Crystal Heat tst-3

by Jo Clayton

  She followed more cautiously, but found it no more difficult than working an umbilical in an unlicensed fueling station. She got over the rail with a bit more decorum than the boy, then let the two Pandai show her about the ship, smiling at their pride, but understanding it thoroughly, a small ache around her heart because her own ship was so far out of her reach.

  Tudil led her to the Great Drum, but he didn’t touch it, so she didn’t either. He slid out some pegs and opened the top of a chest, took out two much smaller drums, closed the top again, and pegged it tight. “We practice on these,” he said.

  “May I?”

  “You are my guest.”

  She turned the drum in her hands, tested the weight of it, drew her fingers across the single head. Parchment. Someone on Bol Mutiar knew about skins and how to treat them. The wood was dark and tight grained, hard enough to carve thin. She sat on the chest, held the drum on her knees, and tapped the head. The sound was sharp and pure. It was joy. She closed her eyes and touched it some more, testing the different areas of the head, using all the hand gestures she could remember. Then she made a song for herself and Tudil with her hands and this giving drum.

  After a minute, though, she sighed and stilled the sound. “Better than food,” she said. “But I don’t know how to play it, not really.”

  Tudil was crouched by her feet, looking up at her. “But it’s there. It’s in you. YOU should come with us, not stay with them on land. You don’t belong there.”

  “I don’t belong here at all,” she said and sighed as she bent to give him back the drum. “My father forgot I’m not a child any more. But that’s the way he is. He thinks he knows better than most people how to run their lives and he has the power, so he does it.”

  Tudil nodded gravely. “I’ve seen that,” he said. “The Bond rejects folk like that. After a while, anyway. And then they die.”

  “Either you’re in the Bond or you die? Is that the way it is? What about the traders?”

  “They respect the Bond, they don’t hurt any Pandai and they leave in a few days.” His teeth closed on his lip and his eyes glazed. After a minute he said, “You’re fighting the Bond. Trying to be with it but not of it. You want to be like them. The traders. Come and go.

  “Yes. Traders. Do you know if there are different kinds of traders or only those who call themselves Jilitera?”

  Tudil looked down. He scratched uneasily at a sliver that was separating from the wood of the deck. “Maybe you should talk to Menget about that, he’s the Drummer. I could ask, if you want.” He sighed. “You think you can’t play, but I watched you, you know things about the drum I hadn’t even thought of. I wish you’d want to be of us.”

  “I can’t, Tudil. I think the land Pandai’s life is good, and yours is even better, but not for me. It’s just the way things are. I’d like it if you talked to the Drummer about what I asked.” She got to her feet. “Thank you for showing me your home. I think we’d best be going back now.”

  11

  The Drummer came to Lylunda’s house that evening; he was a big burly man; he wore his coarse brown hair in a thick braid that reached past his waist. A large enameled copper amulet covered most of his bare chest and his dark red mezu was narrower than most, wrapped about his hips, the set-fold held in place by a long steel pin with an enameled copper head and a copper point guard. When she greeted him, he touched his forehead, then the amulet. “Smarada diam, Luna.”

  “The kitchen is the kindest place to sit. There’s fruit if you wish and an infusion of iya leaves.”

  He sat at the kitchen table and smiled as she brought out a plate heaped with dark purple-red berries and slices of golden imekur fruit. She filled two mugs with the iya, then settled herself across from him. “What I have is yours,” she said. “May it be acceptable.”

  “It is so.” He helped himself to the fruit and took the first bite as was custom, then spooned down the rest with a gusto that matched his size.

  When he was finished, he patted his lips with the napkin she’d laid beside the plate and smiled at her. “You have had a difficult time, Luna.”

  “Yes.”

  “And coming here was neither your choice nor your intent.”

  “Yes.”

  “What do you know of the Berotong Pandai?”

  “What the Chioutis have told me, what Tudil said, what I saw when I visited your beronta. What I heard when the beronta came around the end of the island. That you will take young people from where they are excess to where they are needed. No more.”

