The street narrowed and curved, drawing them deeper into the city. Anneliese stared at the crowded buildings. Hovels, she told herself—crude dwellings hewn of rock, the windows and doors mere holes in the walls, drawn over with cloth.
Women looked up as they passed. Men darted across their path. They carried blankets and baskets, or long poles with buckets at each end. As the carriage turned a corner, Anneliese watched several women roll up the sides of a tent. They ducked inside, raking the ground around a skeleton of poles.
"What are they doing?” Anneliese asked.
"There are no toilets in the city,” Cade told her. “Everyone uses communal tents. In the morning, the women clean them out."
Anneliese's eyes widened. She heard the chuckle hiding in her husband's voice, awaiting her reaction, laughing at her expense. She sniffed. “Fortunately, I went before I left."
Cade laughed. The cart jostled, hissing over the gravel. Looking behind, Anneliese watched the women lower the sides of the tent, finishing their chore.
The carriage slowed, pulling to the side. A growing racket filled the street. Anneliese saw more men on bicycles, other hotel patrons wearing wide-brimmed hats. Between the buildings, she caught snatches of bright color.
"The marketplace is open only a few hours each morning,” Cade told her. “No one ventures into the heat of day."
As the cart came to rest, Cade stepped to the street, tossing a small coin to the bicyclist. Grinning, the man turned the coin over in his hands. Then he put it into his mouth and swallowed it.
"Did you see what he did?” cried Anneliese.
"Where else is he going to carry it?” Reaching up, Cade lifted her from the cart.
She stared as the man sped away. “But, it's a health hazard."
"Actually, the biggest hazard is in letting the stomach become distended,” Cade said. “Better than an invitation. Once, I saw two local men mug a cabber. One man held him while the other slit his gut, and all these coins came spilling out...."
Anneliese spun toward him, stamping her foot. “Stop it! Why do you torment me with such stories?"
Cade laughed. “I wish you could see your face. Come on. Let's get that coffee.” He crossed the street without her.
Anneliese pressed her fingers against her temples. She didn't want to be here, she thought. It was the headache, too much moss tea the night before. Perhaps some coffee would do her good.
She followed her husband down a path between the buildings. The scent of food and garbage carried on the breeze. Laughter mixed with music. Anneliese peered ahead, intrigued in spite of her misgivings. She shunted the image of the bicyclist aside.
The path opened onto a Square. Anneliese paused, staring. The market blazed with brightly robed vendors and food stands with garish awnings. Noise rose in a strident cacophony.
Cade took her hand. “Stay close,” he said.
Anneliese gazed about. She saw a boy juggling handfuls of silver rings, a man balancing knives upon his feet. Most of the people wore goggles; others used dark cowls to shade their eyes.
Vendors called to them as they passed, leaning from their stands and waving their wares: metalwork, jewelry, and cloth.
"Look!” cried Anneliese. “It's malpais."
The merchant grinned, beckoning, climbing onto the counter in his excitement.
Anneliese urged Cade to the stand. She picked up a figurine. The stone's rich color was nearly black, and the delicate grain shimmered.
"It's a lizard,” she said, “I think...."
Cade turned the figure right side up in her hand. It had six legs and a ridge along its back. In place of eyes, two holes had been bored through the head.
"It's called a teioid,” Cade said. “A good representation, too.” He placed the figurine on the counter. “Dur scalar."
"Piska.” The merchant shook his head, motioning toward the teioid.
Cade slammed his hand down, rocking the vendor's stand. “Dur,” he bellowed.
The man's face fell. He snatched up the stone pendant.
Anneliese glanced between them, the back of her scalp prickling. She'd never seen Cade act this way. Was he going to strike the man?
Then the vendor looked away. He threaded a leather thong through the lizard's eyes. Cade took the necklace, lowering it over Anneliese's head.
Anneliese beamed at him, touching the smooth pendant, feeling the tug of its weight about her neck. His anger had been a bargaining ploy, she realized; the danger hadn't been real. Cade slapped two coins upon the merchant's counter, and Anneliese walked off before she could see if the man ate them.
