Guardians of Paradise (17 page)

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Authors: Jaine Fenn

BOOK: Guardians of Paradise
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Nual looked up from the vegetables she was chopping. ‘I certainly am.’ Kise was interested in both Tawhira-
ngai
and Ruanuku-
ngai
. ‘I am not sure about Taro though,’ she said, looking over at him, sitting at a table practising his reading.
 
She was giving him the chance to go his own way, just like he’d decided he should do for himself.
 
As if it was that simple. ‘’Course I am,’ he said.
 
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
 
‘It’s a fair offer, Sirrah Reen.’
 
Jarek had hoped for better, but he was in no position to be choosy. And the man sitting opposite him in the pleasant if unprepossessing restaurant was an agent he’d had extensive dealings with before. Falk Lukas had no reason to lie to his client, not when his commission depended on finding the best deal.
 
‘All right, I accept.’ At least the credit from selling the Old Earth artefacts as a job lot would clear his immediate debts, even if it was less than half what he’d hoped to make by splitting the shipment.
 
‘Excellent. Shall we shake on it?’ Lukas leaned across the landscape of empty dishes to present his hand.
 
Jarek shook it, then turned his own hand so Lukas could swipe his wrist-com—a charming whimsy, disguised as an antique chronometer - to seal the deal.
 
‘And can I just say,’ the agent added, with a look that was probably meant to be sympathetic but came out as lugubrious, ‘how sorry I was to hear about the death of your sister. I have all her recordings.’
 
‘Thanks. I . . . I appreciate that.’ That Elarn had died in an accident on Vellern had been public knowledge for more than a week now, and though he knew Lukas was a musical connoisseur his concern made Jarek uncomfortable. He glanced over the agent’s shoulder at the disconcerting view out of the fifth-floor window: buildings sloping up and away on the curved cylinder of Xantier’s inner surface. He looked back at Lukas. ‘You said something about more work?’ He’d been on Xantier for nearly two weeks, and though he’d accepted that he couldn’t fully embrace his old lifestyle, he still had to make a living.
 
‘Oh yes, I have just the thing.’ Lukas’s shoulders twitched, a habit Jarek always associated with him having come up with what he’d call
a peach of a job
. ‘You know the Krishnan run you did a few years back for me? Lotus petals for their Festival of Lights? If I remember rightly you took a rather unorthodox route away from the main lanes and got there early, with every one of their little blooms still in its prime. I’m tendering on the run again this year, and naturally I thought of you. Are you interested? It’s likely to be highly lucrative: we’re looking at a six per cent increase over the previous fee, with a very generous ten per cent bonus on top if you can manage zero spoilage on the cargo again.’
 
Jarek hesitated. Krishna was in a different sector, down a spur. If he risked the rarely used route he’d taken last time he could cut down the number of transits to eight, but that would still leave him twelve transits from Kama Nui. Though Nual and Taro hadn’t made much progress yet, if they needed to contact him quickly while he was in a backwater system like Krishna it would cost them a small fortune in beevee fees, and if they needed his help it would take him a week to reach them.
 
He sighed. ‘Normally I’d be more than delighted to take this on, but I do have a number of other possibilities on the horizon—’
 
‘I understand. Of course you do. And I would be willing to drop a full percentage point from my previous commission on that run, provided the zero-spoilage clause is fulfilled.’
 
Damn the man. Six months ago that would’ve been exactly what Jarek wanted to hear. He considered demanding the agent drop by five per cent, but that would be unreasonable greed, which could seriously damage his rep. And there was a risk Lukas might call his bluff, in which case not taking the run would be career suicide, at least on this hub.
 
