Chanur #02 - Chanur's Venture by C. J. Cherryh

Author:C. J. Cherryh [Cherryh, C. J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, Science Fiction, Fiction, General
ISBN: 9780749300500
Publisher: Mandarin
Published: 1984-01-01T23:00:00+00:00

She looked behind him, where one stark-pale human hastened to hand dishes off the table and close doors.

"I don't know," she said. "Go."

"You don't put me off, Py."

She gave him one long burning look.

"Chanur property," he said. "I do forget."

"What do you want, Khym? I'll tell you what I want. I want that gods-rotted vane fixed. I want us out of here. Are you helping?"

He drew a long, long breath and cast a look over his shoulder in Tully's direction. "Pet?"

"Shut it up. Right there."

The ears that had half-lifted sank again. "All right. That was low.

But for the gods' sake, Py, what have you got yourself into? You can't make deals outside the _han_. They'll have your hide. That Ehrran ship-="

"Noticed that, did you?"

"Gods, Py!"

"Hush."

He coughed. Caught his breath. "Chanur property. Right."

"Did you expect different?" She jabbed him hard. It took a lot to get through a male's skin when he had that look in his eyes. "Are they right?"

"Who's right?"

"The stsho in that bar."

His nostrils dilated, closed, dilated, and his nose went pale round the edges. "I don't see what that has to do with it."

"Hilfy back there. You hear a question out of her?"

He looked over his shoulder, where Hilfy was closing cabinet latches, click, slam, click, one after the other; and Tully was folding the table up.

He looked round again and his ears were flat.

"Go help Tirun," she said.

"I asked a question."

"No. You _questioned_, and by the gods that's different. You want Haral's rights, you by the gods earn them."

He brushed past her and stalked off bridge-ward. And stopped, about half a dozen paces on -- faced her, to her relief and her dismay. At least he had not retreated to his cabin. And gods, not more argument.

He stood there. Cold, deliberate protocol.

"Help Tirun and Haral," she said. "The rest of us haven't got a deathwish. That vane's got to be fixed."

That was the way, mention the word. _Dead, dead_. _Death_. Hit him between the ears with it. Her stomach churned.

"Fine," he said, bowed, turned and talked off, a massive shadow against the lights of the bridge beyond.

She spun on her own heel and walked back into the galley proper, to Tully and Hilfy, who stood idle. "Out," she said to Hilfy, and Hilfy scrambled past her. Footsteps pelted bridgeward.

Tully stood trapped against the cabinets, leaned there with elbows on the counter behind him.

"All right," she said, "Tully, I want the truth."

"Maing Tol."

"I scare you, huh? Maing Tol, Maing Tol. Listen to me. You don't play stupid. You gods-rotted well understand me. You wanted to talk. You wouldn't give me peace of it. So talk. And keep talking."

Maybe the translator garbled that. He had that look.

"Talk, Tully. You want to be friends, by the gods you deal straight with me."

"I sit," he said, and ebbed down onto the mess table bench as if his legs would no longer hold him.

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