Ironically, Seneca, the ship they had flown for Mariella Flaire, was right here on Cargeeling, where it had been in the tanks for a refit for most of the last ten weeks. That, in fact, was one reason Jael had stayed here while Ar had made his interim flight. They had expected to return to service with Seneca when the ship itself returned to service. But with Flaire's company going out of business, she wondered what would happen to the ship.
Could they, perhaps, afford to buy a ship at auction? Between them, they had more assets than Jael had guessed. But the cost of a rigger-ship remained far beyond them. Could they get financing? It seemed unlikely, without a persuasive business plan.
Ar was determined to devise a way. Perhaps he could secure a loan on his home planet. Perhaps Mariella could still help somehow. Ar would check on the status of Seneca. Jael's task was to compose a description of their intended use of the ship—aside from visiting dragons, of course. She was to be truthful, but to make it sound as if they still had a grip on reality.
None of this afforded much hope. But it was all the hope they had.
* * *
The passage of the days took on a surreal quality, as they worked and planned and saw no progress. Jael found herself thinking of her late father. Willie LeBrae had done a lot wrong in his life, and she had spent a good part of her own life hating him for it. She had eventually managed to forgive him, but only after coming to a painful understanding that he really had cared for her, even if in a hopelessly flawed way. It was he, after all, who had enabled her to attend rigger school and to learn the very profession that he had ultimately come to despise.
Willie LeBrae had been a shipper and shipowner—initially a legitimate one. Later, when the tides had turned on his business fortunes, so too had his legitimacy. In the end, he had abused many an innocent rigger, though hardly more than he had abused his own family. Still . . . Willie LeBrae would have known how to acquire a ship, even under the most difficult of circumstances. Perhaps not a ship that one would personally want to fly; but that sort of concern had never stopped him. Jael wished now that she had learned more of the business from her father. It was perhaps the first time since she'd been a little girl that she had wished she could emulate anything of Willie LeBrae's life.
She wondered if it was too late to learn.
Five days after Ar's return, she was in the spaceport administration building, waiting for Ar, who was inquiring into the status of Seneca. It seemed that Seneca had been impounded by the shipyard that had overhauled its flux-pile and rigger-net systems. Until the overhaul bill was paid, the ship could not be moved. Ar was hoping to acquire the use of the ship from Flaire, if they could raise the money for its release. Flaire, he thought, might be open to the idea; but she was on Vela Oasis, sifting through the ruins of her business, and fluxwave communications with Vela Oasis were erratic, and very expensive. So far, he'd been unable to reach her.
Jael was standing in the hallway, studying the ships-for-sale bulletins on a wall-screen, when she heard footsteps. She glanced—then stared in amazement at the last person she expected to see here. The ex-rigger was smooth-faced and neatly dressed, with his long hair molded into a tidy appearance. "Kan-Kon?" she whispered.
"Whaaat?" Startled, he came to a halt. "Miss . . . Jael," he said, flashing a sudden sheepish grin. "Mighty surprised to see you here." He shifted from one foot to the other.
You're surprised to see me? Jael couldn't quit staring at him. She had never imagined him well groomed. And she'd thought he had long since given up everything having to do with space. "I—" Before she could think of what to say, she was rescued from her embarrassment by the sudden appearance of Ar at her side. The tall Clendoman's lips were pressed into a thin line as he nodded to Kan-Kon. "Ar . . . this is . . ." Jael gestured, trying to force out the name.
"Kan-Kon," said the ex-rigger in a husky voice.
Ar's eyebrows jumped. "Rarberticandornan," he said, shaking hands. "Please call me Ar."
"Ar . . . yes. You are Miss Jael's rigging partner, then," Kan-Kon murmured, bowing slightly. "Most pleased to meet you."
Ar bowed back. "And you are . . . the one who . . ."
"Yes," Kan-Kon said quickly, glancing away self-consciously. "I'm afraid I gave her a bit of a start just now. I don't always—that is, I don't think . . . well." He smoothed down the front of his tunic. "I think she was surprised to see me here. But yes, I am the one who—" and he shrugged with a forced smile. "Are you still trying to—find a ship to—"
"Go back," Jael whispered. "Yes." She looked questioningly at Ar. He shook his head. Her breath went out in a sigh.
