01. When the Changewinds Blow (20 page)

Somehow it seemed to make the role she was told to play less degrading; just another service industry, like butlers, maids, housekeepers, and gardeners. It was a new way to look at this sort of thing, but it was clearly flawed. If such "services" were voluntary, it was one thing-an essential job, perhaps. But one only had to look at the dazed faces in the windows and the eyes of the street procurers to know that many of those who performed the services did so because they were trapped or drugged beyond caring. The trouble with a sin district was that it was inevitably run by people who considered sin simply a commodity and the people just objects, like hammers and nails were to a carpenter. Disposable, replaceable, and they had to be cost effective.

Charley opened the door to the tavern and let the other two enter, then followed. It was fairly late and apparently midweek and so not all that crowded; they found a table with little trouble, and Charley acted like a waitress, pulling the chairs out and getting everything just so before taking her own seat.

The place reeked of food, mostly steaks of some kind on a specially designed long charcoal-style grill in the back. The few waiters and the cooks and barkeeper in the back were all men, but there were a few women in the place, all with groups of men, all acting pretty much like Charley was acting- although these women had a different look to them. For one thing, they had oddly painted faces and bodies, with remarkable designs in bright colors on them. One had eye makeup that surrounded the eye with a design that made great orange catlike shapes, almost a mask, and most wore very skimpy clothing that revealed intricate body designs as well. Sam, too, could hardly fail to notice them as they jumped up to light cigarettes or cigars or get something for their clientele, always with a smile, always their minds totally on anticipating needs.

Sam leaned over to Zenchur and whispered, "What are they?"

"The top of the class," he responded in a very low tone. "They are neither common whores nor servants but experts. Only the smartest and the prettiest get that position. For a very high fee, for an evening, they will try and fulfill any reasonable wish.
Shhhh! Waiter!"

A man wearing an apron that was probably white when he'd started work came over. "What do you wish?" he asked in Akhbreed.

"Full steak for the two of us, medium, and give the lady the lady's plate and house wine. We'll take drafts."

The waiter nodded and went back to the cooking area, told the order to the man there, then brought a tray with a huge pitcher of thick, dark beer, two stoneware mugs that must have held a quart each, and a carafe and tall-stemmed glass. He placed it on the table but did not serve it, instead going back to the counter..

Charley had been watching the other women. She got up, poured the beer into the two mugs with some expertise, showing that she'd poured beer somewhere before. The pitcher was well balanced, which was a good thing because it was close to being too heavy for her. She served each from the left, then went back, poured some of the dark red wine into the glass, took it, and resumed her seat, smiling with some satisfaction as Zenchur approved with a nod. Charley thought it was kind of fun; play-acting a fantasy, more or less, while knowing it wasn't real. Besides, those other women were so damned
glamorous
and perfect she instantly felt a sense of competition.

She was a bit nervous about the wine on a mostly empty stomach, but she sipped it and found it surprisingly sweet and very good. In the time it took for the food to come she had mostly finished it and was feeling a rosy glow that made it easy to just put everything out of her mind and pretend she was one of those sexy ladies over there.

The steaks came sizzling on the platter, which the waiter put in front of the other two so Charley didn't have to do much there, and he even put a plate in front of her-on oval-shaped dish which was mostly filled with fruits and salad combined with small cubes of cold meat and cheese. It was, in fact, just what she might have ordered rather than the heavy and greasy steaks, and she was both pleased and amazed at it.

Not that there weren't some mysteries there. What were the blue leaves, for example? She tried one and it didn't taste all that bad. Some of the fruit had odd colors and unfamiliar textures as well-light brown, for example, and almost snow white with little red grains-but nothing looked threatening or repulsive and she tried it, keeping an eye on the other two. You apparently ate it with a little spoon and with your hands. Twice she stopped and refilled their mugs, as well as her own glass, but the more she drank of the sweet wine the easier it was to be this courtesan, the more able she was to tune out all the fears and anxieties and the noise and smells of the surroundings and just
become
this character. She even started trying to imitate the sexy moves of the painted women at the other tables.

