Troubled Waters by C. J. Cherryh

Author:C. J. Cherryh [Unknown]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
ISBN: 9780886772710
Publisher: Daw
Published: 1988-05-02T22:00:00+00:00

STRANGE BEDFELLOWS

by Lynn Abbey

Richard sat alone and uncomfortable in a barely reputable tavern at the Ventani waterline. Mohgi's. It had a certain reputation with the hightown thrill-cravers, and Marina had assured him it was a place where Thomas Mondragon could be found—eventually. Moghi himself had agreed, or he hadn't disagreed which in this sort of place passed for agreement, and said he thought Mondragon would show sometime before third watch.

Richard toyed with a brandy he'd ordered but could not bear to drink. Three short days, and nights. The Samurai offering was two-thirds subscribed before it had been published in the daily mercantile report. Kamat's partners and subordinates had come aboard first: Balaci, Yakunin, Wex, but others had followed. Even Zorya, which also finished wool, and craved the secret of First-bath dye like a starving man, had anted up the minimum fifty sols.

Vega Boregy had opened his private club to his new ally, inviting Richard to dine with Ito and Exeter, Romney and Rosenblum: men and women who had been power in Merovingen when Kamat still chased and sheared sheep by hand. They praised him to his face and asked the same question: When do you start hiring?

He gulped the brandy and wiped his mouth. His old nurse's purgatives tasted better than the sheepdip Moghi poured. Lord, sheepdip probably tasted better. Richard guessed he'd have an ulcer from the brandy or from nerves if Mondragon didn't show soon.

"M'ser Kamat?"

Richard beheld Thomas Mondragon staring down at him. Unlike Marina, he knew danger when he saw it, and knew he'd been wise to come unarmed. Mondragon might hesitate to kill an unarmed man. There was no doubt he could kill, no doubt—looking into those unreadable eyes—that he could have been Sword. Richard could go through the motions with a sword, but he was no duelist and he'd never shot a gun. He could defend himself nicely with a canaler's pole, but he could scarcely use a pole in a tavern—even one as rowdy as Moghi's

"Have a seat."

Cat-supple and still staring, Mondragon eased into the chair opposite Richard's. "I got your message. I have no intentions, honorable or otherwise toward your sister, m'ser Kamat."

"I assumed you didn't, but Marina has intentions toward you."

"She came to me. I told her it was unwise—" "As you took her money."

"Which is long since spent, m'ser Kamat. Gone and spent; you won't see it again. Not from me. State your intentions, if you think I'm in your debt."

The man was cold as a sharrist hell. His eyes were veiled; his posture so relaxed it bordered on insolence. And there was the whisper of threat behind his every word. Richard tried to imitate him.

"My sister has never loved a man before."

"I gathered that much."

"I don't want to see her hurt."

"Then you should have locked her up, m'ser. She's reckless and unwise, and attractive in the bargain. It's a combination that makes for hurting."

Imitation wasn't working. Richard couldn't outcold the Sword. He let his anxiety rise naturally to the surface and leaned forward on his elbows.

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