at the end of the hall. Prax recognized him as Evan Wollongong, universally known as Wolly.
“What is it?” Prax demanded.
“It’s the security alarm,” Wolly said, running for the other end of the hall. “Move it!”
Other staff poured out of the rooms on either side as they ran, making a flood of sapient beings. Prax got caught up in front of a Miloran and had to move fast to avoid being trampled or brushed out of the way.
They were almost to the Security office when, all at once, Rurhahn stepped into the hallway.
“Hold it! False alarm!” he bellowed in a voice that almost shook the walls.
The people at the front of the flood became a dam as they stopped first and then everyone behind them ran into them. Prax grabbed Rurhahn momentarily just to anchor himself, and then let go as the press of bodies behind him eased.
“What happened?” Wolly asked.
Rurhahn looked grim. “Beecher broke his arm during practice. His scream set off the alarms.”
Just as everyone’s attention shifted to the closed gym doors across the hall, Hari strode down the hallway from the common room. “What the hell is going on?”
Rurhahn pointed with his chin. “An accident in the gym, chief. Beecher broke his arm. I called for a med team already.”
Hari stepped up to the gym doors and pressed his hand to the access panel. He pressed some keys, and the doors opened and stayed open.
The scene inside looked like a play to Prax. Several staff in workout clothes, including Chio, Tinibu, and Qualhuan, stood clustered around a prone figure. The injured man moaned loudly and held one arm with the opposite hand. He stopped moaning only long enough to curse.
Hari walked over to the group and looked down at Beecher. “What happened?” he asked Chio, who was standing nearest to them.
“Qualhuan and Beecher were sparring, sir,” Chio said. “Qualhuan warned Beecher to be careful; he said he was blocking too low. Beecher told him he knew what he was doing. A minute later, Qualhuan tried a juarha blow and Beecher went down on the floor screaming.”
Hari looked down at Beecher and then over at his second in command. “Cancel the med team, Rurhahn. We’ll take him to the doctor.” He glanced around. “Chio, you take one of the flyters and get Beecher fixed up. Take someone with you in case he needs help. Tinibu will do.”
“Yes, sir,” Chio said.
“And I’ll see you in my office after you get cleaned up, Qualhuan,” Hari said, moving back to the corridor.
The Miloran nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Hari turned and surveyed the still assembled group. “Well? You’re not on duty, are you? What are you all waiting for?”
Everyone else suddenly began to move away, but Prax stayed where he was. He had intended to ask Hari a question, but before he could, Rurhahn followed the security chief into his office.
“What do you think, chief?” Rurhahn asked.
The door started to close, but Prax could still hear Hari clearly. “Looks to me like they found Beecher guilty and elected Qualhuan to deliver the verdict.”
The door snapped shut before Prax could hear the Miloran’s reply.
AT dinner time, Prax thought briefly about sending Rishi a message that he was ill, but he decided that would be cowardly. Besides, it would only postpone the inevitable. Instead, he would go early to avoid seeing anyone he didn’t have to.
He got up, washed, and changed into clean clothes. There was no one in the hallway when he headed for the kitchen. He could hear voices as he passed the common room, but he didn’t look in to see who was there. No one was in the staff dining room yet. When he opened the kitchen door, Thulan looked up and saw him. He had not spoken to her since she had accused him of sleeping with Nakamura.
“They said you looked terrible,” she said. “They were right. You look like your face got caught in one of my grinders.”
Prax started to walk away without saying anything. Thulan stepped in front of him.
“All right,” she said. “I don’t do this for just anyone.” She took a deep breath and set her shoulders. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”
Prax hesitated. He knew she had told the truth when she said she rarely apologized. “It’s all right,” he said finally, and he again headed for the dining room.
Thulan stopped him a second time. “Wait, I have something for you.” She pulled something small out of her apron pocket. “When the Mistress goes traveling, she always brings me back little trinkets. I give them to my grandchildren, usually, but I thought you might like this one.”
She held out her hand and put something into his. When Prax looked down, he saw that he held a tiny blue alogos, not much bigger than his thumb, carved from cerulean. Prax drew in his breath as he studied the dainty figure. The carver had captured the spirit of the alogos—the lifted head, the flaring tail, the line of the leg and shoulder muscles as he galloped along.
“It’s beautiful,” Prax said, “but I can’t accept it. It was a gift to you from Mistress Trahn, and it’s valuable.”
Thulan shrugged. “I have lots of pretty things. It doesn’t mean anything to me, but I thought it might to you.”
Prax nodded. “It stands for home.”
“You keep it.” She patted his arm. “You put it under your pillow at night and maybe you’ll dream about that wild place you come from.”
“I already do,” he said as he put the carving in his pocket. “But thank you.”
“Now, go on in.” Thulan was all bustle again. “The Mistress is waiting, and you didn’t have any lunch.”