  “Then you know everything and nothing.” He pushed his mug across the table, waited till she refilled it. “We are of the Bond, but we live within it in another way than the Land Pandai do. We eat the tung akar when we are on the land, but when we are on the sea, we do not touch it. You might find that more to your heart’s liking, Luna. Tudil tells me you have a gift for the chelideyr but no teaching.”

  “Tudil is young. I have a deep need for chelideyr, but no gift. It’s just that I’ve listened more widely than he has and known more drummers. I was remembering, not creating. I do know the difference.”

  “Ah. I see.” He lifted the mug and drank, his eyes fixed on the window open above the sink. She could see he was thinking something out and she understood what it was when he spoke again. “The Jilitera have been forbidden to take you away or let you call for help,” he said, “so you want to know if there are other traders who come here.”

  “You have it.”

  “You’ve been here almost half a year. Do you understand that even with the cherar you drink and the purging you’ve forced on yourself, it is not likely you can live away from the tung akar?”

  “I don’t know that, though I’m afraid that’s how it’d go.” She sighed. “I have resources if I can reach my friends. With enough coin you can buy almost anything.” She held up her hand to stop his objection. “Out where I come from, I mean.”

  “Why would you want to go back to that?”

  “Because it is my life. Not something imposed on me. It’s something I’ve reached out and taken for myself. Do you understand?”

  “Yes. It is my duty and my pleasure to take you with us on the beronta Remeydang to the place where we meet the trader Tangavik. You will need patience, Starborn; it will be another half year before we reach the landing place. He comes every third year, slipping down under the Jilitera’s noses, and this year is one of those. I read that as an omen and a command.”

  Three days later Lylunda hugged Seruchel, touched cheeks with Outocha, then climbed into the small boat and let Tudil row her out to the beronta Remeydang.

  Three hours later, she stood at the back rail, out of the way of those working the ship, and watched the island Chiouti slip slowly over the horizon.

  12. Worm Wriggles Faster

  1

  “The Harman be blessed, at least it’s stopped raining.” Worm patted at is head with the towel he’d set beside the EYEscreen; even with the sun close to setting, the air inside the room was so steamy he was worried for his equipment. He’d moved the table close to the window so he could shut it once the EYE was outside, and the conditioner unit was struggling to wring out some of the heat and damp, but sweat kept rolling from his hair into his eyes, making them burn and blurring his vision.

  He was following the target home a last time, making sure the afternoon deluge hadn’t changed her habits or the habits of her watchers. If this was what the rainy season meant here, it wasn’t such a bad thing he had to move up the snatch. He felt mold growing in every crevice of his body. “And last week I was wishing it would rain. Zull!”

  Lylunda walked briskly, circling the puddles. “Wise woman,” he muttered. “Who knows what grunge is in that slop.”

  It was Arkel on guard duty-big man, rather stupid.

  Worm had cleaned him more than once at hezur-hairi; he kept coming back, his faith in his luck untouched by experience. Arkel slouched along half asleep, splashing into puddles and ou
t again, going through the motions. Too bad it wasn’t him tomorrow. Rodzin was the sharpest of the four; he was bored by the guard duty and slack at the job, but if he sniffed trouble, he could turn mean real fast. Worm swore. Anything to make his life harder.

  When Lylunda reached her home street, she stopped at Okin the Baker’s shop, came out with a loaf of bread in her net bag, looking over her shoulder, grinning and trading sass with someone inside. At Sutega’s Take Out next door, she added a cooked bird and two closed containers to the bread, joked with Halfman Ike, and tutted into her doorway still laughing.

  “You’re in a good mood,” Worm said. “I wonder if I should worry about that.”

  A stocky man in a black leather vest with brass buttons stepped into the alcove behind her as she fitted the a key into the topmost lock. The two guards with him-stood back, wary and taut-bodied, stunners in their hands. “Enemy territory,” Worm said. “Behilarr from up the hill. Bad news?” He flew the EYE closer, clicked on the speaker so he could hear this real-time.

  “Elang-mun Lylunda?”

  “Courier? Whose?”

  Worm scowled at the screen. Courier? What’s that about?

