Dreamer by Steven Harper

paid for time in bed so word would get out that he was customer, not guard. The antidote strips Harenn had implanted under his skin kept Kendi from getting high, but there was no way around the sex. Kendi hoped Ben didn’t find out.
    Two of the rent boys had had red hair.
    Kendi browsed the market. At first glance, the place looked like any other market near sunset. The area was closed to ground traffic, and stalls and booths were scattered up and down the street. Buyers crowded the sidewalk, and the street was full of bicycles and people pulling light passenger carts. Vendors hawked food, clothing, and cheap jewelry. Shouts and conversations mixed with smells of sizzling fat and human sweat. Signs and posters were everywhere, extolling Humans, Yes! Aliens, No!, Love the Unity Like Yourself, and Our Children Are the Unity.
    Kendi ignored all of this. He couldn’t shake the feeling that should hurry. His mind held no doubt that other Silent soon feel the strange child’s presence. When that happened, others would start looking too.
    Some stalls were large enough to be living rooms. Others were actually entrances to what looked like apartment houses. Prostitutes, male and female, were draped inside and in front of these stalls. Most looked bored, some looked scared, a few looked seductive.
    “Hey!” called a familiar voice as Kendi passed one stall. “Looking for more fun?”
    Kendi turned to the speaker, a young man with a long face and thin lips. Kendi put a knowing grin on his face and entered the stall. It was carpeted with threadbare rugs. Three attractive young men were stretched out on the ground. They glanced idly at Kendi as he shook hands with their pimp.
    “Your man was pretty good yesterday, Qadar,” Kendi said. “Worth it.”
    “Mine are trained,” Qadar breezed. “These other places just throw someone into bed with you and take your money. I make sure my boys know what they’re doing. You want a drink? Or a refill on your dermos?”
    “Don’t need the refill,” Kendi said, patting a brace of dermosprays in one pocket, “but I’ll take some wine.”
    He and Qadar made further small talk while one of the rent boys brought Kendi a glass of wine. When the timing felt right, Kendi leaned conspiratorially toward Qadar.
    “I’ve got a friend,” he said. “And we’re in the market for something...permanent, you know? Someone we can have whenever we want. But we don’t want to pay taxes and license fees and all that shit every year. You know anyone?”
    Qadar hemmed and hawed until Kendi dropped considerable kesh on the table.
    “Talk to Mr. M and to Indri. They’ll set you up,” Qadar said, and gave directions to their stalls.
    Kendi winked. “I’ll be back. Gotta keep your men in practice.”
    Out in the market, Kendi suppressed a shudder and paid to wash hands and face at a hot water stall. When he emerged, he stopped abruptly enough to earn an elbow in the side from an annoyed passer-by.
    The boy was back.
    Kendi’s heart lurched. The boy slouched against a gray aerogel wall half a block up the street. His clothes were ragged, even torn, but he was quite handsome, with tousled black hair and a swarthy complexion that contrasted sharply with a startling pair of ice-blue eyes. He looked fifteen or sixteen.
    Kendi looked away, then back, careful not to stare. He had seen the boy around the market several times. Something about him rang bells in Kendi’s head, but he couldn’t say what or why. Kendi doubted he was the kid they were looking for—that would be too much to hope for. The Children of Irfan had been planning to spend several weeks or months on their search. Finding their quarry in only four days would be a miracle. But the elusive Silent child wasn’t the only person Kendi was seeking.
    Kendi studied the boy’s face as best he could in gathering dusk. It was the eyes that drew him. Utang, Kendi’s brother, had blue eyes just like them. They were rare among the Real People.