"Oh, no, not that," Keff laughed, and bent to a cabinet hidden in the wall behind the exercise machines. Behind the touch-open panel lay dusty bottles in shock webbing. Mirina stared at a small fortune in fermented beverages. "I have a nice beer. Not so good as a cask-aged brew that's served where it was laid down, but not bad."
"Mmm," Mirina said, appreciatively, unwilling to demand anything specific from the treasure house. Keff continued to paw through the collection. Now and again, she heard a faint clink as a couple of the fragile containers touched.
"Or-here, how about a drop of this? Red wine, from Denubia. Sixteen years old. No, wait," he said, after a pause during which he stared at the wall thoughtfully. He withdrew his selection. "This is better. Six-year-old Frusti."
"My God," Mirina said, staring as he produced a glass cylinder with a square paper label. The glass was dark, but the fluid within was darker yet. "I haven't had wine, real wine in years."
"It's real," Keff said, thumbing the synthesizer control for a couple of empty glasses. "Please, sit down."
Mirina watched him draw the cork carefully. She scented the faint headiness as the wine began to breathe, and drew it in appreciatively.
"You shouldn't be wasting this on me," she said, although she hoped he wouldn't take her at her word and put it away. She watched his hands. Nice hands. Square palms, square fingers, but favored with grace as well as strength. "In these parts that single bottle's worth a quarter of your other stock."
"A thing's only worth what people are willing to pay for it," Keff said, with his engaging grin. "I paid about ten credits for it six years ago when it was grape juice." He tilted the bottle gently to one side. "We ought to chamber the wine for a little while. May I offer you a snack in the meantime?"
Chapter Nineteen
"She has very nice manners," Carialle commented, as Keff produced biscuits and cheese from the sythesizer and put them in the middle of the small table. "She looked skeptical when you offered her your goulash, as if she wasn't expecting it to taste good, but she didn't say a word. Pleasantly surprised, to judge by her expression, and her pulse."
"She's not like the others," Keff said, smelling the wine. It was ready at last.
He held up the decanter, offering it to Mirina. The woman held her glass up for him to fill, and gave him a luminous smile. Keff smiled back, feeling his pulse pound harder. She had smooth and clear skin, with about a dozen freckles dusted over her nose. Her irises were the color of cognac but were rimmed with sable-brown like her lashes. He guessed her age to be about the same as his. One, no, two silver hairs glinted in her straight, dark-brown hair, but that was the only sign of age. Her round face was youthful, though the expression in her eyes was a sorrowful millenium old. He watched her curiously and wondered. At a big space station, with a thousand women around him, would he have noticed her? And yet she was very attractive, intelligent, and cultured, in spite of the company she kept.
"Am I overreacting, Cari?" he asked, under his breath. "It's been a while since I've seen a pretty woman."
There was a momentary pause, but Carialle's voice was perfectly even, without a hint of sarcasm. "I don't think so, Keff. You're a grown-up. But watch your step, eh?"
Keff smiled at Mirina, and stood up. "Why don't we move over here to finish the wine? The crash couches are much more comfortable." He extended a hand to her and settled her in one reclining chair. He sat down in the other and propped his feet on the console.
"This is delicious," Mirina said, sipping her wine. "And that synthesizer must be absolutely top of the line."
"I think so," Keff said, casually. "I'm not sure. I eat anything. Mostly health shakes." At that, Mirina did make a face, and Keff grinned.
"So," he asked, pouring himself some wine. He set the bottle on the console. "Were you born into the business like your partner? The way the two of you act I assume he's your partner."
Mirina corrected him quickly. "Not really partners," she said, with a strong emphasis on the word. "We've worked closely together for about eight years." The woman took a hasty sip of wine, then paused to smile over it. Not long enough to have been involved with Carialle, Keff thought, his heart sinking. She'd hardly have heard tales of a single wreck salvage a dozen years before she came.
"You're not much like him," Keff said, encouragingly. "You've had an education."
"The colloquialisms," she said, with a wicked smile. "You caught that. Yes. He was furious!"
"And some formal training? CW?"
"Good guess, Sir Knight," Carialle said. "Her pulse leaped just then. Dig deeper."
But Mirina had recovered herself quickly.
"That, my dear, was a long time ago," she said, lifting her glass. Only a few drops remained by this time, so she held it out for a refill.
"I'm glad you appreciate it," Keff said. He hoisted himself out of the deep padding, feeling his overtaxed muscles protest, and came over with the bottle. "The wine, I mean. Watch out, or you'll get tipsy. You're not from the same place as Bisman?"
"No. You took the paintings away," Mirina said, pointedly changing the subject. "I wanted to see that spacescape again. I've been to Dimitri."
"Oh, is that where it is?" Keff asked. Mirina nodded. "Never been there myself. Well, it was starting to rain."
"I know," the woman said, and showed a trifle of embarrassment. "Sorry we didn't help you."
Keff shrugged. "Competitors."
"I might like to buy that painting," Mirina said, temptingly.
"No," Carialle said, at once, then relented. "… Well, perhaps it wouldn't do any harm. I've had my joy from it. Tell her all right."
"Certainly," Keff said, smiling at his guest. "I'll give you a good price."
Mirina looked very pleased, but suddenly her face fell, and she took another sip of wine. "Never mind," she said. "I can't. I… I've run through my budget. I bought… something expensive."
"Ah," Keff said, wondering what had suddenly troubled her so deeply. She was staring at a spot on the wall. Keff glanced over his shoulder and wondered if she had seen through the holographic display. No, it was still intact. If anything, Carialle had enhanced the details to make it look even more solid. He cleared his throat, determined to lighten the mood. He went back to his own couch and stretched out luxuriously. "Say, aren't you afraid I might take advantage of your lowered resistance, to send a message to your Melange?"
"Send away," Mirina said, watching him with an amused glint in her eyes. "Couldn't be any worse than what's already happened to me."
"Oh? Confession's good for the soul," Keff said, encouragingly.
Her mind snapped back to whatever had been occupying it, and she stared at nothing again.
"Do I still have a soul?" she asked. Keff opened his mouth, then shut it. The wine had affected her more strongly than he'd guessed. Thunder rumbled, and Keff glanced at the external monitor for the flash of lightning. The storm must be directly overhead. The woman shivered. "I hate rain," she said. "I hate weather. I hate being stuck on a planet. I think I'm only happy out in space. If I had to stay planetbound for the rest of my life I'd kill myself."
"I know what you mean," Keff said, sincerely. "There's nothing like it."
"Yes. I don't want to do anything else," she said. "It's nice enough here, but I want to get out there again." Her eyes tilted up toward the ceiling, and the unseen reaches of space.
"She's a born spacer," Carialle said. "Just a little drunk, I think, but a born spacer."
"Don't you ever get lonely, traveling by yourself?" Mirina asked.
"Not at all," Keff said, sweeping a hand around. "I have…" he glanced at where Carialle's pillar should have been visible, and wasn't. "… I have all this," he finished.