Here and there Kenmuir passed a workshop and glimpsed a man making something—an implement, a piece of furniture, a decoration—with no tool morecomplex than a power drill. The style and execution struck him as crude. Yet on the whole, folk appeared happy enough; he saw smiles, heard laughter and animated talk. What words reached him concerned gossip, weather, crops, fishing, the iniquity of Elville, “yump … sho’ right … haw … “ He thought that if he had to stay here any length of time, he’d hope for a miniwar to enlist in before he went berserk from boredom.
The palace columns represented ferocious monsters. Two sentries flanked the entrance. “Now you be real respec’ful,” Jeb warned. “Bend yo’ knee.”
A chamber stretched broad and long. Kenmuir made out painted shields on the walls and banners hung from the crossbeams. A strip of crimson carpet led to a dais at the far end. There, on a canopied throne, sat Bruno, mayor of Overburg, Four young women, thinly and luxuriously clad, displayed themselves on cushions at either side. Six warriors stood guard. Pages waited for orders. Half a dozen older men were also present; Kenmuir wasn’t sure whether they were councillors, courtiers, petitioners, or social callers. He advanced with his escort through silence and stares.
Jeb halted a meter from the dais. Kenmuir did too. Jeb snapped a salute, palm to brow, and announced, “The stranger, senorissimo.” Kenmuir remembered to genuflect, awkwardly.
“Ah, yuh,” rumbled the mayor. “Yo’ name an’
pu’pose.”
He was a huge man, massively muscular. A blond mane dropped past prognathous features, where a beard bristled, apparently unique in this place. A sign of office, like the horned headband and gold chain? A greasy shirt gaped open around the shaggy breast. The knife sheathed against his trews was outsize. His feet were bare and unwashed. In his right hand he clutched a wooden goblet.
“Hannibal, sir,” Kenmuir replied. He and Aleka had agreed on the alias. It gave ho clue to his identity, while being distinctive enough for her to be certain of the message he would put in the public bulletin base, informing her of his whereabouts, as soon as he could after learning what they would be.
“Hannibal, huh? Not Cannibal?” Bruno guffawed. Men and boys dutifully laughed.” The women giggled. Kenmuir thought that two of them forced it, and that the looks they gave the mayor were frightened. The others were perhaps content with their status.
Bruno hunched forward. “Why you here? Spy? Gummint agent? Hah?” He sat back again, expectant, and glugged from his goblet.
He couldn’t do worse than expel the newcomer. Could he? Maybe. Anyhow, that would be an infernal nuisance. “I assure you, sir,” Kenmuir sighed, “I’m a harmless private person. A friend and I are going to spend a while in Lake Superior Preserve. At the last minute, she was delayed. I’ve heard interesting things about your community, and would like to take a day or two here till she can meet me.” Curious outsiders must come occasionally, if not often. “You see, I deal in uniques, handmade work, and I gather you have skilled craftsmen.” When was flattery ever unwelcome, or money?
Bruno raised his brows. “ ‘She,’ d’you say?”
“Well, yes, a young lady,” Kenmuir replied, hanging onto his patience. Somebody sniggered. “Could I arrange permission for her to land and look around too?” Somewhere along the orbit, he and Aleka must have a serious talk. This might be their last chance before jumping off into the irrevocable.
“Young. Hum. Yuh.” Bruno pondered. Kenmuir thought of slow wheels turning. “Yuh. Awright, You see the health oflPcer, it clears you, awright, you can stay. At the inn.” Spend money.
The interview hadn’t been too bad. No big surprise. Kenmuir was clearly not from hated Elville.
Bruno leered. “Landing tax. Near forgot. Landing tax. Ten, uh, fifteen ucus. Apiece. You can pay it f’r you both. To me.”Extortion, but Kenmuir decided not to invoke the law. “Do you object to cash, sir?” If he debited his account, that was a giveaway to any search program.
“Cash? Huh? Naw, naw, cash’s fine.” Bruno’s manner suggested it was better than fine. Perhaps he had transactions of his own that he didn’t want traced. He accepted the bills and counted them twice, moving his lips. “Awright, guardsman, take’m to the health offcer, and when he’s cleared, show’m to the inn.” Half cordially: “Maybe we’ll talk later, Hannibal. Maybe I’ll ‘vite you Pr a drink. Yuh, maybe even—“ He nodded and winked, right and left, at his women. Two of them smiled.