They came to a stand surrounded by tables. Cade held a chair and Anneliese sat down. She smiled shyly, wrapping her fingers about the stone teioid. She would always wear it, she thought, always cherish this unexpected gift; but she was unable to banish the look on her husband's face, the threat in his voice as he'd bargained for the necklace.
After a moment, a woman bustled toward them, her robe dragging on the rocks. She set a coffee pot and a loaf of bread on the table. Anneliese accepted a cup, and the woman bowed, her hood slipping to the side. Her eyes caught the light, shining like the coins they coveted.
Cade poured the coffee, and then broke the bread in half. Steam leached into the dry air.
Looking out upon the Square, Anneliese said, “This place is fascinating. It's more a carnival than a marketplace."
"Flavor to the atmosphere,” Cade said.
"With all the trade that goes on here, it's a wonder these people still live in poverty."
Cade shrugged. “A good portion of their earnings goes to the Resort."
"Taxes?"
"That would imply a benevolent government. No, the Resort is more lord than law here, and they expect their cut. This is a carefully maintained society."
"They're deliberately kept in squalor,” she said, realization washing over her. “The Resort uses the city as its tourist attraction, then charges the populace for the privilege."
"You look surprised. But I'm sure your father knows the virtues of versatile profit."
Anneliese frowned, trying to think of an answer, then jumped at an unexpected touch. An old woman crowded her elbow.
"Babesh!” the woman cried, her fetid breath spraying over Anneliese's face.
Pulling back, Anneliese snatched her sleeve from the clawing fingers. She gaped at the bent and wizened crone. The woman hopped about, brandishing a handful of pointed objects.
"What does she want?” cried Anneliese.
"Soothsayer,” Cade said. “Part of their religion. Nich! Nich!” He raised his hand as if to strike her.
"No,” Anneliese said, “it's all right. It might be fun."
Cade settled back in his chair. The soothsayer drew a child toward the table. The boy was tall, eight or nine years old. His head was large and misshapen, and a string of drool hung from his lips. Anneliese looked away, her face burning with embarrassment.
The woman sat upon the gravel, pulling the child beside her. Cupping her hands, she raised the objects then let them fall.
They were common stones, Anneliese realized, each carved into a geometric shape. As they fell, one of them pointed toward Anneliese. The woman placed it aside, and then dropped the stones again.
"Babesh,” she murmured.
Beside her, the boy snuffled. His oversized goggles made him look like an insect.
Anneliese shuddered with a sudden sense of panic, and she laughed loudly to cover her fear. “And, this will tell my future?” she said, motioning toward the growing line of shapes pointing her way.
Suddenly, the child picked up one of the stones, putting it into his mouth. The old woman jabbered excitedly. Rummaging through her robes, she produced a pack of cards, laying them out beside the carved stones, finally finding the card that had no mate.
Silence grasped the woman, and for a moment, Anneliese thought she might have fallen asleep. At last, throwing back her cowl, the soothsayer lifted her ga
ze.
Her large, reflective eyes caught the light, turning into golden pools. She watched Anneliese for several moments. Climbing to her feet, she placed the card upon the table.
"What's this?” asked Anneliese.
The soothsayer said, “Your future."
Anneliese gasped, astounded that the old woman spoke Standard.
"Enough, hag. Be on your way.” Cade tossed his payment.
The woman caught the coin; then, with her eyes trained upon Anneliese, opened her hand and allowed it to fall. Even in the surrounding din, Anneliese could hear the coin drop.
Anneliese blinked as if released from a spell. Her senses reeled. The old woman encased the child with her robes, hobbling away.
Picking up the fallen coin, Cade said, “That's the first time I saw one of them do that."
Anneliese looked at the card. In its center, a woman with two faces held a sword overhead, one foot poised over a chasm.
"Jefe-Naik,” she read. “What does it mean?"
Cade held the card to the sunlight. “From this point, you may go in either direction."
"I suppose that's true of anyone.” Anneliese wrapped her hands about her cup, suddenly chilled.
"I'm sorry she upset you,” Cade said.
