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.”