Rift in the Sky (51 page)

So much for blending in.
With a hint of
irony.

It knows we aren't Human.
Flat and sure.
Trust me.

The Carasian dipped its head from one shoulder to the other. “If you picked this world, you know anything can be arranged for a price.”

“A price?”

She'd prefer to test her new weapon, but this was Enris' knowledge, not hers. Though why was she so sure?

The reason slid away, leaving only belief.

Aryl subsided, crossing her legs on the rock to prove it.

“We've brought items to trade,” Enris said in a casual tone. “Offworld items. Quite valuable.”

I've asked Naryn and Haxel to check our belongings. There must be something.
Any doubt of that Enris might have had—which Aryl shared—he didn't allow to reach his face or voice. “We'd be glad to show them to the right trader. Would that be you?”

Silence, then a deep, “No.”

Aryl prepared to get to her feet.
We can still find the creature I chased.

“That would be Louli,” the Carasian continued. A smaller claw indicated the stairs.

“Lawren Louli. This is my place.
Doc's Dive.
Do you like the name? It's a little joke. Not everyone gets that. Gurdo tells me you have a problem that could mean profit. Profit I like. Wasting time, I don't. You look like a waste of time. You get that?”

Bemused by this rapid stream of words—Louli seemed to not need to breathe—Aryl missed the tiny pause that was her chance to speak.

“That's a lot of offworlders to settle. Private and safe, I hear. Quick, too. Why's that? Why quick?”

“We don't waste time,” Enris countered, smiling. “Can you help?”

This Human female was different from the others Aryl had seen, beginning with her clothing. Every colorful section was a different eye-twisting pattern. There were two sections for each arm, and left and right arms didn't match. Each shoulder differed from the torso, which was itself, though shaped like a snug-fitting jacket, in four fabrics. The sleek pants were divided into three down each leg, neither leg coordinated to the other. Each foot, Aryl noticed when she snuck a peek under the table, wore a different kind of shoe.

The only item of clothing spared the battle of color was the white cap on Louli's short-cropped white hair. Was “cap” the right word? The object in question was taller than any cap Aryl remembered, and sat neatly on the back of the Human's head. It did add height, she decided.

Not that Louli needed help to dominate the conversation. Her bright blue eyes darted between them as if she suspected trickery. Between her quick incisive speech, and the way the Carasian lowered itself at her side—once it had forced its way up the stairs and through the door with loud rattling and complaints—Aryl was quite sure who felt in charge.

Here.

They overlooked the packed floor, with its “stage” and pox pit. The area around them was quiet except for their own voices and, though they could see the crowded tables to either side of this area, no one there appeared to see them. Aryl didn't know how it was done, but she approved. The three tables by the rail looked the same as the rest, but were of polished wood. Real flame burned in bowls of scented oil at their centers. Except where a second set of stairs led down, the floor was covered in a thick, rich carpet, its surface carved with an ornate design.

Marred with wet footprints. Aryl's hair had dried itself, but she and Enris sat at the Human's table in sopping clothes courtesy of Gurdo's aversion to sand. She sniffed self-consciously. The bitter water had left a smell behind.

Louli didn't remark on it. Perhaps because more carpets hung on the back wall and she'd have this one changed once her damp guests had left.

“Help you?” she repeated. “Depends. Depends. Names would help. If you have them. Species. Gurdo says you aren't Human. Could have fooled me. Look it, both of you.”

Her Chosen's silence said it all. Aryl felt her face grow warm. “I'm Aryl di Sarc,” she said quickly, before Louli went on. “This is Enris d'sud Sarc. We're M'hiray. The only Clan—”

“Clan. Simple. I like simple. Start giving me glottal stops and nonsensical spits, and I won't bother remembering you. Now. Aryl and Enris of the Clan. I'm a busy being.” Not that there was anything to be busy about in sight, but Louli sounded definite. “Tell me what you have to offer.”

Something she'd like to know, too.

“I can do better.” Enris was unperturbed. “I'll show you. There's a sample on the way here.”

There is?
she asked.

“Better not take long.” The bright blue eyes snapped to Aryl. “You. Go enjoy the
'Dive
while we wait. Unless you have something against honest gambling.”

“ ‘Gambling?' ” Aryl echoed.

“Luck, chance, fortune, wagers, house always wins. Gambling.”

“The pox,” Gurdo rumbled helpfully.

Never back down, Aryl thought, and lifted an eyebrow. “I wasn't—” she said in her best imitation of the blue-lipped female's voice, “—entertained.”

Louli stared, then laughed. “House won. I've no quarrel. Don't suppose you'd be interested in a repeat performance? Solid demand for pretties who'll butcher in public.”

Before Aryl could attempt to decipher this, Enris spoke up. “Thank you for the offer, but we'll be leaving with the rest of our people.”

