Craze followed. “Nice. Won’t be
long once you get that ship. Then Lepsi can tell his brother to eat it, right?
And, who else in your family?” He hoped that would stop them again.
Talos put a hand over Lepsi’s
mouth. “Condensed version: Lepsi’s father favors his brother,
Federoy
.
Federoy
is an arrogant
prick who can’t put his shoes on right unless Daddy tells him. Go explore
Elstwhere. We’ll see you later.”
They dove into the current of souls
traipsing the crowded corridors, drifting away, disappearing among the throng
of colorful Backworlders. Shit.
For a moment, Craze had an
overwhelming urge to run after them. His mind reeled, unsettled, unmoored. He
forced deep, even breaths while the coveralls squeezed his chest.
“Don’t lose it now, jeez,” he
whispered. “A long way to go until this all resolves itself. Damn you, Bast.”
Leaning against the wall, he
soothed his nerves by picturing shelves and bottles in his mind, setting the
containers of alcohol in a pleasing, precise order. His heart slowed and so did
his pulse.
“It’ll be all right. Will go find a
coat ‘n see what Elstwhere has to offer. Maybe I don’t have to travel any
farther than this.” Right. He’d used his smarts to maneuver situations in his
favor plenty of times on Siegna. There was no reason those same techniques shouldn’t
work on Elstwhere. All he had to do was find the right person. “Simple.”
Fortified, he left the wall, heading for the streets.
Verkinn elders dotted the station.
He didn’t detect any prodders, but he ducked out of their sights and into the
sea of traveling folks. The asshole councilmen changed his mind about staying
here though. He didn’t want to settle too close to home and have to put up with
their shit. Nope. He’d use his talents to get on the
aviarmen’s
vessel and to make more chips, so he could leave Siegna and Elstwhere far
behind.
Craze fought his way through the
constant stream of people down to ground level and out into the streets of
Elstwhere. He sought vulnerability to take advantage of, enumerating all of his
past successes in increasing revenue for
Bast’s
tavern. He knew he had what it took to make something happen. And he would.
Dammitall.
He could see no end to the city.
Its buildings spiraled to giddy heights, blocking out the world, most of the
sky, and natural light. Many of the edifices rose to match the stature of the
docking facility, sprawling in curling shapes, like a bizarre forest of giant
dancers frozen in mid leaps and twirls.
He listened to unfamiliar
languages, heard the squawk of traffic, and the shrill signals directing it.
Doors slammed. People shouted and laughed. They pushed past him, rushing,
kicking up the air that was dryer and more sour than Siegna’s. He didn’t taste
as many nutrients in it. The coveralls were slow to compensate. His heart
pumped harder, his blood flowed faster. His steps faltered.
People swore at him, shouting,
“Dumbass.” A couple of hard shoves sent him into traffic. Horns blared, treads
churned toward him.
A hand pulled him back to the
walkway. “You should be more careful.”
The person stood slender and
graceful, matching the architecture of the city, reminding Craze of new shoots
on a
ganya
tree. He couldn’t tell whether his rescuer
was a he or a she, having purple-tinted skin and long dark waves framing a pair
of flirty neon green eyes. As Craze watched, the Backworlder sprouted breasts
which grew into an ample bosom. He had heard about bi-gendered folks, people
who could change sexes, but he’d never seen it before.
A vine tattoo ran along her jaw line
and down her throat. She took inventory of Craze, pausing on his new, shiny
boots. Her enormous irises dilated, growing darker, and she licked her lips.
She saw Craze as prey. He could smell
the predator on her. He also detected the possibility of profit. His pulse
quickened at the thought of this game. The best thing was to let her label him
as weak. He could use her underestimation of him against her, a vulnerability
to exploit in the interests of business, the business of his own survival.
“
Th
-thanks,”
he said. “I appreciate you
helpin
’ me out. This is my
first travel away from home ‘n I find this big city a bit of an overload.”
Her face sparkled with his words.
Craze could almost see her calculating what she could get off of him. The
purple thing sniffed him. “I don’t know your kind.”