"It wasn't her, it was that ... vacant child."
"Yes. A certain amount of inbreeding goes on here,” he told her. “Luckily, the tourist trade provides enough new blood to prevent a total genetic breakdown."
Anneliese said, “I can't imagine anyone wanting to have sex with these repulsive people."
Standing, Cade said, “If I remember correctly, I promised you a tour of the city."
"Cade, no. I'm not well. The heat."
"Please.” Cade held out his hand. “There are so many things I wish to show you."
Anneliese looked into her husband's pale eyes, feeling her reluctance melt. “Of course,” she said.
But, as he drew her away, she glanced over her shoulder at the card on the table.
CHAPTER 4
Anneliese held her husband's arm as he led through the marketplace. Coffee roiled in her stomach, and her head felt light. She watched the frenetic activity around her, trying to sound interested and amused as her husband pointed out the sights, but the heat slowed her thoughts as well as her step. Slipping off her hat, she dabbed her forehead with the back of her hand.
Her eyes fell upon a man standing next to a building. His hood was askew, and his long hair lay plaited upon his shoulder.
A thrill of recognition swept through Anneliese—it was the man she had seen hiding in the spaceport. He had a regal quality to him, she thought, unlike the primitives around her—a king surveying his subjects and profoundly saddened by what he saw. Then his eyes fell upon Anneliese, and his expression hardened.
Anneliese looked away, cheeks blazing. What did she care that he was safe? When she glanced back, he was gone.
Suddenly, a voice cried out. The crowd swarmed and scattered. In the rush, a vendor's stand toppled, the bright awning flaring.
Cade pulled Anneliese close, whispering in her ear. “That's what a stegort looks like before it becomes dinner. It must've broken through its pen."
Anneliese gasped, stepping back. The rampaging creature ran through the crowd, bucking and tossing its head, brandishing its tusks.
"It's coming this way!” Anneliese cried.
But Cade held her fast. “The keepers won't let it get this far."
He rested his hands upon her shoulders, turning her to face the beast. A brightly garbed vendor somersaulted into the crowd, caught by a thrust of the mighty snout. Tourists pointed and laughed. Anneliese pressed her fingers against her lips.
Behind her, Cade said, “This one's a female. You can tell by the spotted hide. I hope they also caught her mate—stegorts can be fiercely monogamous."
Anneliese stared. The beast was terrified, she realized. It reminded her of a mountain boar, the animal her father often hunted. Once, he had taken her on one of his hunting trips—what a fiasco that had been.
The stegort barreled ahead, foam on its sides, its heavy, splayed hooves kicking up the gravel. The crowd parted, keeping out of its reach.
A local man darted across the creature's path. He paused then ran the other way, weaving back and forth. The beast slowed as if confused. From behind, another man threw a cloth over its head.
The stegort wheeled about, bucking and bellowing, then growing suddenly docile. The first man walked up to it, holding its hooded head.
Finally, thought Anneliese. Now, they can lead it back to its pen.
But the second man dropped onto the creature's back, raising a curved blade into the air. Anneliese turned rigid. She tried to look away. The stegort screamed as the knife plunged downward, the man hacking at its back, blood spraying the air.
"No!” Anneliese cried, shoving her knuckles into her mouth. Female, she thought, the mate pining away. She closed her eyes, hearing the waning cry of the beast, the chatter of the crowd. “Please. I want to go home."
Cade wrapped his arm about her shoulders. “It's just an animal.” He tugged at her, forcing her to walk.
Anneliese took several shuddering breaths. Her feet were numb.
Quietly, Cade said, “If you faint, I will leave you here."
His words struck like frigid water. Anneliese blinked, suddenly aware of her surroundings. She glanced at her husband. His eyes narrowed, his jaw squirming with knots.
Like her father's face after the hunting trip, she thought. Anneliese looked away.
Cade led her from the marketplace toward the outskirts of the city. The streets were narrow and twisted, blinding white with the sun-washed stone.
"I wanted to show you the wall,” Cade told her. “You might enjoy it."
