Necessity's Child (Liaden Universe®) by Steve Miller, Sharon Lee Page A
Authors: Steve Miller, Sharon Lee
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be sure of is that nobody gets paid to go temporarily blind, if you understand me. McFarland says he can set us up with long-distance surveillance, and a couple pairs o’Scouts to mind the screens. I think we’d best take him up on that.”
Nova nodded.
“Please proceed,” she said. “Quickly, in case this big surprise you argue for so persuasively is near to fruition.”
“I’ll get it set up tomorrow. McFarland’ll give me everything I need. Wanted to clear it with you first.” He raised his cup. “Figure it’s only smart, to open up extra eyes, but I’d rather that notion of yours was right, Boss. Long run, it’d save us all some trouble.”
* * *
It was a fine, warm day on the top of the world when Kezzi pushed open her own door to let herself and Malda out.
Before opening the hatch, she had used the mirror tube to look up and down the street. It had been empty, which the street usually was. That didn’t mean that there was no use in looking, though. Once, she had seen Rafin stalking toward the kompani ’s fifth door, his toolbelt clanking and a scowl on his face. Rafin’s temper wasn’t good at the best of times, and she didn’t want to meet that frown on the street, or have her ears cuffed, and be dragged back below because she was only a Small, and not permitted to be out alone.
That was the Rule: Smalls were not to go to the top of the world or the City Above, except with an elder.
The Bedel said, “Rules are for weak heads.”
Also, Kezzi thought, closing the hatch behind her and snapping her fingers for Malda to follow, she was not a Small. That there were no others Smaller, did not mean that she remained Small forever.
Because the day was so fine, she and Malda walked out of the quiet streets and down where Those Others—the gadje —moved about, busy and important. Far too busy and important to notice a girl and her little black-and-tan dog.
And that was well.
That was very well, indeed.
* * *
“Here, now, you little thief, come back here!”
The shopkeeper who yelled it was a red-faced man with freckles and a dirty apron. His legs were long and there was no possibility that she could outrun him.
Kezzi, therefore, fell to her knees, clutched Malda to her and began to loudly lament.
“No! No! He’s my dog! You can’t have him!”
The shopkeeper came to a halt, a look of confusion on his foolish gadje face.
“What the—” he began, as another man came forward. Kezzi saw him out of the corner of her eye—a brown man with big shoulders, and a gun belted on his hip.
“Hey, now, neighbor, leave the kid’s dog alone, right?”
“Dog?” The red-faced man blinked and turned. “ Dog ?” he repeated. “I’m not after her damn dog—ain’t even enough of it to make a decent stew! She stole a—”
“Easy,” the brown man interrupted, putting a hand on the other man’s shoulder. “Go on inside and make sure the neighbors don’t walk off with the store.”
“But she—”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll come in in a few and make it right with you. Just want to have a word or two with the younger here, first. I don’t show up, you call in one of the patrol and tell ’em to write down that Golden stiffed you. Got that name?”
“Golden,” the red-faced man repeated. “Dorrie Golden’s grandson?”
“That’s me.”
The red-faced man shook his head. “You ain’t gonna stiff me,” he said, and walked away without saying anything else.
During this exchange, Kezzi had kept up her end of things, clutching Malda—to whom the part of patient victim was nothing new—and weeping desperately into his fur.
“Okay.” The man named Golden hunkered down next to her. “He’s gone. Nobody’s gonna take your dog.”
Sniffling, Kezzi raised her head. “Nobody?” she asked, suspiciously.
“Let’s just say they’ll have to get through me, first,” Golden said, brown eyes smiling.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Anna.”
“Pleased to meetcha, Anna,” he
Nova nodded.
“Please proceed,” she said. “Quickly, in case this big surprise you argue for so persuasively is near to fruition.”
“I’ll get it set up tomorrow. McFarland’ll give me everything I need. Wanted to clear it with you first.” He raised his cup. “Figure it’s only smart, to open up extra eyes, but I’d rather that notion of yours was right, Boss. Long run, it’d save us all some trouble.”
* * *
It was a fine, warm day on the top of the world when Kezzi pushed open her own door to let herself and Malda out.
Before opening the hatch, she had used the mirror tube to look up and down the street. It had been empty, which the street usually was. That didn’t mean that there was no use in looking, though. Once, she had seen Rafin stalking toward the kompani ’s fifth door, his toolbelt clanking and a scowl on his face. Rafin’s temper wasn’t good at the best of times, and she didn’t want to meet that frown on the street, or have her ears cuffed, and be dragged back below because she was only a Small, and not permitted to be out alone.
That was the Rule: Smalls were not to go to the top of the world or the City Above, except with an elder.
The Bedel said, “Rules are for weak heads.”
Also, Kezzi thought, closing the hatch behind her and snapping her fingers for Malda to follow, she was not a Small. That there were no others Smaller, did not mean that she remained Small forever.
Because the day was so fine, she and Malda walked out of the quiet streets and down where Those Others—the gadje —moved about, busy and important. Far too busy and important to notice a girl and her little black-and-tan dog.
And that was well.
That was very well, indeed.
* * *
“Here, now, you little thief, come back here!”
The shopkeeper who yelled it was a red-faced man with freckles and a dirty apron. His legs were long and there was no possibility that she could outrun him.
Kezzi, therefore, fell to her knees, clutched Malda to her and began to loudly lament.
“No! No! He’s my dog! You can’t have him!”
The shopkeeper came to a halt, a look of confusion on his foolish gadje face.
“What the—” he began, as another man came forward. Kezzi saw him out of the corner of her eye—a brown man with big shoulders, and a gun belted on his hip.
“Hey, now, neighbor, leave the kid’s dog alone, right?”
“Dog?” The red-faced man blinked and turned. “ Dog ?” he repeated. “I’m not after her damn dog—ain’t even enough of it to make a decent stew! She stole a—”
“Easy,” the brown man interrupted, putting a hand on the other man’s shoulder. “Go on inside and make sure the neighbors don’t walk off with the store.”
“But she—”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll come in in a few and make it right with you. Just want to have a word or two with the younger here, first. I don’t show up, you call in one of the patrol and tell ’em to write down that Golden stiffed you. Got that name?”
“Golden,” the red-faced man repeated. “Dorrie Golden’s grandson?”
“That’s me.”
The red-faced man shook his head. “You ain’t gonna stiff me,” he said, and walked away without saying anything else.
During this exchange, Kezzi had kept up her end of things, clutching Malda—to whom the part of patient victim was nothing new—and weeping desperately into his fur.
“Okay.” The man named Golden hunkered down next to her. “He’s gone. Nobody’s gonna take your dog.”
Sniffling, Kezzi raised her head. “Nobody?” she asked, suspiciously.
“Let’s just say they’ll have to get through me, first,” Golden said, brown eyes smiling.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Anna.”
“Pleased to meetcha, Anna,” he
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