Lamarchos (12 page)

In the inner city, the quarter of the Karkiskya, the holiday noise of the campground was muted by distance and the towering walls of the secretive houses. The broad stone-paved streets scrubbed clean even of dust were empty except for an occasional spectral figure … one of the long thin Karkiskya, body shape concealed in thick grey robes.

Aleytys shuddered and shrank against Stavver as the faceless darkness under the cowl swung toward them. “You sure it's all right for us to be here?” she muttered.

“You heard Kale. Calm down and look at me, love, like I'm the moon in your nights. Privacy's why a couple comes here.”

She relaxed against him as they strolled on in the silent meticulously clean street. She tilted her head and examined the markings on the moonface. “There's a man on the moon, a drummer. Look.” She pointed. “You can even see the pattern on the drum. I wonder what tales the old ones tell their children about him.”

Stavver laughed, the sound incongruous in the somber streets, an intrusion of life into the curious precise deadness around them. The Karkiskya dealt in the art of an entire world but apparently had not the slightest spark of inborn appreciation of any aspect of what they sold except the money value. Stavver's laughter made the harsh blocky buildings even uglier than before. His fingers began moving gently among the instruments hidden in her hair, tiny thumbnail-sized chips of metal.

Aleytys glanced at the building rising several stories above the cloaking curtain wall. “That's the worst one yet.”

“A bank vault doesn't have to be pretty.” He backed her against the wall and began kissing her, lightly and repeatedly, their forms sinking into the stark shadow like ghosts. After a minute he stepped back, took her arm, and strolled on.

“What now?” Aleytys rubbed her cheek against his hand feeling softly happy and, at the same time, disturbed. The kisses were simply part of their cover.

“Around the block to get readings on all four sides. Stopping now and then, of course.” He chuckled. “To work the moonlight out of ourselves.”

Aleytys pulled away. “I don't like.…” She scrubbed at her mouth. “Business! I don't like being used.”

“Hush. Let it ride, Leyta. We have to do this.”

“I don't understand any of it.”

“Let your instincts take over. The Vrya are notorious for their genius at instrumentation.”

“Ha! You know better about me. Instrumentation. I used to get confused over a wind-up clock.” Stavver turned her around the corner. “Does thieving always take such tedious preparation?”

“When you go for big things.”

“And this is big?” She glanced again at the blackish ugly building.

They walked in silence, feet grating with faint small sounds on the meticulously roughened stone. “Lamarchan stones have a very nice market.” He leaned against the wall and pulled her into his arms. Face nuzzling close to her ear, he murmured, “Not worth a planetary income like some things, but nice. The really old ones are rare enough and beautiful enough they'll bring the price of a small starship. And this is a Company world.” He pushed away from the wall.

As they turned the last corner, Aleytys said hesitantly, “Company world?”

He glanced frequently at the dark building as he spoke. “Karkesh Company. They enforce trade monopoly in this sector of space. Some Companies run everything on the worlds they own, but the Karkiskya keep to their fortified cities.”

“Own? A whole world?” Incredulous, she let her voice rise until he hushed her impatiently. He pulled her with him into the middle of the street. “Let's go take a look at the landing field out back. “I'll show you Star Street maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“We can't go through the gate with those probes in your hair. If no Karkiskya are around we can ditch them and stroll through get something to drink, just take a look at what's happening.”

“Maybe find a friend? Or a way off Lamarchos and let Maissa do her own scavenging?”

He grinned at her but didn't answer.

They strolled casually through the wall shadow toward the back of the city. Aleytys scratched an itch behind her ear where one of the probes was rubbing against her skin. “Jaydugar wasn't a company world, was it?” She shook her head. “No. I won't believe that.”

“No, Leyta. I think you can be sure no Company has tamed that damn mantrap world.”

“Mmm. What gives a Company the right to claim a world?” She scowled at the wall that blocked the street ahead of them. “People.… People, Miks! Haven't the Lamarchans anything to say about who runs them. What gives the Karkiskya the right to say you trade with us and no one else?”

