Page 52

I drag Kez into the shower with me, despite her protests that she’s already shed her eau de sewer .

I don’t really care how she smells; I want to be alone with her.

Acker’s guest ‘fresher is like the bedroom: minimal and utilitarian. The walls are bare stone. There’s a flashcan and a drain in the permacrete floor.

No sink. Guess the rats aren’t much into visitors.

Or maybe they just want to discourage visitors from overstaying their welcome.

Kez and I strip down and step under the water, which is at least hot, even if it smells strongly of chemicals. I tuck her against my chest, enjoy the warm, slippery softness of her skin, and lather her hair with some cleanser from a bulb attached to the wall while I ask, “What’s goin’ on, kitten?”

She shrugs.

“I saw that look earlier. You really think Jaxon’s going to get away from me?”

She shakes her head. “It’s not that. Even if you get Jaxon, that won’t be the end of it, will it? What you said when we were last out here on the Clouds – I’ve been thinking about it ever since – I’ll always be a target. That’s what you were really saying, wasn’t it?”

I stroke her cheeks, tilt her face up to me so I can see those blue eyes.

“That’s not what I was sayin’. I’m not gonna let you be a target.

That’s why I’ve been burnin’ everyone who takes a shot at you down to the ground.

I’m sendin’ a message, Kez. I’m lettin’ everyone and his fuckin’ clone know what the price is for comin’ at you.

When the price gets to be too high, they’ll stop comin’. ”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, I do.” It was a favorite M.I. tactic, so I’ve seen it work. “It’ll give us the breathin’ space we need to get out of the Hex business, like you wanted. Then no one’ll have a reason to gun for you. It’ll happen. Just give it time.”

She hugs me suddenly. Fiercely. “I feel like I don’t have any.”

“We got all the time in the universe, kitten. You an’ me.”

She squeezes me tighter. “Do we?”

“Yeah. You think I’m lettin’ anyone take you away from me?

” When she smiles, I continue, “I made you a promise. You’re not gonna face this alone.

No matter how ugly it gets, we’ll get through it, you an’ me.

After that, we’re getting’ off-world. We got some serious business on Yrillo, figurin’ out a way to tie you upside-down without you pukin’ on me. ”

“I’ve never thrown up on you.”

“Pretty sure I’ve heard you gipping once or twice.”

She rolls her eyes. “Never.”

I tip her head back into the water, rinse her hair. “I could gag you, I suppose.”

She closes her eyes against the spray. Smiles a smile that would make a threedee villain proud. “Only if you want to be castrated after you untie me.”

“Leave the long bit in workin’ order. I need it to keep my woman satisfied.” I stroke her wet head and hold her close. “Want you to promise me somethin’.”

“Anything. You know that. ”

Yeah, I do. “Just keep breathin’, Kez. That’s all you gotta do.

In and out.” Focusing on breathing – the essentials of life – will help her manage the fear that’s grinding her down.

Sometimes that’s all that has kept me going, taking that next breath.

“As long as you keep breathin’, everything else is fixable. ”

She nods and I give her a wet kiss before I let her go.

I consign my clothes to the flashcan since even I can smell the stink on them, now that I’m clean, and pull on the last set from the bag Gig’s brought.

Acker’s waiting for us outside the ‘fresher when we emerge.

He flares his claws down the tunnel, towards the big cavern, where the rats were having their Flaming Pink Flamingo rave the last time we were here.

Kez starts off down the tunnel. Acker lays one black claw on my forearm as I start to follow.

“Yeah?”

“You smell better,” Acker says, twitching his whiskers. “Before you go in there, I would have you know that I had planned only the first surprise. The second is a surprise to me as well.”

“Kez,” I call to my kitten before she gets too far ahead of us. I don’t want her out of my sight. She stops, glances over her shoulder, takes in my expression, and waits. I look back at Acker, “Good surprise or bad surprise?”

“Surprise-surprise. I do not recommend you let Lightfoot open the box.”

“Okay. Anythin’ else?”

“Not unless you need another hug.”

“Less’n you need your spine.” I grunt.

Acker grins, baring those long, white teeth, and gestures down the tunnel to where Kez waits.

We crunch through rubble from the attack, through a white haze that hangs in the air, smelling of rock dust, to the pool in the middle of the rats’ big cavern.

A space has been roughly cleared in the debris.

Two tables have been pushed together in that space, and cushions strewn on the floor around them, only slightly dusty.

The tables are loaded with plaz containers.

Acker hasn’t skimped on the food. There’s enough to feed a platoon.

