Guardians of Paradise (32 page)

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Authors: Jaine Fenn

BOOK: Guardians of Paradise
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‘Yes - my allies might be in trouble.’
 
‘These allies of yours are on Kama Nui, aren’t they?’
 
‘That’s right.’
 
‘Doing what?’
 
‘Investigating Sidhe influence. It’s complicated . . .’ He explained about Serenein’s strange harvest, and admitted that they got the link to Kama Nui and its location from the
Setting Sun
’s pilot, who was now dead, though he didn’t give details. Bez would definitely be happier not knowing that one of the allies he was rushing to help was actually a Sidhe.
 
She listened intently and asked pertinent questions. Finally she said, ‘I’ll see what I can do to re-establish secure communication.’
 
As she stood up, Jarek held out a hand. ‘Wait. I was wondering where you wanted me to drop you off. We didn’t really discuss it before.’
 
‘I thought I might come with you,’ Bez said.
 
‘To Kama Nui?’
 
‘Yes. It makes sense for me to stay with you until I crack the memory-core. Besides, it’s meant to be very beautiful.’ She made one of her strained attempts at a smile. ‘Perhaps I should take the opportunity for a holiday.’
 
Jarek wondered if she was being ironic, but had no idea how he’d tell. He needed to put her off, in case she was serious. ‘On a world where the Sidhe might have influence? Are you sure that’s a good idea?’
 
She looked chastened. ‘If they are active there . . . then you’re right. But we don’t know that.’
 
‘No, we don’t.’
 
Jarek left Bez to work and went up to the bridge. He’d just set the initial pre-transit checks going when he got an incoming message light, showing Nual’s com-tag.
 
He called down to Bez, ‘That was quick!’
 
‘The message? It arrived at Tarset just as we left.’ Bez’s voice sounded a bit odd.
 
The single line of text gave the name of the company on Kama Nui that was processing the transit-kernels, and said: ‘They might well have direct contact with our enemies.’ He looked up from his console as Bez came up onto the bridge.
 
‘I’m guessing you read this when you collected it.’
 
‘It was in plaintext.’
 
‘And do you still want to come to Kama Nui?’ asked Jarek.
 
Bez dropped her gaze. ‘I’m not ready to face them directly yet,’ she said, ‘so no, I won’t take the risk.’
 
Jarek tried not to let his relief show. ‘Where would you like me to drop you off?’
 
‘Xantier’s on our route; that’s as good a place as any - unless you want me to come as far as Mercanth.’ Mercanth was the hubpoint nearest Kama Nui.
 
If she did stay around that long then she might find time to crack the
Setting Sun
’s memory-core while she was still with him. On the other hand, the more the back-to-back transits took their toll, the less capable she’d be of getting any useful work done, and the more likely he was to strangle her for obsessively clearing away his half-finished drinks. ‘Xantier sounds good,’ he said. ‘Will that give you time to set up a way for me to respond to the incoming messages?’
 
‘I’m not sure whether it’s possible to do that without giving away your new ID,’ she admitted, ‘but I’ll spend the recharge period between the next two shifts looking into it.’ She glanced at the drive-column, no doubt thinking about what was actually in there ‘recharging’. Jarek had almost managed to forget.
 
Bez spent the next transit in the comabox, so she would be fresh to continue work on the problem. Jarek woke from a long overdue nap to find that she’d retrieved another message, this one encrypted and zipped; it contained a selection of sensitive data on two of Kama Nui’s corporations, including the compromised one.
 
Bez said, ‘You should get all incoming messages automatically from now on, though there may be a delay of several hours. If you answer them, you’ll get through, but with a similar delay, and with the new ship ID appended to the message.’
 
‘Then it’s not worth the risk. Thanks for trying.’
 
She wished him luck when they parted company at Xantier. Jarek suspected she was happy to be on her own again, and eager to get back to her beloved data.
 
 
Nual devoted the early evening to working out how to get the sort of credit she needed. The best way for someone like her to make big money was to be employed by someone like Patai on behalf of the
ngais
, but that assumed someone needed her services; her skills as an assassin would be of limited use in a culture where lethal force was forbidden. And even if there were other jobs in the offing, they probably wouldn’t pay enough to fund her own mission.
 
Theft was an option, but she had no idea how to go about that. She briefly considered coercing a stranger to transfer credit to her com, but that was hardly subtle, certainly traceable, and very unlikely to give her sufficient funds.
 
As she lay on her bed she thought of the shell game again. She had managed to avoid being duped by reading the boy rigging the game, so perhaps her abilities might give her an advantage in other games of chance. She had almost no experience of gambling, though she understood it was a popular tourist pastime. She sat up, energised, and commed for guidance on the subject. Unlike Khesh, which had a whole street devoted to such activity, here gambling was merely tolerated as something that had to be provided for the visitors. Unlicensed gambling was illegal, and though some of the larger resorts had casinos, there were only three listed gambling establishments in Stonetown.
 
She decided to start with Sea Breezes, which claimed to be the most upmarket of the casinos, with no house limits. That should make it the best place to win the kind of money she needed. The hotel was large and tastefully appointed, and when she approached the casino entrance, she found a heavily built but well-dressed gentleman politely barring her way. ‘I’m afraid that we have a dress-code, Medame,’ he said.
 
Nual looked down at her sun-bleached once-green top and yellow-and-orange wrap and felt her cheeks redden. ‘Of course, I’m so sorry,’ she said, cursing herself for her thoughtless mistake, and left.
 
