“That’s why Tieri said to make sure and take all our things,” Xoraya said slowly. “Once we’d checked out we can’t go back.”
“Did you guys all know that this would happen?” Lank queried, looking slightly aghast.
“Maybe you weren’t listening to Old Man Makally when he decided to show us The Spacebird,” Mikal said. “But the fact that we were staying at what he called ‘a non-existent Inn, or one that shows up only every generation or so’, is what made up his mind. So, when Tieri said that we couldn’t go back after we had checked out and left for the final time, I sort of expected something like this.”
“Creepers,” Lank muttered. “I don’t know about hanging out with you two, Kati especially. Too many weird things are always happening. Kati seems to draw weirdness to herself, like honey draws flies.”
He shook his head.
“Hey, I kind of like it!” Xoraya protested. “Never a dull moment.... And, am I ever learning a lot about aspects of humanity that I knew nothing about! When this is all over and I go back home to my Institute, just imagine the research papers I’ll be able to write!”
“So, I guess my pipes are gone for good,” sighed Lank, unmoved by Xoraya’s enthusiasm.
“In a generation or two, someone who comes to this Station needing protection, may find himself, herself, or themselves at The Fiddler’s Green Inn,” Mikal said light-heartedly, “and if they elect to stay in that suite, one of them may find those pipes in that drawer where you left them. Perhaps if the finder has some talent, he and the pipes will make music together.”
*****
Business at Lou’s Bistro was booming. Nevertheless, the serving girls were a cheerful bunch, and one of them seated the four arrivals at the end of a long table at the back of the restaurant, it being the only place left with four seats open.
“I apologize for not having a better table for you,” she said as she settled them there, two on each side of the table, and next to an extended family of at least three generations, which filled the rest of the table. “I don’t think the Marois clan objects to your presence, do you Grandma Marois? You know how busy this place can get near noon.”
“What?” The old lady beside Kati glanced at the server, and smiled at the Earth Woman. “Of course not. It’s nice to see that travellers sometimes discover this place.” She added: “Some of the eateries catering to the outsiders take cruel advantage of them, and give this Station a bad name.”
Kati laughed.
“You’re not thinking of Anastasia’s Home Cooking are you, by any chance?” she inquired.
Grandma Marois cackled loudly. She reached over to pat Kati’s hand.
“You poor, innocent folks, having been fooled like that! Did they have those horrible machines trundling about, regurgitating what passes for food to the patrons?”
Xoraya across from Kati, and Mikal beside her, burst out laughing.
“That’s a pretty accurate description of it,” Xoraya said when she had her mirth under control. “Though the machines did roll around on their wheels; they didn’t really trundle.”
“The wheels must have gotten an oiling recently,” Grandma Marois opined. “I have heard that sometimes their motion can be pretty erratic, and stop-and-go. And it doesn’t do much good to complain about the service, since the bots’ brains are pretty elementary.”
She was peering at Xoraya curiously.
“For a moment there I thought you were an adolescent girl,” she added, “but you’re not. You have ancient eyes in your pretty face. So you must be a member of one of those races who don’t age the same way we ordinary humans do. Does that mean that you’ve come from the Wilderness Space?”
Oh, oh. Kati swallowed as Xoraya turned her “ancient eyes” on her, displaying a touch of panic. How to best deal with this development? Although, maybe they should have thought to have some kind of a response ready for such a question, since its coming up had always been a possibility.
“Maggi Marois, you maybe should keep the sharp part of your face out of strangers’ business.”
They all turned to look at the end of the table where a man in a robe not unlike the one Kati’s Monk wore in her image of him, but dark green in colour, lay a cloth bag in front of Lank. He then reached over to a pile of chairs stacked in a corner, grabbed one, and sat on it, at the end of the table. He looked to be middle-aged, but in energetic good health, if somewhat slight and short in stature.
“Well, well, if it isn’t Llon,” said Grandma Marois. “Long time no see. Where did you pop up from anyway, Llon?”
