Fehris.
“…But we’re in pretty bad shape. Power reserves are entirely gone, though it's pretty amazing they were there in the first place. Displays aren’t working, most of the power conduits are probably fried. Some of the engines were barely working before that last landing, but I don’t know if they are now.”
The bearded man, Ercan, is studying me. “What are you, exactly? What’s your connection with the Retriever ship? Are you some sort of Akarii splinter faction?”
I look from the man to the woman and back. “Who, exactly, is in charge of your group here?”
“I am,” they say at the same time.
They look at each other, surprised. “He is,” said the woman, frowning. “Technically. He’s got the money.”
Fehris sighed loudly from his corner of the room. “You’ll notice it’s clear who is not in charge.”
“Fehris, shut up,” said Ercan and the woman, again simultaneously.
“Well, then," I say to Ercan. “Thanks for the great rescue and all. But if you could all clear off my ship, and get started back to wherever you’ve come from, I have a lot of work to do here.”
I put on a wide and innocent grin that is full of sharp teeth.
Color rises up in Ercan’s face. It's kind of cool to watch. “ Your ship?” he says. “What are you, a devil?” His hand is on his knife, still in the sheath on his chest
“Don’t,” says Kjat, from the doorway.
She has her own knife in her hand, and points it in Ercan’s direction. Her other hand held two sections of grey wooden slats from the ancient boxes in the hold. “Don’t try anything .”
It’s a long, tense minute.
Then Mircada says “Ercan, settle down. He’s not Akarii. He’d be using a whole different set of matrices. I believe he’s a Hulgliev.”
“A what?”
“A devil,” said Fehris, shaking his head. “You're both right.”
“He is not a devil,” Kjat says, quiet but clear.
“A creature of legend. A stealer of dreams,” Fehris says. “A story mothers used to use to frighten their children at night. A devil. What’s the difference?”
“No, not a devil,” Mircada says, thoughtfully. “The Akarii would disagree with you, wouldn’t they?”
“That would just reinforce my thesis.”
I frown. “What’s that mean, exactly? And what are you three, if you’re not Akarii?”
“Kerul,” Fehris says. He points at Ercan. “He’s pretty high up in the Family. Getting higher every day. Every hour, probably.”
Kerul, I think. Well, it could be worse.
Ercan sighs, and rolls his eyes. “Who do you work for, Fehris?”
“Clearly someone very, very important. Sir.”
Mircada looks at all of us, shakes her head, and throws up her hands. She crosses the room, and kneels next to the body of the mage who’d been their pilot. She places her hand on the dead human’s forehead and slowly closes his eyes. Her expression is solemn. “Dear Mishna,” she whispered. “Oh, you dear, sweet man.”
There is long, embarrassed minute of quiet in which no one can meet anyone’s eyes.
I’m thinking of Josik and Pirrosh. Josik had a sister in one of the better sections of Tamaranth. I'd need to find her and tell her about him. I don’t think they were close, but then I never actually asked. Pirrosh claimed to have several wives and many children, all of them living in blimps off-lei, far to the south. We’d never actually believed him, but now I wondered.
I know they knew the risks, coming into Tilhtinora. We all did.
And yet I was the one who had sold them on the plan. It’s going to take me awhile to come to terms with that.
As I look at Ercan, I can see what might be similar thoughts moving across his face, too, as he looks at the pilot's body.
Outside, wind leans in against the ship, rocking it. Ercan clears his throat again. And then Mircada stands and turns to us and claps her hands together. “We all have some work to do, I think? Let’s be practical. We need to get the ship to port before
“…But we’re in pretty bad shape. Power reserves are entirely gone, though it's pretty amazing they were there in the first place. Displays aren’t working, most of the power conduits are probably fried. Some of the engines were barely working before that last landing, but I don’t know if they are now.”
The bearded man, Ercan, is studying me. “What are you, exactly? What’s your connection with the Retriever ship? Are you some sort of Akarii splinter faction?”
I look from the man to the woman and back. “Who, exactly, is in charge of your group here?”
“I am,” they say at the same time.
They look at each other, surprised. “He is,” said the woman, frowning. “Technically. He’s got the money.”
Fehris sighed loudly from his corner of the room. “You’ll notice it’s clear who is not in charge.”
“Fehris, shut up,” said Ercan and the woman, again simultaneously.
“Well, then," I say to Ercan. “Thanks for the great rescue and all. But if you could all clear off my ship, and get started back to wherever you’ve come from, I have a lot of work to do here.”
I put on a wide and innocent grin that is full of sharp teeth.
Color rises up in Ercan’s face. It's kind of cool to watch. “ Your ship?” he says. “What are you, a devil?” His hand is on his knife, still in the sheath on his chest
“Don’t,” says Kjat, from the doorway.
She has her own knife in her hand, and points it in Ercan’s direction. Her other hand held two sections of grey wooden slats from the ancient boxes in the hold. “Don’t try anything .”
It’s a long, tense minute.
Then Mircada says “Ercan, settle down. He’s not Akarii. He’d be using a whole different set of matrices. I believe he’s a Hulgliev.”
“A what?”
“A devil,” said Fehris, shaking his head. “You're both right.”
“He is not a devil,” Kjat says, quiet but clear.
“A creature of legend. A stealer of dreams,” Fehris says. “A story mothers used to use to frighten their children at night. A devil. What’s the difference?”
“No, not a devil,” Mircada says, thoughtfully. “The Akarii would disagree with you, wouldn’t they?”
“That would just reinforce my thesis.”
I frown. “What’s that mean, exactly? And what are you three, if you’re not Akarii?”
“Kerul,” Fehris says. He points at Ercan. “He’s pretty high up in the Family. Getting higher every day. Every hour, probably.”
Kerul, I think. Well, it could be worse.
Ercan sighs, and rolls his eyes. “Who do you work for, Fehris?”
“Clearly someone very, very important. Sir.”
Mircada looks at all of us, shakes her head, and throws up her hands. She crosses the room, and kneels next to the body of the mage who’d been their pilot. She places her hand on the dead human’s forehead and slowly closes his eyes. Her expression is solemn. “Dear Mishna,” she whispered. “Oh, you dear, sweet man.”
There is long, embarrassed minute of quiet in which no one can meet anyone’s eyes.
I’m thinking of Josik and Pirrosh. Josik had a sister in one of the better sections of Tamaranth. I'd need to find her and tell her about him. I don’t think they were close, but then I never actually asked. Pirrosh claimed to have several wives and many children, all of them living in blimps off-lei, far to the south. We’d never actually believed him, but now I wondered.
I know they knew the risks, coming into Tilhtinora. We all did.
And yet I was the one who had sold them on the plan. It’s going to take me awhile to come to terms with that.
As I look at Ercan, I can see what might be similar thoughts moving across his face, too, as he looks at the pilot's body.
Outside, wind leans in against the ship, rocking it. Ercan clears his throat again. And then Mircada stands and turns to us and claps her hands together. “We all have some work to do, I think? Let’s be practical. We need to get the ship to port before
Similar Books
