“After such a meal, I would forgive almost anything.”
“You have a considerable sum banked with me. Could you perhaps have access to… mmm… say triple that amount?”
“Possibly.”
“Yes. Good. Have you heard, perhaps, of our sessions of Topenga Vagnag?”
“You might say it’s among the things that brought me here.”
“Ahhh. Yes. It is the custom for offworlders to deposit a certain sum with me before they play. This smoothes out possible difficulties and makes life more pleasant for everyone.”
“Let’s have things clear, Jao juhFeyn. You are inviting me to play Topenga Vagnag?”
“Yes. If you can present the necessary deposit. I have a credit link tied to Helvetia which you may use if you wish.”
“That won’t be necessary. How soon must I have the deposit?”
“Three days on. By the first hour after noon.”
“And when is the Game?”
“The Players will arrive four days on.”
“I see. You have secure rooms for them?”
“For you also, if you wish. The room is part of the service I provide in return for my fee which is ten percent of your net wins; if you are a net loser, consider it a gift.”
“Most kind. I’d really rather avoid the… um… distractions of coming and going.”
“You’ve played Topenga before?”
“Yes.”
“What name will you be using?”
“My name is my talisman, juhFeyn. I never change it. I will go by Autumn Rose.”
He smiled, settled back in his chair. “So you’re a tech, a systems specialist.”
“Freetech. I can’t talk about it. Company privilege, you understand. Silence is part of what they buy from me.”
“I see. Have you ever been to Shimmaroh?”
“No. What’s it like?”
“You know Spotchals?”
“Who doesn’t.”
“True. Something like Spotchals in a smaller system…
Kikun slid along the alley, stopped by a narrow recess. “Easiest to get in here,” he murmured.
Autumn Rose fished the keypac from her toolbag, got the door open and slipped inside, a shadow in shadows. She had a black scarf wrapped around her head, and as she moved, there was a springy power in her thin body that reminded Kikun of the sohdihlo dancers back home who trained for the Holy Days at Plibajatsi Toh, the Sacred Lake. He grimaced. It seemed like everything was reminding him of home these days. Grandmother Ghost getting her pinches in.
There was a hiss from the darkness-Autumn Rose wondering why he was dallying out in the street. That was another thing about these days, Rose was impatient all the time, scratchy as the thorns on her namesake.
The building was dark and smelled of urine and dust; it had the hollow echoing feel that told Kikun it was empty. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t think it was necessary. Gaagi was hovering somewhere in the background; he wasn’t showing his face, but Kikun could hear the whisper of his feathers now and then, just often enough to know he was there. Might or might not be a help.
Kikun slipped in past Rose, went scurrying up the gritty, sagging stairs, staying close to the wall so they wouldn’t squeal on him. Or under him, as the case might be.
##
The door to Sai’s office had a dirty mirror in the upper half, a mirror that turned into one-way glass once they were inside.
Rose looked over her shoulder, snorted. “Elegant.”
Kikun shrugged. “Whatever works.”
She wrinkled her nose, set her hands on her hips and looked around.
A grayish light filtered through the ancient dust on the windows, enough to show them the sagging benches lined up against a side wall, the broad armchair in an inner corner where the guard sat with his ottoshot across his knees; its seat cushion was worn and shabby, molded to the shape of his broad butt. Beside the door into the inner office, a bulky deskset pouched through the wall with a grill across a hatch. During the day the woman sat behind that grill, readouts at their elbows, and did their needlework while they waited for someone to comcall or walk in.
Rose inspected the door to the inner office, fished a readout from her toolbag and ran it along the jamb; when she was finished, she looked at the result, sniffed with satisfaction. Over her shoulder she said, “Watch my back. I don’t know how long this’s going to take.” She keyed the door, went through it, and settled at one of the readouts.
Kikun watched her start work, then went to squat in a corner by the outer door, humming hymns that were so old even the gods had forgotten who made them.
Jadii-Gevas the antelope spirit ran clicka-clack through the empty stinking corridors, his black eyes wild, his breath wet before him.
Kikun quivered with him, shuddered with his fear, looked through his eyes, searching, searching for motion, the thing that Jadii-gevas was created to find, find and flee. The antelope spirit shuddered and fled as wind rattled a window, his hooves clacked on the bare wood floors like hail as he fled again when a rat came trundling from a pile of anonymous litter.
Spash’ats the Bear sat in a corner of the room, big and dark, shining amber eyes. He yawned, opened his mouth wide enough to swallow Kikun, snapped it closed, tooth-sliding against tooth. He was shadow without substance but his power was like perfume, it lingered even when the wearer was mostly absent. He was warning, he was reproach, he was the summoner.
Kikun shuddered whenever he looked into that corner; he tried not to look, but he couldn’t keep his head from turning, he couldn’t keep his eyes away.
He was supposed to be watching for intruders, he was supposed to be guarding Autumn Rose, not harrowing his soul for the edification of his gods, gods he couldn’t believe in even when he was looking at them. He kept looking at them. He let Jadii-Gevas do the watching.
The soft sound of Rose’s fingertips came to him along with a faint flickering greenish glow from the screen. She was concentrating so hard it was like a skin of glass was pulled around her, glass tough as ship steel.
He sighed. He missed Shadith; she understood things that Rose never would because Rose didn’t want to understand them. He spent a moment wondering where Shadow was and what she was doing right now-then was jerked from his reverie by the challenge roar of Jadii-Gevas…
Antelope Spirit reared, huge and dark, antlers like naked trees, eyes red, Jadii-Gevas reared, obsidian hooves hanging over the head of the man coming unconcerned down the corridor, coming toward the office…
Kikun whistled a brief warning to Rose, dropped flat against the wall, the stunner ready.
There was a form on the far side of the glass, the rattle of a key in the lock. The door opened.
Kikun fired.
The man jerked, shuddered, dropped.
Xumady the Otter clashed his teeth and giggled, a high whinny that scratched at Kikun’s ears and called a lump into his throat. Down among the dead men, Xumady said to him. You’ve a corpse to play with, Nai.
Kikun cursed the trickster in the reduplications of his natal langue, the agglutinations. He didn’t want to believe it, but he’d felt the spirit go out of the man and he saw cold and empty flesh lying on the shabby rug. With a last flicker of hope, he dropped to a squat beside the body, caught hold of the nearest wrist, tried to find a pulse.
Nothing.
He scowled at the stunner, held it close to his eyes so he could see the setting. Minimum stun. The lowest notch. “Rose,” he whispered.
No answer. She was so tied into what she was doing she didn’t know what was happening out here.
“Rose!”
She made an impatient sound, looked up. “What? I’m just getting somewhere, Kuna. Hold on a minute, will you?”
“No. There’s a problem. I need you.”