“That, too, is none of your business, Maggi,” the man replied. “I pop up when I do, and I remain for however long I may be needed.”
He turned his attention from her to Kati and company, directing his attention especially to Mikal.
“Do you mind if I join you for this meal?” he asked.
“Certainly not,” replied Mikal. “I see that you brought something for Lank. There are reed pipes in the bag, I presume?”
“Indeed there are,” Llon replied, and the four of them (and maybe Maggi Marois, as well) watched as Lank checked the contents of the bag, grinning broadly.
“Yes,” he said, “it’s them all right, my reed pipes from Vultaire. Thank you so much for bringing them, sir.”
“You’re welcome, son.”
He turned his attention to Mikal again.
“You are the one in charge of the expedition, right, Mikal r’ma Trodden, Agent of the Peace Officer Corps of the Star Federation?” he asked.
“You seem to be well-informed,” Mikal agreed with a crooked smile. “Although Kati of Terra is perfectly capable of taking charge if that should become necessary. And Xoraya Hsiss, and Lank of Tarangay should not be discounted; they are both very talented individuals in their own right.”
“Yes.” Llon looked around at the four of them with an approving smile.
Kati, glancing in the direction of Grandma Marois, saw that the old woman’s attention had been claimed by a youngster halfway down the other side of the table. She found herself wondering vaguely if Llon had something to do with that, and if so, how?
“The four of you are all talented individuals, and very audacious to boot,” the Green Robe continued. “To presume to go after the Slaver Gorsh, just the four of you, to take back his prize navigator, to put an end to his slave-snatching and selling, and to rescue the ones he has already grabbed and sold—are any of you quite sane? Wouldn’t it make more sense to just allow The Star Federation to send a Torrones Warship to blast Gorsh and his home world to smithereens?”
“This is not the first time that suggestion has been made,” Mikal replied, mildly enough. “And I can only give you the same answer that I have given before. Blasting a planet kills a lot of innocent people, no matter how righteously it is done. Plus, violence does not end violence, or criminality. In fact, it begets more of the same. I’m half-Lamanian, and Lamanians have a long enough history behind them that they understand that, and have learned to try to avoid violent methods if it is at all possible. The Shelonians are in agreement with them on that; they have a past which rivals that of Lamania.
“Perhaps it is audacious of us to think that we can hope to put an end to Gorsh’s doings, and bring to The Star Federation his victims, and, hopefully, him, to face justice, but, if nothing else, it is the first step in a battle of wits, rather than guns and cannons. And who knows? If we can attract the right kind of help, maybe we will succeed.”
“I’m prepared to devote all my energies to this,” Kati said fervently. “I promised Murra, on Gorsh’s slave ship, that I would bring help, that I would not rest until all the children on that ship were free. I will not break that promise unless I die in the attempt.”
“You will not die,” subvocalized The Monk savagely. “I will not have it. I don’t want to be transferred to another body willy-nilly, having to learn to tolerate some fool or another, before having had the chance to properly get used to you.”
“Gorsh has my Life-Mate, Xanthus Hsiss, under his power, and is forcing him to break the laws of space and time,” Xoraya said quietly. “I will continue my efforts to free him until he is no longer that human’s slave.”
Llon nodded at Kati and Xoraya in turn, after having gazed at Mikal for a spell.
“And what’s your motivation, Lank?” he then asked, turning to the youth.
Lank grinned and shrugged.
“I’m afraid that my reasons for being on this quest are not so admirable, or pure, as those of my colleagues,” he answered. “I’m along for the excitement, for the chance to run a space ship and take care of it, and to hang out with my good friends: Kati, Mikal, and Xoraya. Also to see more of the galaxy, and to take a few risks; put myself into danger, and see how it goes.”
He turned his grin on Mikal.
“I missed the flyer fight on Vultaire. But with Darla having shown me how to take on an attacking ship with ours, I think that I’m ready for a small space battle.”
“Careful what you wish for, Lank,” Kati said with a shudder. “You may get it.”
