thefiremargins (31 page)

* * *

All went as planned. The mind Vyaka and Kris chose was able to provide a smattering of the spaceport patois used between the space-going species and their land-bound hosts. No one remarked on their presence as one by one, they joined in with the unloading team.
The goods, packed in regularly shaped container units, were unloaded onto waiting animal-drawn carts and taken to the warehouses nearby. As night fell, the perimeter lights came on. In this world of draft animals and carts, their blinding whiteness was an anachronism. Around them loomed the immense shadows of other cargo ships, entry ports glowing golden in contrast to the floodlights.
The air was no longer chilly, it had become bitterly cold. It was with relief that they helped load the last of the crates onto the cart and joined the rest of their work force at the base of the ramp, waiting for their foreman to collect the money due them.
Davies stamped his feet, flapping his arms round his body to keep himself warm. "If it's this cold here ..." he said to Jo, leaving the sentence unfinished.
She nudged him in the ribs as the foreman came down the ramp, pausing before the end to speak to them all.
"We'll divide out the money in the tavern," he said.
There was some disgruntled muttering, then the group of twenty-odd individuals turned and began to make their way to the gate across the other side of the field.
"What's that?" whispered Davies, nodding in the direction of a tall keep to the right of the gateway.
"The Port Lord's residence," said Kris equally quietly. "He owns the spaceport and the surrounding land."
Jo trudged on in silence beside Kris, only too aware that she was the only female present. She felt another presence and looked up, eyes meeting their foreman's. As he fell in step between her and Kris, she forced herself to remain calm. They couldn't have been discovered this soon!
"I don't remember you arriving with this group," he said to Kris.
"No. We were working on the U'Churian vessel alongside but we finished early," said Kris.
The foreman kept looking at him. "She got you into debt?" he asked, jerking his head toward Jo. "I like the idea of making her work for what she owes. Better than beating her."
"Ah. Yes," said Kris. "That's why we joined your team."
"You won't get full pay," he warned. "Only from the time you started."
Kris shook his head and shrugged. "Sorry. Don't know when that was."
"I do," he said, looking away. "You'll get paid at the tavern, after everyone else." With that, he speeded up and returned to the head of the little group.
"What was that all about?" asked Davies.
"I think he knows something's up," said Jo.
"He does," said Kris. "He's wondering why we're going to the bother of breaking out of the port when most people want to get in and leave Jalna. That's why he wants to see us."
"Well, at least we know in advance," said Davies.
They were nearing the perimeter fences now. Between them they could see the spacers' town where the traders conducted their business while on Jalna. The smells of cooking from the market stalls wafted their way through the fence, making their stomachs growl with hunger.
"I'm not surprised we're all hungry," said Kris with a grin. "We've just done several hours of hard labor! Let's hope the food in the shantytown is as good."
"I doubt it," muttered Davies. "This lot don't exactly look well fed. I wish we weren't excluded from the spacers' town!"
Then they were at the gate and queuing up for the guard to pass them through.
The guard was the picture of bored negligence. As they passed through, ID cards held up for him to see, he barely glanced at them. None of them were aliens, beyond that, he didn't care. How many Jalnians given entry to the port would want to escape back to the world outside?
"How does he know we're not smuggling off-world goods out?" Davies muttered.
Kris pointed to the wolflike beast sitting inside the sentry box. "He knows."
"Will he pick us up?" asked Jo.
"Unlikely. We've been mixing with the Jalnians for several hours now."
"Let's hope we smell enough like them," she muttered as their turn came.
The beast rose to its feet and began to growl, a deep, rumbling sound. In front of him, the guard came to life, swinging his rifle round into a ready position.
The foreman was suddenly at his side, putting a hand on his arm. "I'll vouch for them," he said. "A container of dried herbs split while they were carrying it, that's all. They can't get rid of the scent till they reach the tavern."
The guard hesitated, glancing from man to beast. The beast moved forward, sniffing at the three humans, the stiff spines round his neck bristling ominously. Teeth bared, it snarled.
"Papers!" demanded the guard.
They handed them over, hearts pounding as the creature snuffled around their feet.
"Back, Dagla!"
Snarling resentfully, the animal retreated.
After studying each pass carefully and checking it against the owner, the guard thrust them back at Kris. "Get out of here, and watch how you load the containers in future," he said.