“Does no one keep to themselves in this house?” Prax said.
“No. No one. Now go and eat your dinner.”
When Prax walked through the door, Rishi’s eyes locked onto his face. From her lack of surprise, he knew she had heard about his fight already.
“Oh, Praxiteles,” she said. “You must hurt!”
“No, lady,” he lied. “It doesn’t hurt much anymore.”
She let him eat most of the meal before she asked him any more questions. “What were you and Beecher fighting about?”
Prax was startled into an exclamation in his own language. Rishi looked blank.
“What did you say, lady?” he asked in Standard.
“I asked what you and Beecher were fighting about,” Rishi repeated. “Was it Nakamura?”
“Why would you think I would fight with Beecher over Nakamura?” Prax said, stalling for time to think.
“I know the fight must have been with Beecher,” Rishi said matter-of-factly, “because I heard this afternoon that he had broken his arm in a practice fight in the gym. Tinibu and Chio took him to the doctor. He has to s
tay in the hospital overnight so the healing accelerator can mend the bone in his arm. It takes a lot longer for bones to mend than flesh.”
Who had told her about Beecher’s mishap? Most likely it had been Hari; he would have had to explain about the alarm going off. “I had nothing to do with that, lady. I wasn’t even there.”
“I know that. Qualhuan did it. Hari told me that security staff never tell on each other when they’ve been in a fight. But they must have known who beat you. And in all the years I’ve lived in this house, no one ever broke a major bone in practice—until today.”
Prax was impressed that she had figured it out just from the coincidence.
“Well,” said Rishi, “was it about Nakamura?”
Prax put his fork down and sat up straight in his chair. He owed her the truth. “Yes.”
“Do you care for her?”
Prax was surprised; she hadn’t asked him what both Hari and Thulan had felt quite justified in demanding to know. “No.”
Rishi nodded as if that settled things. She picked up her own fork and started eating the dessert that Thulan had prepared: a fluffy concoction of sweet, sticky cake topped with a dark brown sweet sauce. “How are you doing with your reading?”
“Fine,” Prax said, startled by the change of subject.
“Does your teacher come tomorrow?”
“No, lady. Not until the day after.”
She made conversation until they had both finished eating, and then she stood up. Prax rose, too.
“You know,” she said, “it occurs to me that I’ve been very selfish in asking you to eat with me every day. That’s not fair to you because you couldn’t go anywhere on your days off.”
“There’s nowhere I want to go, lady.”
Rishi gave a little shake of her head, as if to dismiss his statement. “Maybe not now, but soon you’ll get more used to Shembor and you’ll want to see the city or maybe the countryside. Anytime that you want to leave the estate like the others do, just let me know you won’t be joining me for that meal and it’ll be fine.”
The gesture moved Prax. “Thank you, lady.”
“Would you do me a favor, though?” she asked, smiling warmly at him.
Caution made him ask before he offered any assurances. “What is it?”
“Would you go to the doctor tomorrow and get your face and anything else that hurts taken care of? It’s a shame for you to suffer when a doctor can fix it in minutes.”
Prax stalled for time. “I have to work tomorrow, lady.”
“That’s not a problem. I asked Hari, and he said it would be all right. He’ll send someone to take you and everything.”
“I don’t want to go to the doctor,” Prax said, embarrassed to confess his weakness.
“Why not?” she asked, in a reasonable tone.
“I don’t like that machine. I don’t know what it’s really doing to me.”
“It would heal you.” She reached out and touched the cut under his eye. He flinched, even though her touch was gentle. “I can’t stand to see anyone suffer unnecessarily.”
“I know, lady,” Prax said, thinking back to Celadon.
“Then you’ll go?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” Her smile held triumph. “I’ll tell Hari to arrange it.”
She was gone with only a glance over her shoulder. Prax left and walked past the staff dining room. It was almost empty, and servoids were clearing the tables. He stopped in the common room on his way back from the dining room. There was another poker game starting. Several people looked up when he came in.
“Hello, Prax,” said Tinibu. “Do you want to sit in on the next hand?”
Prax nodded. Qualhuan reached a long arm over and grabbed another chair from a nearby table. He pulled it over next to his own.
“Have a seat,” the Miloran said.
Prax put one hand on the back of the chair. “Thank you, Qualhuan.”
Qualhuan smiled. All the Milorans Prax had met had incredibly toothy grins, but Qualhuan’s was truly spectacular. “Don’t mention it.”
Prax played his first hand of poker that evening. He had learned the rules, but he still wasn’t comfortable with the concept of bluffing. To him, it was dishonest to stay in the game when you knew you had a poor hand. He also had no money to bet. Everyone at the table pushed three chips over to his pile as a loan.
After three hands, Prax was a little ahead, and it was Tinibu’s deal. The big Terran called for five card draw poker. Prax liked this call because he could remember the rules better than in some of the more complicated versions of the game.
