Palace by Katharine Kerr, Mark Kreighbaum Page B

mouth.
    Across a narrow, gravelled courtyard rose the facade of the brothel, covered with small windows like the front of a hotel. The front door of polished wood slid back at their approach. Inside stood a pretty young blonde wearing a purple smartgown, close enough to transparent for Rico to make out the shape of her breasts and thighs, and a shadow that had to be pubic hair. Seeing a woman’s body in holos, as of course he had, turned out to be different than the real thing. He looked away fast, afraid of staring, but she was looking only at Hi.
    ‘I’m Hivel Jons,’ he was saying. ‘Where’s Aleen?’
    ‘Se, Madam sends her regrets and asked if you’d wait for her. She had to leave on an urgent errand.’
    ‘Errand? What the hell - Well, I’ll bet Aleen didn’t tell you where she was going.’
    ‘No, Se. Won’t you come in?’
    She settled them in a little room of plush furniture and lush plants, heavy with scentless flowers. When Rico touched a petal, his finger went right through it. The flowers were all holos. On one wall hung a big vidscreen, windowed into four panels, each showing newsfeed from the festival outside. The blonde trotted away, only to return with a short woman dressed in what Rico thought of as real clothes; he couldn’t see through her black and beaded dress, anyway. She had eyes the colour of a sunset.
    ‘Se Jons,’ she said, smiling, holding out a hand. ‘And this is?’
    ‘My nephew, Rico.’ Hi paused to catch her hand and kiss it. ‘Good to see you, Tia. Where’s Aleen?’
    ‘I don’t know. No, honestly, I don’t. She got a message over a closed comm about twenty minutes ago and rushed off with a couple of bodyguards.’
    Hi’s lips tightened, then smoothed, and he forced a smile.
    ‘Well, she’ll get back when she does, huh? No matter. Now. We’re here to celebrate my nephew’s coming of age. He was certified Not-child yesterday. Any ideas?’
    ‘Aleen left instructions.’ Tia winked, then turned to Rico. ‘Would you like to see some holos of our girls, young Se? Or would you prefer to be surprised?’
    Rico’s heart was racing, and he clasped his trembling hands behind his back. Suddenly he remembered the girl he’d seen on the Boulain.
    ‘Um. Well. Do you have any, uh, red-haired girls?’
    ‘Not right now,’ Tia said. ‘Only a young ward who isn’t Marked yet. What about a blonde?
    Or wait a minute. Darla has brown hair, but it’s got a reddish tone in it.’
    Hi laughed and clapped a hand on Rico’s shoulder.
    ‘I’ve seen Darla,’ Hi said. ‘You’ll like her.’ He glanced at Tia. ‘I’ll wait for Aleen. The doorman said something about a party out in the Pause?’
    ‘Yes, Se. Lera, take the guildmaster outside, will you?’
    ‘Fine,’ Hi said. ‘Oh, and Tia, someone’s written on the front wall with a pressure can, it looks like. More racist junk.’
    Tia sighed with a shake of her head.
    ‘I’ll get a servant out there. Se Rico, if you’ll come with me?’
    Rico followed Tia down a long hall. He could hear music dimly, coming from a long way away, and every now and again distant laughter. About halfway down Tia ushered him into a lift booth that levitated them to the third floor in a whoosh of compressed air. In this new hallway, the light gleamed dim and mysterious, shimmering on the carpets of handwoven mats that seemed to suck up all sounds. He smelled perfume, spicy but muted. All along the pale pink walls hung two-dee art work. With a shock, Rico recognized Bassi Ev’s famous Night of the Following Day. He paused, studying it, seeing brush strokes and whorls of actual paint. This had to be the original, worth more than he was likely to make in a lifetime. His mother would love to see this. At the thought of Barra, Rico felt his cheeks flush.
    ‘Something wrong, Rico?’ Tia said. He liked her voice, soft and full of warmth. ‘It’s all right to be scared, you know. All first-timers are scared.’
    ‘Really?’
    ‘Really.’