“Power, Leyta. Money. Ships. Weapons. It adds up to power.”

They turned a corner and walked in the shadow of the towering wall. Ahead light fanned out in a yellow patch on the stone pavement and faint sounds of laughter, shouting, music, drifted through the gate. Aleytys felt excitement growing in her so that she actually was trembling as she heard the noise strengthen into a solid reality breathing stirring promises of new things. She wanted to see. She wanted to feel. She wanted to taste everything on the other side of the wall, the hunger in her a force as strong as the water of her black river.

Stavver laughed at her, but she felt something of the same excitement in him. His steps quickened. His hands began hunting in her hair for the probes.

“Go back.” The grey-robed figure stepped out of shadow and blocked further progress.

“My apologies, sho Karsk.” Stavver tightened his hand on her arm, swung her around, and pulled her after him as he strode back down the street his long legs reaching out in quick nervous steps that ate space like a rock cat consumed prey. Aleytys was forced to run. The painful grip on her arm threatened to jerk her off her feet.

“Miks!”

“Shut up.”

He dragged her around the corner, then slowed, stopped. Leaned against the wall his face turned away from her.

“Miks?”

“Shut up, Lee. Just don't say anything for a minute.”

She rubbed at her arm, oppressed by the silence in the dead street.

Stavver came away from the wall, dropped an arm around her shoulders and pushed her ahead of him along the street.

“Tell me about Star Street. What is it anyway?”

He blinked and then laughed, jarred out of his brooding silence. “Hmm. Groundlings and starmen don't mix well.” His tone was gently amused and he radiated a strong feeling of relief as if retreating into the world of concept enabled him to forget his impotence in the world of action. “And groundlings have the edge. There's a hell of a lot more of them in any one place than there are starmen. So they set up a ghetto for them that the starmen call Star Street. Whatever world they're on. Star Street. Lively place.” He grinned at Aleytys.

The street turned through a narrow pointed arch. In the campgrounds beyond the arch the fires were dying to beds of glowing coals with one or two ruminative figures sitting beside them, faces painted red and black by the firelight. Stavver and Aleytys walked a wandering path, picking their way between the camps until they passed Loahn and Puki sitting beside her father's fire talking quietly while Peleku lounged on the unfolded back steps of the caravan puffing tranquilly on his pipe. He raised a hand, nodded his head in greeting, but didn't bother to shift out of his placid contemplation of the drifting tobacco smoke.

Stavver's fingers wandered through her heavy hair touching the instruments hidden at the nape of her neck, touching the skin, tickling through the short new hairs until she sighed with pleasure. He turned her so she was looking at Peleku. “There's a man who knows a good thing when he has it.”

“Not like us. She sighed and yawned, then moved away from him and climbed the steps into her caravan. Kale looked up as she stepped through the curtains. The baby snuffled as the caravan shifted, then murmured his way back into sleep. “Thanks for watching him,” she said softly. Kale nodded and left. With a tremble of love Aleytys straightened the blanket and tucked it around the baby again.

Stavver came up the steps and stood behind her. One hand curved around her head and smoothed down over her neck onto her shoulder, holding her against him. “He's the center of your universe, isn't he.”

Aleytys sighed. “What can I say. I swore a promise to him and to me, Miks, that he'd know love. Always. That I'd never, never leave him like my mother did me.”

Stavver stepped back to the other bunk taking her with him. He made her sit and after she was comfortable, he dropped beside her. “Do you really need to go to your mother?”

She stared in surprise at his night-obscured face. “I thought you wanted to find Vrithian.”

“Little chance of that.” She could feel him shrug, his body shifting against hers. “They're arrogant bastards. Male and female both. Lee, I don't think you'll like Vrithian. Or the Vrya.”

“You forget I'm half Vryhh?” She bit her lip and stared blankly at the dusk in the wagon. “I want a place to belong to. People I belong with.”

“There's too much caring inside you, Lee.” After a moment's strained silence, his arm tightened around her. “Stay with me, Lee. You and the baby.”

Aleytys laced her fingers together. “Miks, I … damn. I like you … more and more.… I don't know … I think too much to … to stay with you.”

