by Timothy Zahn
They didn't. Letting go of her, they sidled past Daulo and ran.
Daulo watched them go. Then, turning back to Jin, he looked her up and down. "You all right?" he asked at last.
She nodded. "You?"
There was a peculiar expression on his face. "Uh-huh. We'd better get out of here, before there are any awkward questions asked."
Jin glanced around. No one was approaching them, but several of the passersby were eyeing them from a healthy distance. "Right."
They'd covered another block before he finally asked the inevitable question. "What did you do to them?"
She shrugged uncomfortably. This could be extremely ticklish . . . "Well, for starters, I was hanging onto the ones who were holding my arms, keeping them out of the fight. The others . . . I gave them each a blast of focused ultrasonic in the head before you hit them."
"Which is why you wanted me to keep back, I suppose. And that knocked them out?"
"No, I didn't want to hit them that hard. I just gave them enough of a jolt to rattle their brains and throw their balance off track."
Walking closely beside him, she could feel his arm begin to tremble. Uh-oh, she thought tensely. Too much for his Qasaman ego to take? "Daulo? You okay?"
"Oh, sure," he said, a noticeable quaver in his voice. "I was just wondering what their friends are going to say when they hear about this. Seven of them, beaten right into the ground by a villager and a woman."
She frowned up at him . . . and only then realized that the trembling she heard and felt wasn't rage or shame.
It was suppressed laughter.
* * *
She fell silent after that . . . which gave Daulo the rest of the way back to their temporary home to try and figure out just why the whole thing was so funny.
On one level, it shouldn't have been—that much he was acutely aware of. For him to have been defended by a woman was something that should have him red-faced with shame, not shaking with laughter. Even if she was a demon-warrior woman, and even if the alternative had been to get himself beaten to blood-pulp.
No, he told himself firmly. That's not the way to think of it. It's more like a couple of villagers putting one over on a bunch of jerkfaced city ghallas. Or a villager and a villager-by-adoption, anyway.
The thought startled him. Villager-by-adoption. Was he really starting to think of Jin Moreau in such friendly terms? No—impossible, he assured himself. She was a temporary ally, temporarily under his protection as a point of honor. Nothing more. In a few days her rescuers would come, and she'd go, and he'd never see her again.
And he wondered—though not very hard—why that thought finally stilled the laughter within him.
"Are all the formalities over for the day?" she asked as they reached the apartment. "I'd like to change clothes."
"They're over at least until sundown," Daulo told her, keying the lock and opening the door. "And that service is optional."
"Good," she said, stepping inside. "I think it must be a basic human failing not to be able to come up with formal clothing as comfortable as day-to-daywear—what's that light?"
"Phone message," Daulo explained, frowning. Who might have known to call them here? Walking over to the instrument, he keyed for the message.
The phone beeped, and a thin strip of paper slid out from the message slot. "What?" Jin asked.
"It's from Mayor Capparis," Daulo told her, reading it quickly. "He says Mangus has called for a work party to be assembled at the city center this Sunday morning."
"How do they pick the workers?"
Daulo skimmed the paper. "Looks like it's on the basis of need. Unemployed and poor first, based on city records—"
"Wait a second," she interrupted him. "Aren't they even going to try and contact any of the workers they've had out there before? Ones they've already trained?"
"Maybe they already have."
"Oh. Right."
"Um. Mayor Capparis recommends we stick to the marketplaces' second-booths when we pick up city-style clothing."
Jin nodded. "Good idea. What about those city records, though? How are we going to fake that?"
Daulo shrugged. "Presumably Mayor Capparis will take care of that."
"Um." Jin stepped toward him. "May I see the message?"
He handed the paper over. She gazed at it for what seemed to be an unnecessarily long time. "You having trouble reading it?" he asked at last.
"No," she said slowly. "I was just wondering . . . It's addressed to you. By name."
"Of course it is. So?"
"So doesn't it strike you as odd that those toughs just happened to be hanging around directly between the sajada and here?"
He frowned. "I don't see the problem. You're the one who pointed out we were dressed in villagers' clothing. They were just after some fun."
"Maybe." She chewed at her lip, an annoying habit of hers. "But suppose for a moment that there was more to it than that. Suppose that whoever it is who doesn't want villagers snooping around inside Mangus found out we were going to try for one of their work parties."
"That's ridiculous," Daulo snorted. "How would they find out . . ." He trailed off, eyes dropping to the paper still in her hand. "Mayor Capparis wouldn't tell them," he said flatly.
"I'm not suggesting he did," Jin shook her head. "But this message presumably came from his office. Couldn't someone there have found out about it, either before or after it was sent?"
Daulo gritted his teeth. It wasn't all that farfetched, unfortunately. If one of the mayor's enemies had gotten wind of the scheme, putting them into the hospital would be a safe and simple way for him to thwart it. "It's possible, I suppose," he admitted aloud to Jin. "But if you're suggesting we pick up and run, forget it."
"We don't have to run," she said. "Just move. Find somewhere else, where no one—including Mayor Capparis—knows where to find us."
"We still have to show up at the city center," he pointed out.
"True. But there's nothing much we can do about that."