If Lukas had come up with the job yesterday, Jarek might’ve taken it. He’d have told himself that Nual and Taro were probably having the time of their lives on Kama Nui and were unlikely to uncover anything of interest in the near future. But last night he’d dreamt about Serenein again: a jumble of mountain passes, lo-tech discomfort, homely people and haughty priests. But he’d also dreamt of Kerin, the ordinary woman who’d risen to an extraordinary challenge . . . no, whose challenge was just beginning, after he’d abandoned her to it. He knew he’d treated her badly - not least by marrying her - but he couldn’t change the past, and the only way he could ensure a secure, free future for her and her people was by exposing the Sidhe’s secret hold over humanity and bringing them down. It might mean that one day humans lost their access to the stars, but that day was a long way off; the Sidhe were exerting their vile influence now, and had been doing so unopposed for centuries.
 
‘All right,’ said Lukas when Jarek remained silent, ‘one point five. But that’s my final offer.’
 
Jarek spread his hands. ‘I really wish I could take this job, but at the moment I simply can’t accept anything that long-haul. I’m sorry.’
 
Lukas looked as though Jarek had mortally insulted him. ‘It’s your choice, of course. You know, you really aren’t acting yourself, Sirrah Reen. Is there something you’re not telling me?’
 
Jarek experienced a sudden moment of paranoia. Of course Lukas’ name wasn’t on his list of possible Sidhe contacts, but it wasn’t a complete list, and those doing their bidding didn’t always know who they were really working for.
 
Hell, if he started thinking like that he might as well sell his ship, find a nice quiet world and spend the rest of his life hiding under a rock.
 
He responded as casually as he could, ‘Being totally honest? Yes and no. As you probably know, I’ve been out of the loop for a while. I’m currently investigating various avenues and options, as a result of which I can’t commit to a job that far outside the hub network. I’m sure you understand that I can’t say more than that without compromising another party’s trust.’
 
Jarek could see by the agent’s eyes that he wasn’t buying it. But he just said, ‘Of course. What you do outside of our business arrangements is your own concern.’ He leaned back. ‘And I imagine that unexplained absence was just a well-earned rest with some pleasant company.’
 
‘Something like that,’ said Jarek, forcing a grin meant to be both sheepish and knowing. No one was fooled, but the immediate awkwardness had been defused. ‘If you have anything more local, I would definitely be interested. And I wouldn’t expect preferential treatment, given the inconvenience I’ve caused you by not being able to take the Krishnan job.’
 
‘I might have a few more local runs coming up soon,’ said the agent, less sniffily. ‘Low pay, but it’s all credit.’
 
‘I’m only a com-call away.’
 
‘Well then, I’ll try and keep you in mind.’ Lukas stood up. ‘Good day to you, Sirrah Reen.’
 
 
Taro wasn’t sure about skim-boats. When they first left Stonetown, the craft glided over the surface of the sea, but then it sped up, rising up out of the water at a scary angle. According to Mo the vehicle had grav compensation, but it wasn’t allowed to actually fly, because aircars were strictly regulated outside Stonetown. Apparently they spoilt the view. As a result the skim-boat travelled close enough to the water for Taro to see just how fast they were going, throwing up twin plumes of spray in their wake. Occasionally a high wave would make the whole craft shudder, causing an outbreak of nervous smiles among the passengers. Of course, it was very unlikely anything would go wrong - you need to keep the punters safe if you want to keep them coming - and if it did, well, he and Nual could just fly free. But that didn’t mean he was enjoying the ride. He took Mo’s advice and fixed his eyes on the horizon, where a small green dot, the only thing in sight besides the blue sky and bluer sea, was rapidly growing in size.
 
Nual sat beside him in silence. They’d had another minor row about this job the evening after Mo told them about it. They were needed for two days’ work, with bed and board provided. The additional payment was a choice: money, or the opportunity to stay on the island for free for a further ten days. Taro had argued that they should go for the second option, because they’d found out all they were going to in Stonetown. He didn’t admit that he also fancied seeing some of the natural wonders he’d heard about, and if Nual had picked up his ulterior motive she hadn’t said anything. In the end, she’d backed down without a fight.
 
