Following his rescuer, he longed for answers to his growing list of questions, yet doubted they would be forthcoming. The Mocendi DiMensioner remained near enough to be a threat. Neither he nor Reader was safe as long as they stayed together.
They finally came to a standstill beneath a metal grate. “This is where I leave you. Above us is the warehouse for the towne’s mercantile store. We have been underground most of the turning, so it’s dusk. The shop is closed, but the clerks always come back after dinner to finish their chores. I’ll help you up. Get yourself hidden. Better yet be gone as quick as you can.”
Stebben started to speak. Reader shook his head. “Just listen. You are in the town of TiCeed on Geran Island on the planet of DerTah. Look for a man with the mark of an osprey. Go with him. He has much to teach you.”
Anxiety tightened his throat. “How will I find him?”
Reader stared up through the grate. “He will feel your need and come to you.” He looked back at Stebben. “Take care of yourself and stay out of the Mocendi’s way. He knows you were on the shuttle and is fairly certain you are in TiCeed. Wobery is the name of the ghetto here. The warehouse is on the edge of it. Find a place to hide. One more thing—don’t attempt to shape shift until you’ve been trained. If you do, you might not be able to return to Human form. Understood?”
Stebben held his gaze. “You helped me to shift and changed me back, right?”
Reader smiled. “You have the gift, Stebben. Training is essential to use it safely.”
“I understand. Thank you for everything.”
“I’m sorry about your parents. Don’t fret about Chyneria. She’s safe.” He pushed the grate aside, interlaced his fingers, and bent low. “Up you go.”
Stebben wanted to ask questions. He didn’t want Reader to leave. Fear of being alone in a strange towne brought a lump to his throat. Fighting back tears, he placed his foot in the offered hands, pressed down on Reader’s shoulders, pushed away from the tunnel floor, and scrambled into the warehouse. By the time he turned to replace the grate, Reader was gone. A tear trickled down his cheek. Engulfed in a sea of loneliness, he stared between rows of stocked shelves. The tomb-like quiet of the warehouse heightened his fear of being on his own on a strange planet. He thought about his father. What would Papon do in my place? The answer came at once. He would get busy and follow Reader’s advice.
Another tear slid down his cheek. He wiped it away with the back of his hand and gathered his resolve. A brief exploration brought him to a side door that opened into an alley. He slipped into the dimness, closing it softly behind him. Hunger gnawed at his stomach. He was thirsty and more tired than he could ever remember. Like a shadow, he melted into the darkening streets of The Wobery.
Ticeed, the capital of the Province of Geran Island was a sprawling, bustling, seaside towne that had sprung up like a mushroom patch. Buildings appeared randomly until they stood so close together that light struggled to squeeze into the narrow spaces separating them. Neighborhoods blossomed. Main Street hosted Government Hall, Geran Financial Depository, The Market Square, and the offices of L.J.R. Samels and Sons, Solicitors. Lomsted’s Mercantile took up almost a block and shared a well-kept alley with The Omudi Memorial Reading Repository. At the posh end of TiCeed’s main thoroughfare, Harbour Street, stood The Grande Hotel by the Sea and Coussuli, a restaurant of some reputation—both with a breathtaking view of the ocean. Further down the way, Bella’s Bar nestled up to a second, less reputable establishment, where one could find food, lodging, and wide variety of entertainment. Harbour Street also provided a seaside promenade that eventually transitioned into the warehouse district. The towne also boasted a theatre, court house, chandlery, and at the edge of towne the chapel district and cemetery. Snuggled behind it all was The Wobery, that part of towne rich folks avoided and the poor inhabited both on the street and in every crack and cranny available.
Wolloh Espyro, one of only two who had attained the level of High DiMensioner in the coveted Order of Esprow, had explored the Towne of TiCeed and found it wanting but quaint. His journeys throughout the Inner Universe and beyond had taken him to cities large and small, elegant and decrepit. Well-educated and wealthy beyond the wildest dreams of many, he preferred the solitude of the desert. His wanderings near the border of Fera Finnero, DerTah’s desert province, had so appealed to his need for seclusion and quiet that he had procured a large parcel of land, where a ranch house, a raptor center, and an arena to train future members of the Order of Esprow were already in the final stages of construction.