"Then what's the point of hiding now?" he countered. "All it does is buy us a couple of days."
"A couple of days can mean a lot. Among other things, it gives us more time to prepare."
She was right; and down deep he recognized that. But on the surface, his honor had surged once again to the fore. "No," he shook his head. "I'm not running. Not without better proof than that."
She took a deep breath, and he braced himself for an argument. "Then the deal's off," she said bluntly.
He blinked with surprise. "What?"
"I said the deal's off. You might as well head back to Milika right now, because I'm going into Mangus alone."
"That's ridiculous. I'm not letting you do something that—that—" He shut up, realizing with annoyance he was starting to sputter. "Besides, what do we have to worry about? With your powers—"
"My powers are designed to protect me," she cut him off. "Not friends or people around me; just me. And if you're not going to cooperate, I can't take the risk of something happening to you."
"Why?" he snarled. "Because my father would call the Shahni down on your head?"
"Because you're my friend," she said quietly.
For a moment he just glared at her, feeling his arguments melt and drain away. "All right," he gritted at last. "I'll offer you a compromise. If you can prove we're under direct attack, I'll agree to anything you say."
She hesitated, then nodded. "Fair enough. Well . . . let's see. I suppose the best way to start would be for you to call up Mayor Capparis's office and leave a message telling him that we're moving to a new place. We won't really be going anywhere," she hastened to add, "but if there's an informant there, he'll get the word out to his fighters. Then we can find a place on the sidelines and watch what happens. If anything."
He clenched his teeth, trying without success to find some grounds on which to object. Then, silently, he stepped to the phone.
Mayor Capparis wasn't in, of course, probab
ly still meeting with one of the heyats at his own sajada. Leaving the message, he hung up and turned back to Jin. "Okay. Now what?"
"Now we load everything back in the car and drive off as if we're leaving," she told him. "We need to go out and buy some city-style clothes, anyway. First, though, we'll want to find some place near here that would be a plausible hiding place."
"Easy enough," Daulo grunted, stepping over to where he'd laid out his clothing the night before. "We just look for an apartment whose door has no protector."
"Protector?"
"Yes," he said. "The traditional carved medallions every household places near their doors to protect them from the evil eye. Didn't you notice the ones in Milika?"
He had the minor satisfaction of seeing her blush with chagrin. "No, I'm afraid I completely missed them," she admitted. "Well . . . good. That'll make the hunt easier, anyway."
"So what happens once we've found this empty apartment?"
She smiled lopsidedly. "With any luck, sometime tonight it'll be attacked."
And with that she disappeared into the bedroom. No, Daulo told himself firmly, you don't want to know. Swallowing, he returned to his packing.
Chapter 30
"You're actually going out in public like that?" Daulo asked.
Standing before the apartment's largest mirror, Jin took one last look at herself in her gray night-fighter garb and turned to face him. Seated on the couch, his hand rubbing restless patterns on the end table beside him, Daulo glared back with barely controlled distaste. "If it's the outfit that offends you," she said coolly, "you'd better get used to it. From what you've told me it sounds like Mangus will be hiring mainly men for their work party, and if I'm going to get in it'll have to be disguised as a man."
He growled something under his breath. "This whole thing is ridiculous. Even if someone was out to get us, what makes you think they fell for that little game of yours? Suppose, for starters, they haven't noticed that that's our car parked outside the other apartment?"
"I told you one of those toughs was watching when we drove off this morning," she reminded him, pulling her full-face mask from the back of a chair and fitting it on. "You have to make it a little hard for them, Daulo—everyone gets suspicious of prizes handed over on silver platters."
"It'll serve you right if they're too stupid to catch your subtleties," he snorted. "Then while you're out there watching an empty apartment, they'll break in here instead."
"That's why you're going to have this," she told him, pulling a small cylinder from her belt and handing it over. "Short-range signaller—flip the top cap back and push the button if you're in trouble. I'm only going to be two blocks away; I can be here before you've stopped insulting each other."
Sighing, he took the device. "I just hope all this is nothing but a fever-trick of your imagination."
"I hope so, too," she admitted, scooping up the pack she'd prepared and settling it onto her shoulders. "But if it isn't, then tonight is the obvious time for them to strike."
"I suppose so. Well, at least we'll know one way or another by morning."
Probably a lot sooner than that, Jin thought. "Right. Well, I'm off. Lock the door behind me, and don't be afraid to signal if you hear anything suspicious. Promise?"
He managed a smile. "Sure. You watch yourself, Jin Moreau."
"I will." Activating her optical enhancers, she cracked open the door and looked outside. No one was in sight. Slipping out, she closed the door behind her and headed off down the street.
* * *
She'd been ensconced in her chosen place of concealment, halfway under an outside stairwell, for barely an hour when they showed up: the same seven toughs who'd accosted her and Daulo on the street that morning.
And it was quickly clear they weren't total amateurs at this. Moving silently down the deserted street, taking advantage of shadows and cover, they approached the vacant apartment from both directions. Two stopped at the car, presumably making sure no one was watching from there, before joining the rest at the apartment door. One crouched over the lock, and after a few seconds swung it open. Moving quickly, the group filed inside the darkened apartment.