“You're not exactly flattering.” She felt a small hurt grow in him; it had cost him to make the offer, cost perhaps even more than he knew.

“Miks … oh god, whatever I say is wrong. I'm going to Vrithian to find my own. A place to belong.” She moved away from him, sliding around to face him, taking his face between her hands. “I've been a stranger since I was born. Don't tell me I won't fit there either.”

He pulled her hands down, his face set in a cruel mask. “Forget it. Turn around so I can get the probes out of your hair.” There was no quick caressing touches this time. His hands worked efficiently, slipping the tiny instruments free. “Go to bed. I'll be working on these a couple of hours at least.”

A cold knot in her stomach, Aleytys slid off the bunk. He was punishing her. That sensitive streak in him was wincing with the hurt she'd inflicted on him. Though he knew clearly and coldly that he didn't really want to take on the responsibility of a woman and a baby, a baby not even his own, the rejection had him bleeding internally. Until he slept it off she would be left alone in a kind of coventry.

Silently she unpinned the batik and shook it out. Silently she folded the cloth and put it in a drawer with the others. She lay down, pulled the light quilt over her, and lay watching him trip the circuits, the marching numbers sending flecks of light flickering over his intent face. Worn out by the flood of events in the day, she yawned and tore her eyes away. In minutes she was deep asleep.

Chapter III

“Si'a gikena.”

Aleytys looked up from the square piece of leather she was spreading beside the back steps of the caravan. Puki's anxious face hovered over her, full mouth pinched in, a faint line of worry between her winging eyebrows.

“Hand me that pillow, will you please?” Aleytys tossed the crimson velvet pillow onto the leather and turned to face the girl “What's the trouble, Puki?”

The girl dropped to her knees and pressed her palms together before her face. “Si'a gikena, come you to Karkys as gikena?”

Silently Aleytys sank down onto the pillow. “I sit on leather, waiting.”

A bright triangular smile lit the small face as Puki dropped her hands on her knees. “The sister of the wife of my father's brother came to Karkys in hopes that the Karkiskya would heal her with their magic. A thing grows in her belly that gives her pain and will not let her eat. She brought a poaku to buy service but the pain has made her so weak she cannot go to them and they will not come here.”

“And?”

“Will it please you to heal her, gikena Lahela?” She held out a hand, a deep green stone cupped in her palm. “The one of whom I speak bade me give you this.”

Aleytys took the poaku from her. Turning it over and over she marvelled at the sheer sensuous pleasure she derived from running her fingers over the pseudo-soft silken surface of the heavy, tough green stone. It was carved in low relief into a severely spare nearly abstract representation of two horses' heads, necks merging just above the shoulders, manes flying in a suggested breeze, a creation of line and hollow to enchant the eyes as thoroughly as the feel of the surface bewitched the fingertips. Aleytys continued to run her fingers over the stone as she gazed thoughtfully toward the stark towers of the Karkiskya quarter, wanting the stone until her heart ached with the pain of her desire, unwilling to let it out of her caressing fingers.

Olelo came scampering down the steps and sat himself next to her legs, his whole weight resting on her, a small soft spot of warmth, his head tipped back so that brilliant eyes, so black they looked all pupil, fixed on her face with a hint of amused wariness.

Reluctantly Aleytys gave the poaku back to the girl. “No need for this,” she said slowly. “The poaku is one with your kin. No need to sacrifice so much for one small moment of my time. I'll come with you now.” She glanced over her shoulder but relaxed when she saw no sign of Maissa. “When I have done, then is the time for gifting.”

Glancing repeatedly over her shoulder to see if Aleytys was actually following, Puki darted around her father's caravan and stopped beside a somber black and green wagon parked with its front wheels chocked at the very edge of the stream. As soon as Aleytys reached her, Puki smiled nervously and knocked on the wall beside the heavy black curtains. “Makua Hekili, may we come? It is keikeia Pukipala and Lahela gikena.”

“Be welcome.” The voice coming from behind the curtains was forceful despite the evident physical weakness.