Crystal Heat

2

For the next two nights Shadith sang in The Tank for tips, then Tank added a base fee; he was pleased by the custom she attracted.

More cautiously than she had at Marrat’s Market, she began building, a web of acquaintances, the question she asked confined to the ins and outs of surviving here. Meddlyr Trych came round to listen to her for the first three days, bringing his mates with him, then they were gone, the Timik heading for its next landfall, but that chattering man had given her a solid background, so she marked down in her mind that she owed him a favor if ever she came across him again.

At the time Trych left, she’d absorbed a lot of information about the place, but had picked up no trace of Lylunda Elang. She wasn’t too disturbed about that; all she’d learned in the millennia of her peculiar existence told her that this wasn’t a place to ask blatant questions, perhaps not to ask questions at all. And how she’d get around that, she wasn’t quite sure.

So much simpler just to march up to the Hall of Records or whatever they called the thing round here and start a name search working through the files. Or find some local sources and buy the information from them. Except Digby had ordered her to keep her head down and do this on the sly. That suited her just fine; she did not want to lead the Kliu to the arrays, no indeed. Still, it certainly made life harder.

Shadith patted a yawn, folded her arms on the counter at the cook shop, and gave the woman who ran it a sleepy smile. “Stiff enough to climb out of the cup,” she said. “I will not not not drink any more rikoka brandy.”

“Ha! That’s what you said yesterday, Shadow.”

“Curses on ol’ Meddlyr’s head, he chattered round to everyone and told them all that’s what I liked so now that’s all the clotheads buy for me.” She took the cup and sipped cautiously at the scalding liquid.

“And it’s such a horrible duty, eh? Sing me another. Shadow, maybe I’ll believe it. And what’ll you be having to sop up that kaff?”

“What else, Cara? Egg, easy, some of your tatta hash, and a nice bloody hunk of meat.”

“What is it to be young.” Cara chuckled and went to cook the breakfast.

Shadith chewed on her thumb and tried to work out a plan for what was left of the day. She’d managed to see most of Star Street, she’d been out to the Landing Field with Meddlyr Trych and used Digby’s spyshot to flake the images of the ships parked there. Lylunda’s was not among them. Nor was it anywhere in the tie-down up by the transfer station. If she was here, she must have cached the ship somewhere, presumably close enough for-her to walk into Haundi Zurgile. Hm. Might be worth looking at those islands north of here… if I were stashing a ship, that’s where I’d park it. I pulled the boat trick on Ambela. maybe I should start nostalgic reminiscences of dear old daddy and his fishboat… all that metal should show up on Digby’s patented prospector’s detec. if it does, I pretty well know she got here… if it doesn’t… can’t prove a negative… maybe she parked the ship on the Wild Half and cut across the ocean in her lander.

When she’d finished breakfast and complimented Cara on her way of searing cow, she strolled out and stood looking up at the clouds thickening overhead. The wind that plucked at her hair was heavy with the smell of brine.

“Lookin’ for rain, Shadow?

She turned. “Oh, good morning, Getto. No, just smelling the sea on the wind. Anybody got boats around here?”

He tugged at the flesh loop that had been an earlobe before he had it stretched to hold his dari-mirror; the mirror pulsed there when he played his drums at his pitch on an alley corner near The Tank. “No fishing here. No reason to spend tokens on boats. The Bellies go where the tokens heap highest.”

“Tsa! My da ran a fishboat, and when I light on a world with salt water I always go for a sail. And here I’m got some free time, and I was thinking I’d like to get out on the water a while.”

“Kemros the Tinkerman, he rents out your open top flier, you could take one of those down low ’nough to skim the waves, suck some skempt, and dream a day sailer.”

“Huh. That’s a good idea. Thanks, Getto. Owe you one.”

“Easy ’nough to get straight. Fetch you harp to m’ pitch when you get back, and we play duo an hour come two.”

“A’ right. Why not.”

She smiled with affection as she watched hiin ambling away, stopping every few steps to speak to a shopkeeper or a street player or just someone whiling away a moment or two staring at bugs on the pavement. Then she shook her head at her own obtuseness and went to find Kemros the Tinkerman.

Stupid not to grasp what an ocean full of poison water and poison fish would mean to the economy of a recently colonized world. And she knew about it, too; it was one of the warnings she had to thumbprint in the declaration of intent for temporary residence. I UNDERSTAND THAT ALL WATERLIFE AND A HIGH PERCENTAGE OF THE VEGETATION ON Hutsarte IS POISONOUS TO AIR BREATHERS WITH HEMOBASED BLOOD AND THAT ANY ATTEMPT TO LIVE

OFF THE NATIVE PRODUCTS OF Hutsarte COULD RESULT IN IN MY DEATH OR DISABILITY. No fishing industry, the colonists concentrated into one city and scattered ranches, not much heavy industry, the other landmasses of the world left untouched so there was no commuting to and from what they called the Wild Half. Result, no boats. “I wonder what else I’m missing. Focus, Shadow, focus.”

“Talking to yourself, Singer?” Berm leaned from the door of Meerti’s Dosser, his voice purring, his eyebrows humping up and down as if they had a life of their own. “You can come talk to me anytime.”

“My daddy always said, you want to talk to somebody smart, talk to yourself. No thanks, Berm.” She moved hastily on before he worked that one out. The Berms of the universe were one of the reasons she’d passed on making music a career. She sighed. So how is that different from what I’m doing now? Hm. No managers, I suppose. Hah, Shadow. How it’s different is you can get killed in this job. Killed on purpose, I mean. Five hours left before I’m due at The Tank. Should be plenty of time to get in a cruise and do my set with Getto. Move those feet, Shadow. You’ve wasted enough time setting up your cover.

Ahead of her Teri the Switch came from Rat’s Alley, patted a yawn, and leaned against a wall wafting for her next client. She’d gotten too old and too intermittently crazy for even the sleaziest Houses, but she was cheerful despite what seemed a miserable life and on those days when she was tracking, designed and sewed costumes that were artforms in themselves, absurd and enchanting. Tank paid her to make three changes for Shadith; he got two of them and seemed to be content with that. He was fond of her. He was not a sentimental man, so that surprised Shadith, but during the fittings she began to understand the woman’s daft charm.

That there was no way anyone could really make life easier for her was a part of it. Frustrating, but a liberation in a shaming sort of way. It let you enjoy her nonsense and share in the impossible pleasure she got out of being alive without your being pushed to do anythitig for her.

“Teri, I’m going for a sea cruise. You want to come along?”

Teri smiled; she always smiled when people spoke to her, but her eyes were empty. It was one of her bad days.

“Ah well, see you around.” Shadith hesitated a moment, made a note to tell Tank when she got back, and walked past the woman, more disturbed than before when Teri looked through her as if she didn’t exist. When she reached the next alley, she turned and looked back, squinting against the dazzle as the sun moved suddenly-from behind a cloud. A man was standing beside Teri, talking to her. Shadith sighed and moved on. She thought again about Tank, but what could he do? The question niggled at her until she reached Kemros’ flier park and started negotiating for a half day’s rent.