Glancing behind them, Anneliese said, “Are you sure we're safe?"
"Don't you trust me?"
"Well, yes. I mean...."
Cade laughed, hugging her shoulders. “We'll be safe enough if we stay on the main way. After all, we're guests of the Resort."
Anneliese looked up at his crooked smile, warmth infusing her. He loved her. She was forgiven. Of course, she trusted him. She wrapped her fingers tightly about the malpais pendant.
Deeper, they moved into the city. Heat shimmered from rooftops. Between the buildings, Anneliese glimpsed a large gate, burnished gold in color and scalloped with decorative arches.
A group of men passed, jabbering in their alien language, splitting up and entering the stone hovels along the way. Anneliese stepped aside, tucking her pendant into the neckline of her day suit.
"Market must be closing,” Cade said, glancing toward the sky.
Anneliese saw only the sun above the rooftops. She said, “The Resort should be made aware of their abbreviated work hours."
"They're nocturnal. Sleep during the day. The whole city shuts down."
Then why are we still here? she wanted to ask. Anneliese blotted her forehead with her voluminous sleeve. Perspiration ran between her shoulder blades, and even her hat felt limp.
Finally, the wall came into view, gleaming white against the clear sky. The gate towered over the buildings and, as she watched, it began to swing shut. At the last instant, a group of children rushed through, frantically pushing a wicker-covered wagon.
Cade laughed. “They almost didn't make it in time. The gate closes automatically, magnetically sealed."
The children ranged in ages from six to twelve. Several were crying. As the coach came to rest, a man, bearded and robed, hopped out the back.
"Who are they?” asked Anneliese.
"Scavengers. They search for malpais.” Cade hooked his arm about her shoulders, propelling her forward. “And this is the Wall of Enceinte. You can see the patch marks where it's been breached."
Anneliese rested her fingers upon the rough stone. The wall consisted of fist-sized rocks cemented together. Handprints showed in the mortar—hundreds of them, perhaps thousands, reaching
halfway up the wall's height.
"The prints symbolize the city's fidelity,” Cade said. “When a boy reaches the age of nine, he pledges his life to protect the Resort, sealing the oath by forging his handprint."
"Their armies induct nine-year-old children?” she asked.
"It's only a ritual."
"Do they include girls in this ritual?"
Cade smiled. “Girls are pressed into an alternate service. I'll show you.” Humming quietly, he walked away.
Anneliese looked at the scavengers—the bearded man stood beside the wagon, and the children lined up before him, their heads bowed. Contemptible slaver, Anneliese thought, exploiting young children. She followed her husband along the wall.
Ahead, she heard voices and laughter. A line of cages came into view. Onlookers milled about their bases, hooting and shoving one another.
"This culture has an interesting method of absolving debt,” Cade said.
Anneliese narrowed her eyes. Thick bars cut the light into shafts, effectively shrouding the cage, but a feminine hand stretched from the shadows.
Anneliese scoffed. “What could be interesting about a common prison?"
"There's nothing common about this. You see, when a man owes money, a business deal gone bad or gambling debts, it falls to the women of his family to pay. The chosen ones remain here until they've earned enough to clear their loved ones’ names.” Cade urged her forward.
The cages were large, draped with tattered cloth, their floors strewn with a substance much like straw. An acrid stench wafted through the bars: excrement and spoiled meat.
Anneliese stopped walking. She watched a man climb onto the platform, following the gaoler toward a cell. Inside, a woman pulled the curtain closed.
Animals, Anneliese thought, wallowing in their own filth. She said, “I don't understand how their imprisonment can absolve someone else's debt."
Cade smiled at her.
Anneliese gasped. “Forced prostitution?"
"Indentured servitude. Virgins command a higher price, of course—but only once.” A chuckle rumbled in Cade's throat.
Anneliese blinked, stumbling away from Cade's side. The jeers of the onlookers crashed over her like a wave. She looked toward a cage just as a face peered out. Anneliese froze in revulsion. The harlot regarded her dully, eyes hollow, lips slack. A hand snaked through the bars, beckoning.
Resort Debauch Page 3