Kan-Kon's eyes darted from Jael to Ar and back again. "Forgive me. Am I—?"
Jael shook her head. "No, it's all right. It's just that . . . well, we've been trying to get the use of one particular ship, you see. A long shot. But so far . . ." Her gaze went back to Ar.
"No word from Mariella," Ar said. He stroked the ridge over his temple, his eyes glimmering moodily. "And the repair yard has already filed for the right to go to auction. If they succeed, I don't think we can do much about it." He glanced at Kan-Kon, who was studying his fingernails.
"Jael, I fear we are being rude. May we invite your friend to join us for tea?"
Kan-Kon looked uncomfortable. "Tea?" he murmured, his voice cracking a little. "I don't really—that is, I've finished my business here for the day. How about . . . something a little stronger?" Ar raised his eyebrows, and Jael shrugged, and they all walked down the corridor together.
Settled in a nearby lounge, Kan-Kon drew deeply on a draft of ale. He sighed with noisy satisfaction, thumping his mug down onto the table. Jael watched uneasily, wondering if he would be transformed before her eyes into the man she had met before. As if reading her mind, Kan-Kon murmured, "I expect you're wondering . . ." He paused.
"Do you still, uh, do business, here at the spaceport?" Jael stammered, trying to fill the awkward silence.
Kan-Kon tipped his head noncommittally. The question seemed to make him uncomfortable. He grinned, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. "A little, here and there. I keep my hand in." He hoisted his mug again, hesitated, then laughed abruptly and took another great swallow. He seemed to want to say more. But he turned to stare out the window instead.
Jael glanced at Ar, whose expression was unreadable. "Well," she said, "I guess Ar might like to hear about your experiences with—you know."
Kan-Kon tensed, still looking outside, tapping one fingernail on the table. He finally nodded, and turned back to face them. "I reckon you know what she means, Ar. It was nearly seven years 'go, standard." He cleared his throat noisily, and quit drumming on the table. "I was flying a duel rigger with my friend Hoddy—up from the south toward Lexis. Don't even remember which one of us it was got the idea. But we thought, let's take a detour and see if those rumors're true—about the dragons. I mean, here we were, just like everyone else, avoiding the mountains. And it seemed sort of foolish to us. I was a pretty good rigger, back in those days. Cocky, though. We didn't really think it was true, about dragons. So we went into the mountains."
"And?" Ar asked.
Kan-Kon guffawed bitterly. "Oh, it was true! And it wasn't a very long detour, either, not once the dragons showed up. . . ."
* * *
Jael stroked her throat nervously as Kan-Kon told his story. Ar displayed the same noncommittal politeness with which he had first heard her tell of meeting Highwing. Kan-Kon, so far, had stuck mainly to the duel, which had ended with their capture. He had not yet mentioned the one thing that had convinced her of the truth of his story. She cleared her throat. "Tell Ar how it was you heard the . . . prophecy."
There was a sudden glimmer in Ar's eyes. He took perhaps his third sip of ale since they had sat down.
Kan-Kon grunted. "Right. Well, they had us trapped—caught on a kind of rock plateau, surrounded by four of 'em. Couldn't flee, couldn't fight. They had us stuck in some kind of a spell, you'd almost say, as though our fee
t was glued to the rock. But then—" He shook his head as if in puzzlement. "They got to arguin' amongst themselves about whether we were some kind of demons or something. About whether to just barbecue us, or turn us into lizards, or I don't know what. There was some noise about a prophecy, but they didn't say anything I could make sense out of. Not till the iff—the iffling—appeared."
"What did the iffling say?" Jael asked, glancing at Ar.
Kan-Kon sighed. "Said they was making a mistake. It sort of . . . sang . . . this prophecy to them. But I swear, it seemed to be lookin' right at me and Hoddy the whole time. Mebbe that's why I remember what it said so well." Kan-Kon shuddered, taking another swallow of ale. He swayed a little, as though the power of the memory were too great to contain.