Ever the diplomat—a learned necessity and skill—he was in TiCeed to introduce himself to the Dreela Omudi. Because DerTah was to be his domicile, establishing a report with the leaders of the various provinces and getting their measure was a must. Omudi, he had heard, was a man whose duplicitous activities made him dangerous. Erudite and greedy, he was someone to watch closely. Today they would meet for the first time.
Wolloh exited the horse drawn cab outside TiCeed’s Government Hall, and with the help of his ironwood cane leveraged his bad leg up the granite stairs. Midway, he paused and glanced back, allowing his gaze to roam the small park across the way. Something in that vicinity bore the signature of his home planet of Roahymn and tingled with the faint stirrings of power.
From beneath a half closed lid, he discerned the figure of a boy. Tattered and dirty, he crouched behind a statue of Omudi, staring up at him. Wolloh’s first impulse demanded he descend the steps and intercept the urchin. Instinct kept him still. The boy held his gaze for one more instant and then darted away, disappearing in the direction of the ghetto on the far side of towne.
Brow furrowed in thought, the High DiMensioner continued up the steps and entered the building through double doors. The tap of his cane echoed around the foyer as he crossed to a counter that curved around the center of the room. A narrow faced clerk turned, mouth hanging open and movement arrested. Wolloh kept his disfigured left cheek to the man.
“Please tell Dreela Omudi that Wolloh Espyro is here to see him.”
The man gulped. “M-may I-I h-h-help you?”
He took pity and angled his handsome right profile and good eye to the man. “I assume you heard me?”
Beady eyes blinked, and the thin-lipped mouth formed a tight smile. “I beg your pardon. One moment please.” In a flurried fluster, he rounded the desk and bustled to an ornate door. A small bell rang. The man disappeared inside, reappeared within moments, and hurried back to the desk.
“Dreela Omudi will be with you shortly.” He indicated a bench outside the door. “Please have a seat.”
Wolloh tapped his cane on the hard wood floor and flashed the man his most gracious smile. “Since the Dreela appears to be too busy to see me, tell him, if his schedule permits, I will be dining at Coussuli.” With a nod, he limped across the foyer and out the tall double doors.
His cab, which he had hired for the duration of his stay in TiCeed, immediately pulled forward. The driver jumped down and assisted him in. As the carriage rumbled down the circular drive, Wolloh turned to observe a slender man at the door to Government Hall and behind him in shadow, a tall man whose presence he had sensed behind the Dreela’s office door. He no doubt would have two guests for dinner.
Of the main restaurants in towne, Coussuli and the hotel dining room, Coussuli was the more cosmopolitan. The owner had, at Omudi’s request and under his credit voucher, traveled throughout the solar system to learn the art of cooking. Wolloh had heard only fine reports of the excellent cuisine and looked forward to an elegant meal and a bottle or two of good Geranian wine.
The cab driver bowed him through the door. His appearance caused quite a stir. It was apparent that his reputation—at least the size of his purse—had preceded him. The headwaiter hurried forward. “May I be of assistance, sir?”
“I believe I will be needing a table for three. Someplace where we will be undisturbed.”
The man beckoned. A young waiter steppe
d forward. “Please show…” He hesitated.
Wolloh shaped his deformed mouth into the semblance of a smile. “High DiMensioner Wolloh Espyro.”
The man cleared his throat and bowed. “Show High DiMensioner Espyro to the private dining salon.”
“My guests will be arriving shortly. Please have them announced. Thank you.” He limped after the young man who held open a door and ushered him into a well-appointed room. A grouping of four comfortable chairs sat before the floor to ceiling windows, where brocade drapes tied back with gold, tasseled cord framed a view of the harbor. The salon boasted the only crystal chandelier in Geran Province and a table made from the best Geranian huanghuali, a fine-grained wood deep reddish-brown in color.
Wolloh limped to the window and let his gaze wander the waterfront before turning to the young man, who stood at attention beside the salon door. “Please bring a bottle of your best red. For the moment, that is all.”
