by John Daulton
Finally the hug came to an end, and Orli pushed herself away. She squinted at Roberto with a devilish gleam in her eyes and asked, “So who are you supposed to be, George Washington the Pimp?”
“As if he ever looked this good.”
Orli just shook her head, then turned to the woman beside Roberto. The woman stood nearly a foot taller than he did, making her three inches taller even than Altin, and she carried herself with stern dignity. Her shoulders and arms, bare for the sleeveless vest she wore, were long and sinewy, her muscles toned and her skin dark brown like the Goblin Tea coffee they’d come here to trade for. Her stance, like her physique, suggested that her body was equally suited to fight or flight, and the intelligence apparent in her eyes suggested she would know which was the better course in any circumstance. She studied Altin, then Orli, and she seemed to catch Orli studying her back. They exchanged polite smiles. Orli thought she might be the most beautiful woman she’d ever met. Possibly the most dangerous too. She wore on her hips a pair of holsters, each equipped with an old-fashioned nine-millimeter pistol, and the belt around her narrow waist was packed with replacement clips. The grips of both weapons were well worn, and Orli suspected that Roberto had chosen wisely when he put this woman on his crew, her striking beauty entirely aside.
Orli reached out a hand in greeting. “Hi, I’m Orli. Please tell me you are only working with him temporarily. If you haven’t signed any contracts yet, there’s still time to get away. I can have Altin here teleport you anywhere you like. Save yourself while you can.”
“Hey,” Roberto butted in before the woman could reply. “Don’t be undermining my authority. They have to respect me and stuff.” He turned and winked at the woman standing beside him, who smiled again, though mainly with her eyes.
She and Orli exchanged a knowing glance as the woman took Orli’s proffered hand. “I’m Deeqa Daar,” she said in a rich Somali accent. “First mate of the Glistening Lady. It’s nice to meet you.”
Orli started to speak, but then stopped, realizing what the woman had said. “Oh no,” she said, turning back to Roberto. “The Glistening Lady? You named it the Glistening Lady?”
“Hey, you’re the one who said you’d be a constant, nagging pain in the ass if I went with the Sweaty Boobs, so this was the compromise. I actually like it better. It has class.”
Orli shook her head, clearly exasperated. She turned back to Deeqa Daar standing there. “Well, it’s very nice to meet you,” she said. “I wish you the best of luck serving under your captain there.”
“I’ve dealt with his kind before,” Deeqa said. “I’m sure there will be far more original and problematic obstacles with this work than the captain’s … eccentricity.”
“Hey, I can hear you talking, you know,” Roberto said. “And for what it’s worth, you were in pretty desperate need of some eccentricity in your life given what I heard about that freighter you were on. I could hear you yawning from halfway across the galaxy.”
Deeqa grinned at that, showing a row of pretty white teeth beneath her luminous almond-shaped eyes. “Well, you got me there, Captain.”
Roberto laughed as if he’d just won a major victory. “Damn straight I did.” He looked back to Altin and Orli and became suddenly serious. “She’s the best damn pilot working commercial space,” he said. “Might even be better than me, assuming that’s even possible.”
Deeqa’s eyes narrowed, unrelenting mischief in them. “Oh, it’s possible.”
“Well, this man here needs no pilot,” said Roberto, pointing at Altin and intent on finishing introductions properly. “He is strictly point to point. Deeqa, I present Sir Altin Meade, or as all the Crown City people call him, the Galactic Mage. He’s kind of a big shot, but when I first met him, he was just a barefoot magician randomly poking around in space.”
Altin grinned and pulled up his robes enough to expose his toes. “Not much has changed,” he said. He let the folds fall back in place and reached out to shake Deeqa by the hand. “I am still at exploration too. Which is why we need your help.”
“Well, the Glistening Lady is at your service, then,” she said. “As am I. Captain Levi said we’d be assisting you, though he was a bit short on the details.”
