He turned his head. She was leaning toward him, hands braced on her knees, taut, eager, willing him to accept the proposition she hadn't yet made. He was interested; it would be immensely satisfying to hit back at something instead of going meekly home to mama. "Same sort of business?"

"Not quite. This could get you killed. The pilot we had before is in Saader's Cleft. No, the bitbits didn't drop him there. He died. We didn't want some a.s.slicking official eager to make points getting curious about how that happened. He was shot, bad, but he got us away and the ship home before he died." Her eyes were suddenly bright with tears. "He was Impatiently she scrubbed the tears away. "Could happen to you. So?"

"You're the ones."

"What?"

"You're the ones that hung the Nephew naked from the minaret. Painted insults on him hair to heels. I wondered how someone got him there without being caught. You fixed him up in his paint and harness, I suppose, and waited until Ruya and Gorruya were down; then you dropped the noose over the roofpeak and left him dangling. Ktch! your pilot must've had Pradix's hand on his neck to operate blind in that battlerose of winds."

"He did, besides there isn't a man alive or dead who can match his touch."

"Wish I'd seen it. Geres Duvvar was home, he told me about it, he said theFehdaz was howling mad. Not that he liked the Nephew that much, it was the idea that some Hordar would have the nerve to lay hands on one of his Family.

On one of the holy Huvved. Ktch!"

"Herk the Jerk. Yeh. He wanted to top every Hordar he could get his hands on, but his Sech talked him out of it."

"Old Grouch? I'd have thought he'd be sharpening his ax for Hordar necks."

"He's scared of a Surge. You've been away a lot. I don't think you really know how bad things are getting."

"Hmm. So, what are you plotting now?"

She scratched at her forearm, rubbed a bare foot against the bitt. "Herky Jerky's been hatching ideas again. Three months he's had his hands on the Daz, he keeps thinking that ought to mean something, but every time he has a flash, Old Grouch digs the ground out from under him. I suppose he's tired of it.

From what we could find out, he maneuvered so the Grouch had to go to Gilisim Gillin to talk to the Grand Sech. Soon as the old man's back was turned, Herk s.n.a.t.c.hed some Farm boys who'd come in to gul Inci to visit relatives and carted them off somewhere, who knows why. Probably something to do with merm beds and rosepearls. Doesn't matter what maggot he has in his head, we've got to pull them out. It was just luck, really, finding out what happened to them, a friend of mine was over the wall meeting me, we saw the bitbits make a s.n.a.t.c.h; we were too far away to stop it, but we managed to follow them to where a miniship was moored. They shoved the boy in the gondola and left. We thought about trying to get him out, but there were more bitbits around guarding the airship. No way we could reach it. Next day some other friends of mine managed to find out who was gone and where they might be. Some others and me, we're going in after them, but we need a pilot. That's it, that's what we want you for."

"In where?"

"Mountain Place."

"I've flown out of Inci in that direction. Not over the Place. The winds there are tricky. It's the steam out of the crater that does it. Fehdaz's pilots know the currents; even so they pick their way and go in round noon when things're quieter. What's your ship like?"

"A mini." She grinned at him. "Used to belong to Herk."

"Hmm. The instruments?"

"Crude and crudest. That's how Muhar Teget described them."

"I didn't know he was still alive."

"He's not. He's the one in the Cleft."

He gazed at her a long time, then looked away. "Get me fired?"

"No."

"You followed me here."

"Yes. I was going to see if you were off for a few days and might be able to fly for us. Muh said after him you were the best on Tairanna." She combed her hands through her hair, spread them again, waved them; she seemed to like waving her hands about, maybe someone told her sometime they looked like little white birds. "Pushing my Luck," she said. She dropped her hands into her lap, laced her fingers together. "I saw you shred that paper and made a guess, that's all."

"You know my name."

"Ah." Her mouth twisted into a half-smile. "That's a bit of a difficulty." She searched his face for a moment, then shrugged. "Why not, Grouch knows me well enough, he doesn't need a name. Elmas Ofka, Family Indiz-Ofka-Tanggar, Farm Indiz." She hesitated, shrugged again. "Divorced, outlawed."

He'd half suspected who she was, but it was a shock all the same. Elmas Ofka.

They said she killed a Huvved who thought he was going to rape her, sank a knife in his belly and opened him up like a yunk carca.s.s. He'd always thought that was somebody's dream, that she probably stole some pearls or sa.s.sed a touchy tribute-collector. Every now and then the Huvveds got antsy and took hunting parties out searching for her, but they never saw hair nor heels ofher, so they shot a few erkelte and pretended that was what they were out for.