The young man departed, and a pretty young woman entered. Bobbing a small curtsey, she went about the business of setting the table for three. She had just laid the last place when the door opened and the headwaiter entered. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed her from the room.
“Dreela Omudi and Vygel Vintrusie.” He stepped aside, allowing the two men to enter, and departed.
Wolloh remained by the window. The Geranian Dreela gave him a gracious but superficial smile and crossed the room, offering his hand. “Welcome to TiCeed, Wolloh Espyro.”
Wolloh took the hand with his good one. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Dreela and to visit your fair towne.”
Omudi’s smile warmed somewhat. He indicated his companion. “May I present my guest, Vygel Vintrusie.”
The tall man, who wore the deep purple cape of a Mocendi DiMensioner, met his gaze and smiled. He came forward and gave a somewhat mocking bow. “I had not thought to meet a High DiMensioner of the Order of Esprow on such an unknown and uncultured planet.”
Wolloh noted the tension return to Omudi’s posture and placed both hands on the crystal knob of his cane. His smooth cheek caught the light. He smiled. “I have found DerTah to be a most interesting and delightful planet. What brings an esteemed member of the Mocendi League to a place he obviously considers a backwater?”
Vygel had the grace to blush. He cast Omudi an apologetic look. “I didn’t intend to suggest, dearest Dreela, that your home has been less than a pleasure to visit.”
A knock on the door saved him from further bumblings. The young waiter entered and placed a tray with a bottle of wine and three glasses on a table in front of the windows. With a flourish, he removed the cork, poured a small taste, and offered it to Wolloh.
A smile followed a deep inhale and a savored sip. Wolloh held the glass out to be filled. “Lovely. Gentlemen, join me in a glass of fine Geranian wine before we dine?”
Both men nodded their agreement. The waiter filled their glasses, set the bottle back on the tray, and departed.
Wolloh held up his glass and waited for his guests to follow suit. “To an enjoyable evening.”
The glasses clinked in a joint salute. Over the rim of his, he eyed the Mocendi. The man’s arrogance had obviously irritated Omudi and the evening had just begun. Indicating the chairs by the window, Wolloh took a seat. “I do love a view of the ocean. How lucky you are, Dreela, to live next to the sea.”
Wolloh had found the meal not only a treat for the palate but elegantly presented. Dinner conversation, on the other hand, had been a game of hide-and-seek. Vintrusie’s lack of diplomacy continued to deepen the rift forming between him and Omudi. Keeping his thoughts hidden beneath subtle shields, Wolloh managed to maneuver the Mocendi into mentioning his search for a young boy, one he had discovered on the planet of Roahymn. Circumventing questions regarding his past and his reasons for visiting DerTah, Wolloh spoke easily about his travels and kept his interest in the Mocendi’s mission out of the conversation. By the end of the evening, he knew he had won over Omudi, at least for the moment. He also knew Vintrusie thought him infirm as a result of his obvious injuries and no threat to the pursuit of his goal.
A lag in the laborious dialogue brought the evening to a close. The bill arrived on a silver tray delivered by the quiet, young waiter. As Wolloh prepared to pay the reckoning, Vintrusie waved his hand aside, affixed his Mocendi seal to receipt, and stood to leave. “It has been a pleasure, High DiMensioner. Enjoy your tour of this most hospitable planet.” He laughed and followed Omudi from the room.
Wolloh sat in the silence, contemplating his dislike of Vygel Vintrusie. Certain that the boy he had seen earlier was the man’s target, he made a personal vow to find him first. As he knew would be the case, a soft knock on the door announced the arrival of the restaurant’s owner.
Wolloh withdrew his purse from his pocket. “Come in.”
The man looked apologetic, slightly frightened, and very insulted. “Sir, I had no idea the Mocendi League was picking up the tab. I—”
Wolloh held up his hand. “I have every intention of paying for the meal, Mr.…”
“Medialion, sir. Ivan Medialion. Thank you, sir.” He took the offered money and bowed himself out of the salon.
