by Patty Jansen
The lift doors opened and she followed the woman into the hall, drenched in sweat.
There were eating houses on this side of the building, and further constructions were still underway. At a completed part people sat at tables. Izramith held her breath while walking past so that she didn't have to smell any food.
The world around her had been reduced to a blur of sounds and colours.
"Does that feel any better?" the woman asked.
Izramith nodded, not trusting herself to speak. The woman walked at a pace too fast for her queasy stomach, but Izramith followed, tensing every muscle in her belly so that it wouldn't feel like a water bag with sloshing contents. Pride thing, she'd show the meaning of pride to this fake-cheerful, dumbwitted bimbo.
"I know, adaptation is awful. First time I came here I was so sick, you wouldn't believe. It gets better with time, and the more often you do it—"
Izramith glared. Stop. Talking. About. Being. Sick.
She babbled on, "It will take you a few days to get back to full health. Seriously, I mean it. Your body will take some time to adjust to the temperature. Even when I go back home, I have to allow for extra time. I've never been to Hedron, but—"
Stop. Fucking. Talking.
"—I've been to Rayasha, and that was pretty bad, especially coming back home…"
Then she turned to Izramith. "I'm getting this all wrong, aren't I? My name is Dashu." The stones in her earrings were pink.
"I'm Izramith." Through the fog of heat and nausea, she tried to remember what clan that colour stood for. The amber stone in her own earring was the only thing the refugees had retained from their history on Asto. Amber meant Ezmi clan. And Hedron had the best amber of all the worlds. They wore the amber with pride. Pink was… Omi clan? They were builders, factory workers and drivers. Not smart, according to the jokes.
Just so that she would shut up, Izramith asked, "Are you a guest of the council, too?"
"No, I work here, in the security branch. I've been here for most of the year. It's very busy and a lot of fun. Most people are young and they're from all over the place."
"You came from Asto?" She remembered Commander Blue's words about Daya having ties with Asto. In the Security Branch?
"Yes, my family lives in an agricultural settlement to the east of Athyl. It's really boring there. The only other young people are ones who work on the farms and they're just so dumb—"
"Are you working for Asto?"
"You mean, like a spy or something?" She laughed. "Oh, no. No way, I'm not important enough for that. I came because I was bored at home. Daya will employ anyone who wants to work. So, we're kind of the same, huh? Guest workers. I came here for the adventure. What about you?"
"Yeah. Adventure." Adventure with fucking guns and standing pretty at fucking parades. Just her type of adventure.
They had come out on the other side of the building into a large open area, where there was an insane amount of building activity. Paving had been ripped up to make place for digging apparatus, metal frames—made from Hedron steel, recognisable by its purple sheen. The heat made the air above the pavement shimmer, but that didn't seem to affect the workers. Many of them were of the small and tailed Pengali that she had also seen on the shuttle.
Her guide went into lengthy explanations about what each building site was going to be when completed. A new airport hall, with offices and maintenance and service halls, and commercial space and—
"The Exchange?" It suited Izramith to direct the subject of the discussion to something other than herself.
"No, that will stay across the square, but it is being done up, too. The building is more than three hundred years old, and the council is very attached to the typical Barresh architecture."
She went on about domes and ceiling windows and pentagonal designs.
Izramith stared at the building's domes, arches and stone walls, some restored, some in all their faded and flaking glory. Nothing in Hedron was older than a generation.
Xiya and his rebels had come to Hedron about a hundred gamra years ago, and the first passages of the settlement had been built about eighty years ago. Nothing was older than that. "Wait, do you mean three hundred gamra years or local years?"
"Local."
And that was almost twice as old again. Izramith could not get her head around that. When this building was being built, Hedron had been a lump of undiscovered and uninhabited rock. No wonder the building looked as worn and tired as it did.
"And the trees, how old are they? They're massive."
"Most trees would have been planted at the time the building was completed."
"That old?"
She just could not comprehend it. They were huge, spreading things with majestic trunks and rustling leaves. Indrahui, or at least the part where she'd gone, was devoid of tall vegetation. Most of what she'd seen was prairie, with endless golden plains undulating out of sight.
They went past that building, into a fairly busy street, around a corner into a more narrow street where there were not so many trees because one side was taken up by an elaborate but rusted metal fence and behind that a sprawling building with domes. Dashu led Izramith through an open gate, across a courtyard with mosaic paving and carefully-clipped bushes, up a few steps into a dome-shaped foyer.
Dashu turned and met Izramith's eyes. "Still feel bad?"
Izramith had to think about that for a bit. The immediate nausea had abated, but now she felt sticky and very tired. "Better, I guess. So, where are we going?"
"Oh, did I forget? The council wants to see you for a briefing."
"Right now?"
"Yes, You're going to be pretty much wasted for the next day at least, so Daya wants to see you quickly."
Oh crap. She didn't feel like that now.
"Don't worry, you don't have to say anything. You'll just get your specs and docs and you can read them for the next day or so. This is a pretty important event, and there is quite a bit to do."
