by Scott Baron
“I-I’m sorry, perhaps we’re operating on the wrong footing here. I understood it that you invited the visla to meet with you to discuss his possible involvement in furthering the commerce of your world.”
“Oh, I invited him all right. But that’s all I had to do. Invite him. You think I would actually let anyone dig their claws into my hard work? Not likely. I built this up from nothing, and no way I’m letting some high-falootin’ rich kid snob slide up in here and sink his teeth into my precious. No way, no how.”
“I must not understand this correctly. We were simply to gather further information on the trade numbers, you see. But if we’re mistaken––”
“Oh, you’re mistaken, all right.”
Hozark stepped in, putting on his best concerned accountant face. “This won’t go over well with the actuaries. Not at all,” he groaned with faux concern. “Why in the world would you have invited him all the way out here if you weren’t serious about the opportunity?”
At that, Ozman laughed. “Because even I have to be careful where the Council of Twenty is involved. They leave me alone, for the most part, but they still take their pound of flesh. And when they say jump, unfortunately, we all have to ask how high.”
“The Council? I thought this meeting was your idea,” Hozark pressed.
“Mine? Oh, you sweet, ignorant man. The only reason I contacted Jinnik was because I was asked to. Well, told to, more like it.”
“Told? But who told you to do such a thing? You seem quite in control of your affairs.”
“I don’t know who was behind it. All I got was a simple little note on Council parchment, in an envelope with a Council seal. One of those godsdamned anonymous validity seals any of them could have sent. But the seal was legit, and I know better than to poke at that slumbering giant. They wanted me to talk to the visla? Fine, I’ll talk to the visla. But nowhere did it say I had to do business with him.”
“Who delivered it to you?”
“I didn’t see. It was just waiting for me on my desk.”
Hozark glanced at his associate. “Well, then. It would appear we have had our time wasted with this pointless voyage. Come, we may as well leave this place. There is obviously nothing more for us here.”
Demelza nodded and followed him out of the building into the streets.
“Don’t let the door hit ya on the way out,” the boisterous woman called after them.
“This is all too familiar,” Hozark said when they were a block away. “Mysterious, anonymous Council notes? It is like what we found in Emmik Drazzix’s papers.”
“Though that man had been killed. Drained, no less. Do you think Samara might have been involved?”
“There’s no telling,” Hozark replied. “It is one of the infuriating aspects of those seals. Any member of the Council can utilize one. And for precisely this reason. Plausible deniability. Someone sent that letter with an official seal, but there’s simply no way to determine who it was, and it will be a tough road to follow in our efforts to track them down.”
“But there will be a trail. No matter how difficult to find, we will eventually succeed.”
“I sincerely hope so,” he agreed. “By the way, I assume you have noticed the heavily bundled individual following us.”
“Of course. They have been with us since we left the emmik’s presence,” Demelza replied.
“Indeed,” Hozark said, then changed direction, heading, not toward their waiting ship, but into a winding, dark alleyway.
Demelza followed close behind, the two disappearing down the twists and turns. Hurried footsteps softly echoed off the alley walls as their pursuer increased their pace to keep up.
“Hello, friend,” Hozark said menacingly, bodily slamming the person against the alley wall, holding them aloft.
Their feet were off the ground, and a bit too easily for their bulk, he noted. Their pursuer seemed to be more clothing than person. He pulled back their headwrap, revealing not a man, but a woman with pale violet hair and pinkish skin.
It was her eyes, though, that truly caught his attention. Demelza saw them as well. Sparkling eyes that caught the light and reflected as if they had galaxies trapped within them.
It was an unusual trait, supposedly of exceedingly rare magic. One they had both only ever heard old wives tales about but never actually seen in person. However, this scrappy young woman didn’t seem to have a clue as to how to manage her power. In fact, judging by the way she squirmed and struggled, but without calling upon that magic, it was quite possible she was unaware she possessed any at all.
Hozark and Demelza shared a curious look. This was not what they had been expecting. But the strange woman had been following them, and had to have a reason.
Hozark slid his fangs into place for effect and flashed an intimidating smile.
“Let us have a little talk, shall we?” he said, then hauled her off in a rush, headed for the darkest part of the alley, where they would be certain to not be disturbed.
Chapter Seventeen
“Take your hands off of me! I’ll gouge your eyes out!” the slender woman threatened, squirming in Hozark’s solid grip.
Her hands, however, merely grasped at his forearms, refraining from any attempts at his eyes or face. As agitated as she was, even she realized tearing into a Wampeh Ghalian was not a good idea.
“You really should calm down,” Demelza said, stepping close to her comrade and the woman he held aloft, pinned to the wall. “You will find that cooperation will lead to a much longer life.”
“You threatening me?” the young woman spat with a glare that looked as if it could melt flesh. And if she’d actually been in control of her unusual power, who knew? Perhaps she could.
“Merely stating a well-documented fact,” Demelza replied with a look of her own. One chilling in its calm certainty.
She then cracked a little smile, her fangs sliding into place as well. The young woman was dealing with not one, but two Wampeh Ghalian, and if that wasn’t enough to get her to calm down, who knew what would.
