A pair of guard marched by and Ara faded back. The boy seemed to ignore them completely, but she saw he was watching them from under half-closed eyes.
Ara tried to think. How should she approach him? She didn’t want to frighten him off, but she didn’t want to lose him, either. Two tiny transmitters nestled in her pocket and she could probably plant one by “accidentally” bumping into him. On the other hand, if he figured out what she was doing, it would probably destroy all hope of a working relationship. Maybe she should just try to strike up a conversation. But how?
Ara sighed. It was so much easier to do this in a slave market. You pointed, paid, and took the person home. It took a while to convince some slaves that the Children of Irfan were actually setting them free, but all in all it wasn’t that hard.
And how would Irfan have viewed this? she thought tartly. A Mother Adept whining to herself that the job will take some effort.
Chastised, Ara decided to simply watch the boy for a while to see if she could gain any clues about how to approach him. It would also give Gretchen and the others time to catch up.
A long, dark ground car drove up to the curb and one mirrored window lowered itself a few centimeters. The boy sauntered up to it. The window lowered further and he leaned inside. Ara noticed that his ragged clothes were definitely on the tight side and many of the rips seemed strategic.
“Uh oh,” Ara said.
“What happens, Mother?” Harenn asked. “I have met Gretchen and we are coming.”
“Ben,” Ara subvocalized hurriedly, “hack into the nets and find out who owns a ground car with registry number-” she squinted “-H14 dash 35J. Hurry!”
“On it.”
“What is it?” Gretchen asked.
Ara stepped up to the street. The boy was still leaning into the car and couldn’t see her, though she was barely three meters away. For a brief moment she considered trying to plant a transmitter on him and almost instantly decided against it. He might notice. Plant one on the car? No. Any car that expensive had disruption devices for just such an occurrence. She scanned the street instead.
“Ben, are there any cabs in the area?” she asked.
“I can’t check that and find the registration number at the same time, Mother.”
“Mother Adept, what’s happening?” Gretchen demanded.
“I think our boy is a…working lad,” Ara murmured. No cabs were in sight.
Harenn spoke up. “So pick him up and offer to pay for an hour or two. What is such a problem?”
The boy backed out of the window. The car door opened and he climbed inside.
“Shit,” Ara muttered.
“The car is registered to Melvan and Xava Yshidra,” Ben said. “Do you want their address?”
And then, by a miracle, a cab turned a corner and buzzed up the street. Ara waved frantically and it stopped. The other vehicle slid smoothly into traffic as Ara leaped into the cab.
“Glory to the Unity. Stay behind them,” she said, pointing. There was no way in hell she was going to say Follow that car.
The driver, a raw-boned woman with blond dreadlocks, obeyed without a word. As they drove off, Ara caught a glimpse of Gretchen and Harenn emerging breathlessly from the market.
“Do you want the address, Mother?” Ben repeated. “And do you still want me to find a cab?”
“Not yet and no,” she subvocalized. “Gretchen and Harenn, I’m in a cab and I’m following the boy. He’s in another car.”
“We saw,” Gretchen said. “What do you want us to do?”
“Stay where you are,” she ordered.
The electric engine on the cab was nearly silent, meaning the driver could probably tell that Ara was carrying on a quiet, one-sided conversation. However, she gave no sign she heard or understood. Ara liked that. She peered forward, never letting her gaze stray from the car they followed.
The car made a right turn, then another right, and another. Her quarry was going in a big circle. Ara imagined the car had a sound-proof partition between driver and passengers to afford a certain amount of privacy for their…activities. Ara wondered whether it was Melvan or Xava who was in the back seat with the boy. For all she knew, it was both.
They passed the original street corner and Ara resisted the urge to wave at Gretchen and Harenn. Are settled back in her seat to think. The boy was obviously a prostitute. This didn’t bother Ara. It made her job easier. As Harenn had pointed out, she could simply proposition him and use the opportunity to talk. But Kendi had said the local houses didn’t tolerate freelancers. How had he gotten away with it?
Ara drummed her fingers on the gritty handrest. The cab’s interior was worn and dirty. A small sign informed her that a network link was available for a surcharge, and a muted vidscreen set into the back of the driver’s seat showed a local newscast. A second sign said that slaves must prove their owners had granted permission for them to ride in a cab and they must pay in advance. A third sign said, You Are Safe with the Unity.
What if the men in the alley had been enforcers? That would make sense. One of the houses may have gotten wind that the boy was turning tricks and sent a couple of goons. Ara wondered if they were still in prison.
The ground car drove up to the same curb and the boy exited. Ara told the cabbie to pull over and let her out. Ara paid the fare and climbed out just in time to see Gretchen bump heavily into the boy. Harenn, a few steps away, watched from behind her veil.
“I’m so sorry,” Gretchen said with uncharacteristic politeness. “Goodness me, I almost knocked you over. Are you all right? Glory to the Unity.”
“Yeah, yeah, glory,” the boy replied. “Don’t touch me, lady.” And he hurried away.
Ara trotted up to her. “You didn’t touch him flesh-to-flesh, did you? Did you plant a transmitter?”
“No, and what do you think?”
“Got him,” Ben said. “You don’t have to run now.”
Ara gestured to Gretchen and Harenn. “Fan out. Harenn, since he hasn’t seen you, I want you to cross the street and get ahead of him. Gretchen, you stay a little further behind, and I’ll get closer. Pitr, follow as best you can and be ready to stand by. Trish, either grab a hotel room or go back to the ship and get into the Dream. Find us and follow us so you can whisper at people. Watch for the boy there, too, and for anything else that’s strange.”
“On my way, Mother,” Trish said.
“Got it, Mother,” Pitr said.
“Yes, Mother,” Harenn and Gretchen said in chorus. The three of them took up their positions and headed up the street in silent pursuit.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE DREAM
[A] dream taught me this wisdom, and…I still fear I may wake up and find myself once more confined in prison.
“…all right?”
Kendi tore his eyes away from the iron bar in his hand. Trish was standing above him. She wore a strap of brown cloth across her breasts and another across her loins. The outfit looked strange on her white, stick-like figure. How long had he been staring at the bar? He should have felt Trish’s presence instantly.
“Did you hear me, Kendi?” Trish said. “I asked if you were all right.”
“I’m okay.” He scrambled to his feet, bar in his hand. Where had it come from? He hadn’t called it up. Did it have something to do with the canyon or the kid?
“Mother Ara told me to watch the Dream for signs of the kid,” Trish said. “I think that thing-” she gestured at the canyon “-qualifies. Did it almost open up under your feet too?”
“Yeah. And there’s something in it that screams at you.”