“Unfortunately, that is because we were short on them as well, which is why we need you folks and that science team. Speaking of which, Captain Roberto, have you had any luck in finding anyone?”
“Yes,” said Roberto. “I’ve got a geology professor from the NTA Branch University in New Mesa. Marks Bryant is his name. He’s a geologist, anthropologist, and some other stuff, lots of letters at the end of his name. His response to my message read as if he’s pretty excited, and he says he can gather up as big a team as I can pay for. Which was something I wanted to talk to you about. Who’s sporting the bill on this one? I mean, I’m not stingy or anything, I just need to know.”
“I am,” said Altin. “It’s the least I can do for Blue Fire after all her help.”
“All right,” Roberto said, looking relieved. “Good. I was going to hit up Her Majesty if I needed to, but I spent nearly all my start-up cash on this ship. Worse, the last time I talked with that little guy down there who’s brokering most of the Goblin Tea, I got the feeling I’m going to be spending all that I have left to get my first load. Seems these people around here aren’t too happy with the Queen these days, and they are taking it out on me.”
Altin nodded. “No, they’re not fond of Her Majesty down here. They never were, although it’s worse now, I’m sure. Tensions between Crown City and South Mark have been high since the war. But none of that will matter for you, I should think. You’ll find they warm right up to you once they see the color of your coin.”
The gleam of bright metal was also the subject of interest for more than a few onlookers who were beginning to arrive at the top of the Decline with the appearance of Roberto’s ship. Already a small crowd of people had gathered and were coming cautiously near, a handful of rather grubby folks, all eager to see a spaceship from another world. By the sounds coming up from below, many more people were on the way.
It would be a full hour before Roberto could be made to stop showing off his ship, leading little groups around the outside of it, remarking on its speed, strength, agility, and all sorts of technical things that no one on Prosperion could possibly appreciate. By the time he was done bragging, he was nearly late for his appointment with his Goblin Tea supplier down at the waterfront.
It was only reluctantly that he got Altin and Orli to agree to accompany him to the warehouse to meet, as he described it, “the littlest man you’ve ever seen.”
Chapter 12
The six of them, five Earthborn and one native Prosperion, made their way through Murdoc Bay, backtracking at first in the direction Altin and Orli had come, but eventually working their way toward the waterfront. They walked together down the winding grade of the Decline, Altin, Orli, and Roberto three abreast, followed by Deeqa Daar and the two women Roberto described as being two of his four personal bodyguards. As they descended, Roberto commented on how spectacular the view of the bay was, and when they’d passed through town and arrived at the harbor, he couldn’t get over how incredible it was to see all the sailing ships moored there, a forest of masts jutting up for what he guessed had to be at least a three-mile arc along the shore.
“It’s like going back in history,” he said as they turned onto Front Street, which ran along the docks. “Look at those things. Those are epic fifteenth-century caravels right there, look, three of them side by side, and look there, that’s practically a replica frigate right out of seventeenth-century France.”
“I didn’t know you knew about that stuff,” Orli said with a grin. “And here, all this time I thought you couldn’t read. I’m impressed.”
“I love this stuff,” he said. “I am seriously considering retiring here when I’m done. This is my third trip to Murdoc Bay, and I have to tell you, I’ve never been anyplace as cool as this
. This might seriously be the best city in the universe.”
“Yeah, and they have a thriving slave trade here, Roberto. It’s just wonderful. Maybe you and that asshole, Black Sander, you know, the one who kidnapped me, can be neighbors and play golf together on weekends.” The unexpected bitterness in Orli’s voice drooped Roberto’s mouth as much as it did her mood. The excitement of his new ship and his new business had made him forget what had happened to Orli here.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s not that I forgot. And I got the whole lecture about this place from Her Majesty. But she says that’s only a tiny underworld element, and they’re working to root it out. I swear, if I ever find out who helped Lord Thadius snatch you, I’ll burn a hole straight through their face. That’s a promise.” He patted the blaster hanging from his hip as he said it.
