her instruments 02 - rose point (2 page)

The inside of the building was airy, with large windows and gauzy curtains lining the arches in and out of rooms in lieu of doors. The walls had been plastered and then painted a pale, cool blue and lined near the floor with brown and white tiles. It was beautiful, he thought, and far too comfortable to be natural. Some sort of climate control, most probably. The three of them considered the room while Saul went to see if his lord was awake.

“Quiet town,” Sascha said to Reese.

“He said himself they’re all sleeping,” Reese said. “If I lived in this heat, I would too.”

“Harat-Sharii’s this hot and we don’t all nap during the afternoon,” Sascha said. “Most of us, maybe, but not all of us. There are at least a few people on the streets.”

“Your hometown’s a lot bigger than this one,” Reese said.

“Maybe.”

Reese eyed him, grew an aura to Hirianthial’s sight of irritated sparks in copper and orange. “You might as well get it out before he gets back.”

“This looks fishy, boss,” Sascha said. “The last time we ended up in a town this sleepy we got harassed. A lot.”

“I remember,” Reese said, growing more agitated. Before her mood could develop, Hirianthial cleared his throat, drawing both their gazes: Sascha’s dark amber, and Reese’s startling blue.

“The odds of us earning such harassment three planets in a row are surely astronomical. And a new colony is bound to be smaller and quieter than one of the Alliance’s Core worlds.”

“There, see?” Reese said. “Even the resident mind-reader thinks things are fine.”

The Hinichi interrupted them, peeking into the room from the hall. “Won’t you come with me? The Kesh is awake and eager to meet you.”

The Kesh was a human man—not what Hirianthial had expected from a Pelted subordinate. A relatively young one, also, to be charged with the administration of a colony world. Hirianthial was not familiar with the procedure Alliance citizens were required to follow to earn the right to colonize a world, but he couldn’t imagine it being a simple matter. Still, the man reclining on the pillows in the room the Hinichi led them to... he had an air of confidence entirely suited to someone accustomed to command. And the way he looked at Reese—Hirianthial didn’t need to read the sleek red stealing through his aura to know just what he thought of her. The Kesh rose with alacrity, came to her with a long stride that set his robes swaying, and captured her hand to kiss it. Only her astonishment prevented her from jerking it away, he thought, and Sascha apparently agreed; the Harat-Shar was trying not to laugh.

“Captain Eddings of the
Earthrise
,” the human said. “How wonderful to see a new face!”

“You know my name,” she said, flustered, and glanced at Saul. “Ah... your assistant told you?”

“He’s very able that way,” the Kesh said with a grin. “Please, sit, sit. Saul! Have wine brought, the special vintage, for our guests! And fruit, fine cheeses! Let us entertain our guests!”

“That’s...” Reese stopped, then said, “Ah... fine. Thanks.”

Hirianthial found a pillow and had a seat. His last assignment had involved protecting Reese from slavers, a task he’d taken on his own recognizance. She hadn’t requested his aid, nor even known he was qualified to give it... and had not, he thought, entirely appreciated it; she’d known little of violence before meeting him, and when they’d been acquainted he’d been made known to her as a doctor.

He was a doctor. But it was a profession he’d only lately learned. The bulk of his centuries had been spent with his hands on a sword.

So, while she’d signed him on as supercargo and not as a healer and certainly not as a bodyguard, he still felt responsible for her safety. And the Kesh, from the haze of his aura and the poem it wrote with his body language, was no killer or slaver or pirate. The only thing Reese had to fear from him was his advances... God and Lady save them both.

Finding a human in the Alliance struck Reese as strange despite knowing—obviously—that humans did venture out of Terra’s solar system. But there were a lot more Pelted than humans. A lot more Pelted worlds than human. More Pelted were well-off enough to travel off-world, or work there; more Pelted worlds had economies sufficient to fielding space-born industry and commerce. It was why she’d left Sol to run cargo in Alliance space: far more lucrative, if you could make it work.

She’d been expecting to find seeing a fellow human more pleasant. Instead, it made her wary. She’d suffered a lot more cruelty and treachery from humans than she ever had from the Pelted. And if she wasn’t mistaken, this man... liked her.

Liked
her.

He didn’t even know her yet! She snorted. His interest wouldn’t live through that process, she was sure. “So, Kesh—”

“Shamil, please. Do call me that.”