“Listen to her,” Mikal added seriously. “Battles are precisely what we will try to avoid. Yesterday, Kati mentioned the word ‘trap’. That’s really what we want to do; we want to set a trap for Gorsh and company. Only we don’t yet know how to go about it.”
“What is your next stop going to be?” Llon asked.
“Tarangay, I think,” Xoraya answered. “That’s where Xanthus had his laboratory where, I believe, he was taken prisoner. It’s possible that someone there will have useful information, if we can find the lab—or whatever is left of it.”
Llon seemed to turn his attention inward, as if to consult his node. Only, Kati had noticed moments earlier, when he had turned his left side momentarily in her direction, that he did not have the tell-tale cranberry-sized lump under his ear. He had no node, as far she could tell—so who, or what, was he consulting?
“So I’ll be going home, for a bit,” Lank muttered. “Well, that’ll mean some good songs and a chance to show you, my friends, where I grew up. The natural setting is fantastic, some of the society not quite so much.”
“Tarangay is likely not a bad place to start,” Llon said with a nod, his inner consultation complete. “It’s as good as any, and better than a few. I would like to put a proposition to you. Take me with you.”
He had all their attention, and smiled at that. Yet, he said nothing more; simply waited for their reactions.
“It’ll be tight quarters,” Kati said, thinking about the practicalities of such an addition.
“I believe that your ship’s sitting area can sleep a few people, and I’m only one,” Llon responded.
“He doesn’t have to do that,” Lank objected with a shrug. “Like I told you Kati, Rakil and I shared a cabin that size on the Marta. Rakil’s a lot bigger than Llon is, and we were fine. Besides, when my Mom was alive, we lived in a tiny apartment. Two small rooms and a bath—and my Mom sometimes conducted business there, too. So I’m used to cramped quarters.”
Listening to this, Kati ached for the boy. The business his mother had conducted had been prostitution, and Lank had told Kati once (over glasses of wine), how one of her clients had stabbed her, killing her, and the boy had found her bloody body when he had come home. He had left when she had brought home the customer, going to play music at a nearby bar where the staff had informally adopted him, and had looked after him when his mother could not, or would not. The killer had claimed that Lank’s mother had stolen his packet of dream dust, and, Lank had said, that may have even been the truth. His mother had been addicted to the dust, but who could blame her? And was stealing dream dust reason enough to be murdered? None of the questions, or the answers to them, mattered, however, since the client had been a prominent citizen, and Lank’s mother merely a cheap whore who paid the rent for the little flat with her professional services.
The musician at the bar who had taught Lank to play the flute had suggested that he go off-world before, in his anger and grief, he would do something stupid, like try to revenge his mother’s death. Lank had ended up in the Second City on Lamania, where Kati had met him, and he had joined her Unofficial Investigative Team to Vultaire.
“So you’re offering to share your cabin with me?” Llon asked. “That’s very kind of you, young man.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here,” Mikal objected. “I think we better determine whether or not Llon coming with us is a good idea, before he settles in anywhere in the vicinity of The Spacebird.
“What sort of talents are you thinking to bring to our quest? And why do you want to join us? You must realize that it’s a very dangerous enterprise?”
“Ah,” sighed Llon. “Trust the Agent of the Peace Officer Corps of the Star Federation to come up with the pertinent questions! To answer them in reverse order: Yes, I realize that it’s a dangerous enterprise that the four of you have taken on. That is one reason why I am here, as a matter-of-fact. I am hoping that my presence will lessen some of the perils you face. You see, I do bring some unique talents and strengths with me. We’ll make quite the potent team when we add my abilities to the ones the four of you have.”
“Are you somehow connected to The Fiddler’s Green Inn?” Kati asked, glancing at the pipe bag which Lank had gently set beside his plate, between him and Xoraya.
The Green Robe smiled at her.
“Another pertinent question, and one that Kati of Terra would ask. Yes, I am connected with The Fiddler’s Green Inn, and The Fiddler’s Green, for that matter. Don’t read too much into my words, however; reality has many forms, and most of them don’t conform to simple expectations.”