Sam was starving and ate heavily, once she'd picked up the system from Zenchur. It had been a little unsettling to discover that the silverware consisted of a very sharp pointed knife, a thin, serrated blade second knife, and a very small spoon, like a demitasse spoon, and nothing else. Clearly nobody had invented forks around here, and you cut the meat by holding it with the sharp knife, cutting with the serrated one, then spearing it with either. The little spoon was used for not just the drippings but also to scoop out the potato-it sort of looked and tasted like a potato although it was kind of purplish inside. Some slicked stalked vegetables were in a small container and proved raw, but tasted all right and gave it whatever balance it might have. Once she'd filled the emptiness inside, though, she also began to observe and to think.

Charley was doing a hell of a job, but she was nothing compared to those others. She wasn't dressed or made up like they were-that eye and body stuff was particularly erotic- and was clearly not in their class. She was good, but she wouldn't fool anybody that she was one of
them.
Then why go through this charade? Was Zenchur just playing games, or what? It seemed to her that Charley would've been less conspicuous wearing the sari and being a new girl in town.

Not that Charley, usually the more suspicious and the brains of the outfit, seemed to mind or question it. She was really getting into, and off on, this stuff.

A man who'd been sitting alone in a corner booth now got up and came over as they finished their meals. "Zenchur! How have you been? Long time," said the newcomer in Akhbreed.

"Well, Kligos. You received my message, then?"

Sam froze. Because Zenchur didn't know she knew the language he was speaking freely. When did the son of a bitch have a chance to send a message? So the toilet was occupied and a long wait, huh?"

"I need Pilots. One for the seven o'clock sector and one again for the five o'clock in the next cluster."

"Malabar, eh? Rough that way, you know. Changewind came through just yesterday and screwed up the hub and a few sectors something fierce. It'll be several more days before we have any accurate information on just what the damage is."

"It did not touch this cluster. I could be halfway there in several more days and closer to the source of the information. By the time I crossed clusters to Malabar the Pilots should have it well in hand. I need ones that keep their mouths shut and know the back ways."

"Woof! You're talking money for security there, my friend. At least a thousand just for services."

Zenchur nodded. "I know. I have full credit in Malabar and I have word that the Palace survived, so that won't be a real problem once I get there. I'm under budget for Tubikosa, though-my employer gave me an extra burden I hadn't counted on, and I had to make it over here fast and on short notice."

"I see. You want to relieve your unexpected burden and enrich your coffers more than enough to make it. Well, you contacted the right organization, old friend. I have been watching and I am impressed. I'll go your five hundred right here and now."

Zenchur chuckled. "I was thinking rnore about fifteen hundred. You and I know the profit potential from a rare good one. I would be guilty of allowing theft even at that price."

"You take advantage of an old friendship. Seven fifty tops. There is overhead, must preparation and break-in, and I still take a risk. It might not work out and then what do I have?"

"You know what you have, you old thief. This is difficult and risky for me as it is. A sorcerer is involved. Twelve fifty."

"Who you want to work for is your affair and your funeral. We all have our problems. I'm short-handed now because half the low-life in the kingdom is out looking for two Outplane girls dropped by storm here. You want money, go find them. The word on the street says fifty thousand, but only for both. Seems only one is wanted but they don't know which one. For that kind of money I am almost tempted to go look under every scarf myself-except that I know the odds of their showing up here are less than winning the royal lottery. Knowing you, though, if it wasn't for this bit of business I'd be very suspicious of you, too. All right-final offer. A thousand, flat, cash. Take it or leave it."

"Done." They clasped hands, apparently the local form of handshake. "You are aware of the subtleties of the problem?"

"I don't need diagrams. You just go along. Well-good seeing you and a pleasure doing business with you." The man waved, then walked out the door and away from the tavern.