“Uh, right. Shamil. I take it we’re the first merchant crew to come by?”

“Absolutely,” he said. “We’ve only been established five years! This is a true delight. And we’re so far out... we were sure it would be at least a decade. Ah, Saul, thank you for bringing the tray. Join us. Captain, do introduce me?”

“My pilot, Sascha... and my supercargo, Hirianthial Sarel Jisiensire.”

“Charmed,” the Kesh said. He glanced at Hirianthial. “An albino?”

Reese’s brows lifted. There were people who hadn’t heard of the Eldritch? She glanced at Hirianthial, then said, “All of his people are like that.”

“Very exotic,” the Kesh said. His own skin was olivine, tanned dark but still several shades lighter than Reese’s coffee-brown. He took a glass handed him by Saul and offered it to Reese. “Wine, captain?”

“Thanks,” she said, wondering if it was what she was looking for. She sipped it and found it very sweet, almost syrupy—she was no connoisseur but she couldn’t imagine this was so special a few Fleet officers several sectors away would bother talking about it. “Nice. So, Kesh—”

“Shamil.”

“Shamil,” she said, trying not to grimace. Did he have to look at her like that? It reminded her uncomfortably of the sort of looks Sascha and Irine exchanged as preludes to activities she didn’t want anything to do with. “Maybe you could tell us what sorts of things your colony needs?”

“Straight to business,” the Kesh lamented.

“I hate wasting a client’s time.”

“This is not wasted time!” he exclaimed. And laughed. “But you must forgive me, captain. We get so few visitors. But very well, on to business.” He leaned forward. “Do you have access to leather?”

The choked sound from her right was Sascha trying not to laugh. Reese thought her cheeks were burning and was glad her skin was dark enough to make that difficult to see. “Leather?”

“It sounds ridiculous,” Saul said from beside the Kesh, “but we haven’t found a native animal yet with a hide we can reliably skin.”

“And what do you need leather for?” Reese asked, not really wanting to know the answer.

“Saddles,” the Kesh said. “And bridles.”

“Okay,” Reese said, starting to rise. “Not my department—”

“For horses,” Saul said. Both he and the Kesh stared at her as she paused. The Hinichi frowned, puzzled, and said, “What did you think?”

“It certainly wasn’t horses,” Sascha said for her. “Who in the worlds keeps horses these days?”

“We do,” the Kesh said, fervent.

“You have horses?”

Reese glanced to her left. Hirianthial was always composed; he moved so little that she sometimes wondered if he’d spent his childhood pretending to be a statue. And he wasn’t moving now. But something in the way he was sitting felt like avid interest: the slight lean, maybe? She could only tell he’d moved because his hair was moving slightly against his throat. For Hirianthial, that was positively broadcasting enthusiasm. But...horses?

“We have the best horses in all the known worlds,” the Kesh said with relish. “You won’t find their equal anywhere else, because we have made ourselves the stewards of all of Earth’s most ancient breeds.”

“And this you have done how?” Hirianthial asked.

Saul said, “There were gene repositories on Terra.” He smiled. “The same sort of technologies that worked on us Pelted when we were trying to expand our gene pool during the Exodus work on animals.”

Reese tried not to flinch.

“We started work before we left for Kerayle,” the Kesh said. “And decanted on arrival. Our current herd is single breed only, but we intend to turn this world into the Alliance’s equine preserve. Every breed we can rescue, we will eventually have here.”

“But why?” Sascha asked, ears sagging. “Seriously? Horses? Who would buy them?”

“Do they have to be bought to be worth something?” Saul replied.

Reese cleared her throat. “So, leather. What else are you interested in? Maybe maintenance for your equipment? You must have some machinery that needs parts, if you’re doing genetics work. I have general purpose electronics with me, along with perishables and trade goods. And maybe you have some… ah… horse preserve souvenirs? I could sell those.”

“Where are these horses?” Hirianthial asked.

They all looked at him: Reese and Sascha because Hirianthial wasn’t known for interrupting people or putting himself forward, and the colonists because they could answer the question.

“Are you interested in buying?” the Kesh asked.

“Are you interested in selling?” Hirianthial smiled. Just a faint smile, framed by that long fall of pale hair. He had a strand of gems on one side, Reese noticed, one in front where it could be seen. Rubies, she wondered? Did the Kesh notice? His next words sounded cautiously intrigued.

