Crystal Heat

4

Shadith took the open flit low, swooping just above the wave peaks. The air was brisk and briny, the sea out beyond the clouds a brilliant turquoise, several degrees brighter than the sky. She played with the flit for a while, swinging it back and forth as if she were tacking against the wind, then went nosing along the offshore islands, racing in and out, between and around them as if she played a game with herself using them as markers. At the same time she kept an eye on one of Digby’s specials, an asteroid miner’s detec that he’d had titivated by someone until it could smell out a ship even at the bottom of an ocean of sludge. Or so he swore to her.

Whether that was true or not, the watchlight turned green when she swung around the fourth and largest of the islands. She sighed. No proof it was Lylunda Elang’s ship, but she didn’t really need proof. She went scooting out to sea after that, chasing cloud shadows, and spent the next hour whipping back and forth along the coast. At the end of that time she set the flit on hover, stretched out, and just enjoyed the feel of-the wind and the smell of the ocean, layering impressions in her mind about the song she wanted to write.

Shadith nodded to Getto, played a phrase or two of the song to-let him get a feel for it. “This one’s for you, Gee, since you gave me the idea. It’s a song still working on, though I have enough for now.”

The mirrors on Getto’s drums shivered in the sunlight as he drew a whispering undersong from them, the mirror on his ear was a small sun itself.

“Briny winds,” she sang.

“Briny winds blow clouds away.

The sharded sea skips to their song.

I slide from peak to peak on sapphire waves

looking for answers in the sun.

Nothing but shadows in the shine

Sad shadows of friends that I left behind.

Briny winds blow clouds away

Spit fillips of foam into my face

Gust through the ghosts within my mind

Till even the dance of memory’s gone.

Briny winds blow clouds away.”

At the last word she segued into sweeping arpeggios meant to suggest sea winds, then took the sound back to let Getto reprise the verse with his drums. He could go wild on those drums, get your blood pounding till your feet moved on their own, but at times like these he had a precise yet lyrical touch that could make them sing until you could almost hear the words.

At the end of the set, when she brought the collecting bowl back to him, it was heavy with local credit tokens and coins from a dozen worlds. He wanted her to take half, but she wouldn’t.

“I enjoyed myself out there and I’ll probably go back,” she said. “And I got a song, or at least the start of a song. Might not’ve thought of that myself. So I owe you.” She stooped to slide her harp into its case, straightened when she’d snapped the clips.

She thought, I can trust him not to talk about me. He hears things. What if I asked him about Lylunda Elang? He might even know. She watched him taking apart the drums, folding them down and down so he could carry them back to his place, wherever that was. But she saw a distant sheen in his eyes that reminded her of Teri and she remembered how eagerly he tried to please the people he liked. If he didn’t know, he’d ask around. And that might mean more trouble than she wanted to cope with.

“See you,” she said, hefted the case, and slipped her arm through the strap.

That night, as she sang in The Tank wearing the silver fantasy Teri had crafted her, she looked out over the patrons and wondered if the Kliu’s other agent was among them and if there was anyone at those tables who’d have access to the warrens on the far side of the Wall. It didn’t seem likely. They were mostly traders and crew, transients who might pass through here several times a year for a while and then move on to another round.

“Oh, we shall go awandering along the secret ways,” she sang and put a throb in her voice; the sense she had of this crowd was a lightly drunken sentimentality. Get them weeping in their beer and feeling vaguely heroic. “Ah, the lazy stars the crazy stars, they whisper in your bones,” she sang and let her voice lose itself in the song of the strings. I have to make a move, she thought, she’s here. Not on Star Street, up the hill somewhere. In the Izar? Likely, Digby says that’s where she came from. Heading for home with weasels on her tail. Home ground. How do I get over the Wall and make it look natural?

“Rest a while, love a while, till the call’s too strong,” she sang. “Chase the singing stars and leave the ground behind.” She played with the last word a while, letting it trail to a whisper, then finished the song and stilled the strings of the harp, bowed to the whistles and snapping fingers.

That was the last song of the set.

She bowed again, announced she’d be back in half an hour, then took herself and the harp off the small stage. Tank was waiting for her in the Green Room.