They probably hadn't even realized yet that the place was deserted when she caught up with them; and it was for certain that none of them had a chance to shout before her disruptor's ultrasound washed over them from close range, hammering them into instant unconsciousness. They dropped into seven heaps on the floor and lay still.
Jin nearly wound up joining them. For a long minute she staggered against the wall, gripping her stomach and fighting to keep her balance. Layn had warned them about the dangers of using sonics in such enclosed spaces; but there had been no other way to silently disable the toughs without killing them. And questions of ethics apart, with the Shahni now aware that there was an outworlder on Qasama, leaving laser-ridden corpses lying around would be about as clever as standing up at the sajada and identifying herself as a demon warrior.
Eventually, the throbbing in her head and gut faded away, and she set about tying up the would-be assailants with rope from her pack. That accomplished, she stepped to the door again and scanned the street. Still no one in sight, and she gave silent thanks that Azras's night life shut down so early in the evening. With a little luck, she might get back to the apartment in time to get at least a few hours' sleep.
Thoughts of the apartment reminded her of Daulo; Daulo, who still didn't believe they were under deliberate attack. Pulling her signaller from her belt, she flipped back the lid . . . and paused. True, she could show him evidence that the toughs had indeed tried it again, but given the Qasaman sense of personal honor, they might conceivably have launched this second attack entirely on their own. What she needed was some kind of admission from one of them as to who had put them up to this job.
And until she had such a confession, there was no point in dragging Daulo out here. Putting the signaller back, she returned to the unconscious youths. Assuming the one who'd thrown the first challenge this morning was the leader . . . locating him, she hoisted him to her shoulder and carried him across the street to the car. It would have been nice to have a supply of those sophisticated interrogation drugs they were always using in the telvide fictions, but in their absence she would just have to fall back on one of the more traditional methods. And for that, she was going to need a little more privacy.
Starting the car, she headed off through Azras's deserted streets.
* * *
The knock on the door jolted Daulo awake, and for a disoriented heartbeat he stared in confusion at the darkened ceiling. Then it clicked. "Coming," he growled, getting stiffly out of the chair where he'd fallen asleep. Jasmine Moreau, returning from her little hide-seek game—and the stupid woman had managed to forget the door's combination. If this is the kind of people who become Cobras, he thought sourly as he straightened his tunic and stomped to the door, we haven't got much to worry about. The knock came a third time; "I'm coming," he snarled and threw open the door.
Three men stood there: one middle-aged, the other two much younger. Their city-style clothing was all similar; their grim faces were almost identical. "Are you Daulo Sammon of the village Milika?" the middle-aged man asked.
Daulo got his tongue working. "I am," he nodded. "And you?"
"May we come in?"
It wasn't really a question. Daulo stepped aside and the three filed into the room, the last flicking on the light as he passed the switch. "And you are . . . ?" Daulo asked again, squinting as his eyes tried to adjust to the sudden light.
The door was closed with a thud, and when Daulo could see clearly again he found the middle-aged man standing in front of him, holding out a gold-rimmed pendant from around his neck. "I am Moffren Omnathi; representing the Shahni of Qasama."
Daulo felt an icy shiver run up his back. "I am honored," he managed through stiff lips, making the sign of respect. "How may I serve you?"
Omnathi's eyes flicked around the room. "You
r father, Kruin Sammon, sent the Shahni a message through Mayor Capparis of the city Azras yesterday. Do you know the content of this message?"
"Ah . . . in a general way, yes," Daulo said, wishing he knew what, if anything, his father had told this man. "He said he was going to inform the Shahni that the Yithtra family had discovered an offworld artifact."
"Essentially correct," Omnathi nodded casually. "Do members of the Yithtra family find such artifacts regularly?"
Daulo frowned. "No, of course not, sir."
"Oh? An unusual event, then?"
"Most certainly."
"An event most people would think worth staying to see?"
Daulo fought to keep his expression neutral as he finally saw the net the other was weaving. "I suppose most people would, yes."
"Yet you chose to come to Azras instead. Why?"
A drop of sweat trickled between Daulo's shoulder-blades. "I had an errand to perform here."
"One that couldn't wait a few days?"
One of Omnathi's companions emerged from the bedroom and stepped to the older man's side. "Yes?" Omnathi asked without taking his eyes off Daulo.
"Nothing but some of his own clothing," the other reported. "Certainly nothing a woman would wear or use."
Omnathi nodded, and Daulo thought he saw a brief flicker of annoyance cross his face. "Thank you," Omnathi told the other. "You see now, Daulo Sammon, that we're aware you didn't come to Azras alone. Where is the woman you brought here?"
Two blocks over, the thought flashed through Daulo's mind, and his stomach tightened with the realization that she could wander back at any time. "I really don't know where she is—"
"Why not?" the older man snapped. "According to Mayor Capparis, your father asked him to get you and an unnamed companion into some sort of work party. Was this woman to be your companion?"
"Of course not," Daulo said, trying for a combination of amusement and insult at the very idea. "I had planned to ask my brother to go to Mangus with me, but decided against it when this other matter came up."
