On Assignment to the Planet of the Exalted

by Helena Puumala

  “If the two of you want to inspect the stage, we should probably take a look at it now, before the supper crowds fill the premises,” Rakil added.

  “That’s not a bad idea,” Kati agreed. “All three of you coming along?”

  Lank got up to go but Joaley shook her head.

  “There’s a Fresh Food Market about two blocks from here that I glanced at earlier, but Rakil and Lank wouldn’t let me hang around it at the time, since we were hunting for a performing venue. I’d like to go there now with a few coins and pick something up. We can save money by feeding ourselves here at the Inn at least occasionally—like tonight. Have to save money for our gamblers, after all.”

  “That’s an excellent idea, Joaley,” Kati agreed readily. “We don’t have cooking facilities, what with our cart being in the stables, but I’m sure you can come up with salad makings, bread, and cured meat of some kind.”

  She dug out her coin bag and counted out a generous amount to hand over to Joaley. Their stash was still healthy, but Joaley was right: they needed to consider the expenses that living in the Capital City, and scouting for evidence would incur. Eating fewer restaurant meals was one way to conserve funds.

  “And you will agree to abide by my choices,” Joaley said as she took the coins.

  “Sure,” said Lank casually, “although I, at least, will reserve the right to whine if your choices are awful.”

  Joaley made a face at him, pocketed the coins, and headed for the door.

  “They have smoked fish, kiddo,” she commented as she went. “Not fresh Tarangay fish, of course, but it looked pretty edible to me, and once upon a time I lived down the road from a fish market. I don’t think you’ll bitch.”

  *****

  Lank did not complain at all. The market Joaley had discovered was apparently a very good one, and she had a talent for picking up groceries, and turning them into tasty meals.

  “My compliments, Joaley,” Rakil, always the gentleman, said after he had finished his dessert tart. “That was a better meal than we would have gotten at any of the nearby restaurants.”

  The others chorused their agreement, even Lank, who had eaten the smoked fish with a blissful expression on his face. Joaley looked pleased.

  “It cost us maybe a quarter of what a comparable meal would have set us back at a restaurant,” she said.

  “More money left for our problem gambler to take to the runnerbeast track,” Lank commented with a wink. “Or are you going to take to the hounds, too, Kati?”

  “Nothing doing on that front tonight,” Kati said. “Jock and I will have to go and check out the wares at the Malaudin House of Ill-Repute. Think we can manage this on our own, or should we take back-up?”

  She rummaged in her baggage until she found the stunner that Joaley had smuggled onto Vultaire for her, and slipped the small weapon into a trouser pocket. She pulled out the money bag.

  “How much do you think this’ll cost, approximately?” she asked without waiting for an answer to her first question. “I don’t want to take more than what we need. Just in case some Malaudin minion takes the notion to roll us.”

  Jock mentioned a sum and she took that much—and a bit more, just in case—out of the bag and put those coins in her pocket, handing the bag to Joaley for safe-keeping.

  “I take it that this means I’m not invited along,” the red-head muttered a touch tartly, and Jock shook his head.

  “A couple going to a brothel together is plausible, and two men and a woman is even more so. But two women and one man, or two men and two women; such combinations would elicit questions, especially when only one man is a native Vultairian. But I wouldn’t mind having you along, Rakil; your muscles might come in handy if we run into trouble with some idiot Exalted looking for a fight.”

  “A Borhquan man would never, ever pay for sex,” Rakil protested, nevertheless, digging for his stunner. “A Borhquan doesn’t need to.”

  “Vultairians don’t know that, and no Exalted would believe it, anyway,” Jock said with a shrug. “And we’re not going for sex, except maybe some pretend sex, if that’s what it takes to get the privacy for Kati to talk to this fair-haired woman.”

  “Roxanna’s friend, Ingrid,” Rakil said. “Of course I’ll come along.”

  Lank brought over his stunner to Jock.

  “You better borrow this,” he said. “Just in case. I think I’ll stick close to home until you guys get back. A little bit of flute practise seems like what’s called for, tonight.”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” Joaley agreed. “It’ll make it sound like the musicians are happily at home tonight.”

