Hidden in Sight (43 page)

The Ganthor Matriarch divided the message into what she viewed as separate mission requirements and provided one to each of the Herds under her command.

Alphonsus Lundrigan sent his copy to Crawdad's Sanitation Ltd.

Admiral Mocktap laughed and tossed it aside.

26: Shipcity Night; Scoutship Day

“PUT those away.”

I had to admit, it was pleasant seeing someone else on the receiving end of Skalet's searing contempt.

Whispers of: “Your Eminence” multiplied through the dark. There had to be a dozen of them I hadn't seen. Fingertips flew to cheeks as weapons were dropped. “We had no idea you were already here.”

The Kraal, true to my prediction, had caught up to us before my web-kin had had time to do more than take turns scowling at me as they each dressed. The black-garbed troops were quite exceptional at skulking about in the dark. If I hadn't been expecting them, I might have been shocked by the seemingly magical appearance of all those blaster rifles, pointed our way.

Previously pointed our way
, I noted with gratification. Now, they were somewhat sheepishly threatening the pavement. The three leading Kraal, who'd dropped to one knee in order to see who they were shooting at under the rubble, pulled off their hoods. Two males and a female, tattooed with affiliations I couldn't read in the light of the glow alone.

Skalet, more practiced, had no problem. “Ordin. Mocktap. Shecca.” As she spoke, she pushed her way out of our shelter, forcing the Kraal to scramble out of her way. Paul and I followed. Once outside, she brought the glow in her hand closer to her face, an unnecessary emphasis of the marks that commanded their utter obedience. Ordin was a House bound to Bract, one of the three major Houses for which S'kal-ru spoke as Courier. Mocktap, owing personal subservience to S'kal-ru herself. Shecca, more problematic, but bearing a whorl of commitments to Ordin and so drawn into that affiliation as long as S'kal-ru was of higher rank.

I missed the Ganthor.
With them, a little shoving gave you a place in society
. Firm shoving, with bruises and the risk of broken furniture, but as everyone in the Herd usually joined in there weren't hard feelings.

“Detail your mission. Now.” Skalet was letting her hard feelings show. The poor Kraal, already intimidated by flushing an irate noble instead of terrorized little me, crouched even lower.

I didn't think they needed to know her fury was at me. Skalet wasn't fond of being backed into a corner.

“Standard pursuit and locate, Eminence,” replied the taller of the two males who had first seen Skalet. “One of the ships leaving Minas XII came here. The watch commander decided we should break orbit and search for the target on foot. Our team was assigned Gathergo—there are others at the remaining Port Cities. It was my decision to follow the child. Her purchases and secrecy implied she was supplying a fugitive.”

“Such—initiative.” The way the word came out Skalet's mouth made me start to worry if we'd get on the ship without blood on the sand.

The Kraal stiffened. “If we have interfered unknowingly with Your Eminence's plans, please allow me, Ordin-ru, to take responsibility for my commander and troops.” He paused, but Skalet declined to respond. Drops of sweat on his forehead gleamed in the glow's light. Kraal apologies could be accepted or rejected in various unpleasant and permanent ways. He was a brave being. “We should have followed our original orders and waited in orbit. Obviously, you were better able to recover the target.” At that, his eyes slid to Paul, who was standing beside me.

Target?
Before I could open my mouth, Paul squeezed my hand in warning. I looked up to see his face had assumed a look of bland innocence.

The moment teetered on what was going on in those Kraal heads. They'd found S'kal-ru with their “target,” under questionable circumstances. I dare say most non-Kraal Humans would jump to certain conclusions, prime among them a shift in loyalty. However, Kraal were accustomed to their leaders acting covertly and independent of the apparent chain of command. They would, I presumed, wait to see if this was a brilliant coup by Her Eminence, or a mistake worthy of assassination.

I missed the Ganthor even more.

Skalet knew better than to let them think too much. “Irrelevant. Your search of this city has ended, Ordin-ru,” she told him, an impatient snap to her beautiful voice. “Notify your ship to prepare for immediate launch upon our return. I will bring with me two items of personal luggage which will not be described or recorded in any manner. Is this clear?”

Not a murmur. There were, I decided, some advantages to Kraal. “Does your ‘luggage' require any special handling, Your Eminence?”

“Not at present. Ooof!”

The swift kick I gave her ankle was worth the way their weapons swung from rest to ready.

 

The Kraal ship had been tucked on the far side of the line of docking tugs, fin-down where they could safely launch without having to be moved to the field itself—although Port Authority would doubtless attempt to fine them for such behavior. Not to mention the probability of needing new paint on the nearest tugs. Debts that would be paid, among others, Skalet assured me, by Pa-Admiral Mocktap.

“Shouldn't you wait until we are off one of her ships?” Paul commented. Skalet had demanded and received all of the officers' quarters on the
Octos Ra
, giving us two decks and eight cabins of private luxury at our disposal.

Including the captain's. Skalet had been in luck again, since Captain Arzul-ro was not only an affiliate, but member of another House for which S'kal-ru spoke as Courier. He'd been overjoyed to have such an illustrious guest, professing an earnest and likely sincere desire to die in her service.

“Her ship?” I repeated. “Hardly.”

“Paul is right, Youngest,” Skalet said absently. She was busy at the captain's desk, using his comp to see what had been happening during her time in the Abyss. She hadn't wasted time getting back into uniform, although Captain Arzul-ro had apparently been traumatized by the lack of something suitable to offer. I began to wonder how long Arzul-ro had been stuck on this scoutship. “I don't want to underestimate Mocktap's affiliations on board. We should be safe from some methods of assassination simply by having these two decks. Others we'll have to deal with as they come.” There was distressing amount of anticipation in her voice.