Prax found two jacks in his hand. He stayed in the game and discarded the other three cards. When he got his new cards, he was pleased to see another jack.
Prax looked around the table. Everyone else was also looking at their new cards. After a few seconds, Chio folded.
“No luck at all tonight,” he said disgustedly.
Tinibu stayed in and raised the bet, but Prax could tell his confident air as he threw in his chips was a ruse. He practically smelled of falsehood. Qualhuan stayed in, too, and it went to Prax. Confident of his own hand, the Elliniká added the requisite number of chips to the pile and waited.
After another round of betting, only Prax and Tinibu remained in the game. The larger man sat with his cards in front of him, surveying Prax.
“Have you really got a good hand?” Tinibu pondered. “Do you even know what a good hand is?”
Prax tried to keep his face expressionless. He had learned that much.
Tinibu put in two more chips and called. When Prax laid his cards face up, Tinibu snorted with disgust.
Prax wasn’t surprised when the cards the big man threw down contained only two tens. He had always been able to tell when someone was lying, and bluffing was just another form of lying.
Prax used his winnings to pay back the loan everyone had made. It still left him a little ahead.
Tinibu yawned. “It’s time to quit when clear-eyed innocents from backwater planets start cleaning me out.”
Prax froze, unsure of whether he had been insulted or not.
“Can it, Tinibu.” Qualhuan grinned. “Like that overgrown asteroid you come from isn’t a backwater.”
“At least where I come from we know how to whistle properly,” Tinibu retorted. This was a deliberate slap at Milorans, who sometimes made a whistling noise through their noses when they were surprised or excited.
Prax relaxed. Mild insults seemed to be a form of recreation. It went on for a few minutes and then everyone started to clear the room. Most of them had to work in the morning.
Prax went down the hall to his room. He looked out the window at Subidar’s two golden moons. The night sky was clear; it wouldn’t rain tonight. Prax debated and then pulled back the bedclothes and slid into bed. He was tired and it was a long hike up the hill.
Prax had put the tiny blue alogos on a shelf that he could see from his bed. When he lay down that night, he fell asleep staring at it. He did indeed dream of home.
Chapter Nine
When Prax reported for duty the next afternoon, no one commented on his improved appearance. Instead, Rurhahn took him to the firing range and handed him what looked like a pistol, except the barrel appeared to be solid instead of hollow.
Prax figured it must be the stun gun Hari had mentioned. “How does it work?”
“I have no idea,” Rurhahn said. “But the chief told me to be sure you learned how to use one. Something about you needing nonlethal alternatives.”
Rurhahn showed him the charge dial and set the pistol at its lowest setting. “Anyone feel like taking a nap?” he asked, raising his voice to carry throughout the firing range. “You can have the rest of this shift off if you say yes.”
Wolly glanced over his shoulder and then t
urned from the wall of targets where he had been practicing. He slapped his own stun gun onto his belt, looked from the stun gun in Prax’s hand to Rurhahn, and grinned. “I don’t mind.”
Rurhahn directed him to stand against the wall about six meters away and raised the stun gun.
Wolly stood relaxed, hands at his sides. When Rurhahn lifted the weapon, pointed and pressed a switch, Prax heard a hum but saw no sign of any projectile. Wolly crumpled in what looked like a dead faint.
Rurhahn brought him around with a stimulant and told him to take off for the day. Wolly left with a cheery wave, and Rurhahn came back to where Prax waited and tossed him the stun gun.
“Now,” Rurhahn said, stabbing Prax’s chest with one thick finger, “this is important. Stun guns work great on Terrans and pretty well on Shuratanians, but they barely have any effect on my species, even at full charge.” He backed up a meter or so and nodded at Prax’s weapon. “Try it on me this time.”
Prax lifted the weapon and fired. Rurhahn blinked and flinched but otherwise seemed unaffected.
He took two steps and held his hand out. “Give me the gun and I’ll show you something.”
Prax reversed the stun gun and handed the weapon to the Miloran butt first.
Rurhahn held it upside down and pointed to a long ridge along the bottom of the barrel. “See that?”
Prax nodded. “What is it?”
“That’s where the darts come out.” Rurhahn held the gun sideways and slid a tiny projecting lever on the barrel down until it clicked. The barrel of the gun glowed with a bright blue light. “A normal stun gun can’t kill a Terran or a Shuratanian, and it can’t disable a Miloran. But our stun guns are all enhanced. They carry a clip of twenty tranquilizer darts. If you’re ever facing off against a Miloran intruder, you can press this lever until it locks. Once you do that, the darts will fire instead of a stun charge. The thing is…” He gave Prax a solemn stare, “…in order to be strong enough to knock out a Miloran, the darts could be fatal to a Terran or a Shuratanian. So don’t ever use it as a dart gun unless you’re absolutely positive your target is Miloran. Got it?”
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