"And—"
"Ah . . ." Kan-Kon slowly drew himself straighter. He seemed a different man from the one who had stood before a crowded bar and shouted the words. Now he spoke them softly. "It went somethin' like this. 'From beyond life and hope will come one. Friendless will come one. And the realm shall tremble.' " He peered at Jael. " 'Giving her name will come one. Challenging darkness will come one. And the realm shall tremble.' Something like that, anyway." He drew a breath and continued, " 'From that one comes a beginning. From that one comes an ending. And you bet your—' er, that is, 'and surely the realm shall tremble.' " He cleared his throat and frowned down at the table. He glanced up and took another drink, a long one. His sobriety was fading visibly.
Jael felt her temples pulsing. "And what did they do then?"
"Well, that's when Hoddy took it in his head to try to make a break. The spell somehow loosened, and he jumped. And they grabbed him in an instant and—" Kan-Kon's voice caught, then turned angry. "What they did was"—his voice cracked—"they tore him right out of his body. Killed him there on the spot. I don't know how—or even why. They jus' did it. Somethin' happened in the Flux, like a big quaking, and then I saw his . . . spirit, y'might say . . . lift right out of the net. And then somehow they just crushed the life out of him." Kan-Kon stared at Jael, then jerked his gaze away. "It was like watchin' a flame snuff out. He was just gone. But o'course, his body was still right there in the rigger-station. And I had to—to take him out and put him in the . . . freezer. And bring him back."
He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, then blinked them open and continued in a husky voice, "They cremated him here on Cargeeling. Put it down as unexplained accident. Flux abscess or some doodoo cowpuckeyshit like that. He's still . . . I mean, I go out every once in a while to the place where they . . . where the marker is." He drained his mug in a single long gulp and savagely punched the table pad for another, then stared in silence at the table.
Jael asked quietly, "Why didn't they do the same to you?"
Kan-Kon pressed his lips together to keep them from quivering. "I . . . I guess the iffling . . . finally got through to 'em. All along, it was sayin', 'He's not the one. He's not the one! And even if he were, don't you think doing that to him would just make him stronger?' " Kan-Kon paused. "That's what it said. And I still, to this day, don't know what the damn thing meant by it. But the dragons seemed to know. At least—in the end, two of them made the others set me free."
He cocked his head at Jael. "And I guess mebbe that's one reason I believe you—that not all dragons are bad, I mean. But lemme tell you, I never—never—was so glad to leave a place in my life. Still, you know, to this day . . . there's something about that place that just won't let me go. I don't know why." He shook his head, then bowed it, pressing his hands together prayerfully in front of his nose. A thin line of tears was running down his cheek.
Ar stirred. "Your words trouble me, Kan-Kon." The ex-rigger snorted, as a robot delivered a fresh mug of ale to the table. "But not, perhaps, for the reasons you think." The backs of Ar's eyes glowed like coals. Twilight was deepening outside the window of the lounge. A starship, locked to a tow, rose from the field beyond the administration buildings. The tow's space inductors glowed orange, rising and dwindling into the sky as the tow and ship accelerated away.
Kan-Kon grunted. "So why, then?"
Ar stroked his temple ridges. "It's more because . . . well, I guess you heard our story from Jael already." When Kan-Kon nodded, Ar said, "It's because, well, I believe that Jael . . ." Ar hesitated.
"She's the One, if that's what you're havin' trouble sayin'. Hell, I know that already," Kan-Kon said.
Ar looked disconcerted. He sat back, glancing at Jael. "Did you—?"
"Naw," Kan-Kon said. "I know what you're thinkin'. That maybe she went around braggin'. But she didn't, she jus' told me what happened. And the rest—hell, it was obvious. And I guess tha's why you need to go back. Because there's somethin' there that you're destined for. I can't tell you what, and I don't know if it's good or bad. But I'm damn sure it'll be dangerous, and it might even—"
He swallowed, and his voice softened suddenly. "Well . . . I thought I heard these words, too—when the dragons were babbling about the prophecy, not the iffling." He cleared his throat, several times. "From that one's death will . . . something something . . . ending be wrought." He stared at her. "I don't know what it means—or if it means anything. But . . . well, if you're destined, then I guess you have to go. But be careful!" His eyes suddenly came afire, his hands in the air, waving. "Get yourself a ship, Jael! Don't let this thing stand in the way of your destiny!"