“If I like what you show me. Otherwise, you won't be going anywhere.”

Aryl's focus narrowed to Louli's fragile neck.

The Carasian slowly rose from its crouch.

She was, Aryl decided, heartily sick of words. And of Humans who threatened what she cared about. “I'll wait down there.”

Making it her idea to leave.

E
NRIS DID HIS BEST to look relaxed as his Chosen followed the giant Carasian down the stairs to the
'Dive's
main level. Aryl had no concern about its company, though the bizarre creature could read her intentions in a way this seemingly clever Human did not.

Something to remember.

If only he could remember more, starting with the contents of the containers the M'hiray had brought to Stonerim III. Maddening, to be sure there was something of great value, without knowing what. Value they needed. Four groups had reported finding ways to go from this to the next level, ways closed to the M'hiray. Every lift and ramp way was guarded by those who checked for identification before allowing passage. Or took payment.

Payment they didn't have. They had to depend on Naryn and the others to find what they needed.

And this Lawren Louli to do what she implied she could.

Enris leaned back and smiled his best smile. “Tell me about this settlement you have in mind for the Clan.”

“On this world? There's really only one worth considering—for those who can afford it. The Towers of Lynn, on the Necridi Coast. I'm not saying there's any left to buy, can't promise, but for the right price another purchaser might be convinced to step aside. We aren't talking cheap, Friend Enris.” She tapped a forefinger on the table, nail tipped with white. “Sun Layer Grandies couldn't swing a Tower now. Offworld funds snapped up the first offering and the coming builds. Which makes it what you want. Private. Safe. Mostly non-Human.”

“We'd have to see it first.” He knew better than to seem desperate, even if they were.

Are you sure you don't need me there, Enris?
A definite hint of
desperate
in Aryl's sending, too. She wouldn't enjoy the crowded floor below.

I'm sure,
he replied, with a twinge of guilt. But his Chosen's honesty and passion were the last thing he needed when dealing with a trading partner like this Human.
Enjoy yourself and don't attract attention.

A promise as her
presence
retreated from his,
I'll blend in.

Unlikely, under any circumstances. Enris smiled to himself.

“A drink?”

His stomach remembered for him. “I'd prefer something to eat,” he said gratefully. “It's been a while since . . .” Supper? Breakfast? “. . . I ate.”

“What's your rating?” Louli smiled. “Wouldn't do to poison such a handsome guest.” When he hesitated, she pursed her lips. “You really aren't local, are you? Are you First, then? Unaligned? Fringe?”

He had no idea. “Offworld.”

“I got that. Don't want to say. Don't need to know. Fair enough. I'll screen your blood for something safe. If you Clan have blood? Not every being does.”

“We do.” Safe was important, Enris thought, though how his blood could tell a Human what would be, he didn't know.

Following Louli's guidance, he put one finger into a hollow cube she held out. Numbers and symbols swarmed across its surface. “Do I get to eat?” he asked hopefully.

“Anything the
'Dive
serves.” Louli shook her head. “Wish I had your tolerance. Some of the hots Gurdo tosses in give me a rash. What's your pleasure?”

He had no idea. “Surprise me,” Enris replied, feeling clever.

Enris. We found them.
Naryn,
excitement
bubbling through her mindvoice.
The artifacts. I can't believe I didn't remember. What do you need?

To know what an artifact was? Enris didn't bother to ask.
Something to impress our contact.

Done.
With reassuring promptness.
Send me the locate.

Somewhere without a witness.
When you're ready, 'port here.
He showed Naryn the Carasian's quarters.
It will be empty. Come up the stairs.

“Surprise you? Glad to.” Louli pressed her palm against the tabletop. “Number Four, Suicidal,” she said. “Pitcher of water. Bucket in case. Two beers, the good stuff.”

Sitting back, the Human put her fingertips together, or tried to. The tips didn't appear to want to meet, and Enris watched in fascination. When they finally did, Louli regarded him over the cage they formed. “Don't you surprise me, Friend Enris,” she warned. “You get hospitality because Gurdo's got a feel for opportunity and sees something in the two of you I don't. I expect to see merchandise worth the effort. Legal. Portable. Not alive merchandise. Anything else gets complicated. Complicated drops you a layer. Get that?”

“A layer?”

“Local expression. Cause me trouble. Lowers the value. Complications? You don't get so much in trade. Waste my time altogether, I won't be happy. You don't want me not happy. Fair enough?”

He copied her position, his fingers cooperating. “We won't be happy,” Enris replied smoothly, “if you've wasted ours.”
Naryn?

“No time for food. Our sample's arrived,” he added, as the door to the Carasian's quarters opened and Naryn stepped through.

Followed immediately by Haxel and Worin, his young brother.