“I’ll snap those pointy bits right outta your face hole, you stupid––”
Hozark shoved a cloth in her mouth. Apparently, she was unimpressed by the Ghalian pair.
“Most unusual,” he said with an amused chuckle. “I have a strange feeling that this is not a Council agent.”
Demelza’s lips twitched with mirth. “I believe you are entirely correct in that assumption,” she replied. “But what do we make of this one? Was she sent to follow us? A spy? And if so, for whom does she work?”
Demelza turned her attention directly at their captive. “Who do you work for?”
Hozark pulled the cloth from her mouth.
“That’s disgusting! You have any idea how unsanitary that is? A rag? Really?”
Given her filthy appearance, the objection to a simple strip of cloth was almost comedic in its intensity.
“Answer the question, woman. Who do you work for?” he demanded.
“Woman? My name’s Henni, thank you very much.”
“Fine. Henni, who do you work for? Why were you following us?”
The violet-haired woman hesitated, a flash of uncertainty in her eyes, quickly replaced with cocky bravado.
“I was following you for your coin. Duh. Two shiny-clean types like you? Yeah, you’re bound to have a little something for the taking.”
Still suspended in the air, she reached into her pocket and took out a small pouch of coin. The same pouch that had been on Hozark’s hip when he grabbed her.
“A pickpocket?” he said, taking the pouch from her hand with amusement. “And a good one at that. Did you see that, Demelza? I did not even feel her hands at work.”
“Nor did I see them,” she replied. “Quite a skilled thief, though admittedly, a rather smelly one.”
The two Wampeh shared a look that spoke volumes. It was clear this street urchin was not a threat. But as a resident of this world, and one who dwelled on the stree
ts near Emmik Ozman’s grounds, she might quite possibly have information that would be of use to them.
“Tell me, Henni,” Hozark said, handing the pouch of coin back to the thief as he gently lowered her to the ground. “How is it you wound up on the streets like this? You seem to be intelligent enough, and you certainly have skills with your hands.”
Henni looked like she might bolt, but the strange man had given her the coin back, and for some reason, she actually felt safe around him and his odd companion. On a whim, she decided to stick around. At least for the time being.
“I’m stuck here,” she said, the quickest glimpse of grief flashing across her face. “Just trying to scrape by and come up with enough coin for food.”
“You didn’t answer the question,” Demelza said, noting just how thin the young woman was as she shifted her bundled clothing back into place.
She was malnourished, but not to the point of sickness. Not yet, anyway. But she was certainly not on the Council’s payroll. Not living like this.
“I escaped the people who captured me,” Henni said, her fingers absentmindedly running across her neck as she spoke.
It was then that the two assassins got a clear look at the burn mark ringing her neck just above her collarbone. A control collar. She had been a slave. And yet, somehow, she had forced the collar off.
Maybe, she could harness her power after all. Or perhaps it had been a fluke. In any case, she had acquired quite a set of burns for the effort.
But she was free, and that mattered above all else.
Wampeh Ghalian as a whole abhorred slavery and often went to great lengths to relocate slaves freed in the course of a contract, providing them safe refuge far from the reach of those who might seek to capture them once more.
Of course, they could not free every slave. The galaxy was run on their power, for one. Drooks for ships, Ootaki and others for powering magical devices and all manner of spells.
But when they could, the Ghalian would save a few. Making a difference one life at a time. It was an unusual dichotomy for an order of elite assassins, and one that would undoubtedly have shocked any who learned of it. But as they dealt with so much death and pain on so regular a basis, life held a particular value for them that others simply could not appreciate.
“You’ve been on these streets a long time, haven’t you?” Hozark asked.
“You could say that.”
He studied the skinny, filthy young woman. Looking as she did, smelling as she did, she was invisible to most people. Shunned. Avoided. Something beneath even the lowest of the traders and mercenary scum who frequented the markets and brothels.
And for that, she had an advantage. She was camouflaged, in her own way. Something Hozark was quite familiar with.
“Perhaps we got off on the wrong foot,” Hozark said. “I am Hozark. This is my friend Demelza. We were just heading to get something to eat. Would you like to join us?”
Henni looked at him with distrust clear in her eyes. She’d had similar offers in the past, especially when she had first taken to the streets when she broke free from her captors.
Demelza and Hozark recognized that wary look in her eyes.
“You have nothing to fear,” Demelza said, holding her hands up, her fangs already receded and her smile normal and non-pointy. “Just come join us for some food. I’m sure you could use a hot meal right about now.”
Henni’s stomach didn’t growl loudly. It would have needed to have recently had food in it for that reaction to have occurred. But the look in her eye spoke louder than rumbling organs could.
“My treat,” Demelza said, turning to walk away, trusting the violet-haired girl would follow. “You know anywhere good to eat around here? We’re new to the area.”
Henni slipped into tour guide mode with startling ease. Something about this strange pair of Wampeh did quite the opposite of scare her. She didn’t know why, but they actually put her at ease.
