Early Byrd by Phil Geusz

hands. "This speaks well for you, Li."
    He bowed formally. "I was given an
assignment."
    Rapput merely smiled, and then gestured
toward the elevator. Another Artemu—of the honorably-serving Quenth
Clan, I now knew—pressed a button . . .
    . . . and nothing happened. Frowning, he
pressed it again.
    "It's been like this all day, sir," an
Artemesian I'd not been introduced to offered. He was carrying a
large and very humanlike briefcase. "Sometimes the elevators
function and sometimes they don't. The humans have a repair crew
working in the lobby."
    "The other one works, sir!" the servant
declared as its door opened with a pleasant chime. He reached in to
hold it for us just as any human flunky might've.
    "Hmph!" Rapput declared, though he said no
more about what he might or might not've though of human
technology. He stepped ponderously inside, followed by Li and Tim
and I. "Only inner family members are allowed together in crowded
conveyances. Your teacher counts, but only because he's so closely
associated with you. Once you’re grown, he'll be expected to wait
for the next cab with everyone else. You might wish to file that
away."
    "Yes, sir," I said for us both. Somehow it
was getting easier to talk to Rapput now that we understood more
about him. Perhaps he felt the same way. At any rate, the floor
sank and our eyes rose to count off the floors. Five, four, three,
two, one . . .
    . . . but the cab kept right on moving!
    "Li!" Rapput declared. "Have you any—"
    He didn't get any further, however. Because
just as the " B" for "Basement" indicator began to flicker, the floor dropped out from
under us and we fell free like abird with clipped wings.

12
     
    The elevator was already pretty low in the building,
so we didn't have all that far left to drop. There was just the
basement, then a parking level below it. Tim and I landed on top of
each other, while Mr. Li rolled with the impact and instantly rose
to his feet, ready for anything. It was a neat trick, and I wanted
to ask him how he did it. But instead Rapput said something in his
native tongue, using words I hadn't learned yet. He must've been
cursing; three different bones were sticking out of his left arm,
which he held cradled in his right, and he was bleeding all over
his robe.
    Li scowled, torn between standing ready and
going to Rapput's aid. Before he could make up his mind the cab's
doors opened three or four inches, emitting a terrible screech in
the process. "Hello in there!" a human voice cried out in a strong
American accent.
    "Hello," Li replied, shifting subtly into a
more aggressive stance.
    "There's five armed men out here," the
American continued. "We've got shotguns, rifles, and grenades. We
want to take you alive and promise the boys won't be harmed."
    "Dropping the elevator they're riding in a
floor and a half isn't exactly the best way not to harm children,"
Li countered.
    "Granted," the voice replied. "We promise
not to harm them any more, then, if it makes you feel
better. Now, stand aside or we'll be forced against our will to get
nasty."
    Li scowled and eased himself behind the
door, so as to take whoever entered from behind. But Rapput shook
his head. "These are my brother's sons," he said, though pain
slurred every word. "I've sworn both to him and their natural
parents to protect them. As, I suspect, have you."
    Li's eyes glistened like black agates for a
microsecond, and then he nodded and stepped to the back wall. "Come
on in," he replied.
    Two crowbars snaked into sight, then the
door was wrenched further open. Now we could see that there were
indeed armed men on the other side, all wearing nylon stockings
over their heads.
    "Hands up!" a new voice ordered. This one
sounded more Canadian. "No tricks, eh?"
    "No tricks," Li promised. "Just don't hurt
the boys." He nodded to Rapput. "Have you got a first-aid kit?"
    "Let the bastard bleed!" the American
declared, half-hidden features twisted in disgust. "My son died at
Kansas City." Then