"Oh. I don't know him. I was just asking him something. But he did say his name is Jack, if that's any help."
"Well, that's his problem, poor bastard."
Toba took another drink. Randy did the same.
"What?" came a raised voice, French-accented, from one of the men at the bar. "You have never been beyond C Seventeen? My God, man! You owe it to yourself to get as far as early C Twenty at least once in your life! To fly, that is why! A man is not complete until he has known the freedom of the heavens! Not the big sky-boats that came later, where you might as well be taking your ease in a provincial parlor—no! You must leave your petty bourgeois concerns behind and get up in a light craft with an open cockpit where you can feel the wind and the rain, look down at the world, the clouds, up at the stars! It will change you, believe me!"
Randy turned to look at him.
"Is that who I think it is?" he asked, and he heard Toba chuckle. But they were both distracted at that moment by the arrival of the woman.
She came in through the hall entrance on the left, opposite that from the restaurant. She wore black denim jeans bloused over high, efficient-looking boots of the same color, and a faded khaki shirt; a black scarf bound her black hair above a broad forehead, heavy brows, large green eyes, and a wide, unpainted mouth.
The butt of a weapon protruded from the holster at her right hip, and its heavy belt also bore a sheathed hunting knife on its left side, low on her narrow waist. She
was close to six feet in height, full-breasted, somewhat wide across the shoulders, and moved with her head held high. She carried a large leather purse as if it were a football.
Her eyes cast about the room for only a moment, then several quick strides bore her to the table at which Randy and Toba sat, and upon which she dropped the purse.
The half-filled glass the redhead had left toppled, slopping its contents toward Toba and into his lap.
"Shit!" he announced, springing to his feet arid running his hands down the front of his trousers. "This just isn't my day!"
"I'm sorry," she said, smiling, and then she turned to Randy. "I was looking for you."
"Oh?"
"I'm going to find whoever's in charge and get a room and go to bed!" Toba stated, throwing some money onto the moist tabletop. "Nice meeting you, kid. Good luck and all that. Shit!"
"Thanks for the beer," Randy told his back.
The woman seated herself in the chair that had been the redhead's, removing Leaves from the path of the spreading puddle.
"You're the one, all right," she said. "Lucky I got : you away from that guy."
"Why?"
"Bad vibes. That's what I've got at the moment, and that's enough. Hi, Leaves."
"Hello, Leila."
A rampant deja vu resolved itself in that instant
"Your voice—" Randy began. '
"Yes, Leaves has my voice," Leila stated. "I was ! handy to provide the matrix when Reyd obtained this unit"
"I warrant a pronoun these days," Leaves said slowly and with a touch of menace, "and it is feminine."
"Sorry, old girl," Leila said, patting her cover. "Cor
rection noted. No offense." She turned toward Randy and smiled. "What is your name, anyway?" "Randy Carthage. I don't understand—" "Of course not and it doesn't matter a bit. I've always been very fond of Carthage. Perhaps I'll take you
there one day."
"Take her up on it," Flowers said, and you'll be into back braces for a while."
Leila slapped the cover with more force.
"Have you had lunch yet?" she asked.
"My time sense is a little skewed," Randy replied, "but if that's the next meal, I'm ready for it, yes."
"Then let's move over to the other room and I'll get you some. We'd better start out with full stomachs."
"Start out?"
"Right" she said, rising and snatching up her purse.
He followed her into the dining room, where she selected a table in the far corner and seated herself with the corner to her back. He settled down across from her, placing Leaves on the table between them.
"I don't understand..." he said again.
"Let's order," she said, gesturing to the waiter and studying the several other diners near the front. "Then we'll have to head for C Eleven, chop-chop."
The waiter approached. She ordered a massive meal. He did the same.
"What's at C Eleven?" he asked then.
"You are looking for Reyd Dorakeen. I am too. That is where he went when he skipped out on me a few nights ago. I saw the second black bird circling him there."
"How do you know this? How did you know who I am? What black bird?"
"I had no idea who you were to be. I only knew that a man with a copy of Leaves of Grass would be in the bar this afternoon, that he, too, would be looking for Reyd, and that he would be kindly disposed toward him. I came down when I did to meet you and to join
forces, since I saw that he would be needing help. before too long, somewhere along his way."
"Okay, I see," he said. "But I am still confused as to your source of information. How did you know I'd be there? How do you know where—"
"Let me explain," Leaves broke in, "or she'll be at this all day. Her conversational patterns tend to resemble an avalanche. Thank the Great Circuit I didn't acquire that with the voice-imprint. You see, Randy, she possesses paranormal abilities. She calls them something different, smacking of Stone Age rituals and magic, but the results are the same. I'd guess she is about seventy-five percent effective precognitively— maybe more. She does see things, and they do often come to pass. I've seen her be right too frequently for it to be mere chance. Unfortunately, she acts as if everyone else understands this, as if they share her visions, or at least should automatically accept them. She knew you were coming because she knew you were coming, that's all. I hope that explains some of what is bothering you."
"Well—some," he said. "But it still leaves other gaps. Tell me, Leila, has Leaves stated the situation adequately?"
"Pretty much so," she said. "I don't feel like quibbling, so let's let it stand. I saw you coming, that's true."
"It still doesn't tell me who you are and where you come from and why you are so interested in Red's safety."
"We have been many things to one another, but mainly he is an old and special friend," she said, "and we are alike in many ways. There are so many debts between us that I've lost track of how they balance out. Also, the son of a bitch ran out on me when I told him to wait around."
"Something you didn't foresee?"
She shook her head.
"Nobody's perfect; Leaves just told you that. What's Reyd to you, by the way?"
"I believe he is my father.
She stared, her face immobile for the first time since they had met. Then she bit her lip.
"How blind of me," she finally said. "Of course...
Where were you born?"
"C Twenty, Cleveland, Ohio."
"So that's where he went..." She looked away. "Interesting. I foresee our lunch. Now."
Their waiter entered the room, carrying a tray.
"What was wrong with that guy I was with—Toba?" Randy asked as they began eating.
"He is someone connected with the dark birds," Leila said between mouthfuls.
"What dark birds? This is the second time you've mentioned them."
"Reyd is the subject of a black decade. I see his would-be assassins that way."
"Black decade?" said Leaves. "What's he done?"
"Made an enemy he shouldn't have, apparently. He thinks it's Chadwick."
"Oh, my! Chadwick can be very nasty."
"So can Reyd, you know. Or do you?"