Despite their fangs and initial threats, she knew in her gut they did not mean her harm. It was quite possibly the safest she’d felt in she couldn’t even remember how long.
“Yeah, there’s a little spot just around the corner and up two streets. Noodles and broth. Filling and cheap, and Bintu, the owner, he’s a good man. Doesn’t rip you off and give you small portions.”
“Then let’s go see this Bintu. I know I could really do with a good meal right about now. Couldn’t you, Hozark?”
“Oh, yes. That sounds great. And I am sorry I grabbed you so roughly, Henni. You startled me, is all,” he said with a warm grin.
“That’s okay,” she replied, falling in with her new friends.
They walked to the dingy little restaurant and took a nice and secluded table away from other patrons. Not only to put Henni at ease, but also so no one would be able to eavesdrop on their conversation.
“Tell me, Henni. This place has a lot of ships and visitors come and go, right?” Hozark asked as he sipped his bowl of soup, which was, as she had told them, actually quite good.
It seemed those hole-in-the-wall restaurants were the same on all worlds. Secret nooks of quality cooking.
“Yeah, a lot of people come through here,” she replied, already on her second bowl.
“Slow down. You’ll give yourself an upset stomach,” Demelza cautioned as their new friend dug in with gusto.
The conversation turned to the arrivals around Emmik Ozma’s place in recent days. Specifically the days prior to Visla Jinnik’s receiving the invitation to come speak with the emmik. Henni had indeed been an observant, yet invisible part of the landscape at that time.
And she had seen things.
All that remained to do was figure out what exactly it all meant.
Chapter Eighteen
The meal and casual chat with the possibly insane pickpocket had turned from an impromptu little intel dig into a full-fledged information dump.
It seemed that in the process of scraping by and stealing from pretty much anyone she could to survive, Henni had gotten close to a great deal of people, and she had heard a wealth of conversations. All of which she had somehow locked away in that somewhat scrambled noggin of hers.
But all of her oddities aside, the girl was good. Really good. And she was observant as hell. It made both Hozark and Demelza wonder what she might be capable of once she managed to recover from the horrors she had undoubtedly lived through in her relatively short life.
“Henni, I have a proposition for you,” Hozark said, having already gotten the silent nod of agreement as soon as he had flashed a questioning look to Demelza.
She’d known what he was thinking. Hell, she had been thinking the same thing. This one was something special, and if they could help right her mental ship, she could become a truly great asset.
“I don’t do that kind of thing,” the young violet-haired woman said, a flareup of the prickliness they’d seen when they first encountered her quickly rising, but leveling off rather than spiking. “Nope. No one can make me. I’ll steal, but I’m not for sale.”
Demelza could only guess what might have happened to the girl in her enslaved life, and the possibilities that flashed through her mind raised her ire. She quickly moved to smooth over the situation and calm the girl.
“That is not what Hozark meant,” she said with a warm smile. “Not at all. We will not let anyone do anything to you, and I hope you understand that I mean that with all sincerity.”
Henni looked at the two Wampeh, and her perceptive eyes read the looks reflected in theirs. No, they would not. In fact, these two seemed to already be rather protective of her, though they’d just met her.
How exactly she knew that, having only been in their presence a short while, Henni couldn’t say. It was just a thing she did. The reason she agreed to join her former pickpocketing targets for a hot meal. Sometimes she could read a person’s unguarded feelings. Not power users, mind you. At least, not the really strong ones. And often not regular people either. It
was hit and miss.
She had no idea how or when her gift would kick in, but at the moment it told her one thing. These deadly people would fight to protect her, though even they didn’t know exactly why.
“Okay,” she replied, relaxing back into the steady slurping of her bowl of soup.
Hozark continued his thought, but this time with a bit more careful phrasing. “What I wish to ask of you is this. Would you like to come with us as we follow up on what you have told us today? You would be of great help identifying the individuals you say you saw sneaking into Emmik Ozman’s grounds.”
“You want me to come with you?”
“That is correct.”
“You want to take me away from this place? Take me off of this rock?”
“If you prefer to remain, we understand. It is just that we feel––”
Hozark was cut off by the small woman’s arms thrown tightly around his neck in a tearful embrace. It took his Ghalian self-control not to instinctively pull a weapon as she did. But instead, he just held the warm, stinky bundle of the gently sobbing girl.
Demelza gave him a little smile. The smell would wash off. The girl’s gratitude would not.
Finally, Henni released her grip, her sparkling eyes wet with emotion.
“What do you say we finish up here and get back to the ship?” Hozark asked as the girl wiped her eyes and nose with the back of her hand. “We’ve got some clothing aboard that should fit you, once you’ve cleaned up.”
“You have hot water?”
“Of course. That is a common spell for any ship’s washing facilities.”
“I can’t remember the last time I got to use hot water,” Henni said, her tears threatening to well up once more.
“Then let us settle up here and get to the ship,” Demelza said, rising from her seat and tossing a few coins on the table. “I’m sure you’ll feel much better once you’ve had a hot shower and a good night’s sleep. The quarters are not spacious, but I am sure you will find them quite comfortable.”
