Eidolon (6 page)

For a heartbeat she opened her senses to
Joshu. She did this rarely, for it seemed he kept his thoughts
secret from himself as well as from others. This time was
unsettling, for his mood seemed somber in a way that belied his
earlier banter. Colors fogged his face briefly, and the sense was
that of a long walk in near darkness, with grays and night-faded
greens moving in a deep, distant ravine.

She used the training bought so dearly from
the tutor and smiled honestly at her partner as he left, as if in
joy of the hunt.

*

The three of them were obviously a team,
with the man Joshu had pointed her toward the probable hub. All of
them were pilots, if one read their movements, and all of them were
alert far beyond the edge of normal, if one saw the very tiny signs
and ignored the public ones.

The public signs were thus: the smaller man,
with the look of a Liaden, was doing the larger scan of the hall
with some efficiency, his eye trained to see the carpet and not the
display. The others moved on their own after they spoke with him,
always staying within quick move distance of the hub but still
looking for this or that, likely at his direction.

The larger man. She sighed, for she had been
known to be fond of larger men herself, but she admired him not
only for his stature but for the way he masked his elegance of walk
and motion. He appeared to the public face to be perhaps one as
might carry burdens or stand as bodyguard, and truth was he carried
a public gun. He was, however, far from the shambling person he
projected and his eyes were clear and alert.

He looked at her with a nod, and Beba fought
to avoid reacting with other than a polite nod and smile of her
own. His form aside, the momentary scent she'd experienced was that
of urgent effort, as if the casual tour was far from that. Beyond
that was a deeper scent, and she feared that the scent was
blood.

And there, a movement of hand, a flash of
alert orange across the face, gone, the scent of blood, gone, the
orange fading to light blue as if his burden were removed.

She turned, to find the
third of the trio rotated between her and the hub; this neat and
tidy woman. The woman was no mere servant either, nor dumb. With
very fast eyes and hands that carried their own dark color, she was
alert as a matter of breathing, as a pilot might be, and it was
across her face and gone, the recognition, and the scents were of
wood-fire perhaps, and those of fireworks or ammonia, and under it
all, the touch of blood persisted, as if the pair had recently seen
some tragedy that underscored their lives. This one nodded and
approached--no--she
intercepted
!

The hub was being guarded,
Beba realized, and glanced to where he stood yet at his own
efforts. He dismissed an ordinary carpet with a quick touch and
moved on to another of better quality, the eyes taking in a
detail--she caught a scent of carpet that was not the carpet around
her, but the carpet around
him
.

Then it was gone, the scent. She'd yet to
see color there.

"Are you one of the principals of this
operation?" The woman's hands moved wondrously smooth, accurately
describing their boundaries, the colors of her face almost absent
as they sometimes were with those concentrating on a goal beyond
the moment.

"Yes, Gentle, I am Beba, co-operator of
Joshu's Superb Surfaces." Given the Liaden in the group Beba's nod
was deep, just shy of a bow. The nod-that-was-not-a-bow was
mirrored so precisely that Beba was concerned she'd offended but
the colors that flashed across the woman's face now were crisp,
businesslike, scentless.

"Our group is relocating our own operations
and are seeking quality goods across a range of prices. Inexpensive
is very good, for the market we are entering will take some
building and the low end is more extensive than the high. Not
cheap, mind you, but inexpensive. We will also be looking at a few
high end goods, even uniquities."

Beba listened and watched hard, hearing what
one might expect of a customer, remembering the scent of blood
earlier. Perhaps she'd been right and there had been a tragedy, now
requiring a rebuild.

"We can supply all of that, Gentle," she
said, "quality goods at low cost, and a unique piece rarely
available for transport, ready to go. If you would like to enter
your order I'll be pleased to loan you a wireless entry catalog so
that you may purchase at your leisure from our marked prices."

"Yes, I can see that you might," said the
woman, and there was perhaps a touch of humor in the eyes, even
with the small flash of alert orange, "but our chief associate is
of an older school of business than that, and having determined his
interest would like to discuss some matter of process in quieter
surroundings, it being the way he is used to proceeding."

"Matters of process? Indeed, we might work
with appropriate amounts of cash, and pre-approved letters of
credit, and reasonable . . ." In the back of her mind Beba had
concerns, for surely Juntava worked this way, and quieter places
might not be safe places, after all.

The woman nodded as if hearing these very
thoughts, offering open hands as she said, "Surely, there must be a
fine place of dining you prefer, you and your absent partner. Name
the place, and if you are free this evening or tomorrow at lunch or
dinner, we shall be there, pleased to have you as our guests. I
have heard very good things of Raleighs, and Panada Paradise, and
Charleschow--please name your choice and time."

At this juncture the large man arrived,
nodding to both with the nearly absent air he wore like a cloak
over his competence, his colors showing bright points and flashes,
as of irritation.

". . . 'essa," Beba heard him say, "We've
been offered an extra rate to stay where we are, as I apparently
misunderstood the community rules here. They seem to feel I owe
some gift or . . ."

Blood scent, clear and clean, from the
woman. And why not, for the Bazaar was endangering itself with
these games, these so-called second contracts and rise-costs.

"We will talk in a moment," she said
quietly, "and then I will have the name of the person expecting
gifts. But we await word from the lady if dinner appointments might
be made, so that we can begin arrangements quickly.."

The colors were gone
quickly, but Beba was sure she would not want this person
facing
her
in that
mood. And now, there were decisions to be made. Joshu's instincts
must count, but prudence also had a place.

"Might I know the name of your--"

There was color behind her then, and a scent
of something more, of carpets recalled and of chocolate and tea
distantly, and of blood.

"You may, lady, if I may be sure of
yours?"

