A Working of Stars by Doyle Debra; Macdonald James D

Author:Doyle, Debra; Macdonald, James D. [Doyle, Debra; Macdonald, James D.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Macmillan
Published: 2002-03-31T22:00:00+00:00

“Tell me something,” Zeri said to Len. “If you weren’t playing bodyguard to a runaway bride, what would you be doing right now?”

The two of them were sitting together at a dim corner table in an eating establishment a few blocks outside the Hanilat starport—close enough in to attract a rougher crowd than the downtown places. In their current state, rougher was good; even if they were recognized, the clientele at Red’s Fishhouse wasn’t the sort to report anybody to the city watch. Len had a platter of sliced bread and meat, and Zeri was working her way through a large serving of the local deep-fried seafood—she’d always loved it, and it wasn’t the sort of thing that she could cook for herself in a city apartment.

“I’d be down at the port,” Len said. “Sweating the next cargo, getting the fuel and stores, worrying about port fees and about whether I counted as a sus-Dariv contract holder if most of the sus-Dariv were gone.”

She dipped another strip of fried silverling into the pot of spicy green sauce that had accompanied the meal. “And if the port were closed?”

“Well, then I’d be at close-operations, raising murder about it, pointing at the clock on the wall, and shouting that time is money.”

“Then maybe we should be doing something like that ourselves,” she said. “Since we don’t know if Syr Vai is helping us or not.”

“Maybe,” he said. He put together another bread-and-meat sandwich, and bit into it. A moment’s chewing and swallowing, and he went on, “First you tell me something.”

“Tell you what?”

“Why are you going along with this crazy plan your cousin and Syr Vai dragged me into? Lord Natelth may be a murdering bastard—ask anybody who was on Ildaon when it got space-bombed by the sus-Peledaen fleet—but I haven’t heard anybody say that he treats his lovers badly. And talk like that always gets around.”

They’d ordered a pitcher of summer-ale for sharing between them, because the night was warm. Zeri took the time to refill both her mug and his before she answered.

“I made the marriage-deal with Natelth because it was the only way I could think of to take care of the sus-Dariv. But I don’t think Herin would have offered me a chance to get out of the bargain if he didn’t have another idea in mind. I want to find out what it is.”

“A little while ago you were almost accusing me and Syr Vai of doing away with Cousin Herin,” Len pointed out.

“For all I knew, you could have stolen his ideas—whatever they were—and then killed him. I want to find out where he is and what he was thinking of.” She ate another strip of fish and green sauce, then licked her fingers clean. “So. If you had a female companion, who would she be, and what would she be doing?”

“Supercargo, most likely,” Len said. “And since you don’t have a couple of free years to learn it in, I doubt that I could teach you the job.

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