  “The Anaitar of the Erzain. Hizurri-jaz Gautaxo. And you are Elang-mun Lylunda?”

  “Yes. So?”

  He handed her a bit of paper with a slash of wax on it. She broke the wax and read the note, then she tore the paper in half, tore it again and again. “Hold out your hand. You’d best see he gets these back. I’m to come with you?”

  “If you will, Elang-mun.”

  Puzzled by her reaction and alarmed by this irruption of enigma into his plans, Worm sent the EYE after the two of them, following them up through the Low City and into the level of the great Houses until they went into a huge pile of stone up by the Temple. He didn’t know what for sure what that place was, but it had a familiar smell. Cop shop. No way he could take the EYE inside there.

  “Zoll! I bet it’s those joddadin Kliu. They messing me up again.” He scratched at his nose with his free hand, shook his head. “And maybe not. Looked like she knew what this is about and I don’t think she’d be so calm if it was Kliu. Is it worth hanging around to see if she comes out again?” He established the EYE on a ledge of the Temple, focused it on the front of the cop shop, and set the alarm to tell him when the woman came out. “Arraaa, I’ll be glad when this is over.” He shed the control glove, got to his feet with a groan, and,went to-work; packing the belt sac for the job.

  “Sleep gas six caps, timers for caps, nose plugs two pair, Zombi cartridge, injection gun…”

  The soft beeping brought him hurrying back to the table. He slid his hand into the glove, activated it, then checked the screen.

  Four figures had emerged from the gate and were walking down the street, the courier first, the woman in the middle, the guards coming along behind.

  Worm took the EYE closer, managed to get a look at the woman’s face. Not Lylunda, but a woman wearing her clothes and fixed up to look like her; she even moved like Lylunda.

  He flew the EYE above the cop shop, high enough so he could see all four sides of the massive pile and the streets around it.

  During the hours that followed, individuals came and went, mostly men but also a few women. None of them were Lylunda in any sort of disguise. There were no boxes or chests taken in or out. Nothing like that came from any of the other houses nearby.

  By morning he was too tired to go on with the vigil and didn’t see any point in keeping the EYE hovering up there. Either she was still inside, or whoever had her brought there had gotten her out the back before the decoy left. Besides, it was starting to rain, light rain, not a storm, just a steady downfall-a monotonous drip drip drip that made him want to scream.

  He brought the EYE in, closed the window, set the scrubber on high to pull the damp from the air and began to pace back and forth across the room, fighting to stay awake and keep his mind working. He had pepperpops if he needed them, but he didn’t trust the fake clarity of mind they gave him. Xman swore by them, but if you didn’t keep a firm hold on hint, Xman would always be rushing the trap and tripping over his own feet.

  “First thing. I need some sleep. That’s all right. Fits the pattern I’ve set up. Hit the warehouse the usual time. Hope Bug’s around. Yes, he’s the best source. If he knows the woman’s gone missing, he’ll be wanting to talk about it. See if I can bust loose round midnight, get across to Kanti and put in a call to the Kliu. They won’t bother talking to me if they’ve got her, so if I get bounced, I better call Fa, ’cause I dunno what else I can do.” His stomach knotted at just the thought of telling his father he’d missed again. He swallowed nervously and went on pacing.

  “If it’s not them, then all I can think to do is watch Digby’s agent. She’s here in deep cover, so I’m fairly sure it can’t be her working with the locals, but looks like she’s a smart ’un or she wouldn’t be here at all.” He went over to the table, looked down at the dull ovoid of the deactivated EYE. “Hm. Think I’d better retire you. Shouldn’t be too hard to find out where she’s staying… peep that place, set for passive collect, transmit on code… and her dressing room… no, maybe just an ear there, she wouldn’t be up to funny stuff at Tank’s, but she might say something useful…”

  He collected the recordings from his web of bugs that he hadn’t yet watched. clicked the flakes into the viewer and began playing them. As he listened, he began the activation and reconfiguration of the new peeps and ears which he planned to plant as soon as he got back from calling the Kliu.

