Shadowkill

1

Miralys prowled about while Digby floated languorously in his bubble pretending to be exhausted by her energy. He was in a puckish mood and the room reflected this. Every time she turned around, the place had changed on her so she was threading her way through prickly columns of colored light or tripping over a newly materialized piece of furniture or a plant in a pot, or something so esoteric it was only marginally recognizable.

The third time that she bruised her shin, she hissed, laid her ears back, and stood glaring around until she found what she thought was a chair. She kicked at it, scuffing the toe of her boot. Solid. But when she lowered herself to the seat, the chair melted under her, dropping her into a sprawl on the floor. She growled, straightened herself up, folded her legs, and sat where she was; it was safer that way, he wasn’t likely to melt the floor under her. “Why don’t you grow up, fool!”

He chuckled, the pickups taking the breathy sound and playing it around the room. “You’re beautiful when you’re angry, Toerfeles.”

She snorted, then smiled reluctantly. “All right, so I feel a bit better now. What’s this about, Digby? You didn’t ask me here to pat my shoulder and listen to my sorrows.”

“Two pieces of information. Not much in themselves, either of them, but suggestive.” With exaggerated grace he swung round in his bubble until he was sitting cross-legged like Miralys. “One of my Ops…” his black eyes sparked with laughter, “a character named Woensdag, one of Frittagga’s more successful offspring, if you accent the OFF,” his lids drooped again and he sighed, “by some odd coincidences which I won’t bother describing, happened across one of Seyirshi’s customers,” he looked blank a moment, listening to voices inside his head, “a type called Olom Myndigget. We’re reasonably sure he was at Koulsnakko’s for the auction. He’s home now. Curiously unsinged for someone who’s been through a Nova burn. Woensdag couldn’t hang about, but I’ve sent another Op in, see what she can find out. Considering the ships that left before the burn and the reappearance of Myndigget, I’d say there was a possibility at least that Rohant and the others are still alive.”

Miralys closed her eyes, rocked on her buttocks, her breathing harsh as she fought for control. She wanted her Ciocan back, she wanted that passionately, compulsively, she’d spend every cent Voallts Korlach had to get him back, but she wasn’t a fool or reckless, there had to be a real chance; this wasn’t it. Not enough. “What’s the second thing?” she said.

“Someone’s been sniffing around me. I know the sniffers, but I don’t know who hired them or why. I’m working on that. Any unusual interest in Korlach?”

“I don’t know.” She rubbed at her eyes, drew her hand hard over her headfur. Her petal ears were pricked high, her spine was straight and taut. “I don’t know. I’ve been… distracted.” She extruded her claws, stared down at her fingers. “The attacks on us have stopped. Last one was two months ago. Seyirshi wouldn’t have called off his dogs, not unless he was made to or dead.”

“Right. I’ll send an Op across to look around. Rizga, I think, yes, she’s been out of therapy for a month and getting itchy.”

“Rizga. She was the one with Hannys and her team? On Louat 4, right?”

“Right.”

“Good.” Miralys got to her feet. “Hannys will be pleased. We’ll see what there’s to see, hmm, I’ll give it a week, right?”

“Right.”

Digby closed his eyes and watched her stride out, vigor back and purpose in the forward set of her ears; he followed her until she’d left the building, then let his visualization drift. He liked Miralys and had grieved to see her so poorly. That was changed now. Much better. His mouth twitched, his eyelids fluttered as he shifted his attention and plunged deep into his ties, doing his own devious investigations through the city networks and the planetaries.

Shadith In Shadows: