Broken Glass (Glass Complex Book 1) (31 page)

“You give your word that my ship will be unharmed and my crew safe?”

“Yes, captain. As long as you cooperate. Make no attempt to communicate with the company. If you or your crew act against Milnaret or me, I’ll see your ship to the scrap heap.” Steg paused for effect. “If anything can be found of it.”

“Very well, you have my cooperation. Now let me run my ship unhindered. Meals will be brought to your cabin. Keep out of my way and off my bridge and I’ll see you safely to Tacia.”

******

Chapter 23

Tacia, a system containing a complex mixture
of species, welcomed
peaceful visitors of any kind from anywhere across the galaxy. Tacians spoke the languages of space and permitted visitors to live and trade in their cities without restriction, except adherence to Tacian law. This freedom added exciting zest to their cosmopolitan lifestyle. Tacians were vigorous and frenetic traders and their bazaars were hectic and colorful.

On Tacia one could buy or barter for shiploads of spice, for exotic silks or for alien artifacts. Indeed, one could barter for a star ship or for an entire trading fleet. Alternatively the traders were just as ready to sell a handful of trinkets or a hot and bracing drink. Bargains were struck and fulfilled on word of mouth, accompanied by shouting and arguing that was merely a decorative adjunct to reaching an agreement, which, if need arose, would be enforced by Tacian guild courts.

This was their third day on Tacia and Steg was seeking a banker. Millie held firmly to Steg’s hand as they threaded their way through the clamoring crowd, ignoring the proffered bargains of eager traders, absorbing the market atmosphere. Heavily cloaked ertich, rarely seen away from their remote water planet, disdainfully pushed through the crowd, while their traditional enemy, war merchants of Sicca, carefully ignored their presence. Hooded and barefoot holy men from Ria muttered incantations and held out ancient wooden bowls to the ever-moving throngs. Begging was forbidden; however, religious donations were considered to be outside that prohibition. A tailed ortot, furred and warm-blooded, a native of Ortos, walked by in deep and serious conversation with a gliding pertona from the fabled snake planet Circe, both oblivious to the incongruity of their apparent friendship. Traders were everywhere and sometimes when they outnumbered the sightseers, they traded amongst themselves. At last Steg found a banker, a bazaar moneylender, who was prepared to do business with him.

“Do you have inter-system links?” he queried once they were comfortably seated on soft floor cushions. He laid Ebony on the floor beside him. The walls of the tent held the clamor of the market at bay as they discussed the financial links of Tacian bankers.

“My friend, I assure you, from here we can do business anywhere, with anyone, as long as the transactions comply with guild rules,” the alien, a native Tacian biped, nodded his re-assurance.

“Very well. My name’s Steg de Coeur,” Steg offered. “If you can send a coded message for me, my identity will be validated and credit established. You may deduct your fees and commission from the proceeds.” He supplied details of the bank on Althere.

They negotiated vigorously and eventually a bargain was struck. Because the banker had only the expense of a message at risk and could see the possibility of future business, his final fee was not exorbitant. Steg drafted his message and handed the slip to the Tacian.

“This will take four—no, five days, my friend. We need to allow for Tacian non-business days. Then we’ll talk more business. And if your credit’s all gone, perhaps your Fain would be adequate pledge for an advance?”

“She is a free Fain, please understand that.”

“I apologize. I did not wish to imply otherwise. No ill was meant. In five days I’ll send my messenger to your abode.”

They exchanged elaborate and formal farewells. Steg plunged back into the teeming market throngs, with Millie close behind.

“Do you trust the banker?”

“On Tacia, yes. Their guild is very powerful, and it protects the Tacian reputation for fair trading.”

Eventually they returned to the small apartment that Steg had rented. The proprietor stopped them as they were about to enter the building.

“There are some visitors for you,” he advised, indicating with a frond-like hand. “They’ve been waiting for some hours. Very patiently.”

“Who are they?”

“Two are offworlders. They have a Tacian League official with them. They say their business is very urgent, very important.”

Steg checked that Ebony was secure and led the way indicated by the waving fronds. He did not recognize the offworlders although he assumed they were from the company’s firefighter. He would have to do something about that star ship, he thought.

“Gentlemen? I understand you wish to see me?” Millie stood behind him, out of the way.

“Steg de Coeur,” the Tacian League official acknowledged his presence. “I am Quaestor Enn. These two persons have laid some very serious charges against you. We have no process for hearing what appears to be a domestic matter of House of Aluta, nor do we have a treaty providing for extradition. The matter will rest while you are within the borders of the Tacian League, or unless either party offends against the laws of the League. If either of you pursue this matter within the League, then you will be subject to our laws. Invested in me as Quaestor is the responsibility of ensuring maintenance of good order and I will take whatever action I consider necessary against any party to ensure good order is maintained.”

One of the offworlders protested. “You didn’t tell us this when we requested the assistance of the League. This man’s a fugitive. He’s an enemy of House of Aluta and we demand—”

“Demand?” interrupted the League official. “You may represent House of Aluta but here on Tacia you do not demand.”

“Oh—I mean request, of course. We request this—criminal be apprehended and delivered to us in order that justice is done.”

“That is not possible. I can identify no legal basis upon which you can base your request. I repeat,” admonished the Tacian Quaestor, “if you break League laws, we will punish you.” He addressed the two offworlders. “I serve due notice. If you take action against this person or his Fain companion, your freedom and even your lives, will be forfeit.” He turned to Steg. “And you, sir. I levy the same burden on you. Now, all of you, be aware that I have allocated monitors. They will maintain surveillance of each of you and report to me any infringement of our laws. Action will be swift in such event. You have been so advised.”

Steg nodded his understanding and compliance. “Quaestor, I accept these restrictions and I thank you for your information. Now gentlemen, if you’ve completed your business with me?” He looked at the two offworlders and indicated the door.

“de Coeur, we’ll be waiting for you. One day you’ll leave Tacia.” The two men departed somewhat ungraciously.

The Quaestor turned to Steg. “The monitors are on their way to you and to the other offworlders. They will stay with you always, while you and the offworlders are on Tacia.”

Each monitor was a free-floating robotic device. Their grating voices jarred on Steg’s nerves as he begrudgingly permitted two of them entrance to their accommodation. The second device was obviously for Millie.

“We have the protection of the League whether we wish it or not, Master,” commented Millie, smiling resignedly.

“We could do without their watchdogs. The consolation is that the firefighters each will have one of these as well. Now, how many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me Master?”

The following morning they again explored the markets although this time accompanied by the two robotic monitors floating at head height immediately behind them. The presence of the monitors passed without comment from any of the Tacians. Eventually, Steg arranged to spend the afternoon in practice with a Tacian swordmaster. Their hours of intensive drill were followed by a dazzling combat display for the benefit of the curious audience which had gathered, attracted by the serious dedication of the two participants.

“Young man,” panted the Tacian swordmaster when they put aside their practice swords. “I recognize the touch and technique of an expert and very well trained swordsman. You could be taught nothing further by my humble self. Rather, I am honored you have chosen to train with me.” They bowed and Steg returned to Millie, patiently waiting with the ever-present monitors.

He took Ebony from Millie and looped the sword belt over his shoulder.

“So you do have a real sword, stripling?” The hostile voice came from behind a small group of onlookers. They parted quickly and nervously, their withdrawal and tension communicating a warning to Steg. He ignored the speaker and concentrated on Ebony. The speaker came closer and regarded Steg with a show of insolence. He wore the black varma robes of a Tacian guild sword assassin and his hand rested lightly on the hilt of his sword. Steg acknowledged the assassin’s presence with a bow of his head, neither answering nor commenting on the implied challenge. Millie moved close to Steg, her expression concerned. She remained silent.

“Well, stripling,” jeered the assassin. “Do you want a real fight or are you only capable of fancy displays?” The crowd had gathered again, this time standing behind the sword assassin, their voices now muted. The assassin continued. “The custom of Tacia is that only cowards refuse an invitation to sword fight.”