“That depends on the buyer.”

“Then perhaps I should see the stock,” Hirianthial said.

“I am not shipping horses anywhere,” Reese interrupted, irritated.

Hirianthial said to her, “Never fear, lady. I am only looking.” He glanced at the Kesh. “Yes?”

“Yes,” the Kesh said, grinning. “And I am talking to the… lady.”

Great, he’d passed the term on to this man, and if she hated ‘lady’ from Hirianthial that didn’t cover how she felt about it from strangers.

“I can show him to the pasture,” Saul said, rising. “If you will excuse us, Kesh.”

“By all means.”

“Maybe I should go with you,” Sascha said. “I’m kind of curious about this now. You know. Animals being preserved with technology that rescued the rest of us.”

“I’d be pleased by your company.” Hirianthial stood. “By your leave, lady.”

“Yes, fine, go,” Reese said. “Don’t hit your head on a rock somewhere.”

“I shall endeavor to avoid it.”

The Kesh watched them go, then lifted his brows. “More wine, lady?”

Reese sighed. “Sure. But don’t get any ideas.”

He laughed. “I promise I shall guard your honor. Particularly since I don’t want to answer to your confederates for slighting it.”

“They aren’t my chaperones,” Reese growled.

The Kesh grinned. “Tell them that.”

“So really,” Sascha said to Saul. “Horses?”

They were in front of Hirianthial, walking down a dusty lane away from the buildings, toward the sere and rugged landscape that met the horizon in a rumple of low red mountains.

“Sure,” the Hinichi said with a grin Hirianthial could hear in his voice. “Why not?”

“Don’t they hate the smell of you?” Sascha asked, skeptical. “You’re part wolf.”

“And part human,” Saul said. “They came out of a vat, alet, and the only thing they associate with my smell is food and a curry comb. They trust me. What I really want to know...” He looked over his shoulder at Hirianthial, “is why you’ve got an Eldritch with you.”

Sascha snorted. “What, not confused about the albino?”

“The Kesh isn’t fond of the Alliance’s company,” Saul said, tail swishing a little. Agitation, Hirianthial judged, given the sudden cold fog seeping through the wolfine’s aura. “He and the others try to stay insulated from it. It’s why they decided to leave for such a remote location.”

“They could have stayed on Earth,” Sascha said. “That’s remote.”

Saul snorted. “Earth. Earth is the focus of too much Pelted attention to be remote, no matter where it’s located.” He sighed. “And now you’re about to ask what I’m doing here. And the answer is... maybe some of us are tired of the Alliance culture too.” He looked out over the landscape. “Starting somewhere fresh, somewhere a little less... connected... to everything else... it’s nice to deal with local issues. Not to have to worry about intergalactic politics when making decisions that you’d think would only affect yourself. It’s nice to just
be
yourself, and not some group.” He laughed. “Do you know, these people know as little about the Hinichi as they do about Eldritch?”

“That takes some doing, given that Hinichi are everywhere and Eldritch are just about nowhere,” Sascha said, dry.

“Believe it or not,” Saul said. “All they cared about was whether I cared about horses, and if I could do something useful.” He grinned. “For once, I’m not the token Christian, the token Pelted, the token loyal, honorable and stoic wolfine. I’m just Saul. Who assists the Kesh and helps with the herd.”

Sascha eyed him.

“Granted, I’m still all those other things too,” Saul said. “But they don’t define me here.” He glanced over his shoulder at Hirianthial. “You understand, don’t you. I’m sure you’re tired of being the token mystery, the token esper, the token exotic alien.”

Hirianthial cleared his throat. “There have been moments.”

Sascha shook his head. “For Hirianthial? Moments, yeah. Probably all of them.” He sighed. “Running from your labels doesn’t work, though.”

“It did here,” Saul said. “Come. The path’s this way.”

The wolfine led them off the road and through the brush, up hills scumbled with dry yellow brush and low, spindly shrubs. Sascha fell back to pace Hirianthial, leaving the Hinichi in the lead, his body silhouetted by the bright sun.

“You believing any of this?” Sascha said after they’d scrambled up part of the trail.

“About why they’re here?” Hirianthial answered. He considered. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Sascha made a face, tail twitching. “Running doesn’t solve anything.”

“That depends on which direction you run,” Hirianthial said, and waited for the inevitable laugh, which he was pleased to receive.