He didn’t know hers either. The
silver
lamé
of her romper stretched extra tight over
all of her curves. She was dressed for distraction, and Craze could tell she
was used to winning the way she didn’t balk at meeting his eye. Well-traveled
boots covered her calves up to her knees. He noted a weapon slid into the left
one, then a blade resting on the inside of her thigh, just a quick flash.
“I’m Verkinn,” he said, pointing at
the Elstwhere sky. “From Siegna.”
“Oh. Haven’t been there yet. The
Croakmen I met at the port threatened to eat me if I headed to Siegna.” She
cackled, a sound that matched the weaponry concealed by her flesh and leather.
Predator indeed. Craze needed to
find out more about her. “Where you from?”
“I’m a Jix from Jix.” She said it
as if Craze should know.
Craze nodded. He wanted to come off
as naive, not a moron. “Wasn’t sure if all your kind stayed together.”
“We do. Always.” Her arm moved like
a
ganya
vine in the evening breeze, snaking around
Craze’s shoulders. “You need a guide. Elstwhere can be a nest of bothers.”
He pressed himself against her
side. “I’d appreciate you showing me around.” Maybe she wasn’t the arrow to his
new life, but Craze felt certain she’d point him at something that could get
him what he needed.
She steered him down the avenues
into a littered alley and into a seedy tavern. Smelling curdled and bitter,
tasting of it too, the place didn’t hint at any sense of ease when Craze walked
inside.
Craze’s feet stuck to the floor.
With each step, he had to force himself free. Shit. He didn’t want to ruin his
new boots.
Murky lights, some no longer
working, were set into the floor at irregular intervals, illuminating only
black. Black rectangular tables and black chairs, the composite chipped and
splintering. Black walls and floors. The tables had just enough space between
them to squish by. Craze squeezed between four sets. Three more sat between him
and the bar, making him feel caged and trapped. The Jix proved wily. He’d have
to stay alert.
The patrons favored black,
too—hats, shirts, pants, belts, scarves, coats, and footwear. Craze tugged at
his bright red suspenders, very conscious of them, his crisp white shirt and
honey-colored coveralls. At least his boots blended in. He clutched his tan
duffel tight against his chest, following the Jix deeper into the lair. All the
folks they passed leered at him as if he would sweat loot to be divvied up. The
group was more odious than
Bast’s
ambitions, and
Craze knew the Jix aimed to intimidate him. If he didn’t agree to what she
wanted from him, he knew this crew would be used to get him to change his mind.
She waved at an empty table beside
the bar. “Have a seat. I’ll get us some ale.”
Her hospitality, Craze knew, was to
sweeten him toward her, to lure him into whatever trap she cast. He understood
this manipulation. He’d executed it for Bast often. For now he’d play along,
let her think she maneuvered him toward her goals.
He eased down into the chair, hard
and cold, watching the shifty folks eyeing him. He fingered the tab in his
pocket. The aviarmen were out there. He’d have to think how to use them to
swing the situation around on this Jix. One thing he could do, he could ping
Talos later. Maybe the aviars knew something about these purple gender-changing
folks.
Dull ceiling lamps highlighted the
bar and the mountain of a gal tending it. Craze had never seen such a wide-set
woman and wondered what her kind was. The Jix slammed a cup down in front of
him. She poured him some ale from a pitcher, then brought the ewer up to her
mouth, tipping it straight down her throat, chugging more than half of the
contents.
A putrid, chunky burp bellowed from
her. She laughed, wiping the drips from her chin with the back of her hand,
smearing the droplets of beer on her cheeks. “So, young chap from Siegna, you
got a name?”
“Craze.”
He sniffed at the brew. It smelled
vinegary and weak. It’d be rude not to drink it though, and he needed her to
think she had him where she wanted him. The beer tasted worse than it smelled
and had bits of grain floating in it.
He did his best to keep his disgust
out of his words. “What’s yours?”
“Gattar.” Her finger traced through
a moisture ring on the table, drawing swirls and squiggles.
The shapes became more suggestive,
phallic, and Craze mimicked the figures on his cup. No species had the
advantage in the seduction game like the Verkinn. Once Gattar touched him,
Craze would have her. He’d be in control.