He stood before her, shorter by a hand than
she, and bowed an exquisite bow. His colors went cool, as if the
ritual were calming, and his eyes were on hers when he finished the
bow. There was in them frankness, while over all of his face
flickered a strength and determination all limned in steel.

She'd never seen color take form like that,
down to the shine of metal honed to edge, down to the shape of
knife and gun, behind it all the scent of blood and the scent of
carpet intermingled. She stepped back, startled, from tripping.
She'd found herself steadied, drawn in to his center, his arm on
shoulder. Not since training had she allowed herself to be so
overwhelmed by a reading.

"Is there something amiss?" The smaller man
looked concerned, the colors were cooled to a mild green tinged
with orange, with alert.

She centered herself with great effort and
the big man withdrew his hand from her shoulder with a nod.

"Surprise, I think,"she managed, "usually I
am not unaware of someone so close!"

There was a flash of hands, speaking that
language she'd never learned, and the trio moved a half-pace back,
giving her room to stand and be comfortable.

She felt the flush go from her face then,
smiled. There were only colors of normal concern, and the blood
scent had receded.

"I am Beba,"she said carefully. "I am sure
that my senior partner Joshu and I will both be interested in
speaking with you--dining with you. Our section closes at
fourteen--let us say at fifteen, at ummm--the places you mentioned
are all more than adequate--let us say at Charleschow. If, of
course, I may tell him who we dine with!"

Another bow, complete with sweep of flawless
hands, bare hands. She had the fleeting impression that the hands
were rarely thus, and ought to be showing a multiplicity of rings.
Not a casual tourist, this one, not an ordinary person.

"Then it is done. We shall
meet you and Joshu at fifteen, at Charleschow. If it pleases you,
Beba, you may call me Conrad." When he said
Conrad
there was the scent of a
distant spice, and hot sand, and a wash of color she associated
with someone manipulating their own beliefs.

*

"Honest. Direct. Frightening." She'd
distilled the experience to three words, and brought them to her
partner on his return, trying to look beyond his own dark mood as
she delivered the news. "We're engaged to meet them for
dinner."

Joshu rocked back and forth on his feet as
if he were a tree blowing in the wind. He'd once told her how a
teacher's attempt to make his inner rhythms match the world's gave
him a migraine, which she could well believe if the teacher had
been anything like her own Grandmother, so she let him twist in the
breeze as he thought. There was something he hadn't said, that was
certain.

He caught her eye and gave a weak grin.

"So, you think this is a good thing, being
asked to dinner by strange people who frighten you?"

Beba closed her eyes, all of them.

"I lack foretelling, Joshu, as you well
know. What I have is what you asked for: I have looked into his
eyes. Indeed, that is the best way to deal with him, I think, this
Conrad. The others are guards and assistants, but they act on his
words and his needs before their own, I feel it. I would treat this
person properly, Joshu."

She opened her eyes as he sat, hard, on the
display of multi-shade wood-moss infused carpeting for children's
rooms.

"Forgive me, Beba, but I take proper profit
where I can. If I did not we would not still be burdened with your
dowry piece nor would Management be asking for a search fee to
discover the whereabouts of our last two incoming shipments."

"So I am a burden again?"

The last was cruel, and Beba regretted it
the moment it left her mouth; the brief yellow blaze of a true
strike masking his eyes as he blinked.

"We are faced with ruin within the
Standard,"he said bleakly, looking more at her shoes than at her
face. "Management will be charging a fee to help defray the cost of
extra surveillance devices to support the new administration's
rulings. The Commerce Center will be requiring search fees for any
shipments more than a ten day overdue, and the lease-charge will
now include a rising percentage of revenue as our profits
rise."

"What devices will they use?"

He stood, rocked, looked her in the
face.

"They say they have a source for equipment
that tells if someone is being manipulated by--"

Beba
fuffed
hair out of her face, but he
only nodded.

"Yes, they're at it again. We have the rug
still on display, and anyone with half a word of history knows that
it is old and that your family name is all over it. They said, in
Commerce, that there's talk your rug controls people's minds by
itself."

"That would be the Caratunk effect," she
ventured, and seeing hims start, asked "Has Derry made another
offer for the company, or for you?"

She read the annoyance and the flutter of
indecision across his face; the scent--of Derry's favorite perfume
was rather clear.

"Oddly enough, she was waiting for me at
opening. Offered for the business as she always does." The flicker
then, of confused issues, untouched emotion. "She explained, too,
that her triad has been considering expansion."

Ah, well, that might explain the extra
levity of their conversation then, for the woman was comely
enough.

"She explained this in close proximity?"

He nodded and shrugged shoulders.

"Derry lives on close proximity, you know.
Of course she did. She seemed not to hear me point out the
standards you and I have shared."

There was a glimmer of sensual recollection
there, and annoyance as well.

Beba shook her head briefly, put on an
imitation of Derry's husky voice and then mocked Derry's favorite
tactic of holding Joshu's arm with friendly grasp just above the
elbow when they were close. She leaned to whisper in his ear."I
knew it. Ignorance is winning."

Joshu harrumphed, and tried changing the
topic.

"Frightening you say?"

It was her turn to look bleak. He rarely
questioned her about the process and her own methods were no easier
to explain to him than his intuitional leaps were to her.

"Undercurrents. I would not stand in the Con
Rad's way. There is a sense of, let me say a sense of purpose that
will not be detoured, of intent that will be followed, and of great
need. Too, I hear they have come to the attention of Management,
which may be bad."

Unexpectedly, Joshu laughed.

"Then surely it is settled! We meet for a
quiet dinner and things will be solved. I feel it in my bones!"

She looked at him, saw some glare of concern
and another coolness, perhaps of acceptance. No scents. No scents
now. The man at least did not smell like blood, which was good.