“Well,” said Altin, “this is the place to do it if you do find them. They aren’t much for investigating murder down here, despite what Her Majesty likely had to say. Sometimes I think that if people in Crown City knew the half of what went on down here, they’d fill the streets in front of the Palace in protest.”
“Why don’t they, then?” Roberto asked. “You guys got newspapers and stuff.”
“I suspect most people don’t really want to know, so they take pains to avoid learning too much. Active indignation takes time and energy. Most of the folks in Crown City are too comfortable to get up for something like that. Or, at least, they were before the war. Now they are too busy rebuilding. And Murdoc Bay is very far away.”
“Well, I can like the city without getting involved with the assholes,” Roberto said. “It’s that whole baby-and-the-bathwater thing.”
Altin frowned at that, having no idea what it might mean, but he had no time to ask, for Roberto had led them down the waterfront along a row of tall warehouses built one nearly right against the next. He led them out of the street and onto the sidewalk, right up to a door, high above which was a sign that read “Gevender Enterprises.” “This is it,” he said, looking back.
Orli squeezed Altin’s hand as she tilted her head back and read the sign. She let out a low gasp, then whispered, nearly a hiss, in his ear, “Gevender’s. That’s the same name as the thrift shop where Tytamon was killed in Leekant.” Her hand trembled in his.
Altin’s eyes narrowed as he studied the sign. His first instinct was to conjure a fireball.
“Hey, what’s going on?” Roberto asked, seeing the dark mood that had suddenly come upon his friends.
“The name, up there,” Altin said, jerking his head upward as he spoke. “It is the same as where Tytamon died in Leekant. Perhaps the same company.”
“Or maybe a weird coincidence,” Roberto said. “I’ve been in here twice before. There’s just a receptionist and a back office where the little guy is. Master Tenderthrift, they call him. He’s actually a pretty mellow dude.”
Altin’s teeth remained clenched for a moment more, but he relaxed a little bit. A fireball would have set the whole place on fire anyway. Besides, Gevender was a fairly common surname in the kingdom, that was true. And Her Majesty had sent the Royal Assassin to investigate. Surely the connections would have been made. All the same, he shaped an ice lance spell in his mind, just in case. In the span of two heartbeats, he could have one on its way, with no collateral damage from flames.
Roberto glanced at his two bodyguards, hoping to perhaps take the tension down a notch. “Hey, Sami, Fatima, you two stay out here and keep your eyes open while we go in.”
“What are we looking for?” asked Fatima, the dark-eyed beauty standing to Deeqa’s left.
“Anyone who seems too interested that we went in here. Grab some pictures if they do.”
“Roger that, Captain.” Both women swung their laser rifles around on their slings and let them dangle against their chests, ready for instant use. Fatima reached up and tapped a round black com button clipped to her corset, activating the video feed. “Everything we see will be sent back to the ship.”
“Good,” he said. “Now everyone just take a laxative and loosen up before we go inside. These kinda people don’t like dealing with people who look nervous.” He looked to Orli last. “Which means you need to chill out, woman. Nothing is going to happen to you with all of us here. You’ve got the freaking Galactic Mage with you, for one thing. And Deeqa there can take out half a room before the other half realizes the thunder is coming from her guns.”
Orli offered a flat grin and shook off her nerves. She knew he was right. But she left her hand on her blaster just the same.
They entered into a small front office where a gray-haired woman sat behind a long table. She worked with a frayed quill pen, adding figures to a parchment scroll that was so long it had run off the table and rolled across the room, stopping only because it had hit the wall. She did not move to acknowledge them until she had finished entering an entire row of numbers into a column she was working on.
At length, she looked up at them with a stern expression, her eyes moving upward in her head more than any motion of her head. Her lips were razor thin, cutting a straight line across a face absent of mirth. They only knew she had lips at all because hers were made visible by the narrow line of pale lipstick, and they puckered with irritation just before she spoke. “He’s waiting for you in the back, Captain Levi. You and the dark one. Not the rest.”
