here?”
“I will tell her, Halfpenny
Terwilliger, but she prefers not to deal directly with the customers.”
Cain stepped forward. “Do it
anyway,” he said in very level tones. “Tell her our business concerns a mutual
friend.”
The Orange Monkey stared at him
for a moment, then turned and headed off to another area of the space station
after summoning a companion to keep watch on them. It returned a few minutes
later and walked up to Cain.
“The Sargasso Rose has instructed
me to take you to her,” it said in its placid, singsong voice. If it was
surprised or disappointed, it kept its feelings well hidden.
Cain and Terwilliger followed it
through a trio of large storage rooms and up to a small door.
“She is in here, said the Orange
Monkey.
“Thanks,” said Cain. He opened the
door and stepped into a cluttered office, followed by Terwilliger.
Sitting behind a chrome desk that
no longer gleamed, wearing a metallic gold outfit that no longer glistened, was
a rather plain woman. Her hair was a dull brown, her eyes a lackluster green,
her nose prominent, her chin weak. She was neither fat nor thin, but if she had
ever possessed an attractive figure, that time had long since passed. Attached
to her hair was a small white rose, which Cain took to be artificial.
She stared directly at the bounty
hunter.
“You wished to see me, Mr. Cain?”
“You know my name?”
She smiled. “I know many things
about you, Sebastian Nightingale Cain. What I don’t know is who referred you to
me.”
“A man called Stern, back on Port
étrange.”
“Jonathan Jeremy Jacobar Stern,”
she said. “Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in
years.” She gestured to a pair of chairs. “Please be seated.” She turned to
Terwilliger. “I understand ManMountain Bates is looking for you.”
“You have excellent sources,”
replied the gambler uneasily.
“Indeed I do,” she agreed. “Not
much goes on in this part of the Frontier that I don’t know about.”
“Then I assume you know why I’m
here,” said Cain.
“I know you’re a bounty hunter,”
she said, “and you’ve told me that Stern sent you, so I can make a pretty good
guess as to why you’re here.” She paused. “But Stern wouldn’t send you to me . He would have told you to hunt up Duncan Black.” She turned
back to Terwilliger. “ You told Mr. Cain to come
here, of course. Stern doesn’t know Duncan is dead, but you do.”
“Well, there wasn’t much sense
trying to have a conversation with Duncan, rest his soul,” explained
Terwilliger defensively.
“And doubtless he has promised to
protect you from ManMountain Bates in exchange for this information.” She
scrutinized Cain for a moment. “You made a poor trade, Mr. Cain. You should
have stayed on Keepsake.”
“What makes you think I come from
Keepsake?” he asked.
She smiled again. “I’ve known your
ship’s registration number since I started tracking you two days ago. In the
intervening forty-eight hours I’ve found out things about you that even you may have forgotten. I know the date and planet of your
birth, I know why you left the more populated worlds of the Democracy, I know
how many men you have killed and who they were—and here you are, practically
denying that you work out of Keepsake. If you want my honesty, I should think the least you can do is offer me your own.”
“I apologize,” said Cain.
“There’s no need to,” she replied.
“Deceit is no more than I expect from a member of your sex.”
“Will you help me?” asked Cain,
ignoring her comment.
“You’re wasting your time.”
“I’ve got plenty to waste,” he
said. “And I can pay for yours.”
“I didn’t say you would be wasting my time,” said the Sargasso Rose. “I have every
intention of selling you the information you need.”
“I’m not sure I understand the
distinction.”
“I’m quite prepared to tell you
what you want to know, but it won’t do you any good. The Angel
“I will tell her, Halfpenny
Terwilliger, but she prefers not to deal directly with the customers.”
Cain stepped forward. “Do it
anyway,” he said in very level tones. “Tell her our business concerns a mutual
friend.”
The Orange Monkey stared at him
for a moment, then turned and headed off to another area of the space station
after summoning a companion to keep watch on them. It returned a few minutes
later and walked up to Cain.
“The Sargasso Rose has instructed
me to take you to her,” it said in its placid, singsong voice. If it was
surprised or disappointed, it kept its feelings well hidden.
Cain and Terwilliger followed it
through a trio of large storage rooms and up to a small door.
“She is in here, said the Orange
Monkey.
“Thanks,” said Cain. He opened the
door and stepped into a cluttered office, followed by Terwilliger.
Sitting behind a chrome desk that
no longer gleamed, wearing a metallic gold outfit that no longer glistened, was
a rather plain woman. Her hair was a dull brown, her eyes a lackluster green,
her nose prominent, her chin weak. She was neither fat nor thin, but if she had
ever possessed an attractive figure, that time had long since passed. Attached
to her hair was a small white rose, which Cain took to be artificial.
She stared directly at the bounty
hunter.
“You wished to see me, Mr. Cain?”
“You know my name?”
She smiled. “I know many things
about you, Sebastian Nightingale Cain. What I don’t know is who referred you to
me.”
“A man called Stern, back on Port
étrange.”
“Jonathan Jeremy Jacobar Stern,”
she said. “Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in
years.” She gestured to a pair of chairs. “Please be seated.” She turned to
Terwilliger. “I understand ManMountain Bates is looking for you.”
“You have excellent sources,”
replied the gambler uneasily.
“Indeed I do,” she agreed. “Not
much goes on in this part of the Frontier that I don’t know about.”
“Then I assume you know why I’m
here,” said Cain.
“I know you’re a bounty hunter,”
she said, “and you’ve told me that Stern sent you, so I can make a pretty good
guess as to why you’re here.” She paused. “But Stern wouldn’t send you to me . He would have told you to hunt up Duncan Black.” She turned
back to Terwilliger. “ You told Mr. Cain to come
here, of course. Stern doesn’t know Duncan is dead, but you do.”
“Well, there wasn’t much sense
trying to have a conversation with Duncan, rest his soul,” explained
Terwilliger defensively.
“And doubtless he has promised to
protect you from ManMountain Bates in exchange for this information.” She
scrutinized Cain for a moment. “You made a poor trade, Mr. Cain. You should
have stayed on Keepsake.”
“What makes you think I come from
Keepsake?” he asked.
She smiled again. “I’ve known your
ship’s registration number since I started tracking you two days ago. In the
intervening forty-eight hours I’ve found out things about you that even you may have forgotten. I know the date and planet of your
birth, I know why you left the more populated worlds of the Democracy, I know
how many men you have killed and who they were—and here you are, practically
denying that you work out of Keepsake. If you want my honesty, I should think the least you can do is offer me your own.”
“I apologize,” said Cain.
“There’s no need to,” she replied.
“Deceit is no more than I expect from a member of your sex.”
“Will you help me?” asked Cain,
ignoring her comment.
“You’re wasting your time.”
“I’ve got plenty to waste,” he
said. “And I can pay for yours.”
“I didn’t say you would be wasting my time,” said the Sargasso Rose. “I have every
intention of selling you the information you need.”
“I’m not sure I understand the
distinction.”
“I’m quite prepared to tell you
what you want to know, but it won’t do you any good. The Angel
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