Steg turned to the monitor. “Is this assassin correct? Is his invitation to be accepted? If I defeat him, will that infringe any Tacian law?”

“Offworlder de Coeur,” grated the harsh flat tones of the monitor. “An invitation must be accepted if both parties are wearing swords, otherwise dishonor falls on the person who refuses to fight. Tacian penalties for refusal can be severe. In this instance you are not wearing your sword and therefore no penalty will apply.”

“Master,” Millie ignored Steg’s frown. “You have practiced for hours and this guild assassin is fresh. Put him off until morning at least. I must prepare you for this combat.” Her voice was soft, too soft to reach the ears of the assassin.

Steg regarded Millie thoughtfully as he absorbed the validity of her advice. “I need to get him to challenge more directly, I think.” His voice was soft, too. He turned to the sword assassin.

“You think you could show anyone how to fight, assassin by night?” Steg used the insult phrase purposefully, and the crowd laughed at the promise of entertainment although their laughter had a nervous edge to it.

“So the stripling thinks words will fight and settle his battles for him,” rejoined the sword assassin.

“With a noisy assassin by night, words are all one needs. In your case words are unnecessary. All I need do is wait until you trip over your fancy dress.”

“Listen cub, I will help you eat your words,” growled the assassin, tightening his grip on his sword hilt.

Steg laughed, driven by a genuine flash of amusement that communicated itself to the growing crowd. “Perhaps your corset is too tight and is giving you pain,” he jeered. “No, I can’t fight a female. Or should I say, a near female?” The crowd guffawed. The red-faced assassin unsheathed his sword with a flash and loud ring of cold steel. The crowd fell back, silent again.

The assassin advanced on Steg. “Fight, you offworld filth, I challenge.”

“Thank you, assassin. I’ll defend myself, as is my right. The time and place are of my choosing, as you have bared your sword in challenge and attack.”

“What does it matter, stripling? You will die, anyway.”

“The place is here. The time is tomorrow, midday,” declared Steg, ignoring the assassin. “Monitor, you are witness. This guild sword assassin, somebody’s hireling, has attacked me and I have offered to defend myself accordingly.”

“Witnessed, offworlder de Coeur,” agreed the monitor. “You, sword assassin, give you name.”

“Selkin,” came the reluctant reply.

“Your life is forfeit, Selkin,” advised the monitor, “unless offworlder de Coeur is alive and able to attend here, unharmed, tomorrow at midday. I suggest you withdraw to your guild rooms for meditation. Return tomorrow as arranged. Failure to appear will result in loss of your guild rights. And you, offworlder, are similarly enjoined. Return to your quarters.”

The sword assassin turned on his heel and strode away through the crowd. He had lost the first round by reacting to Steg’s jibes and now his life and reputation depended upon his winning the second round. He would return the following day, eager to establish his supremacy, ready to remedy his error.

Steg ignored the curious crowd and gathered up his belongings. He bade farewell to the Tacian sword master who had stood in worried silence throughout Steg’s encounter with the guild sword assassin. Neither Steg nor Millie spoke until they had returned to their rooms. The monitors again stationed themselves in an unused corner, despite Steg’s angry protests.

“Milnaret of Fain,” lectured Steg. “Remember you’re not a chattel, you’re a free person and if by mischance this assassin succeeds tomorrow, you remain free.”

“I am a Fain and you are my Master,” came the soft reply. “Now come, I must free your muscles from their anxieties and prepare you for this battle. Commit yourself to the ways of the Fain, oh Master.”

Steg obeyed her instructions and gradually relaxed under her ministrations as a wave of velvet-soft sleep slowly encompassed him. It wrapped him in its protective and healing folds and he felt consciousness fade as the Fain worked her magic. He had confidence in the ancient ways of Fain and he had complete trust in Milnaret of Fain. Time slipped by unnoticed. Steg slept. The Fain worked her magic until she was exhausted, and then she too slept. The monitors stood on silent guard through the night and no one disturbed the seclusion of their rest.