“Which is why you didn't want to be greeted by Kraal at the dock.”

“One can't tell affiliation from that distance, Youngest. You know that. I was hardly going to risk a confrontation without such knowledge. As for your little stunt—”

I interrupted: “Got us a ship, heading for Picco's Moon.”

Skalet swiveled her chair to face me, a lean figure in unrelieved black, her strong thin hands pressed together heel to fingertip, as though in prayer. There was nothing of the supplicant in her harsh: “Where you will take me to what I seek.”

“Give Paul the antidote.”

She shook her head. “Always in a hurry, Esen-alit-Quar. Still, it's as well the
Octos Ra
is a fast little ship.” Her hands separated, palms up as if offering me something, then her left hand turned over. “The duras has already begun to damage every cell in his body. Nothing irreparable—yet. But in another couple of days?”

My Human heart seemed to beat too quickly. I didn't dare look at Paul, didn't dare think of what was happening to him. “Skalet. Please. I promise. You know I keep my word.”

“That was when you were Youngest, and trembled at the thought of Ersh's displeasure. But you're Senior Assimilator of the Web of Esen now,” she mocked.

“Skalet, please?”

“Easy, Es,” from Paul. “I feel fine. Don't antagonize her—”

“Listen to your wise, vulnerable friend, Esen-alit-Quar.” Her wicked smile warned me even as she said: “Still, a child your age should keep busy, or she'll get into trouble. Let me offer you a game to while away the time, Youngest. One or more of these officers will employ duras. It's still very popular among the upper classes of Kraal society. You might just find a vial of antidote in one of the cabins. I give you leave to hunt to your heart's content.”

“Paul—”

“He stays with me. To protect him from traps. Not to mention that there could be an assassin or two. You'll be fine, I'm sure. You did pay attention to my teachings, I trust.”

I gave myself one more look at Paul, who appeared torn between launching himself at Skalet's throat or trying to stop me from leaving. Something in my expression must have reassured him. His fists opened and he settled back in his chair. “Yours? No,” I told her with immense satisfaction. “You were a lousy teacher.”

Then I left.

Opulence became boring very quickly.
My Ket-self would have enjoyed visiting cabin after cabin, running those sensitive fingers over carved wooden doors and luxurious upholstery. Well, to be honest, my Ket-self was also inordinately fond of plumbing fixtures.

As Bess, I was impatient with what seemed nothing but distraction. Which it was, in a sense. Stuffing their quarters with expensive furnishings allowed each Kraal officer to create a bewildering maze for eyes as well as feet. There was nothing standard, no repeating pattern from one room to the next to help a searcher locate secrets.

A lie. There was a commonality.
Every cabin contained a shelf of duras plants, their tough stubby leaves a promise of death as well as mass. Skalet's plan had succeeded to the point of obscenity.

I didn't bother being polite. When it was faster to walk over a sofa than move around it, I climbed over priceless embroidery and left footprints in rare fur. I did bother being careful whenever I opened a drawer or other hiding place. I might have living mass at hand and so could cycle to remove poison from this body, but it wouldn't help if some paranoid Kraal had rigged a cupboard door with explosives or—

Or something more specific.
The thought stopped my examination of a truly obsessive collection of cosmetics.

It could be. Mocktap had history with our kind—not just relatively recent events, either. I had no trouble remembering every detail of Skalet's misadventure on Ersh's mountain, including that name on the lips of Uriel-ro.

I should keep searching, despite the probability that any valuable toxins and antidotes likely left with the cabin's displaced resident.

I should, but . . .
Ersh.

Cosmetics forgotten, I turned and ran out of the cabin, heading for my web-kin.

I'd been forced to buy sandals with tiny metal strips on the toes. The resulting sound on cobblestones was considered charming by Prumbins. It had likely helped every Kraal in Gathergo follow me. But I could move as quietly as thought over the plush carpeting the corridors of the officers' deck. For that reason, I wasn't surprised, at first, when no one called out a greeting as I walked in the door to the captain's cabin.

At second glance, I was alone. No sign of Paul. No sign of Skalet.

I fought to calm myself as I hurried through the various rooms. No sign of struggle. No blindingly obvious message left to warn me. They hadn't been kidnapped.

But no message left to inform me either.

A stroll around the ship? Unlikely. No, I told myself bitterly, this was some plan of Skalet's moved into action by my convenient absence.

Instead of Ersh's “voice,” I seemed to hear Paul's suddenly.
When in doubt, don't.
While this was his favorite expression in regard to my desire to experiment with the menu at a new restaurant—being the one responsible for getting my Lishcyn-self home afterward—I knew he felt it was something I could apply more broadly.
There had
, I admitted to myself,
been times when acting without all the facts had had less than stellar results.

This was Skalet's chosen environment. This was Paul's true form. Each had a vested interest in the other's survival until we were off this ship. If the two of them couldn't handle potential assassins and Kraal politics, no one could.

Relieved, for the moment, of responsibility for my elders, I finally paid attention to myself. My mouth had a foul taste and my skin itched from dried salt. There was sand where there shouldn't be.
Surely this hair wasn't supposed to be stiff.

So, while the rest of the universe conspired, plotted, and generally readied itself to cause me more grief, I treated my Human-self to a well-deserved bubble bath, without Busfish, in the gilded marble tub belonging to the captain of the
Octos Ra.