SERPENT’S REACH BY C.J. Cherryh

“You don’t ask questions,” she said.

He still did not.

“We’re going to Istra,” she said.

“I’ll leave with you, then.”

That sounded like a question. She realised the drift of his previous thoughts, and leaned back, still studying him. “Yes. You should be well-accustomed to travelling, oughtn’t you? Haven’t you ever wanted to go downworld? I should think you might have had some curiosity about the ports this ship touches.”

He nodded, with an infinitesimal brightening of the eyes.

“You can buy,” she said, “whatever you like. My resources ceased to amuse me . . . long ago. I pass the curse on to you: anything you want, any extravagance. There would have been a limit to your funds had you won. But with me, there’s none. There are hazards to my company; there are compensations too. If there’s anything on this ship you’ve ever wanted to have, you’re free to buy it.”

That only seemed to confuse him. He had seen betas come and go, richly dressed, ordering fine food and indulging in ship-board pleasures: the limit of his experience in avarice, no doubt. Any beta so invited could have imagined something at once.

“Why don’t you go change again?” she suggested. “You don’t belong in ship’s uniform any longer. See how the clothes suit you. Then you might think about packing. We’ll be docked by noon. I have some business to attend, but when it’s done, then we’ll amuse ourselves, have a look at the world, commit a few extravagances, see if there’s not some society to disarrange. Go on, go on with you.”

He looked no less confused, but he rose from table and turned to the bench to sort through the packaged clothing. He spilled a stack onto the floor, gathered it up again, only to spill another, clumsiness that was not like him. He knelt and collected everything into groups, hesitating in his movements, finally made his selections and restored order. The sight disturbed her, hit her like a blow to the stomach. Azi. Motor confusion, brought on by too much strangeness, too many changes at once. She held her tongue. A sticking-point in the clockwork: it was like that. Intervention would make it worse.

She thought of Lia, and pushed Lia out of her mind.

He went off with his armful of packages, into the bedroom.

She became aware of subdued chatter from the viewer, and rose to cut it off. Depression returned the more forcefully, the more she tried to ignore it.

I could apply to Cerdin, she thought. I could beg Moth and Council for shelter. I could go on living, among Kontrin, home again. All I have to do is bow to Council.

That was always, she reckoned, all it required. And she would not, not now.

She started about her own packing, opening lockers and chests in search of forgotten items.

The room lights flared red suddenly, the whole suite bathed in the warning glow.

“Sera?” Jim was out of the bath in an instant, his voice plaintive with alarm.

Raen crossed the room in four strides and punched in the emergency channel, foreknowing.

MAJAT PASSENGER, the screen read, NOW MOVING. SECTION 50 PLEASE SECURE YOUR DOORS AND REMAIN INSIDE. PLEASE CALL STATION 3 IF YOU FEEL YOU NEED ASSISTANCE.

She punched 3. “Security, this is 512. I’ve noticed your alarm. Would you kindly key us out? Thank You.”

Room light went normal white again. Jim still hovered in the doorway, looking frightened.

She checked the gun, clipped it again to her belt beneath her cloak. “Majat hibernate in flight,” she told him. “They shed when they wake. The skin’s still soft. Instinct—inevitably drives them for daylight when they’ve shed; the gravitational arrangement on this ship, you see, the upper decks . . . no attack, just natural behaviour. Best just to let it wander. It’s slightly deaf in this state; the auditory palps are soft . . . eyes none too keen either. Not to be trifled with. I’m going out to see to it. You can stay here if you like. Not many folk care to be around them.”

“Do you want me to come?”

It was not enthusiasm, but willingness. She detected no panic, and nodded. “If you’ll make no move without advice, The hazard is minor.”

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