and one had a knife.
“All done,” Jik said, laying a hand on her shoulder, “got fix good, a?”
“Sure. Sure, fix.” She looked round at him with her ears back. “Expensive fix,
friend. She won’t forget.”
“Got soul like kif, that hani.”
“Number one right. What business? What’s she after?”
The hand squeezed, a pressure of blunt claws. The mahe’s dark eyes wrinkled
round their edges and looked only tired. “This Ehrran hunt hani ship. Not you,
no, she got rumor got hani work many side this thing. han lot upset. This Rhif
Ehrran, she want this renegade real bad. Think maybe you, a? han lot crazy. They
don’t like the stsho make sudden clear paper, bring you to Meetpoint. Got lot
suspicion, the han. I tell you, Pyanfar, you got go home talk sense these hani.”
“Who cleared those papers up?”
Jik pushed her doorward. She braced her feet.
“Who, gods rot it?”
“Goldtooth talk good stsho, got same treaty, a?”
“Stle stles stlen.”
Jik rubbed the bridge of his nose, where an old scar showed gray. “Same got
Ayhar.”
“What ‘same got Ayhar’?”
“Stle stles stlen. Got somehow station damage charge, a? Got big bill, Ayhar.
Stsho seize Ayhar cargo.”
“O gods.”
“Lot scared, Banny Ayhar. Stsho send here, direct route, run courier old bastard
Stle sties stlen. Same come Vigilance. Same Stle stles stlen got long talk Rhif
Ehrran after you leave Meetpoint, a?”
“That eggsucker!”
“One scared hani, Ayhar.”
“Gods rot. What’s gtst after?” But ideas occurred to her. A certain bill. A
detailed report to the han sent by way of Vigilance.
And another thought muddled past, about timing, information and mahen interests.
“You came from Kura, huh? Sure, you did.” Jik held up both hands. “Maybe come
Meetpoint. Forget these detail.”
“Gods rot it, can’t somebody tell the truth?”
“Lot truth.”
“Sure.” She jerked her arm as he laid a hand on it to move her on, and he gave
her all her reach for distance between them. “Sure,” she said. “Maybe
fifty-fifty, huh? What happens now when I get outbound? Maybe have an accident?
— Sorry, old friend? Repair crew made a mistake? Hope you enjoy the trip? Gods
rot–”
“No. Swear to you.” Jik held up his hands again and dropped them. “Say message
come to Kshshti. I get same here.”
“Who sent you here?”
“Mahen agent, a? Got here, there agent, same hani, same kif. I not say more,
Pyanfar. See? I one time try tell truth, got big trouble.”
Ayhar? she wondered. Gods, no. Not Banny, not that lot. They loved their
liberties too well.
Methane-breather? T’T’Tmmmi had come in from Meetpoint. She had seen it on the
list. It was still in port.
Tt’om’m’mu’s spy, reporting to methane-side of Kshshti? Circles upon circles. It
sent a cold, cold feeling to the stomach.
Knnn. But no one talked to knnn. No one could — excepting tc’a.
“You come,” Jik said, mistaking overload for acquiescence, taking her by the
unresisting arm, flinging his over her shoulders. “Get you safe back ship,
Pyanfar. Got time maybe catch sleep. Tell you truth . . . I come Kura way, lousy
long run. Sleep make you better, a?” He squeezed hard, dropped the arm again as
they came out into the general offices and walked through. Mahen crew hastened
to open the outside door. Station guards stood with rifles beside the waiting
car.
Kura. Kura was in hani territory. And Ehrran had folded fast when she had a look
at the authority in that small wallet Jik had at his belt. Ayhar-Ayhar had been
folded before she got there, ears down.
Scared. Plenty scared.
She got into the car at Jik’s side in back, surrounded by mahe whose musky
flavor got past the perfumes. A guard caught her eye, one curly-furred and
smallish, and alarms rang.
“That one,” she said to Jik, digging claws into his knee, “outside–”
“Name her Tginiso,” Jik said, ducking his head to look past her out that window.
“Eseteno aide.”
“She was with the car when Hilfy went. Her fur’s not singed.” For a moment the
air seemed very close, the scent of mahendo’sat all-enveloping, and she knew who