"I thought the party was not until next solar."
Dashu smiled at her. "You do feel better. I know, because you're talking and noticing things."
"I guess." Noticing things is my job.
"Beware, it will come back. Adaptation has a nasty habit of biting you in the butt when you're tired. It really does take a few days. Now, while we're here, you should really look at the old painting on this wall…"
Under this waterfall of words, she led Izramith from one hall to another, explaining why some were restored, and some not, and some in the process of being restored. Via a magnificent hall—with coloured glass in the ceiling—and corridors in various stages of renovation, they went up a wide set of stairs and came to a high-ceilinged hall that smelled of new materials.
The only furniture in the huge room were two couches and a single chair surrounding a low table.
Four men sat on the couches. One of the men rose. He was skinny and tall with pale skin and dark hair in loose curls. This man Izramith recognised from pictures as Daya Ezmi. Compared to the recording Commander Blue had made or the picture from the Hedron database, he looked older, with lines around his eyes and a few strands of white in his hair.
His eyes were the blackest she had ever seen. It was impossible to tell where his irises stopped and pupils started. It gave her the chills.
Just what had he done with that flash of light in the valley behind the airport?
The three others were men also, with olive skin and dark curly hair. Locals, she guessed, of the keihu race.
Daya bade her to sit, so she sat in the single chair.
He said, "Thanks, Dashu."
"Do you want me to wait downstairs?" Dashu used chya pronoun forms to address him. How quaint and formal.
"Yes, please."
Dashu made a submissive greeting and left.
He settled back into his seat.
Izramith found it hard to stop staring at him. All zhadya-born she had seen were deranged men in filthy clothes and b
lood on their hands. Daya's hands were delicate and cultured. His dark blue tunic was very classy, his hair combed and clean.
So this was the famed crazy zhadya-born known for repeatedly smashing up his room in his uncle's house? He seemed nothing like the adult zhadya-born men in the second level corridor. Heck, here he sat at the table with a couple of people who trusted him to be in charge of their town. How did he keep the madness away?
While she stared at Daya, Izramith was the subject of the unashamed stares of the other three men. She nodded a polite greeting at them.
All three were dressed in elaborate robes, with embroidery, piping at the collars and shoulder panels in different colours. One of them wore so much jewellery that Izramith wondered why he didn't collapse with the weight of it. The man next to him wore an orange robe of a shimmering, metallic-looking fabric. All of them had olive skin and curly dark hair.
Daya said, "Since we're all here now, I'll start. This is Izramith Ezmi of the Hedron guards, who has kindly agreed to help us with our security." His voice was clear, deeper than that of Coldi men, and he spoke with a curious combination of Asto and Hedron Coldi. "Izramith, these men are some of my trusted councillors who are helping me to oversee the logistics for the event. This is my right hand man, Vice Chief Councillor Jisson Semisu."
This was the man who looked like a walking jewellery shop. He met Izramith's gaze with deep-set beady eyes under a heavy brow. His eyebrows were dark and thick with hairs that sprouted out at odd angles and some of which obscured his vision. Many of his springy curls had similarly escaped his ponytail.
He nodded, business-like. "Welcome to our great city." He had a strong accent and he probably meant niya to indicate a place of beauty rather than niyia which was an archaic form that was only used in combination with the names of great heroes of ancient wars.
Daya indicated the other two men. "This is Emron Emiru." This was the man with the orange robe. He had a course-skinned round face with flushed red cheeks. He had a big blob of a nose with a distinct groove vertically across the tip. He nodded, too, but didn't say anything, while squinting at her. Oh no, she didn't think he agreed with her being here.
"And this is Merilon Damaru, who runs the Exchange."
This man was not as thick-set as the others. He looked older, with a fair bit of white in his hair and wore classy dark blue.
"Had a nice trip?" He also spoke with an accent, but grammatically correct and he even dropped the troublesome pronoun.
Daya continued, "Welcome to Barresh, and welcome to the council. This building houses both the council offices and the Exchange, customs and quarantine departments. I trust Dashu has given you the tour?"
There was a playful tone in his voice.
Izramith nodded.
Her stomach gurgled and she really didn't feel up to dealing with these strange people and their strange interpretation of her customs. When arriving at Indrahui she'd gone straight from the airport to the camp and had been shown gear and weapons. She'd been fighting that very day.
Daya now faced his councillors. "I'd like to mention in front of all of you here that Izramith's appointment is funded by me, and you are not to speak of the details with anyone, either here or in correspondence or discussions with family at home. Izramith, I presume that because of your regular occupation and previous contract, you will be familiar with restrictions like these." His voice carried a warning. His pronouns were imperative.
Izramith nodded. Her head was starting to throb again.