"You're crazy to be here in daylight like this."

"Crazy has its advantages."

He laughed, he didn't quite know why. "At least it seems to be working." He rubbed thumb against middle finger, not sure what to say next. "Ah, who else is coming?"

"My isya. Cousins, some friends. Women. That bother you?"

"Not if you know what you're doing."

"We know."

"Tonight?"

"Right. Herk's had them three days already." She was silent a moment. "One of them's my brother."

"Ah. Sorry."

Her mouth tightened. "They will be. One of these days we'll hang Herky Jerky from the Minaret and we won't use a harness."

"I need a little time to get used to the ship. You know the bay better than I do, what about the storm?"

"By the time we leave, it should be mostly blown out, enough rags left to give us cover. At Mountain Place any of the sentries supposed to be on the walls, they'll more than likely be inside with a fire, no one's going to be miserable for Herk the Jerk. If there are some mushbrains outside, we won't have any problem spotting them." She hesitated, made up her mind between one breath and the next. "Some aliens are living with us. They jumped the Wall at the Palace and happened onto us at a delicate moment." Her hands fluttered, sketching metaphors for the embarra.s.sment of both parties. When she noticed the expression on his face, she smiled and shook her head. "They won't be coming with us." She folded her hands again. "One of them was the Im-perator's own weaponsmith. Strange creature. He doesn't like people much, and I got spanked for that kind of language when I was a girl, so I won't try telling you what he thinks of our esteemed Divine One. He's been making gadgets for us.

Stunners and spotters you could wear in a ring almost. Sniperguns." She narrowed her eyes at the sea, then the sky, chewed her lip a moment. "You can get away without eyes on you?"

"Yes. When and where?"

"You know the Dance Floor in the Watergarden out north of Inci?"

"Been there a time or two." He tried a quick grin.

She grinned back, her eyes narrowing into crescents, her nose flattening. "I expect you have." She sobered. "I'll bring the ship down an hour after midnight, give or take five minutes each way. I can manage that much, there's room for mistakes out there. We need to be at the Mountain Place around three hours before dawn. Will that give you enough play to get the feel of her before we start?"

"Too much. If I can't learn her in twenty minutes, I might as well give up.

Make it second hour, unless you've got a reason otherwise."

"Second's better, but I wanted to make sure you had plenty of time for test runs." She slipped off the bitt, stretched, yawned. "Anything else?"

"What you expect me to do? Besides flying."

"Nothing. You won't be coming in with us. You're the only one who can get us away from there."

"Good enough."

"See you tonight then." A flutter of a hand and she was running away down the pier, her vitality printing her on his mind even after she vanished into an alley between two warehouses. He smiled. He felt a lot better now. He couldn't tell anyone about this, but it went a long way toward erasing the sense of failure that'd been the worst effect of the layoff notice. His dread was gone, he could face the Ommar without feeling like a lump of yunks.h.i.t.

The wind was picking up, two fat raindrops splashed down on his head, trickled past his ears. Home and fast. From the look of those clouds and the height of the swells, they'd need all hands to get ready to ride this one out. Another raindrop broke on his nose, he wiped it away and started running toward thealley.

Approaching the Dance Floor/Watergardens outside Ayla girl Inci/both moons down.

"Like crawling through a room lined with black felt." Tezzi Ofka braced herself on her arms, leaned forward until her nose touched the curving window.

"Um." Elmas Ofka scowled at the trembling lines scattered across the panel in front of her; trying to balance the ship in half a dozen directions and get somewhere at the same time took most of her attention. The storm didn't help.

Blessings be, the winds had died to a whisper. She'd flown the miniship a few times before (mostly in daylight though and tethered) so she'd be able to manage it in an emergency. She hadn't realized how tricky this short jump was going to be. Thank G.o.d, Karrel Goza gave her the extra hour. It would have been easier for him to come to the place where they'd stowed the ship, but she wasn't about to trust him that much. Not yet anyway. He probably realized she didn't. He wasn't stupid, though it was hard to remember that when he put on his dumb hardboy look. Good camouflage. I hope. "Tez, any sign of those lights?"

"Not yet. You sure we're heading the right way?"

"Sssa. Half maybe. Keep looking around."

"Mm."

They droned on for several minutes, then a sudden gust of wind caught the small airsack and rocked it perilously. Elmas Ofka fought the miniship straight, exploded out the breath she was holding. "Tez!"

"Turn a little left. I thought I saw something when we were tumbling about."