As we near the tables, three people rise from the far end. Two men and a boy. As they stand, I realize men might not be the right term, at least for one of them.

One of them’s a Horse-Man.

On all four – hooves – he’s a little taller than me.

Whatever transition his body makes from man to horse is hidden under a pieced and tooled leather tunic, but his muscular shoulders and arms look normal enough.

It’s below the tunic’s hem that he goes equine, strong brown horse legs and a tail as black as his hair that he swishes as he stares at me.

He rests his hands on the pommels of two sheathed swords bound into the tunic’s crimson belt.

The heavy muscles in his arms flex and his glossy black hoof digs at the sandy floor.

Whether or not he knows how to use those swords, he doesn’t look like someone to fuck with.

“Snow, Lightfoot, let me introduce Drogan Tessanta,” Acker says.

The older man to the left of the Horse-Man bows.

My eyes track to him. So focused on the Horse-Man, I barely noticed him.

He’s wearing a loose, striped robe over wrapped leggings that show how skinny his legs are.

Any hair is hidden by a soft white skullcap.

His skin’s the same deep bronze as the Horse-Man’s. No visible weapons.

“You’re Drogan Tessanta?” I ask. He doesn’t fit with my image of a local strong man, but maybe E.C.ers have different standards.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Mister Snow, Lightfoot,” the old man says in a reedy voice.

Beside me, Kez humphs low in her throat. She’s letting me know this doesn’t track for her, either.

I bow to the old man but keep my eyes on the Horse-Man. Kez does an abbreviated curtsey.

The Horse-Man neatly folds his four legs under him and sits with his palms resting on his horse-thighs. The teenaged boy helps the old man onto one of the cushions.

Acker circles the table to sit on one side of the E.C.ers, while I lead Kez to a seat near the Horse-Man.

My thighs and knees protest when I sit, but once I get myself settled on a cushion, it’s comfortable, and I could relax, except I’m sitting a meter from someone who might have put a hundred CeeBee bounty on my kitten’s head.

Kez reaches into the pile of food containers, tears off the top of one container, scoops noodles and rice onto it, then passes it to me with a nod toward the E.C.ers. As I hand it to the Horse-Man, I hear Acker sigh, “I am not suited for entertaining. My Wisdom would not have forgotten plates.”

“It’ll taste the same,” Kez says, passing out more container tops.

There’s a quiet minute as the makeshift plates are distributed, followed by chopsticks that Kez unearths.

Then there’s an awkward moment as the Horse-Man and I both reach for the same container of what looks like eel in a dark sauce.

I give way to him with a nod. He nods back and once he’s poured some of the eel over his rice, pours some over mine, too.

“Thanks,” I say.

“You’re welcome, Mister Snow,” the Horse-Man says. His voice is deep, not a whinny or a neigh at all, and it carries a lot of authority.

I take a bite of my eel, which is delicious, flavored with thet grass, garlic and ginger. “Not to spoil the party,” I say to the Horse-Man. “But why are you tryin’ to pass off granddad here as you?”

The Horse-Man chuckles and pats the old man’s arm when he starts to protest. “The revered gentleman is my uncle, Flagg Tessanta.”

I nod to the old man but keep my eyes on Drogan. “So why the show?”

“To see if you are as perceptive as Acker claims.” Drogan nods to Acker, who scratches under his chin with his claws.

“Did I pass?” I growl. Midnight tests don’t amuse me .

“Yes. Do I?” Drogan asks.

“So far,” I say, still not amused. “I got nothin’ against you, or any Mod. Or any E.C.er, as long as you don’t threaten me an’ mine.”

“Ah.” Drogan nods at Acker again. “You were right.”

“As I told you. I’m certain that Mister Snow and Miz Kerryon had nothing to do with this.” He flares his claws at the mess around us. “Or the push into the E.C.”

“The push?” I ask.

Drogan looks at me levelly. “How the faithless choose to poison their minds and bodies is a sadness but does not concern me. But when you seek to spread your poison into the Holy Land? That concerns me a very great deal. I met with the Honorable Tyng here on the Clouds less than a year ago. He gave me his word that none of his poison would reach our shores. But I have learned that in only days enough fly-strike to destroy the minds and bodies of every Horse-Man running Asdel’s Plains will leave from here, bound for Ystrile, my very city.

The Honorable Tyng has been in the ground for three weeks.

Has his death changed so much that his word is so quickly broken? ”

Actually, Tyng was cremated. But Drogan’s obviously got a serious thing about connecting with the land, so I don’t enlighten him.