He was a short broad man with a brush of hair around a shiny bald dome and arms like tree trunks. His hands were so small they looked mismated to his body, as if he’d stolen them from another man. He brushed at his mouth. “Where’d you say you saw Teri?”

“She was working Rat’s Alley. I thought about going back, but she’d hooked a client and I didn’t want to mess that up. Why?”

“Can’t find her anywhere. Alive nor dead. You remember what the man looked like?”

“His back was to me and the sun popped out just then, couldn’t see much through the dazzle. Cousin.” She closed her eyes, tried to bring back that fleeting memory. “Was leaning against the wall, but he might’ve been maybe a head taller than her. Ummm. Not fat, not skinny. Wearing a one-piece something, gray and shiny. Might have been a shipsuit. Maybe a work overall. I’ve seen both along the Street. Maybe she’s gone to ground somewhere. The time she was doing the fittings she told me she did that when things went whirly on her.”

He brushed that aside with an impatient sweep of his arm. “I know her places. Anyone out front who might be that client?”

“Splav. Half of them at least. Or half the locals do the muscle work out at the Field.”

“You think it could have been a local?”

“Any reason why not?”

“The locals here don’t much play outside their own pens. Hm. Could be one of them had a mind for cheap thrills: You get so used to them, you don’t even see them, ’less you jump the Wall…” He stared thoughtfully past her, his eyes narrowed, the creases deepening in his narrow brow.

“Tank, you know someone with connections over there?”

“Why?”

“Friend of mine. Well, friend of a friend who did me a favor a while back gave me a message to pass on if I saw the chance. A certain dancing Caan, should anyone want to know the wherefrom. The whereto is a woman of the Caan’s profession by name Lylunda Elang. Word was the Elang was hot and going home a while and home is here. I wouldn’t want to shout the name around, could be touchy, but I figure you know how to talk soft when you need to.”

“You want me to ask about this Elang?”

She felt him go cold on her. He recognized the name Not so good, that. Someone else asking questions, maybe the Kliu agent? Or is it local trouble? Ease back, Shadow. Better make it clear you’re not on the hunt. “No. I don’t think that would be a good idea. Don’t ask, just put out a whisper about the message and where it’s from. She wants to come she can, she doesn’t, no harm done.”

“So what’s the message?” He was still tense, though he was relaxed and his eyes twinkled at her. He does good face, our Tank.

She clicked her tongue, shook her head at him. “Huh! you know better than that. I’ll say this, it was an off chance my friend took when she knew I was heading this way. The sun won’t nova if it doesn’t get passed on, but it’s something the woman ought to hear.”

By the time she finished, the edge had gone off his alertness. “Good thing dit was me you talked to, Shadow. I’ll see what I can do, but don’t say that name to anyone else.”

She raised her brows. “Putting out that much heat, huh? Right. I keep my mouth shut. Owe you one, Tank.” That I do, more than you know.

He hesitated a moment, but didn’t say what was hanging on his tongue, just shrugged and left.

Hm. Wonder what that last was about. Hope it’s not something that’s going to jump up and bite me. She sighed and went on into the dressing room to splash some water on her face and sit with her feet up until it was time for the, next set.

Tank was in the Green Room when she came back. “When you get changed,” he said, “come over to the office.” He left before she could ask him why.

He nodded at a chair, poured a sop of rikoka brandy into two bell glasses and brought one of them to her. The bottle was dark and squat, dust and cobwebs carefully preserved on its bulge to testify to the age and value of the liquid inside.

When he was behind his desk again, he lifted his glass. “Got Teri back,” he said.

“She all right?”

“Alive. The cul that got her was a freak, cut het some and broke some bones. She won’t remember once she’s healed up, she never does.”

“Least there’s that. She was over the Wall?”

“Yeh.” He scowled. “Don’t know if I did you a favor or not, Shadow. Passed your whisper to my Touch over there. I don’t like how nervous he was when he heard the woman’s name.” He took a mouthful of the brandy, worked his cheeks as if he sloshed it about in his mouth. Even after he swallowed, he said nothing, just sat looking down into the glass.

She waited, sipping at the brandy, saying nothing, letting him take his time.