“They’ll be coming with me,” Roberto said. “Part of the deal.”
“I’m afraid not, Captain. You’ll do well to learn the customs of our world if you expect to thrive in its trade.”
“Oh, just send them back, Terrice,” said a voice that came through the door. It was so low and booming it shook dust from the ceiling. “They are from another planet, after all.”
“Not all of them,” she replied as she eyed Altin with one arched eyebrow.
“Just send them back,” boomed the voice again. He wasn’t yelling, his voice was just that low and loud.
“Very well,” she said, making no attempt to conceal her irritation. She stood, thin as a stick, and reached into the neckline of her blouse, extracting a key from the near concavity of a bony bosom. With a quick snap of her wrist, she jerked the key on its gold chain and caught it in her fingertips, taking it to the heavy hardwood door behind her, which she opened with a click.
Roberto went through first, followed by Altin and then Orli. Deeqa pulled aside a curtain and glanced through a front window into the street before going in after them.
The door opened onto a much larger office, in the center of which sat a tiny little man who perched on an overstuffed chair of such magnitude that the sight of him upon its cushion gave him the aspect of a very small frog seated on a very large lily pad.
Immediately upon seeing him, Orli gasped, drew her laser, and shot.
“What the …!” exclaimed Roberto as he dove to the side, having nearly walked into the shot.
The little man let go a yelp as well, and gaped at the hole the shot had burned through the leather of his chair. Had his face not already been ghostly pale by nature, he might have turned whiter still.
Orli cursed and fired a second shot, but the little man was already on the move, his speed surprising everyone in the room.
Deeqa’s long stride brought her in position to intercept in a matter of seconds, and she snatched him up by the back of his satin waistcoat and hoisted him on high, with a pistol pressed firmly to his head.
“What is the meaning of this?” he boomed in a voice so loud it was like cannon fire. This time he was yelling, and the unbelievable volume of that voice stunned them all for a moment, likely saving his life, for Altin’s ice lance hung hissing in the air right above his hand. Another half instant and Master Tenderthrift would have been skewered through.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Roberto said as he scrambled up off the floor. “Goddamn it. Everybody just freaking whoa.” He came back to Orli with his hands out before him like a man trying to calm a wild animal. “Easy there, Tex,�
�� he soothed, reaching out and gently pushing the barrel of Orli’s blaster toward the floor. “Orli. Dude. Put the gun away.”
“That’s him,” she snarled. She raised the gun again, aiming more carefully this time.
With the tips of two fingers, Roberto carefully pushed the barrel down again. “Orli, you’re going to kill someone with that. You need to mellow out before the cops come and we’re all screwed. Relax. We’ve got this. It’s just business.”
“No. That’s him. I told you. I tried to tell you. We haven’t even been at this business for fifteen seconds and that’s him.”
“That’s who?”
“That’s the little shit who would have auctioned me off. He’s part of it, part of the abduction too. I heard his voice when I was in the box on the slave ship.” She aimed her gun again, prepared to shoot the tiny man right out of Deeqa’s hand.
Roberto stepped closer to her, and with a firm hand on her wrist, he raised her arm up until the gun was pointed toward ceiling and not at anybody’s head. “You said that guy was dead.”
She blinked at that, as if finally coming back into possession of her mind. “No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did,” Roberto said.
Altin nodded. He had heard the story too, the recounting of how Orli had been in a cage on a wide stage during a slave auction. She had specifically mentioned there being a little man with a deep voice who had served as the auctioneer. But Orli had also said, every time she told the tale, that she had watched him die. “I do recall you mentioning him,” he said, speaking in low, calming tones, “but you did specifically say that you’d seen that little man blown to bits.”
Orli nodded. “It’s true. I did see it. He was hit by lightning. But it was lightning cast by Thadius’ lackey, Annison. You said yourself Annison isn’t a conjurer. Remember? So it was all for show. Or most of it.”