  2

  When Worm recognized the pattern of splotches on the ugly face, he almost vomited with relief.

  The Kliu didn’t wait for him to speak. “You have her?”

  “I’m working on it. Why I called, sources tell me the Kliu have asked the local cop shop to pick up the woman. You’re making it harder when you stir up the locals like that.”

  “Cop shop?”

  “You know what I mean. How come?”

  “What we do is none of your business, srin. What’s taking, you so long to get about yours?”

  “You want the Behilarr screwing a joddida humungous fine outta you by way of Helvtia for interfering with a local on her own world? What I’m saying is, back off.”

  “And what I’m saying to you, srin, is your brother Mort butchered two Kliu guards a week ago and we’d be stretching him over the nearest mrav-hole if he weren’t in escrow to that miserable family of yours. Don’t push too hard or wait too long, srin. Or what you’ll get back will be well-polished bones.”

  The screen blanked.

  Worm slumped in the chair, closed his eyes, and just breathed for a while. The good news was that they didn’t have her. He would have cursed. Mort’s stupidity, but one doesn’t curse one’s brother, so he shoved that thought away. He was so tired, and it was clean and cool here on Kanti’s Bridge. He didn’t want to leave; he wanted to crawl in his bunk and sleep for a week.

  After a few moments, though, he got to his feet and went down to the flikit’s berth. There were Mort and Xman and Fa to take care of; he had no choice but to go back across the stinking ocean and climb into his stinking life on Zurg’s Star Street and see if Digby’s agent had come up with some new angle.

  3

  Flake 10. Audio. EAR in Tank’s Office.

  Tank here. Get me on to Grinder.

  Grinder here. What’s this about?

  The new singer, she’s asking questions about the Elang.

  Kliu Spy?

  Don’t think so. She’s the real thing when it comes to music and she’s got the kind of background it wouldn’t be easy to set up. Says she’s got a message she needs to pass on private-like; says it’s a favor, so no big deal if it doesn’t happen. What you want me to tell her?

  [extended period of silence]

  When’s she leave your place?

  Hour past midnight. She’s got two more sets to go.

  Call her to your office befo
re she leaves and tell her you’ve put word to your Touch over here, but she’s not to talk to anyone else about the Elang. Send her off sweet. Got it?

  Got it.

  Flake 11. Band 6 Aud/Vid.

  Peep in Singer’s LQ.

  [Door opens. Krink walks in. Two men follow, carrying the body of the Singer. A third carries her harp in its case. They dump her on the bed, set the harp beside the door; then while Krink watches, the three men proceed to search the room, checking out everything the woman owns. There isn’t much to check, just some clothes and a few flakes that are professional recordings. The entire time they are there, not a word is spoken.]

  Flake 11. Band 13 Aud/Vid.

  Peep in the Singer’s LQ

  [The singer comes in, stops, sniffs, looks around. Her head stops moving when she sees folder that the men in band 7 had left there. She goes back out, the door.]

  “Orrialdy, you around?”

  “Shadow, so?” [the voice is faint as if from a distance]

  “Think you could bring me up a pot of your tea?”

  “That I could. Right now?” [still distant] “If you will. Door’ll be unlocked.”

  [Some minutes later a big plushy woman brings in a tray with a pot, a mug and a plate of wafers. The singer is seated at the room’s sole table. She closes the folder as the woman approaches, takes the tray.]

  “Thanks, Orrialdy.”

  “Well don’t you work too hard, not good for your eyes, dear.”

  [As soon as the woman leaves, the singer fills the mug, opens the folder again, and begins studying the papers inside. The peep is at the wrong angle to get a good look at the pages, but they seem to be lists of something. She studies them intently. Time passes. The only sound is the click of the mug against the table when she sets it down, the rustle of paper-until something catches her attention.]

  “Sar! First Sapato, now Harmon. Arms dealers I have known. Hm. He dropped a cargo in one of the warehouses, it was picked up three days later by a Chandaya merchanter. Definitely old home week. Note doesn’t say what the cargo was, but are we really baffled? And the answer is no.”