The tabletop sported a sheen of
stickiness. He wanted to gag, swallowing hard not to. Few races found vomit
sexy.
“You just arrive on Elstwhere or
you on your way out?” he asked.
She swigged more of the swill.
“Just got in from a place out on the Edge.
Bossilik
.
Know it?”
Craze rolled the liquid in the cup,
but didn’t dare take another drink. He didn’t think he’d be able to keep it
down. “No. Never heard of it. What’s it like?”
She chewed on her lips, reddening
them. “Fiery. Volcanoes going off all the time. Only one habitable island in
all that chaos. Occupied by the
Syliks
. Know them?”
The rancid beer had a big bang.
Already warmth flushed Craze’s skin and his thoughts fuzzed, wandering. They landed
on wondering how long the Jix would remain female. He didn’t want to find
himself satisfying the other gender later. Oh jeez. He should have thought of
that much earlier.
He threw back half of his cup,
getting the foul ale down his throat before he really tasted it. “No. Any
around here?”
Gattar toyed with the zipper
running straight down the center of her silver romper. “Haven’t seen them
anywhere but on
Bossilik
. They very dark with hard
shells.”
Craze let his eyes linger on her
cleavage. As long as the Jix kept up those bosoms, he could handle carrying
through with his plan to best her while she thought she had already bested him.
“Shells?”
The Jix lowered the zipper,
creating a deeper valley of flesh. “Yeah, like armor. When the volcanoes get to
be too much, they curl up inside their own skin ‘n wait it out.”
He had to give her points for
bringing up volcanoes. He stroked his cup, meeting Gattar’s gaze. “Strange.”
She traced the rim of the pitcher,
picking up the droplets of ale, then sucked them off her finger. “Strange is
often lucrative opportunity.
Bossilik
is a world very
rich in gemstones. It’s the only place fire rock comes from.”
The action of her mouth tantalized
him, but, ugh, she’d taste like that rotgut. And what if the Jix wasn’t wholly female?
This game grew ugly, but he had to at least see it through until he stepped out
of this dump.
“Used in safe lanterns, right?” he
said.
Her play halted, her hands slumping
into her lap, eyelids narrowing. “Ah, you not as blank as you first come off.
Not so fresh out of the Petri dish, huh?”
Craze grimaced. He’d messed up,
revealing he might be more than she’d judged. Shit. He could recover. All he
had to do was think of how he would know that and quickly. He went with the
obvious. “Everyone knows about safe lanterns where I’m from. It’s the only form
of
lightin
’ we use in our village. Good beer there.
You’d like it.”
Her frame relaxed, her fingers drew
patterns on the table again. Phew.
“You a trader then?” he asked.
Her squint didn’t waiver from him,
scrutinizing his twitches and his lips as words formed. “Negotiator. A couple
more good stops ‘n I’ll get promoted to captain.”
Another transportation opportunity.
Whether she bought his naive act or not, he could still seduce her, distract
her. Gattar need only touch him once. He wondered if he could maintain feigned
lust indefinitely to travel on her ship in search of fortunes. No, that would
take more booze than he’d swiped from Bast or had the chips to purchase. He’d
be better off with the aviarmen. With Gattar, it would be wisest to find out
what he could and to get what he could before the next sunrise.
Craze moved his hand closer to
hers, tapping the tabletop in invitation. “Wow. You must be very skilled ‘n
know a lot about the Backworlds.” Flattery never hurt. “This is my first time
off Siegna. Not sure I like it.” Sincerity wouldn’t be misplaced here either.
“What kind of vessel will you captain?”
Her focus fell to his hands and
stayed there. “We Jix have our own ships. Transports mostly,” Gattar said.
“Certain sectors of the Edge fall under our jurisdiction.”
“So, you part of the Backworld
united government, the Assembled Authorities? That’s impressive.” Her choice of
taverns was not.
“So to speak.” Her mouth twitched
and her legs stretched, brushing against his. Her delicate ankle rested against
his thick one. “It’s pretty wild out on the Edge.”
“I think that’s where I’m
goin
’. To seek riches.” He extended his fingers to linger
in the space between them, a proposition.