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The woman sensed his scrutiny, looked up, and frowned. “Are you eating? Or rusticating?”

“It’s a little early for lunch,” said Jay, amused at her acidity.

“Then move out of my doorway so you don’t block the paying trade.”

That decided it. Jay walked in and settled at a table. Nodded toward the empty vase.

“I haven’t got a flower yet.”

The lips parted, were folded back into a tight line. The woman searched through the bouquet until she located one rather sickly, wilted bloom and placed it in the vase. Her velvet brown eyes challenged him. Jay just laughed. She completed her preparations, returned to Jay’s table, and stood, arms akimbo, staring at him.

“What?” the human asked.

“Are you eating or are you still rusticating?”

“Gimme a menu, and I’ll order. I’m not a mind reader.”

Sighing like a mother confronted by a backward child, she lightly touched an indentation in the lip of the table. The menu sprang to life in the air above the table. The squiggles looked like worm trails in the dust.

Jay shot her a sheepish look. “I forgot… I speak Takisian, I don’t read it.”

“Don’t speak it very well, either.”

“You always this nice to everybody who comes in?” She stared, a wall of unblinking hostility filming her eyes. “I’m surprised you have any customers at all.”

“I have the kind of customers I like.”

“And I take it I’m not among the select. Well, you want to translate this for me? Got anything on there that resembles a patty melt?” he added.

She didn’t. And the explanation didn’t help much. Too many of the words were unfamiliar. He finally settled on something that appeared to have cheese and bread in it – maybe it was a sandwich – and a bowl of soup. There weren’t too many ways to wreck soup – he hoped.

It was an open-face sandwich made of something that resembled raw spinach stirred with cream cheese and nuts. It was way too yuppie for Jay’s taste.

“You got anything with burnt pieces of animal flesh in it?”

“You don’t want this?” she indicated the sandwich.

“No.”

“Are you going to pay for both?”

“Naturally.”

“Is the soup to your satisfaction?”

Jay didn’t mistake the polite words for politeness. There was a sting on the edge of them.

“Yeah, the soup’s great.”

It was a thick, dark concoction with tiny blue beans that looked like a cross between lentils and pintos. Floating in it were dried yellow critters that gave it a sharp, citrusy taste. And it was really good. Jay wondered if he could get the recipe for Hiram. He told the woman about his friend and the restaurant, and how he’d really love this soup.

“Only problem,” Jay said, “the produce delivery is going to be a bitch over twenty-three light-years.”

He thought that might get some reaction out of her. How often did you meet an alien? Up until a month ago he’d met only one. In retrospect he decided one would have been enough. His revelation didn’t impress her.

“What are you doing off the Bonded station? We don’t permit aliens on the Crystal World.”

“Would you believe I’m a close personal friend and bodyguard to the heir to House Ilkazam?”

“No.”

Jay studied that pretty face, the soft, rich swell of her bosom beneath her blouse. Dispensed with the notion of trying to impress her. He’d settle for getting to know her.

“Have you got a name?”

“Several.”

“Does that translate to mean you’re married?”

The question seemed to strike a nerve. There was the briefest flicker of pain in those dark eyes. “No, I’m not marriageable material.”

“Lot of my dates have said that about me. Hi, I’m

Jay Ackroyd.” She stared at the out-thrust hand with the air of someone who couldn’t identify the appendage. Oh, that’s right, you Takisians don’t shake hands. You all seem to move straight to the kissing. Great custom as long as I’m not meeting a man.” He was babbling. He knew it. It embarrassed him. He couldn’t stop. It was her, she made him nervous.

Her dark eyes had gone wary. She studied him, and Jay had the feeling that she was actually seeing him for the first time. “How did you get here?”

“That’s a really long story.”

She turned away. “Then I don’t want to hear it.”

“You’re pretty fucking cool about meeting up with an alien. Aren’t you gonna call the cops, or get scared?”

“I’ve been up to the Bonded station to look at aliens.”

“You make it sound like a trip to the zoo.”

“Isn’t it?” It wasn’t actually a smile, but a dimple did appear briefly in her left cheek.

Jay grinned in delight. She was really pretty when she stopped frowning. The door to the restaurant opened, and three men entered. The detective and the woman turned, and Jay didn’t need his hostess’s reaction to tell him these were cops – it was depressing to discover “The Look” transcended light-years.

“You will come with us please.”

“And if I say no?”

He felt another mind closing like a vise around him, and too late he realized that although these goons were dressed in the less opulent Tarhiji fashion and their hair was brown, they were psi lords.

“Okay, okay, okay!” he stuttered out just before the compulsion became overwhelming.

Two of the men took his arms and marched him to the door. Jay grabbed the jamb and managed to call back. “I have a feeling we’ll be seeing each other again.”

The spokesman for the trio tossed a credit jewel to the proprietress. “Bill it to the House.”

Jay’s last sight was of the woman deliberately crushing the crystal under a heel.

Out in the street they released him. Jay twitched his coat straight and pushed back his hair. “How the hell did you find me so fast?”

It wasn’t hard. We just had to look for a ridiculous foreigner asking stupid questions.”

The crackle of the foil as it was wadded into trash by Taj’s fist was a very strong clue that Jay had again managed to walk straight into the middle of a cow patty.

“I do not think a friendship with this woman is the wisest course you could pursue. I foresee a dark outcome.”

“You read tea leaves too? What, are you telling my fortune here?”

“I’m not concerned about you, Mr. Ackroyd. I am concerned about not reawakening an old shame in this House -”

“There is one really annoying habit that all you Takisians share. You can’t cut to the chase. Just say it. Straight.”

“Hastet benasari Julali attracted the attention of a young nobleman, and they began a clandestine love affair. She should have known better. He certainly did. If he desired the woman, he needed only to petition to bring her into the House as a La’b.” Jay correctly translated that as toy. It pissed him off. “My young relative sired a child on her – an act absolutely forbidden by our law and custom. Because of her extreme youth, and the early stage of her pregnancy, her life was spared.”

“What did you do to her?”

“The child was aborted. Hastet neutered.”

“That’s what she meant about not being a marriageable commodity.”

“Our culture places a great value on children, Mr. Ackroyd.”

“Yeah, I can tell.” Taj either missed or chose to ignore the sarcasm. “What happened to the dickweed who knocked her up?”

“He was of the Most Bred.”

“Translate… nothing. I think she got the raw end of this deal.”

“She is lucky to be alive.”

“I’m going to see her again.”

“I would prefer you not.”

“Where’s the harm? She’s a little low-class nothing. I’m a little low-class nothing.”

Jay realized that, for whatever reason, he amused Taj. The old man suddenly smiled. “I suppose it will do no harm.”

“And as long as we’re gettin’ along so great – tell Zabb to call off the fuzz. Since it seems Meadows and I have become permanent citizens, I’d like to get a look at the real estate.”