The island they were heading for, Ipitomi, was close enough to make out details now. A low spine of land rose from the sea, the slopes covered in pale green vegetation. Taller, darker plants - palm trees - crowded into the space between the hill and the sea. They were inside the lagoon that surrounded the island before Taro spotted the landing stages and low well-camouflaged buildings under the trees. Further back he glimpsed more houses, small and square and apparently made of dried bits of plant.
 
He was glad to be back on land again, though their journey wasn’t over yet. They piled into a waiting groundbus which drove them round the bumpy coastal road to the far side of the island. Taro made sure he got a seat on the outside and he watched the scenery unroll past the window: wide bays of sparkling white sand and tree-covered outcrops, and beyond it all the sea, bright as a jewel. They saw a few locals walking in the road, but no other vehicles. Most of them stopped to wave as they passed.
 
The bus pulled over next to a pair of single-storey blockhouses and the visitors here to work - about half those on the bus - got off. Each block had four twin rooms, with a shared kitchen and bathroom. The whitewashed walls, bare floors and scuffed furniture almost made the hostel in Stonetown look luxurious, but Taro’d slept in worse places. They dropped their gear off, then walked down to the beach on a well-worn path through dense, untamed bush. The damp air felt heavier than in Stonetown, making movement more of an effort, and Taro’s nose was full of the rich scents of growth and rot. The plants around them came in every shape and every shade of green. Taro kept stopping to peer into the undergrowth where flowers - scarlet, violet, blue - made brighter splashes of colour in the gloom. When one of the flowers darted towards him he cried out, at first in shock, then in delight - it wasn’t a flower, it was some sort of animal, with a jewel-like purple-and-green body half the size of his clenched fist and wings that beat so fast they were a blur as it thrummed through the air.
 
The beach, when they reached it, was an expanse of perfect pale sand that made him want to kick off his shoes and run down to the sea. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option. The workers boarded their final transport, a half-boat-half-bus that took them across a shallow channel to the small private island where the wedding was being held. This place looked like one big garden, shaded by high palms and with stands of flowering plants arranged according to some grand scheme which included every colour in the world: all the natural wonders of Ipitomi, only distilled and tamed. Two bars, a restaurant and a complex of different-sized pools were reached by flower-edged paths across neat lawns.
 
The workers reported to a rather less glamorous set of buildings hidden by tall bushes where the housekeeping staff put them to work on preparations for the wedding the next day. The main organiser, a stern-faced man the other staff referred to as the
tuari
asked his temporary staff about their previous experience. On the basis of their answers Nual was put to work in the kitchen while Taro was sent round the back to sort fruit to be made up into baskets for the guests. The shade wasn’t complete, and though the work wasn’t hard Taro found himself getting overheated. He quickly gave up on his shades, which kept sliding off his sweat-covered nose whenever he looked down. He was tempted to lose the gloves too, until a bug crawled out of the pile of yellow fruits he was working on. It was an amazing-looking beast, with eight long-jointed red legs and a tiny green body. He used a gloved finger to flick it into the undergrowth. By the time he’d gone through all the fruit, he’d encountered and redistributed a wide variety of the island’s creeping, crawling and scuttling inhabitants.
 
Though the sun was sinking, work wasn’t over yet. He and one of the permanent staff members went out with a grav-trolley loaded with the completed fruit baskets, some of which were so big they needed two people to carry them into the guests’ rooms. The rooms were actually self-contained huts, like upmarket versions of the houses they’d seen when they first arrived on Ipitomi, decorated with wooden carvings painted in red, white and black. Inside, they were pure luxury, with beds that were wide expanses of white linen and washing areas that included miniature pools and cascades. Some of them were in the gardens, while others were reached by bleached wooden walkways that extended out over the lagoon. These huts had partially transparent floors and Taro found himself entranced by the evening light dappling the complex underwater world below his feet. As darkness fell the light-globes strung through the trees and bushes began to glow in soft pastel colours. When the day’s work was finished they returned to the kitchen for a spicy fry-up of rice and flaked fish.

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