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.
“Truth.” She came closer in his silence, leaned both hands on the table and
glared into his face. “Now, hear?”
He flinched. He smelled of fear and human sweat, like when she had held him,
when his heart had beat so hard she could feel it like hammer-strokes. She
reached out pitilessly and pinned his arm with claws out. “You risk my crew,
Tully. You risk Chanur. By the gods you don’t lie to me. Where you come from,
huh?”
“Friend,” he said.
“You want I rattle your brain?”
He drew several rapid breaths. “Maing Tol. Go Maing Tol.”
She stared, at arm’s length from his face, stared a good, long while. “You come
find me. Need, you say. Need what? You talk, now you talk, Tully. Need what?
Number one fool? Where you been, Tully?”
“Human space. Want come. Want, Pyanfar.”
“So you come to the mahendo’sat.”
“Mahe come human space.”
“Goldtooth?”
“Name Ino. Ijir.”
She drew a long, long breath. “Doublecrossing bastard.” Meaning Goldtooth, mahen
trade and a towering great lie.
“Say again.” Blue eyes looked at her with vast worry.
She lifted her hand from his arm and patted his face ever so gently, claws
pulled. “Keep talking. More. How did this Ijir come into the business, huh? Was
it trading in human space.”
“Human ship–” He made diagrams on the tabletop. “Human. Kif. Mahe. Not good go
so- kif. Three human ship. Gone. Not see. Not come home. Try go stsho. Mahe
come-go.” He drew route-pictures, mahen traders reaching human space. “Ijir
come. Say want bring human come talk mahe. Want I come. I, Tully.” His mouth
twisted in a strange expression. “I small, Pyanfar. Human lot mad. They same
send me. I small. Mahe think me big. Want. Take. Human think me make trouble.
Shut up, Tully. What you know?” Another intersecting line as Ijir moved out of
human space toward the Compact. “Gold-tooth come. Lot talk, Ino, Goldtooth.
Goldtooth want talk me, not talk lot other human, other human lot mad.” He drew
a great breath, looked up at her as if to see whether she understood his babble,
and there was pain in his expression.
“Politics,” she said. “And protocols. Same there, huh?”
He blinked, confused.
“Go on.”
“Goldtooth want talk me. Want me go Goldtooth ship. I say go find you, you
friend, good friend. Not know Goldtooth. Want help. Want you talk these mahe.”
“That bastard.”
Another blink of skyblue eyes.
“So,” she muttered, “the mahe wanted you, huh? And set up a rendezvous. Wanted
you. Someone they could talk to. Someone who would talk, huh? What about that
paper? What’s in it? Why Maing Tol?”
“I spacer.” Tully’s mouth trembled in that way he had when he was upset. “I
never say I #, Pyanfar.”
“What about the paper, Tully? Whose is it? What’s in it?”
“Ijir meet Goldtooth, he say make paper — same paper human on Ijir got–”
“Copy the paper, you mean.”
His head bobbed vehemently. “Same. Yes. Say he take me go find you, go talk
stsho, go bring paper Maing Tol, help human-” He held up the hand that bore the
ring. “Kif got them. Kif got Ijir, got paper same you got–”
“How long time?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know.” His look grew desperate. “I ask come hani,
ask, ask many time. Goldtooth friend? He friend, Pyanfar?”
“Good question,” she said, and puzzled him.
She reached and patted his shoulder, tapped him with a clawtip. “Safe,