"Who's that?" Sam whispered, not liking this a bit. "An old friend, but one you cannot turn your back on. He was friendly enough but I do not like the way he was looking at you two. He brought up the price on your heads and it was enormous. Let us pay the bill and get back to the hotel before he starts looking a bit too closely at you and starts figuring out what sort of girl you might make with longer hair and fewer clothes, if you know what I mean."

Sam nodded, suspicious but still not quite sure what the hell was going on. Zenchur wasn't playing it straight-they had made a deal, and for good money if you could hire somebody skilled and closed-mouthed for five hundred. He hadn't mentioned either the bargaining or the deal, yet he'd pegged the fellow as a bad one and accurately reported the search and reward information and suggested just what Sam was feeling. She wished she knew more about this place.

Zenchur called over the waiter and paid the bill from the coin purse, and Charley then led them out, properly opening the doors and the rest, all with a big smile. She was certainly drunk but it was hard to tell more than that. They began walking back up the street to the hotel, and for a block or so Sam was keyed up. The next block was the darkest, without real street lighting, and she hadn't liked it much on the way down. She just had an uneasy feeling about all this, and with Charley high as a kite she felt very much alone and on her own. At the end of the second block, three large men turned the corner together and started walking toward them. They were
huge,
but they were no male whores. These guys were dressed in the dark tunics and leggings of Tubikosa but they looked like they'd come straight from Al Capone.

Sam suddenly had an impulse to look over her shoulder and saw three more like these only a few steps in back of them. Where had they come from? One thing was for sure-Sam was scared to death. Zenchur stopped the two girls and grew tense. "Watch it. I don't like this."

"You're the damned protector.
Do
something," Sam said in a low, tense voice.

"With three on either side and two across the street? What do you want me to do-die gloriously? All I can do is try and talk our way through."

They had all stopped now, and the men seemed to be waiting for Zenchur to say something, so he did.

"Hello, my friends. Nice night. Do you wish us to let you pass?"

"Can the crap," said the middle one in front of them. "Just give us the girl and we're gone."

"Arleychay . . . Aythey antway ouyay,"
Sam said out of the corner of her mouth.
Etgay eadyray ootay unray ikelay ellhay.
..."

Charley was already aware that this was no chance encounter and the color started draining from her cheeks. She was sobering up real fast.

"When I move, you run," Zenchur told them in English while keeping a smiling face at the trio. "Meet back at the hotel when you can. . . .
Now!"

With that the navigator lowered his head and rushed straight at the three men. Sam grabbed Charley's arm and almost pulled her at a dead run diagonally across the street. The pair Zenchur had seen but she hadn't moved equally fast, and the trio in back were right behind them. It was no contest; strong arms, impossible to get out of, grabbed Sam and lifted her right up, one arm pinning her own arms while the other covered her mouth. A second man got to Charley and picked her up like she weighed nothing at all. She yelled and beat at him, struggling to break free, but the man holding her seemed more amused than troubled by it.

Sam managed to get her mouth open and chomped down hard on the hand holding her head. It sunk deep and the man yelled, "Ow! You little brat!" He dropped her, and she started to turn but something hit her head that felt like a ton of cement; there was a roaring in her ears and then blackness.

Sam came to slowly and with great agony. Her head was splitting and she felt dizzy and sick, but she remembered immediately what had happened and opened her eyes. She was back in the hotel room, on the bed and she could see Zenchur at the sink, washing off what might have been some blood from his mouth.

She moaned. "Charley! Where's Charley?"

Zenchur turned and looked at her. "So you survived that blow. You are tougher than I thought. Your hard head may come in handy many more times before this is over."

"Where's Charley?"

"They got her. I took a couple of good punches but then the three of them pinned me against a wall. I could do nothing. I saw them hit you with the truncheon, but did not know if you were dead or alive. When they took her away, the three gave
me
a farewell set of punches and then fled themselves. When I could, I got to you and saw that you were still breathing. I thought it best to bring you here as quickly as possible. I hoped you were not seriously hurt. If I had called the medical alchemist it would have been impossible to hide the fact that you were female, and then a lot of people would get ideas about two similar girls, you see."