  “Maybe one of you could strum my rhyele for part of the time,” offered Jock. “Make it sound like there’s more than two of you in here, enjoying a musical evening.”

  “Good idea,” Lank agreed. “And I’m pretty sure I can play your rhyele, passably, if not really well. I used to watch Mathilde and I’ve watched you. I think that I’ve got the basics nailed.”

  Kati gave the two of them permission to—carefully—strum her guitar, too, if they thought that doing so would be a good idea. She swallowed the words of caution that came to her tongue the moment she brought up the notion. Lank and Joaley well knew that there was no replacement guitar if this one came to harm.

  “I could probably help an instrument-builder replicate it,” the Granda informed her loftily, as she fretted.

  “Yeah,” she subvocalized, not convinced. “Maybe.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Outside of explaining to Rakil a few details that they had not already shared with him, of their earlier visit to the Malaudin House, Kati and Jock were mostly silent during the walk to the Red-Light District. Rakil gawked at the opulent edifices of the Sin City even as Kati had, earlier.

  As they neared the Malaudin Mansion Kati broke she silence:

  “The Monk just suggested that if I have to pop some spy-eyes to gain privacy, we should blame it on Rakil and his Borhquan desire to keep his abilities as a sexual athlete private. He claims that the Exalted must have heard of the Borhquan men’s abilities to keep women happy. Borhquans, understandably, don’t want to be watched doing so, is the way the scenario goes, and therefore, in his anger Rakil would pop any spy-eyes in the room, explaining their demise.”

  “That’s actually a good idea,” Jock agreed. “I was just trying to figure out how we’d deal with bugs. I’m fully expecting us to run into them. Whatever the Malaudins say about giving their clients privacy is going to be a pack of lies. Bugging technology, both visual and auditory, has become commonplace lately—another sign that there’s unaccounted-for money floating around, lots of it.”

  “Which reminds me that I better let you pay for this fun,” Kati said, pulling the coins out of her pocket and passing them on to Jock who slid them into the pocket of his green and gold tunic without comment.

  “You ought to be able to ask for them back if we do pop some spy-eyes—or Kati does while I pretend to,” Rakil said with a chuckle. “False advertising, and all that.”

  “Yeah, I could make a nice fuss about broken promises, once we find that the Malaudins use their customers to create sex vids which they no doubt sell for more profit.” Jock was grinning.

  “That would make frugal Joaley happy,” Rakil laughed.

  “Not that the rest of us aren’t, but...,” Kati let the words drift off as she shook her head. “Safety first,” she added. “If the Malaudins and their staff start threatening us about anything, we need to get ourselves off their property, and never mind losing a few coins.”

  Rakil threw a questioning glance at her.

  “You’re not having a premonition about this?” he asked her sharply.

  “Not really,” Kati answered with a shake of her head. “My talents don’t really run in that direction. Mikal is actually better at that, even though he doesn’t have much ESP otherwise. But when the Granda mentioned spy-eyes, something clicked in the back of my head, and Jock�
�s statement that he kind of expected us to have to deal with them, emphasized it.”

  “One should always pay heed to such warnings,” muttered The Monk.

  Her companions were doing just that. They exchanged glances, and hands crept into the pockets holding the stunners.

  “I’ve got to admit that I wouldn’t trust a Malaudin enough to turn my back on him or her,” Jock said, his voice tight. “Mind you, they’re pretty dependent on this bordello business for their income. They do have a landed estate, including a village, on one of the other continents, but the scuttlebutt is that the Family has been mismanaging it. They get almost no income from it, so they need this City business just to keep up with their own vices. They shouldn’t be willing to jeopardize it, but....”

  “If they can’t manage an estate and a town,” muttered Rakil, “it would hardly be surprising if they’d mismanage a brothel.”