“She’s under heavy protection. Word’s been out for a couple months. You talk about the woman, you end up poisoning fish. Same thing if you ask too many questions about her.”

“Official protection?”

“Depends on what you call official.”

“Mm hm. Gotcha.”

“I gave the Touch the whole deal. Hope I got through that you’re not nosing ’round, but you never can tell with those types. So slap a seal on your mouth and watch your back. Don’t trust anyone. Not me. Not anyone.” He got to his feet. “That’s what I wanted to tell you and why I wanted it private.”

He opened the door for her, waited as she hoisted the harp and slipped the strap over her shoulder. As soon as she was in the hall, he repeated, “Not me. Not anyone.”

It was raining when she stepped into the street, a-slow steady downfall that soaked her within a minute after she left the shelter of the doorway. “Ah spla! And me with no umbrella.” She trudged along, thinking over what Tank had told her. Heavy protection. Probably bought it when she came scuttling home like her tail was on fire, maybe with proceeds from a crystal she got for smuggling the array off Pillory. Be a hoot if I tolled her out when I was just trying to find out where she…

She woke, confused, her head throbbing. She was sitting in a chair, something pressed against her legs. She tried to move her arms and she couldn’t. She was tied… strapped. When she looked down, she saw that the pressure on her legs was her harpcase. She stared at it, then lifted her head and looked around her.

She was in a sketch of a room, dark and shadowy. The door was steel with a small grill about eye level. The walls were packed dirt and irregular bits of sheet-rock interrupted by vertical two by fours, the floor was large square tiles the color of dried blood, the ceiling was fiberglass insulation faced with brown paper. Torn, filthy brown paper. A cellar of some kind? She swore under her breath. Tank! You set me up, you zalup. I’d like to…

A clank from the door interrupted her thoughts. She considered pretending she was still unconscious, discarded that idea, straightened her shoulders, and lifted her head. It’ll probably be some kind of babble, she told herself. This is where you find out how good your timing is, Shadow, and get the ol’ mind-move ready to jump.

“A short life but a merry one,” she said as the door swung open. And she laughed aloud at the figures who came through it-three men wearing heavy black robes and headsman’s cowls that hid all but their eyes. “What are you? Black monks in some tridda farce?” One was tall and broad, menacing as a meat ax and about as subtle, one was tall and thin with a cold, snaky feel, the third was short and tubby. From him she sensed inquisitiveness of the peephole sort, the kind that made you feel dirty thinking about it.

The short one came toward her. When she saw the blowgun in his hand, She concentrated, used her small Talent to set a catchfield round her carotid. Neck. I think. Yes, he’ll go for the neck.

As if he obeyed her thought, he shoved the business end of the blower under her jaw and tapped the sensor.

She slapped the field round the drug and caught most of it before it got loose, ran the encapsulated dollops of blood and babble through her system and peed it out on her underpants. Despite her efforts, she absorbed enough to turn her silly, though she was still in control of her mind. Talent pays, pays, pays… no, I’m wrong, pees not pays. Giggles bubbled in her throat but she kept them down. Stupid zalups, pinch brain ground hobs, not enough sense in the three of you to keep an ant walking straight. Amateurs. Silly silly zots, I foolin’ you to the max, no monitor, you uziks. Uzik ziks. Zikky ziklings… She caught what was happening and throttled that burbling fast. Get to feeling too superior and she’d start explaining in detail why they were so stupid.

The short man who’d blown the babble into her pulled a chair over and sat in it facing her, his hands on his knees. The other two were silent shadows behind him. “What’s your name?”

“Shadow.” A snort escaped from her, turned into a giggle.

“Your real name.”

She considered that. Real name? Whose real name? “The body’s real name?”

“Yes. The body’s real name.”

“Oh. Hawk, bird rider of the Centai zel. But I don’t call the body that any more. That was before. Now it is Shadith. I am Shadith. Shadow. Shadowsong.”

“Who pays you?”

“Tank pays me. I sing in his place.”

“Who do you work for?”

“I work for Tank.”

“Who else do you work for?”

“I work for Shadith. Shadow. Shadowsong.”

“Did someone send you to Hutsarte?”

“I sent me. I go nowhere at any one’s order.”

“Why did you ask about Lylunda Elang?”