"All right then. The specifics of the job. In one solar, we celebrate the long-awaited wedding of Rehan Andrahar and Mikandra Bisumar. They, and the extended Andrahar family, have lived in Barresh for a number of years and have become valued and prominent citizens who not only give Barresh credibility but employ many locals. Of course, as you can tell by the names, they are Mirani. The Andrahar family did not leave Miran in a friendly way. They had a serious disagreement with the Mirani council and the Mirani chapter of the Trader Guild. The issues are too complicated to go into right now, but the short version is that they spoke up too loudly about the Mirani import regulations. Also the Lady Mikandra exposed a scam that Miran was running in order to bring the Barresh council into disrepute. This runs back to the conflict referred to as the Two Day War, in which Miran was ousted as protectors of Barresh.
"In their time in Barresh, Andrahar Traders have become symbolic for the fight against the restriction of freedom in Miran. The family encompasses three brothers, all three Traders, and Mikandra, who has recently obtained her Trading licence as well. The rest of the family is the matriarch Isandra, who is vocal and politically active in our council, the wife and three children of the youngest brother, Mikandra's mother and her younger sister. No doubt you will meet with the family later.
"According to Mirani custom, high-profile weddings include a parade of the couple through the streets of the city and a celebration for the people hosted by the family. Your task, and that of the security team you will lead, is simple: the family has got to be alive and unharmed at the end of the festivities.
"Now, I understand that you may be uncomfortable with working under your name and displaying your face, but the knowledge that I've employed a serving member of the Hedron guard is not to become public, so I will use your name and you will not wear uniform of any kind. I will supply all your gear. At this very moment, you'll be sent all information that you need for this job." He picked up a comm reader from the seat next to him, and touched the corner of the screen.
Her comm pinged. The screen showed message received.
"These councillors here will be your liaison to the council. Jisson is the one to go to if you have any questions about the council operations. Emron is familiar with the activities of the builders and street cleaners and other operations of the council services. Merilon, of course, can help you with communication, and can help you with access to Exchange records. Other than these three, no one in town knows who you are or why you are here."
The men nodded each in turn.
"You will meet your assigned team here tomorrow morning. You will find all the details in the information I've sent you. You can go to your guesthouse now. Mention my name and the guesthouse staff will know what to do. Rest well, and do not let your adaptation knock you about too much."
He rose. "Any more questions?"
Izramith shook her head. She did want to ask about where he thought the risk was coming from, and oh, did he know someone called Reyar and why was he so in control and unlike the other zhadya-born she had fought, apprehended and thrown in jail?
But she was dizzy, sweating all over, and she desperately wanted to get out of here. Fresh air, or the opportunity to lie down. Most urgently of all, she needed to find a place where she could puke.
Izramith stumbled from the room, past the councillors whose faces passed in a blur. At the top of the stairs, she realised that she'd been too out of it to have remembered the way to the entrance. Fortunately, she could follow a breeze through the building to the nearest exit. Her head throbbed so much that she barely noticed the people around her. She had to get fresh air.
But of course when she made it outside, the air was not fresh but muggy, and it smelled of unpleasant things. She ran to the shade of a tree in the courtyard, and could not control her stomach any longer.
Chapter 10
When Izramith had just about puked her guts out, someone behind her put a hand on her shoulder.
"Hey, I almost lost you. I must have been waiting at the wrong door. You were in a real hurry, huh?"
Damn. Dashu.
Izramith wiped her face with her arm. She wanted more than anything to be alone, not to have to keep up her appearance for her employers. Dashu would tell someone that she'd been sick, and that would reach Daya or the council. No matter what Dashu told her, they would start to question her ability to do the job.
"Come, I'll take you to the guesthouse. Daya is always like this. He goes like, I'll give
you this map and you sort it out yourself, but I don't think you're in any state to find your own way there."
Izramith hated to admit it, but Dashu was right. Her steps were so uncertain that Dashu put an arm around her shoulders, and Izramith was glad for it. She didn't think she'd ever felt this awful.
The walk to the guesthouse felt like an eternity. There were a lot of large trees in this place, and a lot of people in colourful dress. Gibbering, yelling laughing people who made her want to shout Can you all shut up?
The street paving was uneven and she tripped a few times. Worst of all, there were steps going into the guesthouse and her vision had gone all wonky. Her stomach was again making weird noises.
Dashu led her up to a desk and spoke in keihu to the guesthouse matron, a woman with a ridiculous hairdo that looked like some animal had built a nest on her head. The woman gave Izramith a disapproving look before turning to a cabinet on the wall behind the desk. Her butt was huge and wobbly. She handed Dashu an access key.
Dashu took Izramith through endless courtyards and more stairs.
Izramith's room was at the very back of a first floor gallery, a huge room bigger than her entire family's apartment at Hedron. There was an oval bed in the middle, rugs on the tiled floor, windows without glass but with ceiling-high lace curtains, and a bathroom with a large steaming bath that was filled from water flowing in from a hot vent.
She dumped her bag on the floor, where it resembled something ready to go out with the garbage collection.
Dashu left her a small supply of the short-working orange pills.
"They're not that good for you, and you can't take more than three per day, but they give a bit of relief. I'll come back later and tomorrow to check on you."
Izramith nodded weakly, standing in the middle of the room, and went to find the bathroom as soon as Dashu left.
The rest of the day and the night were not pleasant.