Jael felt a chill. "What do you think we're trying to do?"
"Don't take no for an answer! If it's money you need—aahhhhh—" Kan-Kon groaned and abruptly looked away, glaring into space.
Jael watched him, waiting to see if he would finish his sentence. Finally she whispered, "Do you know where we could get—?"
"Nahhh," Kan-Kon said, breaking the spell. He shook his head, belched, and took another long pull from his mug. "Well!" he said, straightening up suddenly. He was still avoiding Jael's eyes, and he looked acutely uncomfortable. Clearly he had said something he wished he hadn't. "Anyways," he blurted, "you shouldn't be listenin' to a washed-up old fart like me. I guess I should be gettin' along on my way here. I wish you two . . . luck . . . findin' a ship to go, and all. I know how it is, when you got a call and you jus' have to do somethin', someway, somehow."
Jael could only stare at him in bewilderment.
"I guess I'll maybe see you two good riggers again before you leave. Anyways, thanks for the . . . tea." Kan-Kon heaved himself up and walked, swaying, from the room.
Chapter 13
A Partnership Forged
THE POSTING of the auction came with shocking speed. The name Seneca appeared on the bulletins two days after the default on the bill at the repair yard. There still was no word from Mariella Flaire, but apparently the management of the yard was either pessimistic about the chances of being paid or, more likely, eager to turn a profit on Flaire's misfortune.
"What are we going to do?" Jael asked, feeling what remained of her hope slipping away.
Ar was silent for a time as they stared at the bulletin. "Either we triple our money in the next two days or we give up on Seneca—"
"And find a cheaper ship." Jael nodded dully. She had been steeling herself for the inevitable. But what kind of a wreck could they afford to buy? Probably one that couldn't qualify for a spaceworthiness certificate. Ar was clearly thinking the same thing. Just remember, she thought, Willie LeBrae made ships fly that had no business flying. If he could do it, so can I.
But as they walked away from the boards, even Ar was slumping.
* * *
The auction was scheduled for two days later. The next day, Jael received a message on her room com: "Miss LeBrae—we urgently request you call our office at Krakow Spaceport concerning a matter of great import to both of us. Please call today. Herbert Connolly, AAA Refitting and Resupply, Unlimited, Krakow." Jael was puzzled, to say the least. She'd never heard of the company, or of Herbert Connolly. Finally she called the number. The secretary who answered could tell her only th
at Mr. Connolly wished her to visit the office as soon as possible.
Ar was off on a round of visits to finance companies and probably wouldn't be back for several hours. After some thought, Jael decided to go alone. The address turned out to be in a line of small offices at the edge of the spaceport. The area was dreary, the buildings a dirty grey. Only a faded number on the front distinguished the building at the address she'd been given. Inside, she found dim hallways and doors with grimy windows. At the end of a long hall, she found AAA Refitting and Resupply. It was only a little less depressing on the inside. Behind the front desk were ancient holos of three obsolete spaceships, all impossibly bright and shiny. The pictures had a slight distortion-shimmer to them. She was sure they were at least two decades old. The side wall boasted last year's calendar.
A matronly seeming woman walked out of a back room. Jael drew a breath. "Is Mr. Connolly here? I'm Jael—"
"LeBrae? Yes." The woman touched the com. "Ms. LeBrae here to see you."
"Thank you, Mrs. Murdock."
A wiry black man emerged from the back room and gestured her in. He took a seat behind a plain, but immaculate, oak-topped desk. He stared at her for a moment, without speaking. Jael perched on the edge of an old wooden chair and returned his stare. His eyes had no whites; they were entirely charcoal grey, except for the black pupils. Against his ebony skin, his eyes seemed to recede into the distance. Jael blinked, and started to say, You sent me a message, when she realized that he had just introduced himself. "Meez Le-Brae," he continued, in carefully clipped syllables, his hands folded before him—and he hesitated, as though reluctant to continue, before giving a long, wistful sigh, "eet ees my understanding that you are in need of a sheep. Eef I may ask . . ." He hesitated again, then shook his head and continued, in an accent which she did not recognize, "Is thees so?"
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