“I have a message for her.”

“Tell us the message.”

“I don’t want to. I’m not supposed to tell anyone but her.”

“Tell us the message.”

“Qatifa says there’s a rumor round the Market that the Kliu have hired Excavations Ltd. to dig her out, and if it’s true she should get as much cover as she can fmd.”

“Who is Qatifa?”

“She’s a Caan smuggler.”

“Why should she bother?”

“You don’t know?”

“Why should she bother?”

“Lylunda likes furries. She and Qatifa were belly friends for a while.”

“Were you a belly friend to either?”

“No.”

“Do you know Lylunda Elang at all?”

“No.”

“Why carry a message, then?”

“Favor for favor. I pay my debts.”

“Why did you wait till now to try finding Lylunda Elang?”

“I was busy and I kinda forgot till Tank talked about asking over the Wall when Teri turned up missing.”

“Do you know what Lylunda Elang looks like?”

“Only what Qatifa said.”

“Have you seen anyone like that in the past five days?”

“No.”

“Have you seen anyone like that since you landed on Hutsartd?”

“No.”

He got to his feet, crossed the short distance to the other two. When he spoke, he was muttering but loud enough that Shadith could catch what he was saying. “She’ll be under for about five more minutes, then she’ll start coming out of it. Anything more you need to know?”

The bigger man’s voice was a low rumble and harder to make out. She thought she caught a question about a phot, but she wasn’t sure until the short man came back holding a jewelcase in his hand.

He held the phot up so she could see the tridda image inside. A young woman with a pretty, round face, long black hair and white streaks like wings over her ears. Wide shoulders, wide hips, a narrow waist. Shadith almost burst out giggling. Even Digby hadn’t come up with a phot and here her captors were showing her just what she needed to know.

“Have you seen this woman at any time?”

“No,”

“Look closely at the phot. Look at her face. Look at her ears, at her left hand. See the crooked little finger. Think carefully. Have you seen anyone who looks like this woman?”

“No.”

He lowered the phot. “I…”

A hand closed on his shoulder. The big man bent, whispered in his ear. He nodded. “Shadow, if we let you go, what will you do?”

“Go back to The Tank, sing there till I can earn enough to buy a low passage on a worldship and go on till I feel like stopping.”

The big man whispered again, longer this time.

Shadith decided it was time to start acting edgy. She tugged at the straps on her arms, put on a puzzled frown. “Wha… why…” She tugged harder, started moving her head about. “Where… what’s happening?”

“Nothing you need worry about. We’re not going to hurt you unless you make us.”

Whimpering, panting, Shadith ignored him and started fighting the straps, throwing herself about, making the chair rock, putting on as reasonable a show as she could manage without falling over and cracking her head on the tiles…

The snake man moved for the first time. He came over to her, slapped her hard, then stood beside her with his hand closed on her shoulder, his fingers digging into her flesh. He still said nothing, but she decided that she could get his point and stop her struggles.

The big man moved to the door. “Gantz, clean her up, flush her out, bring her upstairs. Krink, get over here. You stay outside the door, on watch. I’ve got a thought about using her and I don’t want you messing it up. You hear me?”

“I hear.”

Shadith’s stomach knotted at the concentrated venom in those two words and found herself happy that Krink the snake was too afraid of Boss to go for him. She watched Gantz warily as the door shut.

He saw that. “Don’t worry, woman. Grinder would have my guts for fishpoison if I laid a finger on you. You better remember that and do what he wants without smart talk or slacking. He isn’t called Grinder for sweetness of temper and gentility of manner.” He brought the blowgun from a pocket in his robe, worked over it for a few minutes. “You’ll be feeling limp as overcooked noodles right now, what I’m going to give you will perk you right up, blow the fog out of your head.”

“No. ’m all ri’. Don’ do poppers.”

“You don’t really have a choice, love. Him, he wants you alert and ready to listen. And that’s what he’s going to get.”

“Lylunda Elang belongs to me,” Grinder said.

Shadith forced herself to sit still; though she’d done the catchment trick again with the popper, the residue had her so wired she felt as if her eyes were ready to explode out of her head and every sound was a scrape along her nerves.