She watched the clientele coming and going for a while to establish the kind of look she’d need. Some of her old outfits from Khesh might have cut it, but she’d abandoned her luggage back on Khathryn. Since then she’d dressed purely for comfort. She checked her com for shops that might sell appropriate clothes, but Kama Nui’s laid-back culture didn’t lend itself to all-night fashion boutiques. Reluctantly she returned to her own hotel.
 
She tried to contact Taro again as she slept, and felt sure she got through at some deep and wordless level. But then, that was what she
wanted
to believe. She had no objective evidence that such tenuous contact was real.
 
The next morning she went shopping. The dress she chose was mauve and deep red, cut to go up and down in all the right places. She was amazed that something that used so little fabric could cost so much, and of course she needed shoes and jewellery to go with it. But it certainly did the trick, even if it also showed up what a mess her hair and face were. Given the casinos didn’t open until dusk she decided she might as well go all the way, and spent the afternoon at a beautician’s. She tried to quell her unease at being pampered while Taro was imprisoned, perhaps being tortured, distracting herself by scanning the minds of the vapid men and women who were making such a careful if superficial effort to make her feel special.
 
Though the same bouncer was on duty at the door of Sea Breezes, he didn’t recognise her. Inside, beautiful people glided between tables and wheels offering dozens of variations on games of chance. Nual bought herself some tokens and began to work her way around the room, deflecting the inevitable attention from the men, and a few women, who misinterpreted her reasons for being here.
 
She quickly realised that she wasn’t going to be able to cheat her way to a fortune: the shell game had employed sleight of hand and she could pick up the sly moves from the operator’s mind; the games in Sea Breezes operated on random chance, not human interaction. If they were rigged, then the process was strictly mechanical. Some of the card and dice games used skills which she could learn, but other than that, there was no human element for her to take advantage of. Even her superior intuition provided no help; if anything it was counter-productive, for her reliance on her instincts often made her overconfident when placing bets. When she’d lost half her initial stake she decided to give up.
 
The second listed gambling establishment billed itself as a total entertainment venue and boasted a restaurant, live music and scantily dressed acrobats performing on wires above the gamblers. She stayed long enough to ascertain that the games were all of the same sort as those at Sea Breezes, then left.
 
As it was still relatively early, she decided she might as well try the last address. The Flotsam and Jetsam also promised additional entertainment, including a personal escort service. The guides claimed the club was for those with more adventurous tastes - hopefully that meant fewer spinning wheels and flashing lights, and more direct interaction with the other gamblers.
 
The establishment was in a basement, down metal stairs threaded with red and gold lights; Nual suspected these colours were some sort of code for prostitution here. Seductive bass beats throbbed up from below. The bouncer at the top, another large man with a big smile, looked at her a little oddly, but let her pass. As there was another couple standing behind her she didn’t linger long enough to read the reason for his reaction.
 
She came down into a room full of people obviously having fun. The bar, which took up most of one wall, was a crescent sculpted to look like a huge shell, with the staff serving patrons from inside the scalloped pink interior. The level of intoxication and emotion in the room was higher than in the other two casinos, and she had to strengthen her shields to avoid being battered by the wash of mental froth. There were shadowy booths around the walls and various doorways off to the sides. The largest exit led into a room where the beat was loudest and the lights brightest, presumably the dance floor. She wasn’t sure which exit led to the casino itself, so she decided to work her way to the bar and ask.
 
As she wove through the press of partygoers, a woman who had been sitting alone in one of the booths stood up and came towards her. She was tall and thin, with perfectly coiffed black hair that belied a face wrinkled with laughter-lines. She was the only person in the room wearing traditional islander dress. Nual read no ill-intent, and she turned to the woman, who beamed a smile and said, ‘You want some company?’ She had to shout to be heard over the music.
 
Unsure whether she had heard correctly, Nual dropped her shields enough to skim the woman’s mind. The woman was the club’s proprietor; she wanted to know if Nual wished to purchase the services of one of her escorts. Nual saw that she’d misjudged the situation again; to be here alone and dressed like this implied she was rich but naïve, probably looking for what Taro might describe as
a bit of rough
. It was easy to forget that humans judged solely on appearances.
 
She shook her head. ‘I’m here for the games.’
 
The woman pointed through one of the archways. ‘In there. Good fortune to you.’
 
Nual nodded and headed into a room about the same size as the bar, but far quieter. There were a couple of wheel-based games of chance to the side, but the main activity was betting on some sort of race which was being held on a table with high sides. Nual went up to the table and saw large multi-legged bugs, their backs daubed with colour, skittering along wooden runs. She made a brief attempt to reach out to the creatures’ minds, but was unsurprised to find that she was unable to influence them: the Sidhe dealt in sentience.
 
As she turned to go she heard the phrase,
Doesn’t compare to six-stud
. She paused, looking for the speaker. A man on the opposite side of the bug-run was talking to his friend; like most of the customers they were offworlders, but a little younger than the average, and dressed with a conspicuous lack of care; neither of them were particularly handsome. She made eye-contact with the man who had spoken, just long enough to catch his attention. He stared at her, mouth open, while his companion stared at him, then followed his gaze until he too was looking at Nual.
 
She smiled.
 
The first man patted his companion’s arm and started to make his way around the table to her. Nual tried not to show her amusement at the effect she was having; he simply couldn’t believe his luck, to have attracted the attention of such a – and he actually thought the phrase -
heavenly creature
.

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