The woman behind the rickety counter had skin that looked like poorly tanned leather, sky-blue eyes, and brown teeth. Having been up all night brewing tea for the teamsters, she was tired. “There is no monastery, not in Pohua,”
the woman replied dully, as she poured hot water into a pair of badly stained mugs. “But the nunnery is located two blocks from the market. Just follow the main road to Pua Street. . . . Take a right and follow Pua to Bako. Go left on Bako. The nunnery will be on your right.”
Rebo thanked the woman, tipped her, and handed a mug of tea to Norr. Hopefully, with any luck at all, the vendor would go home before anyone came by to question her. The sun parted company with the horizon shortly after the offworlders left the tea stand, and wings could be seen circling off to the east as Rebo and Norr made their way through Pohua’s unpaved streets. None of the city’s structures stood more than three stories tall, most presented blank faces to the street, and all of them were mud brown. Gray smoke dribbled from round chimneys, and the tantalizing odors of a hundred breakfasts wafted through the cool air as Rebo and Norr made their way up Bako Street. The city’s shops had just started to open, and the only other pedestrians were children sent to fetch water from the local fountain. The nunnery was housed in a long, low building no different from those around it except for the fact that it boasted a gently curved dome rather than the fl?at roof typical of the structures to either side, and double doors opened onto the street.
Rebo took a quick look around to assure himself that no one was watching them, took Norr’s hand, and tugged the sensitive toward the entryway. “Come on, let’s get out of sight.” Norr, who often had trouble blocking out the ebb and fl?ow of raw emotion normally associated with cities of any size, was enveloped by a feeling of serenity as she followed the runner into a spartan reception area. The sensation was akin to entering a pool of cool water on an extremely hot day. A novice emerged from the surrounding murk to greet them. She was young and dressed in black. “Good morning,” the aspirant said cheerfully. “Can I be of assistance?”
Rebo was somewhat taken aback, since he knew The Way was divided into two sects, the red hats and the black hats. Both were united, or supposed to be, but the reconciliation had taken place only recently, and it might be months before word of the change arrived on Haafa. If so, the medallions that the runner and the sensitive wore around their necks might have no value at all, or worse yet, could elicit suspicion. But that was a chance he had to take. Rebo forced a smile. “Is the abbess available? If so, we would like to speak with her. Please show her this by way of an introduction.”
So saying, Rebo removed the chain from around his neck and passed the bronze medallion over to the novice. If the aspirant was curious about the medal, or the people who had given it to her, she gave no sign of it as she bowed her head.
“Please wait here. . . . I will convey your message to the abbess.” There was a swish of fabric as the young woman left. Now that Rebo’s eyes had adjusted to the relative darkness within the reception area, he could see that while the walls were nearly bare in keeping with black-hat sensibilities, a lushly green garden was partially visible through an intricately carved wooden screen. And it was from that direction that the young woman returned. “Please follow me. . . . The abbess is in the garden.”
The off-worlders followed the young woman out into a large inner courtyard, where Norr expected to fi?nd the abbess seated on a chair. Nothing could have been further from the truth. Rather than sit and meditate in the earlymorning sun, the abbess was down on hands and knees, pulling weeds out of the nunnery’s vegetable garden. She stood as the couple stepped out of the shadow cast by the inward-slanting roof that ran the perimeter of the courtyard and wiped a wisp of hair back out of her face. The hand pump, along with the well that it served, was the nunnery’s pride and joy. And the medallion had been hung from its spout. “Hello,” the abbess said as she gestured toward the medal. “That’s an interesting medallion. May I ask where you got it?”
Rebo didn’t want to answer the question, especially since doing so would inevitably give the holy woman power over both Norr and himself, but knew there wasn’t much choice. Not if they wanted a safe place to stay. “The reincarnated spirit of Nom Maa presented that medal to me within the holy city of CaCanth,” the runner answered truthfully. “My companion wears one exactly like it. His Holiness told us that should we ever be in need of food, shelter, or some other form of assistance, all we would have to do was present the medallions to any monastery or nunnery.”
In spite of the fact that the abbess had white hair, her face was unexpectedly free of lines, as if somehow frozen in time. Although her voice was even, Norr could see the tendrils of skepticism that continued to swirl within the other woman’s aura. “How nice,” the abbess said lightly. “So, tell me, does the Inwa still affect chin whiskers?”
“The present Inwa isn’t old enough to have whiskers,”
Rebo replied. “And, based on the portraits I’ve seen, the last Inwa didn’t have chin whiskers, either.”
The abbess smiled and came forward to embrace them.
“Forgive me,” she said. “But the streets of Pohua are thick with liars—and it’s my task to protect the sisters from them. A ship landed in Omu about three weeks ago, and it was about a week after that the good news arrived in Pohua. My name is Kartha, Sister Kartha, and you are welcome to stay with the sisters and me as long as you wish.”
The merchants who owned stores in the area around the Techno Society’s headquarters stood in their various doorways, sipped their morning tea, and watched wagon after wagon arrive in front of the heavily guarded building. A sight they had witnessed before. It wasn’t the number of crates that the metal men carried into the structure that made them wonder—but the fact that they rarely saw more than a half dozen boxes come out. It was a much-discussed phenomenon that would probably go unsolved given how inhospitable the technos were.
None of which was of the slightest interest to Shaz, who had not only been up all night, but wound up in charge of the off-loading process, which had been under way for hours by then. Many of the crates were headed for Techno Society headquarters on Seros, but there were other destinations as well, depending on what the boxes contained. Shaz felt the sun warm his shoulders as it climbed up over a building across the street, and was just about to follow the last box inside when Phan emerged from the mouth of an alley halfway down the block. The assassin was on foot, and a squad of metal men marched behind her. “You look like hell,” the combat variant observed tactlessly, as the assassin drew near. “Any luck?”
Phan shook her head. “Nothing,” she said disgustedly.
“It’s like they vanished into thin air.”
“I know how you feel,” Shaz said sympathetically. “Well, once we step through the gate onto Zeen, someone else can worry about them. The chances are good that some bounty hunter or other will nail them. One thing’s for sure, though, if they plan to break in and use this gate, they’re in for a big surprise. I tripled the guards.”
“Zeen?” Phan inquired halfheartedly. “I thought we were going to a place called Socket.”
“And so did I,” Shaz replied. “But that was before Logos announced that Socket is in orbit around Zeen. . . . And the only way to reach Socket is via a gate located on the island of Buru. The single point of access was part of a security system put in place by Hios.”
The assassin frowned. “Will the gate be operational?”
“Logos says that it will be,” the combat variant replied.
“As to whether we should trust him, well, you can be the judge of that.”
Phan laughed, followed Shaz into the building, and went in search of a bath.