“Maybe she doesn’t know it yet, but she’s mine.”

She’d seen eyes like his before-after a moment it came to her where. Lute’s eyes. Ginny Seyirshi’s pet killer. That time she got snatched into one of the Deathmaker’s scenarios. She swallowed several times and didn’t have to pretend to be frightened.

“She’s gone missing. Six days ago. Maybe on her own. Maybe Digby’s agent got her. Yeh. I know about Digby. Who doesn’t. Maybe the Kliu bought her father and got her that way. I can handle things this side of the Wall, you’re going to sift Star Street for me.”

Four days! Would you believe, the target disappears four miserable days after I get here. What stinking luck. She folded her-hands in her lap and looked nervous. It wasn’t hard. “Uh I don’t mean to be… urn negative about this and I’ll do my best, sure I will, but I’m just a singer.”

He contemplated her a moment. “Don’t play the ditty fool with me. You’re not good enough at it to be entertaining. Why you? I’ll tell you straight, I can keep it quiet over here and out in backcountry, but Star Street’s different. I don’t want the word spreading I’ve been took over by a femme. Too many hopeful yappers biting at my heels. You’ve got a reason for asking, so I’m going to use it. Let me warn you, singer. I’ve got ears over there. You ran into one of ’em. If I hear you’re talking too much, I’ll send Krink over with his calf strap. He’ll enjoy that. Yes, I see you know what I mean. Don’t try conning your way onto a trader’s ship. You’ll be dead before you reach the ladder. You understand?”

“I’m going to have to ask questions.”

“Word will be spread by morning. What you told us. That Lylunda’s your friend and you’ve got a message for her. That it’s good for you to be asking and better for them to give you the answers you want. I’m sure you can see the difference.”

“Yes. Clever. I will be discreet and diligent. You’ve convinced me my health depends on that.”

“Good.”

“And my diligence starts now. I need to know the circumstances of her disappearance. And I’d like a copy of that phot.”

“Why? Not the phot, I’ll see you get that. The other.”

“As you said, I’m not stupid, merely reluctant. The fewer questions I have to ask, the less I give away. The more I know to start with, the fewer questions I have to ask.”

“I see. Lylunda was working for me. You don’t need to know about that, so don’t ask. She left the job, went home to her rooming house. She was picked up there by one of Hizurri-jaz Gautaxo’s couriers. He’s the head of the Duk’s Secret Police and he also happens to be Lylunda’s father. She’s the bastard he got when her mother was his hot little Izar piece, so there’s no telling just what he wanted with her. She stayed there for a little over two hours. Courier brought her back through the Izar gate, walked her to the front door of her rooming house, left her while she was using her keys to open the vestibule door. She was seen by at least five different people who knew her well enough to be sure it was her. That was the last time anyone saw her.”

“Late. After dark?”

“Yes and an overcast night. I thought about that. They recognized the clothes. More than that, they recognized the way she moved.”

“Still… a good actress the right size and shape…”

“Yes. I thought about that. I don’t know.”

“Did she have a credit chip? She hired you to watch her back, didn’t she. To warn her if the Kliu got too close. Like me, I was supposed to warn her about Digby.”

“Yes. Everything she brought with her was cleaned out of her room.”

“What I’ve heard about the Behilarr jazzies, they’ve all got fiefdoms out in the backcountry. Maybe he sent her out there.”

“No. I’ve had that looked into.”

“You told me you’d know if I tried to hop a ship. I expect you’d know it if she did.”

“I would if she tried it after I found out she was gone. Before then, there’s a seven-hour window when she might have made it.”

“That’s what you want me to check, isn’t it.”

“Part of it.”

“Can you get me a printout of all shuttle and ship departures in those seven hours?”

“Yes.”

“Hm. If you can get it, you might add to that a list of departures from the transfer station. I know enough abotit who’s traveling around out there that it might tell me something it wouldn’t tell you.”

“I’ll get it.”

She sighed, rubbed at her eyes. “With all the stuff your bootlicker pumped into me, I’m about wiped. Can I go home now, get some sleep?”

“You understand what I want?”

“Yes, you made it quite cleat”

“And I want results. Fast.”

“Yes.”

“Then you go like you came.”