As they started to move, the beast growled again, taking a pace forward warningly.
"I said get back!" yelled the guard, turning round and kicking at it with his booted foot.
"Hurry!" said the foreman, grabbing hold of Jo and hauling her through the gateway.
Kris and Davies followed at a run. They were through the other side of the double-fenced enclosure, and on the edges of the shantytown.
"Doesn't do to hang around by that damned beast. Gets its teeth into you and it don't let go. You're safe now. Tavern's that way," he said, pointing down the muddy walkway between the rows of rickety buildings. "Second last on the right. I'll see you there shortly." With that, he was gone.
Davies and Kris turned to Jo. She shrugged and looked down the street.
"We do what the man says. If we do anything else, we'll call more attention to ourselves."

* * *

The tavern was warm. That was where the pluses stopped. A greasy, cloying smoke, mingled with the smell of sour ale, filled the room. They pushed their way through the throng of sweaty, unwashed bodies till they reached the counter. A fat landlord, dressed in stained clothing, directed his serving wenches to the tables.
"What do you want?" he demanded, pausing briefly.
"A room and meals for three, please," said Kris.
"I'll sort the room out later," he said. "Go sit there," he nodded to the far corner where an empty table stood. "What d'you want to eat?"
"Anything. Meat and whatever."
He nodded. "It'll be over shortly. Drink?"
"Three ales."
They headed over to the table, sitting down and looking round at the tavern's other customers.
"They got our clothing right," murmured Jo. "In fact, they seem to have done a very good job."
"When they told us Jalna was backward, I didn't realize how backward they meant," said Davies.
"It's not that bad," said Kris quietly. "Here come our drinks."
The serving girl, resplendent in a stained blouse and an equally stained skirt, pushed her way over to them, throwing comments over her shoulder to the groups of men she passed.
The mugs were banged down in front of them, then she stood with her hand open, waiting.
"You pays for these now," she said.
"How much?" asked Kris.
"Three coppers apiece."
"I've got it," said Davies, digging in his pouch and dropping the money in her none too clean hand.
They were halfway through what proved to be, despite their fears, a palatable stew, when they saw the crew foreman come in and dole out the wages to his men.
"He's heading our way," said Davies. "Now we'll find out what he wants."
"What can you pick up?" Jo asked Kris.
"Not a lot. He keeps his mind quite still. He's suspicious of us, why he isn't sure, but he thinks we can be of use to him," said Kris quietly as the man approached their table.
"My name's Strick," he said, putting his tankard down before joining them at the table. "What they call you?"
"I'm Kris, he's Davey, and she's Jo," said Kris, nodding at each of them in turn. They'd decided there was no need for them to assume other names as their own fitted in with those of the natives.
Strick nodded at them. "You worked for a good four hours each, but the woman wouldn't normally get paid. How about accepting two gold for what you did?"
"Sounds fair to me," said Kris around a spoonful of stew.
Strick reached into his pouch and put two gold coins in front of him. "You planning to work here regular?"
Kris shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. Can't say yet. We like to move around."
Strick narrowed his eyes. "You don't have the look of nomads," he said. "From the west, are you?"
Kris hesitated, spoon between his bowl and his mouth. He played his hunch. "No. From the northwest. We're heading back that way."
"Thought you was. Got that look about you. What you doing breaking out of the port?" he asked, taking a swig from his mug. "Most folk want to break in."
"Not us," said Davies. "Like we said, we'd finished the other job and saw you busy, so thought we'd help out and earn a bit extra."
"Uh huh," said Strick, looking from one to the other. "Sure. Well, your business' yours. If you aren't leaving for a bit, let me know. Might be I could use you for work."
"We'll let you know," agreed Kris. "Where can we get hold of you?"
"I bunk here. Foremen are permanent, unless we screw up something. Most men round here just earn money to drink. You, now, you lot're different. Could use folk with brains as permanent staff. Interested?"
"Could be," said Kris. "We got some business to attend to first, but maybe we come back this way."
Strick stood up. "Well, you know where to find me," he said before leaving. They watched him join a group of men at a table near the bar.
"Interesting," said Jo as Kris began to laugh softly.
"What's so funny?" demanded Davies.
"They've got a bloody underground movement against the Port Lord going here! They think we're a unit from another group!" said Kris. "He thinks we were checking the port either to plan a possible raid, or to steal some goods for ourselves."
