Bossman finished his task at the sensor board, frowned at what he saw on the screen, swung round to face the Lute. "Well, Puk?"
"Couldn't help it, Ginny. That kaak was chargin around like his tail on fire and maybe it was. He had a herd of his lodge bros huntin with him. Took me a time to get him off by himself. I blew a leech on his neck and soon's he was out of it, I tipped him down the nearest incinerator chute. He's sludge brick by now. No trouble showin when me and the merc connected, but I got a feelin we sled leave soonest. What you think?"
"Your instincts are infallible, my friend. Ajeri tiszteh, is it possible?"
The pilot lifted her eyes from her magazine. "We have a window in half an hour, then one after that every fifteen minutes for the next hour. You name it, you got it."
"We will leave soonest as Puk suggests. When you have completed the necessary arrangements, Jeri, I would like you to look through the girl's baggage."
Ajeri the Pilot set the magazine reader aside, thumbed the sensor that sent the prerecorded message; she waited for the acknowledgment, then looked around. "What for, Ginny? She's just a kid."
"I wonder. She was quite calm when she did not think someone was watching her. And there is that association with the Hunter."
Puk the Lute stirred, "Playin games," he growled.
Ajeri slid from the chair, went to poke at the travelpouch with her boot toe. Over her shoulder she said, "Some of the Cousins look like babes until they turn into little old people. What's MEMORY tell you, Ginny? The lbexines like that?"
"I do not believe so." He glanced at the screen, turned back to the Pilot. "Although there is very little information available about Ibex. Except for the trade enclave Yastroo, it is a closed world."
"You think the girl's been feeding you lies?" Ajeri was squatting beside the harpcase; she looked up, raised her brows.
Puk stirred. "Sure she was. They drop from the womb, women lie, the first breath they take, they lie. It's their thing."
Ginny the Bossman ignored him and answered the
Pilot. "Not exactly, Jeri tiszt, I think it more likely that she is not telling the whole truth."
That sent chills through Shadith because it was too close to what she'd actually been doing. He kept having them, those flashes of insight. Spooky. And frustrating. It was impossible to fight because you never knew when it would strike and undo all your plotting. He had an exalted view of his Luck and maybe he was right to have it.
Ajeri had the harpcase open; Shadith winced as the Pilot plucked the loosened strings at random, then heavyhanded a muddled arpeggio. "Maybe you ought to dump her, Ginny. She sounds like trouble we don't need."
"No, Jeri, she is a gift from my Luck; to throw her away would be a stupidity and dangerous. Would Luck stay if I rejected her and her gifts? Think of it, my friend. Without my looking or seeking, the girl came to me, a musician who knows old songs, old music. A child, virginal and pure. She is the last ingredient in the mix, Jeri. The third in the holy triad, Nataminaho the Hunter, Opalekis-Mimo the Holy Dancer, and now NikamoOskinin the Virgin Singer. We can proceed immediately to Kiskai, inject them into the mix, and let it ferment. There is more time for the news of their arrival to spread and stir the people up, it will have a wider impact-and we will have time to extend the drama to an explosion of blood and rage at the Culmination of the Pakoseo. Think of the intensity we can get, Jeri, what a grand finale. Ahhhhh. We will burn our candles to Luck this night, my dear, we will…" He stopped and pulled himself together. "Jeri tiszt, the harp seems harmless enough. Please continue looking through the girl's impedimenta and tell me if you find anything that troubles you."
Puk the Lute sat up with a jerk. "Ginny, we need more of a buffer. I think you should get hold of Betalli and turn him lose on makin fuckin damn sure we can't be traced backward forward up down any which way. I don't like that. Hunter bein involved with the girl. She'll be nosin after every ship that leaves here around the time the little bitch disappeared. Spotchals, I knew it was goin to be trouble, they a herd of needlenosed assholes wind you up so tight with their fuckin rules you strangle y'self. We're not deep enough covered, Boss. Luck or no luck, that's the truth and you know it."
"Puk, I've told you before, I will not have Language in my ears. You will be Penitent tonight in our Praisesong."
"Yeh yeh, I hear you." When Ginny scowled, Puk got hold of his impatience and spoke more soberly. "I apologize, sir, but I must respectfully remind you of the gist of what I said. Buffer, sir. Betalli, sir. Hunters Inc, sir."
"I will consider the matter, Puk. And your apology is accepted; I understand you spoke from the heat of your anxiety, but courtesy is a virtue that must be assiduously cultivated. Cultivate, my friend, cultivate. Ajeri tiszteh, have you finished? Is there anything in that pouch that I should see?"
"Only that the girl's hauling along a young arsenal. Seems an odd lot to be carrying to University of all places, makes me wonder what she was thinking. There's a stunnertype I've never seen before, looks hand-built. And this." She held up a tiny needier; it almost disappeared in the palm of her hand. "I'd swear it's a Pa'ao special. I know the Pa'ao Teely don't make weapons for everyone and they charge an arm and a leg, but she's got such high-powered friends, it probably is. Can I keep it, Ginny? It's a beautiful thing."
"We are not thieves, Ajeri Tiszteh. Put the needier away."
Mumbling under her breath the Pilot tucked the weapon back where she'd found it. "I tell you again, Ginny, singer or no, virgin or whatever, I think you should dump her."
"I will not so question my Luck, Ajeri tiszteh. You displease me by your lack of faith. You will join Puk as Penitent. Do you accept?"
"Yes, sir; I acknowledge my failing, but remember, dear sir, it is grounded in my affection for you and my respect for the artistry of your productions."
In her cell Shadith blinked, so startled that she temporarily lost touch with the Pet's brain. She finally decided it was some kind of game they were playing. Weird.
Shortly after that she felt the ship come alive and knew they were on their way.
Chapter 4. Crazy in a can
It was a small oval room, womblike, warm, almost claustrophobic. Shadith saw it through the Pet's eyes; they seemed to work better in semidarkness-as if his brain reconfigured the shape of his retinas to eliminate his myopia once the sun went down.
The curved walls were a matte black that sucked up light with an avid hunger, even the ghastly blue-purple glow from lusotorches programmed to sink near extinction at random intervals, then flame up into a painful glare, all the while producing gouts of illusory gray black cottoncandy smoke without stink or sting. Incense wafted about on programmed drafts, pungent and not quite pleasant. When a drift came his way, the Pet sneezed and scrubbed at his nose with his forepaws. The small sounds he made were lost in swelling sonorous music that set Shadith's teeth on edge and made him fold his ears tight against his head.
Bossman knelt in the center of an elaborate mandala, lines of silver laid into the tarblack floor, raying outward from a silver disk with words and obscene drawings written in silver wire between the rays, shimmering alive and sinking into murk once more as the torchlight shifted. He chanted in a high thin voice, supported by Ajeri the Pilot who knelt at his right hand and Puk the Lute who kept at his left. The Pet was chained high on a wall beside one of the flambeaux; between attacks of incense, the beast sank into a lethargy that came from too much familiarity with the room and the goings on there. Shadith had to keep pinching at him to wake him up so she could look through his eyes and follow what was happening.