ThunderClaw: Science Fiction Romance (Alien Warrior Book 2) by Penelope Fletcher

Author:Penelope Fletcher [Fletcher, Penelope]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Stephenson & Fletcher
Published: 2017-02-01T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter 23

Beowyn and Éorik glanced at the cratered moon blotting most of the dusky skyline then excused themselves.

Venomous, Cobra and Fiercely vanished straight after.

It clicked for me after a moment’s puzzled contemplation the males skedaddled to avoid window shopping.

Wandering through the dye market, the indigenous, drumming music a sensual berceuse to my ears, I curled my fingers up to brush the damp swathes of woven plant fabrics and scraped animal pelts hanging overhead. Brilliant pigments blended into a watery kaleidoscope running down my forearm in rivulets. The brightness hurt my eyes. Dye residue left me sticky and smelling of salts and astringents, but the vivid colours lifted my mood.

A sphere lifted off a flashing pedestal and followed me as I browsed.

Tensing, I hesitated. ‘Lumen?’

‘Automated shopping basket. Tell it what you want then meet me at the sorting station over there.’ Her waving hands were patchy with dye.

Brows lifting to my hairline, I walked on trying to ignore the floating orb. I stopped under a rich green. ‘Can I order a reel of this?’ I guessed there was a standard minimum purchase. Something caught my eye further down the racks. I pointed. ‘This as well.’ I patted the vivid blue colour to ensure the addition to my original order. ‘That’s all I want, thanks.’

The teensy robot scanned by body with a laser. It bleeped then zipped up and over the crowd.

Patrick knew the clan sett by heart.

I’d find a weaver and explain our plaid as best I could. It would be an excellent home warming gift for my family, replace a little of what we lost.

I might even have kilts made for Beowyn and Éorik.

I caught up to Lumen in the centre of the dye market and joined her in the queue of patrons waiting to be served.

Thirteen bristled feelers ended each of the merchant’s nine elastic arms. It sat inside a clay pot surrounded by dozens upon dozens of shallow dishes bearing a rainbow of powdered pigment.

It flipped open two pouches and scooped up the colours I’d requested. It simultaneous offered up a round tablet with a flashing payment glyph while doing the same for three other customers and using the appendage that coiled from its’s napped torso to feed its gummy oral cavity a mash.

‘Did you get fingerprinted or sequenced?’ Lumen ran her hand through a scintillating pile of jet sediment, taking care not to spill the grains from the oval dish. ‘The mechanical arm that swabs you is creepy, but Venomous insists it’s the safest form of universal identification. Hard to counterfeit a DNA strand.’

I tapped under my eye. ‘Just retinal scanned for now.’

‘Lean into the range of the lens. When the glyph stops flashing, the prompt will appear. Enter your authorisation code, and you’ve paid.’

Shying at the laser that swept over my eyeball, I blinked, completed the purchase then took hold of the sealed pouches. ‘Thank you.’ My arse buzzed.

Jumping, I remembered my SonCom and laughed under my breath. I tugged it from my pocket to check the touch screen.

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