"They're trying to get the off-world goods distributed more fairly," said Jo.
"You've got it," nodded Kris, leaning toward them. "I also got the impression this Lord allows only his cronies to have trade items from the aliens. He uses the goods to buy their loyalty."
"In which case, that crashed ship should have caused a ripple all the way to here," murmured Jo thoughtfully. "They'll be hoping it was a trade ship, and go looking for off-world goods. So why haven't they sent an expedition from here to the site themselves?"
"That's something we'll need to find out," agreed Kris.
"There's room for a good scam here," said Davies. "If we can persuade Strick to pass us on to any contacts he has in the mountains, then we're laughing."
"And just how are we going to do that?" demanded Jo.
"For a start, we tell him we've got off-world contacts. That we're heading up into the mountains to check this crash out and ..."
"Are you mad?" demanded Jo.
Kris put his hand over hers and squeezed it warningly. "Quiet, Jo. You're drawing attention to yourself! Let's listen to what Davies has to say."
Angrily Jo pulled her hand away from him. "Get on with it, then," she snapped.
"Hell, we just tell them why we're here," said Davies, grinning ingenuously. "We don't tell them we're not from here, but we do say our off-world contacts are prepared to pay for the information about this crashed ship. Naturally if Strick helps us, he'll be well paid too— in whatever goods he wants."
"Don't dismiss it out of hand, Jo," said Kris, looking thoughtful. "Davies' suggestion has got the merit of being simple and believable."
"What do we use to pay Strick? Have you thought of that?" demanded Jo, her voice, though low, intense with anger. "You
know
you haven't! Why should he believe us? Or help us? We can't prove what we're saying is true!"
"Yes, you can," said Davies, picking up his drink. "If you're not too principled to do it. Use your telepathy to make him believe us."
"We can't do that!" Jo was horrified at the thought.
"There you go, then," said Davies, shrugging. "It's no more than I expected of you, Jo. In this kind of work, you can't afford to have principles."
"You can't violate someone's mind like that, Davies! There have to be limits!"
"Why? We're here to find out what the Valtegan craft was up to, and what we can about the Valtegans themselves! Have you forgotten your time in their pleasure camps on Keiss? The friends they killed? I haven't. I offer you a solution that's quick and easy: you want to reinvent the wheel rather than offend your sensibilities."
Jo opened her mouth to reply but once again, Kris grasped hold of her, this time shaking her arm quite forcefully.
"Stop it, both of you!" he hissed. "This isn't the place for an argument! Jo, sorry, but he's right. We can't afford to follow the Sholan telepath code here. We need to make full use of all our resources, including my Talents."
"And what happens if he decides to turn us in?" de-manded Jo.
"Why should he? If he's that committed to his cause, then he'll welcome us because of our off-world contacts," said Davies.
"He could try to hold us for ransom."
"Again, why? He'd only get a one-time payback. No, it's in his interests to help us and have our contacts in his debt. There's always the chance of more work from them."
"I don't like it!"
"Come on, Jo," said Kris, patting her arm gently. "Look at who they sent on this mission. A known scam merchant ..."
"Thanks, Kris," said Davies.
"... who is also good with electronics, and myself. I never told you much about my background. Let's just say I've been known to run a scam or two in my time," he grinned. "And you, with your experiences on Keiss. If we're being honest, we've been picked for the fact that we can do what it takes to get results. We don't have to like it, we just have to do our job."
Jo sat there, anger boiling inside her. Since Keiss had been liberated by the Sholans, life had changed dramatically for her. Her skills were what mattered now, not her sex. Now she could do the kind of work she loved. She'd hated the Valtegans and their pleasure cities, hated having to go there to spy on them and collect valuable information for the guerrillas. That had all been left behind. She'd been dealing straight with the world— until now.
"We're still fighting the same war, aren't we?" she said bitterly. "Nothing's changed! It's all lies and cheating!"
"The decision's yours, Jo," said Kris quietly. "If you've got a better plan, we'll use it. I don't like the thought of manipulating other people's minds any more than you do, but that's what gives us the edge on the Sholans. We're prepared to use our Talents that way if we need to. They can't because they're conditioned not to right from the start of their training."
"Dammit! All right, we'll use Davies' plan," she muttered. "Go and get Strick."