  They had reached the gate of the Malaudin House. Kati took a deep breath, and asked the Granda to bundle up the information that she wanted to pass on to Ingrid, and have it ready for transmission. Besides the data on how to create nodal records, she included a quick survey of her and Mikal’s trek after they escaped from Gorsh’s space ship, and a very truncated account of the trip she and her companions had made, so far, on Vultaire. It included her meeting with Roxanna at the Rebel Base; Ingrid deserved to know that Roxanna was safe.

  Jock took the lead as they headed up the walk. Kati began to hum to herself as she followed him, even as a silly young woman might, when slightly high on one of the more benign mind-altering drugs. Rakil followed her, apparently ready to help her out should she teeter or stumble.

  The same Liveried Lady with whom Jock and Kati had dealt earlier in the day, answered the door again, looking more tired than she had in the morning, and accompanied, at a short distance, by two men who were very hefty by Vultairian standards.

  “Goons, just like the Warrions had in the Port City,” Kati subvocalized to The Monk.

  “What did you expect?” he subvocalized back. “Vultaire’s answer to the Peace Officers. Stay in your role, girl.”

  Kati pretended to be somewhat unsteady on her feet as she stepped into the anteroom. Rakil steadied her by an elbow, and one of the big Vultairian goons snickered at the polite gesture. The Liveried Lady shot him a warning glance and he subsided.

  Jock gave the goon a quick stare that implied that the man had less worth than a gnat, and turned to look at the uniformed woman, running his eyes up and down her figure arrogantly. She waited, looking uncomfortable.

  “You told us earlier today to come here after the supper hour if we wanted to look at your wares,” he said. “I told you then what we were interested in. Can we get on with it?”

  “Of course, Carmaks....”

  “That’s Exalted Citizen Carmaks to you, Madame Ordinary Citizen,” Jock interrupted her coldly.

  The Liveried Lady blanched, and the goons suddenly looked considerably more alert than they had until then.

  “Of course, Exalted Citizen Carmaks,” the woman said. “I’m sorry for my lapse, Exalted Citizen Carmaks.

  “If you and your companions will come this way.”

  She led them past the goons into a wide hallway leading towards the back. Kati tottered enough as she followed Jock that she managed to get a quick glance behind them, without seeming to be checking if the goons were following them. They were; that apparently came as no surprise to the Granda, and for a half second Kati wondered from which of his lives The Monk was gleaning his information about the customs inside a Vultairian brothel. Then she concentrated on keeping to her role, and seeming impassive, no matter what sort of a surprise would be waiting for her in the room that contained “the wares”.

  They walked by several open doors, and caught glimpses of sitting rooms in which scantily clad Vultairians of both sexes sat around on couches and divans, looking bored. They all glanced up at the sound of the footsteps, but few bothered to even look curious as the little parade trooped by. It was early in the evening, Kati decided; the work of the Malaudin Courtesans had not yet begun. She spared a quick thought of sympathy for Lady Livery; she was going to be much more tired by the end of the evening than she was now. Did the woman ever get a moment off in her long work day?

  “These are our off-world workers,” the Lady Livery said as she swept into a sitting room at the end of the hallway.

  Jock followed her inside gracefully, while, behind him, Kati hurried to keep up with him, somewhat clumsily, and with Rakil close at her heels. The goons came in, too, taking posts on either side of the open door.

  There were a number of couches set against the walls, and backless divans filling up much of the space in the middle. All of them were occupied by representatives of races alien to Vultaire; on some, the line-up stretched from one end of the couch to the other, whereas a couple of divans had only two occupants each.

  Kati had to exert tight control to keep from gasping as she looked around her. The ‘wares’ were mostly children! There were five boys of Murra and Kerris’ type; they were all about the same age as Kerris had been, and that was about the age that Murra had been when she had known him on Gorsh’s ship! There were teens and preteens of both sexes, in every skin colour that she knew humans to come in, and a handful in ones that were new to her! And on a couch at the back of the room, taking up only half of that sofa, was Ingrid, cradling four more pre-teens—skinny, frightened, green-skinned girls wearing shifts so short they barely came down to mid-thigh. Ingrid herself was, oddly enough, better clad; her shift covered more of her, having an almost demure neck-line, and coming down to her knees.