Wolloh hoisted his body from the chair and walked to the window. His abhorrence of the Mocendi League’s entitlement attitude that it should be fed for nothing and treated like royalty churned his digesting dinner into a full-blown case of indigestion. Setting aside his annoyance, he returned his purse to his pocket, picked up his cane, and made his way to the door. Now, I must find that boy and without alerting Vintrusie.
Several turnings had passed since Stebben’s escape from the shuttle. Gratitude for his father’s training filled him as he explored his new home. Papon’s words pervade his thoughts. No matter where you end up, there you are—and you’d better learn the lay of the land fast. Survival is a matter of paying proper attention to even the smallest detail.
Stebben made good use of his father’s advice. He had claimed a nook on a rooftop that gave him a clear view of the surrounding streets, discovered that late at night he could forage for food behind the local bar and restaurants, and found a shoppe called Thrifty Jaane’s, where he spent a verlis for a blanket, a change of clothes, and a pocket knife to replace one Tarbads had taken from him when he boarded the shuttle with Chyneria.
He also discovered that the Mocendi had put a price on his head—ten verlis to the person who could lead him to Stebben. Vintrusie, his source told him, had not impressed those who lived in The Wobery. Mistrust of the League was strong, but coin could mean survival to those who had nothing.
Today’s goal was to follow Reader’s advice and find the man with the mark of the osprey. The DiMensioner’s mind probes had been intermittent but strong. So far Stebben had managed to block them, but he knew his shields alone told his enemy he was close. His search had taken him to the center of towne and Government Hall. Not only did he almost land in the Mocendi’s lap, he discovered a man whose power and presence were far stronger, a man whose face bore the markings of the osprey.
Unsure of the connection between the man and Vintrusie, Stebben hid in an alley and waited. His patience paid off. Osprey man exited Government Hall alone and entered his cab. Behind him on the stairs of the hall, the Mocendi remained hidden, his attention fixed on the disappearing carriage.
Stebben darted down an alley to the street running parallel to the main street and took off in the direction the cab had taken. Where will the osprey man be headed? It’s close to the dining hour. He picked up speed and sprinted along a second alley, across Harbour Street, and onto the tree-lined promenade. Outside Coussuli, the cab pulled away in the direction of the carriage park on the ocean side of the street.
As he ambled toward it, the driver climbed down from his perch at the back. “Hey, you, boy,” he called.
Stebben looked around, then pointed at himself, a question on his expressive face.
“Ya, you. Wanna earn some coin?”
“What ya need?”
“I need ya to watch me cab while I nip off and have a pint o’ ale. If a gent with a messed up face comes out o’ Coussuli, come get me at Bella’s.” He held up a zip. “This one now and another when I gets back.”
Stebben took the coin and shoved it in his pocket. “Can I sit in the cab?”
The cabby laughed. “Course. Just don’t run off wi’ it.”
“Wouldn’t never.” Stebben shook his head. “’Sides, I needs the zip.” The cabby slapped him on the shoulder and strolled down the street.
Stebben fed the horse a hand full of grass and ran a hand down its silky neck. Sure miss the farm. Wonder how the animals are and Jac and Chyneria’s kittens? He looked up at the sky, where the first stars glinted and the glow of DerTah’s saffron moon warmed the horizon. It’s a big universe, Chy, but I promise to find you.
The rattle of an approaching carriage put his instincts on alert. Scrambling into the cab, his masked his thoughts and peeked through the window. The carriage came to a halt in front of Coussuli. Two men climbed out and paused while the shorter of the two spoke to the driver. Mocendi energy filled the night. Stebben froze mind and body.
Vintrusie turned, his gaze roving the promenade. He took a step in the direction of the carriage park. The Dreela touched his arm and said something. Casting one more glance toward the cab, the Mocendi shrugged and followed his companion into the restaurant.
Laughter and a hand shaking him were the next thing Stebben was conscious of. Instantly awake, he slipped from the cab, a sheepish grin on his face. “Haven’t slept much lately.” The cabby only laughed again, kissed the girl who snuggled next to him, and sent her off with a smack on her behind. He fished in his pocket, produced three zips, and put them in Stebben’s hand.
The UnFolding Collection Two Page 56