“An answer that explains nothing,” Xoraya said softly. “I have heard of ones such as you are, Llon the Green Robe. Some call your like Guides, others use the term Watchers, as in those who watch over us.”
“So the Planetary Spirits have been gossiping,” Kati muttered.
Llon burst out laughing.
“Oh yes, they have been!” he said cheerfully. “Very much so!”
“All right,” Kati said, her eyes darting from Xoraya to Lank, to Mikal. “I vote that we take him with us. What say the rest of you?”
“I’m with you, Kati,” Xoraya said. “It can’t hurt to have a Guide with us, and it certainly may help.”
“Sounds good to me,” agreed Lank. “And I’m perfectly willing to share the cabin I’m in.”
“Three votes for me,” Llon said, looking at Mikal. “Although, I suppose that the Leader of a Team such as this one has a veto, if he chooses to use it. What say you, SFPO Agent, Mikal r’ma Trodden, of Lamania and Borhq?”
“I bow to the opinion of the majority, of course,” Mikal replied. “Although, Kati’s okay would have been enough for me, actually. My favourite woman has very good instincts, and saying that takes nothing away from Xoraya or Lank.”
“Well spoken. I will join your Team, then, and travel with you, first of all, to Tarangay.”
When they left Lou’s Bistro after eating their excellent lunch, Llon picked up a green bag from beside the chair he had been sitting in. It was his luggage of course, only Kati could have sworn that she had not seen it there until he picked it up. She suspected that the Green Robe was going to be a slightly odd travelling companion; for some reason that struck her as a good omen for their chances of success.
Map of the Planet Tarangay (Detail)
CHAPTER THREE
Kati might have felt a little differently about Llon’s presence, had she been a party to a conversation which the Green Robe had with Mikal, a few days into the trip in space.
Lank was in charge of the Spacebird’s bridge while Xoraya rested in her cabin in anticipation of taking over the piloting duties during the next shift. She and Lank had agreed to divide the bridge duties between the two of them, while at the same time familiarizing Mikal and Kati with all the necessary tasks that it entailed. Not that th
ere was much to piloting once they were in deep space. The Xeonsaur-developed space drives were so smooth in operation that the passengers were normally not even aware of the transitions that space travel involved. The Spacebird, for all that it was a used ship, was a vessel in excellent condition, capable of doing what a space ship did, quite automatically, until it would be time to take it down planetside. But she was crewed by a group who were following the trail of known criminals, and might, in their turn, be chased by these criminals, or their associates, so they had decided that it was a sensible precaution to have a competent pilot on hand on the bridge at all times, even if that might seem like unnecessary paranoia at times.
Kati was taking a turn at creating dinner in the galley, while Mikal was getting in some physical exercise, always an important part of a space travel routine.
Llon had been spending time with Lank, getting the Tarangayan youth to talk about his background, and the travels which had brought him to The Second City of Lamania. Kati had heard snippets of their conversations, and had wondered whether the Green Robe was subtly trying to find out if returning to Tarangay, even for a short stay, would be problematic for the youth. After all, he had left the planet because his prostitute mother had been murdered by a well-born customer, and his friends had suggested that he leave before he could succumb to the desire to take revenge. The death of a whore did not warrant even an investigation, according to the local authorities, but any damage to a prominent citizen would not have passed unpunished.
Absorbed in her cooking, Kati failed to notice Llon when he walked through the sitting-eating area and into the exercise room, the door of which was kept shut so as to keep private any grunting and swearing that might accompany physical extortion. Even the Granda was unaware of the conversation between the two men, too interested in the details of the recipe Kati was adjusting for the ingredients that they had on hand, to pay attention to what was happening around her. There was no need for The Monk to be on alert. They were in space, cruising across vast distances, out of touch, in effect, until they would decant into normal space within Tarangay’s solar system.
Showdown on the Planet of the Slavers Page 6