  “These are children, for heavens’ sake!” Kati heard Jock snarl as he took in the room. “Are all your off-world whores babies, for crying out loud? Where are the grown women?”

  Lady Livery was looking at him apprehensively.

  “This is what the owners have been able to get,” she said somewhat shakily. “The source hasn’t been selling many adult women, it seems. You do understand that we need workers who can’t be traced to their home worlds, Vultaire being a Federation planet, and all. We have been promised....”

  She swallowed. “None of the other Houses have anything much different,” she added.

  She lifted a trembling hand to indicate Ingrid.

  “She’s pretty well an adult, if a grown woman is what you’re looking for. But we don’t give her up for long—an hour at the most—and we want guarantees that she won’t be ill-treated. She’s a very valuable piece of property.”

  Jock looked Ingrid over, from head to toe, playing the role of an arrogant Oligarch to the hilt. Ingrid ignored him, all her attention on the four girls whom she seemed to be protecting. At last Jock sighed and turned to Kati.

  “Will she do?” he asked her.

  Kati shrugged, keeping her voice neutral:

  “Why not? Looks like she’s the best they have,” she replied.

  “And how do you feel about it, friend Ape?” Jock grinned fiercely at Rakil.

  Rakil took in the insult without reacting. “Yes, why not? Can you afford her?”

  “How much for a half-an-hour with her for the three of us?” Jock asked, directing his words to Lady Livery.

  She mentioned a sum which amounted to about as much as they had brought with them. Jock counted the coins into Lady Livery’s hand, fishing each coin separately out of his pocket.

  “You guarantee privacy, I presume?” he inquired as he let go of the last coin. “My Borhquan pal, here is big on privacy. Borhquans are, you know.”

  It was obvious that Lady Livery did not know, but she swallowed whatever discomfort she was feeling, and nodded.

  “Of course we guarantee privacy,” she answered coolly. “That’s part of what our clients pay for.”

  One of the goons at the door snorted, just loudly enough to be heard, and the Lady Livery shot him a warning look. Then she went over to where Ingrid sat, surrounded by the four green girl
s, and spoke a few words to her in a low voice. Ingrid glanced at Kati’s group, shrugged, and began to gently disentangle herself from the girls’ clutches. She murmured soothingly to them as she freed herself, in a language that Kati did not recognize.

  Lady Livery pushed Ingrid ahead of her as she led her customers back into the hall, opened another door which led to a staircase. The five of them climbed the stairs in a file, Ingrid in the lead and prodded on by the Lady Livery, Jock following them, Kati next and Rakil coming last. The goons, mercifully, stayed downstairs, now that money had actually changed hands.

  At the top of the stairs the Lady Livery opened the first door that they came to, shoving Ingrid in, and then ushering the remaining three in, too, quickly demonstrating to Jock how to lock the door behind them. The room contained nothing except a huge round bed in the middle of it, done up with sheets only; there were no blankets or quilts. A door, presumably to a lavatory was in a corner.

  “Half hour,” said the Lady Livery as she left. “And I can unlock the door from the outside so don’t try to push the time.”

  “What a cheap joint this is,” Jock snapped, staring at the bed disgustedly.

  Kati sent the Granda to ride her ESP power searching for spy-eyes. Then two things happened at once.

  “This room is bugged,” Ingrid said in English, her voice and face completely neutral.

  “Four,” subvocalized The Monk. “All of them in the ceiling over the bed. Two in the washroom ceiling. I’ll pop them on your instruction.”

  Kati gave the previously agreed-upon signal to Rakil who started shouting:

  “They’ve got spy-eyes in here! Those damned liars have got this place full of bugs and they’re gonna watch us, and probably record us! I won’t have that! No way!”

  “Do it, old Monk. Noisily,” Kati subvocalized, and four popping sounds came from the ceiling above the bed, and smoke drifted down from four spots in it.

  Ingrid’s face fell apart into a mixture of tears and laughter. She rushed over to Kati and clutched at her almost desperately, even as the green girls had been grasping at her downstairs.