Read Online The Summer Queen by Joan D. Vinge - Free Book Online Page B

jingling. “He said he wants to leave Ondinee.
That’s why he comes in here, he said, to look for someone who would take him on
for crew. He’s been here every night for a week.”
    “Oh?” Kedalion kept watching the boy, not certain why he
did, at first. He saw a youth with Shalfaz’s midnight coloring, dressed in a
loose robe and pantaloons of dark, bulky cloth. The boy’s long, straight,
jet-black hair was pulled back in a ponytail; thin braids dangled in front of
his ears. There was nothing about him that marked him as different from any of
the dozen or so other local men scattered around the room—probably all
hirelings of some drug boss, from their easy mingling with offworlders.
    Unease. That was what made the boy different; he looked uncomfortable.
It was as if he was uncomfortable inside his skin, uncertain whether it was
showing the right face to the universe, or about to betray him. It was a
feeling Kedalion recognized instinctively.
    “Shalfaz,” Kedalion said, leaning back against the bar, “would
you ask him to join us?”
    She turned to him, her eyebrows rising. “You wish to hire
him?”
    “I wish to speak to him, anyway.” Kedalion shrugged, a
little surprised himself. He was not impulsive by nature. “Maybe I wish to hire
him. We’ll see.” He had had a partner when he started out, but they had gone
their separate ways a while ago. Smuggling was a business that took its toll on
the nerves, and after a while they had gotten on each other’s too much of the
time. He had worked alone since then, but that had its own drawbacks,
especially for a small man in a big man’s universe. He suddenly realized that
he was tired; and he had never been a loner by nature.
    Shalfaz left his side in a soft cloud of silver music. He
watched her make her way across the room to where the boy was sitting and speak
to him, gesturing at Kedalion. The boy’s head came up, and he rose from his
chair almost in one motion to follow her back to the bar.
    They had almost reached it when a hand shot out from a table
full of local youths and caught Shalfaz’s clothing, jerking her up short. She
tried to pull away without seeming to. and Kedalion could almost make out her
murmured half-protests as she explained that her time was taken. The man’s
answer was slurred and crude. The boy hesitated, looking toward Kedalion, and
then turned back, speaking brusquely to the other Ondineans as he tried to take
her hand. One of the men pushed him away. Kedalion watched the boy recover his
balance with surprising grace, saw his fists tighten with anger. But he didn’t
reach for the knife at his belt, only stood with his hands flexing in indecision
as the drunken youth at the table pulled his own blade.
    Kedalion slid down from his stool and crossed the space between
them. “My guests would like to join me at the bar,” he said flatly. “I’d
appreciate it if you would let them do that.” He hooked his hands over his
weapon belt ... realized with a sudden unpleasant shock that it was empty,
because noncitizens were not allowed to carry weapons in the city. He kept his
face expressionless, needing all his trader’s skill to ignore the gleaming
knifeblade almost exactly at eye level in front of him. “Shalfaz—?” he said,
with a calm he did not feel.
    “You insult my manhood, runt.” The Ondinean with the knife
jabbed it at Kedalion’s face, this time speaking the local tongue, not Trade. “Leave
now, and keep your own—or stay, and lose it.”
    Kedalion backed up a step as more knives began to appear below
the table edge, hidden from most eyes, but not from his. He knew enough about
young toughs like these to realize that if he pushed it they’d kill him; but
even if he backed off now there was no guarantee they’d let the matter drop.
His hands tightened over his empty belt, and he said numbly, “Neither of those
choices is acceptable,” answering in their own language. He wondered how in
seven hells he had