Crystal Heat

3

As she limped along a narrow cobbled street, the weight of the sack disturbing her balance, making it difficult to keep weight off her ankle, she looked around with a sense that she’d stepped back in time. She’d been gone fifteen years, but the graffiti on the walls looked much the same; the names might be different, but she couldn’t remember the old ones anyway.

There was a new cook shop on the second corner-new to her at least-used to be a dressmaker there. Eskoziaka, that was her name. She made costumes for dancers and working lingerie for the housegirls.

She hobbled on, noting other changes. Halak the Spice Man was gone; the windows were whitewashed so she couldn’t see in and some stars and crescent moons were painted on them. Lester the Knife Man was still there, with Halfman Ike in his wheelbox by the door, looking older than time and stony as the Mountain, his sharp black eyes missing nothing that went on in the street.

He was the first to recognize her. “Bo da, if isn’t Meerya’s girl. What you doing back, ’ska? Should we expect a plague of space marines any day now?”

“And a good morning to you, Ike. Auntee Zaintze still with the living?”

He blinked at her a moment, considering the bulging gunny sack and the shabby skirt and blouse. If she hadn’t been who she was he’d have lied flat out. “In the flesh? Yawp. You wanting something outta her?”

“I owe her a greeting. Old times, you know. And I want to catch up on what’s what.” She tapped her nose, offering a snippet of her own news. “Met a peddler outside the city, give me a ride, he said the Ezkop and the Sorginz, they’re working up to a harrowing.”

“Peddler, eh? Just yammer or did he look like he knew what he was talking about?”

“Old git. You know what It takes to last that long fiddling the arranxes. Mid city. Canto clan.”

“You know Zitz Alley? Back end by wall, go up stairs to first landing, bang loud, she don’t hear so good sometimes.”

“Owe you one, Ike.” With a flip of her hand she moved on. After a few paces, she looked back, saw him talking earnestly to a skinny dirtyface boy. What a hoot! Me bringing news to Halfman Ike. After all these years, me!

Zitz Alley was the noisome dead-end offshoot she remembered all too well, rats feeding on garbage, not bothering to run when they saw her, stench of urine strong enough to rival poison gas, scraps of this and that rotting into slime after sitting there through four, five, six rainy seasons. A narrow path swept relatively clean led back to a framework of rusting metal that was only a sketch of a stairway.

Lylunda climbed the ladder, trying not to touch the worn oily rail. Going up wasn’t that bad, but she did her best not to think of coming down again.

The door had a coat of shiny black enamel that had been washed or repainted recently. An iron knocker was bolted beneath a shuttered slit too narrow for even a child’s hand to pass through. When she banged the knocker hard against the door, the resulting boom sent her brows up toward her hairline. Steel? Looks like dear auntee has prospered since I left. She knocked again.

The shutter slid open. “Who’s that?”

“Lylunda-Elang. Auntee Zaintze, want to talk to you.” -

“Luna?” Quick glitter of an eye at the slit. “Ahh, it is you. Just a minute. This takes some doing, you know.”

The slide snapped shut. Lylunda heard scribble-scrabble noises muffled through the steel and stepped back when the heavy slab began swinging open.

“Hurry, child. Jaink knows who’s watching out there.”

The hallway inside the door was short, narrow, and lined with metal plates. There were a pair of dim presslamps stuck up on the plates, casting just enough light to let her see the tiny bent figure scuttling along ahead of her.

She turned a corner, went through another door into a small, bright jewel of a room, clean and filled with light from a line of small windows up near the ceiling and mirrors everywhere that caught the light and passed it about.

“I was just about to make some tea. You used to like Auntee Zizi’s tea. I’ve got some of those macaroons baked fresh today, from Olcin the Baker, you remember him? He’s been doing well enough, he’s thinking of sponsoring his youngest daughter, the pretty one, into Canto clan, she’s classic Behilarr, even more than you, luv. Got white wings in her hair and a profile pure as a coin. He’s got some families interested and there’re those in the Izar who’d be willing to add to the dower. Just put that… urn… sack down anywhere, I’ve got a tiny little fresher if you’d like to wash off the dust.”

Lylunda bit into the crispy macaroon and sighed with pleasure. When her mouth was clear, she said, “No one in twenty star systems bakes like Okin.”

Zaintze smiled and refilled the two delicate china cups. “Which brings up a point, Luna. You got out. Why’d you come back? You in trouble?”

“Let’s just say I annoyed some folk and I need some time to cool off.”

“Law trouble?”

“No warrants out, Auntee Zi. Hired noses doing the looking. Private thing.”

“Going to follow you here?”

“Depends. I don’t do a lot of talking about where I

come from, but there are sniffers who might figure it out.”

“Was what you did worth it?”

“Oh, yes. I’m not hurting for the coin, Auntee Zi. I just needed a place where I could watch my back.”

“Good. I’d hate to see Meerya’s daughter hopping from fire to fire for nothing. Talking about watch your back…” She broke off, frowned at Lylunda.

“Yah, I figured ways haven’t changed all that much since I left. Who do I see for protection and how much will it cost?”

“You remember Grinder Jiraba?”

“Big kid, a year older than me. Had girls for every day of the month and two for JainkEve.” She didn’t say that she’d been one of those girls, using sex with Grinder to keep the others off her, though she suspected Zaintze knew it well enough. “And he was a lot smarter than most rip-and-runners.”

“That’s him. Hasn’t changed his ways either when it comes to women, so if you don’t want to play, let him know up front. What it is, about five years ago, he Went head-to-head with Pouska, I know you remember him. They say Pouska’s poisoning Haundi Zetin’s fish these days. No one knows anything for sure except he’s not around any more and Grinder’s running the Tzar.” She slipped a slice of ranja fruit onto Lylunda’s plate and set another macaroon beside it. “Protection won’t be cheap, but it’s good. And it’ll cover Star Street. Fifty zilars a week.” She made a deprecating gesture with one thin, bony hand. “You count as an outsider, Luna, can’t do anything about that. “Hundred zilars bonus pay if he has to off a nose that gets too pushy and won’t take no. Fifty zilars bonus for a discourager.”

“You’re right it’s expensive. Could be worse, I suppose. He have a credit comm?”

“What do you think?”

“I think he does.”

“Good to see you haven’t lost your edge. Account on Helvetia, eh? Not just brag, then.”

“Trapped account with a dead drop, Auntee Zi. You and Mum taught me to keep my cash away from sticky fingers.”

“Gratifying to see something we skid finally sank in.” Zaintze grinned and tapped the back of Lylunda’s hand. “Another lesson. We’d best find you some work. Don’t want the blood lice thinking you’re a lady of leisure.”

“I don’t know how long I’m going to be here.”

“More than a month?”

“Yah. Maybe as much as a year. Depends on if things start hotting up.”

“A year? Oo-ee, child. That is some mad you conjured.”

Lylunda shrugged.

“Hm. You went for to be a pilot. Make it?”

“Yah. Why?”

“Was thinking. Grinder might eat the-protection fee for a favor or two.”

“I won’t work on my back, not now, not ever.”

“Not that kind of favor. Grinder’s been bringing in stuff, tapping into the Star Street kephalos to slide the goods past Behilarr eyes, but the keyboarder was a graghead and ODed last month.”

“Weapons?”

“We’re not that stupid, Luna. ’Tronics and medicas.”

We, Lylunda thought. I begin to see the back-behind of all these pretties. “I’ve done this before and no brag, just truth, I’m rather good at it. Set up the meet and we’ll see how it goes. But he’d better find someone for me to train. Make it real clear, Auntee Zi, this isn’t a permanent thing. I’m outta here soon as I think it’s safe.”

“Grinder’s second son, his name’s Herred, they call him Bug, he’s near as much a whiz as you were, Luna. But he won’t be going anywhere. Some sickness that come off a tradeship when he was just four killed his Mam and a lot of others and gave him brittle bones. Has to wear an exo all the time which is why he got the name Bug. But bright, yah, he’s bright. Plays with numbers like some boys play with knives. He’s holding shop, working the lines Lerdo the Graghead set up, but he’s not ready to make new, though he thinks he is. Better if you handle the tap a while and teach him enough to make sure he doesn’t slip and blow the whole operation.”

Fun, Lylunda thought. Bug, huh! Like me? If I’d had to deal with me that age, I’d have strangled me. Ba da, what I have to, 1 can do. It’ll save a lot of potheration, having Grinder’s shadow on me. “I need a room. Somewhere I won’t be hassled.”

“I know just the place.”