Elmas Ofka eased the nose around, bit her lip as she felt the gondola tremble in the swirl of winds that grew stronger as she got closer to the water. Two faint greenish spots swam past some distance in front of her. She tried to stop the turn, overcorrected, overcor-rected again, went toward the lights in a series of diminishing arcs.

"Elli, I'm getting airsick."

"Don't talk so much." She ran the pump that sucked air into the ballast sacs; the ship sank, steadied as the added weight helped the motors hold against the erratic push of the wind. A moment later it lurched, nosed down as it hit a powerful downdraft. She swore fervently and vented the air she'd just pumped in.

"Elliiii, I didn't know you knew those words."

"Shut up, Tez. Sssaaa, I can't see. ..." The lights slid inexorably beneath her. She pumped in more air, shifted the stabilizers so she was edging downward, then swung carefully around. "Tez. Get ready to drop the ropes." She fumbled over the switches, finally got the hover configuration right, swore again as she saw she was several meters away from where she wanted to be.

"This is as good as it gets. Toss the marker, Tez, then let the ropes go."

The gondola rocked as Tezzi moved from side to side, shuddered as the hatches opened. The weighted glowglobe whirled away, caught by a gust whose fringes reached the miniship a moment later and started it tottering. Elmas Ofka chewed on her lip, drummed her fingers on the chair arms, waiting as long as she dared before she did anything. The ship jerked, steadied. She started breathing again. "Drop the ladders, Tez."

She left the chair and went to help balance the gondola as dark figures began swarming up the ladders.

Karrel Goza was first up. He came in with a quick neat twist of his body and went without a word to the c.o.c.kpit, settling himself at the controls and began running his fingers over them, touching the switches but changing nothing for the moment. If you can recruit him, there's a flyer working for Sirgun Bol, Muhar Teget said, name's Karrel Goza. He's a natural. If he manages to get as old as me, he might just be better than me. A natural, she thought, yes, Muh was right. She relaxed some more. Some have the gift, Muh said, lots don't.

You've got one, diving it is, flying it'll never be. Some folk can get alongquite well without any special talent for what they want to do, if they're willing to work their a.s.ses off and never stop training. Don't you put down the ones who go that route, sometimes they do a h.e.l.luva lot more than the naturals. There's the drive, you see, without the drive even the best don't go far. The one weakness they've got, though, they don't adapt fast to radical new situations. You need that kind of thing in what you and your isyas are doing. When you have to replace me, no no, gen-gen, a stroke or a bullet, one of 'em's going to get me and let me tell you, I'd rather the bullet. What was I saying? ah yes. When you replace me, make sure your pilot is one of the naturals. There's too much that can go wrong too fast for the other kind. You want inspiration rather than intelligence when there's no time for thinking.

Harli Tanggar swung in, threw Elmas Ofka a salute and a broad grin and began reeling up the ladders. Elmas moved forward.

"All up," she murmured.

"Run through this for me."

"Let me take us out over the bay first, we've been here too long already." She slid into the co's seat. "Tez, signal them cast off."

The miniship leaped free, began drifting sideways; Elmas Ofka worked uncertainly through the configuration shift, vented air too slowly at first, then too suddenly, swore under her breath at her clumsiness as she changed settings. She explained what she was doing in a rapid half-distracted murmur, all too aware of his eyes on her; she loathed doing things badly where people could see it, especially men. When they were at last out over the water and there was nothing for miles around to threaten the miniship, she sat back with a sigh and let it drift. "You want to ask questions, or do I give you the lecture Muhar Teget pounded into me?"

He set a forefinger on a switch. "I touch, you name it, all right?"

"Why not?"

For the next twenty some minutes he worked with her, gaining skill with a speed that astonished her. She'd been told by more than Muh that he was good, too good for the stodgy hauls Sirgun was giving him, it looked like her informants weren't exaggerating. Before she thought, she said, "Why in forty h.e.l.ls did those G.o.dlost execs lay you off?"

He laughed. It was a pleasant rumbling sound, deeper than his speaking voice.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

Her face burned. Prophet's blessing, it was dark up there except for the faint glow from the instruments. "It was so meant," she said.

"Yeh. Trouble is I never took the time to spread the old oil around."

"But flying____"

"Being good is a frill on most hauls. Adequate does just fine."

"Adequate gets you killed down deep."

He blinked, raised his brows. "If Old Pittipat in Gilisim gets serious about taking t.i.tle to your merm beds, he'll fetch in slaves that can whomp him up a minisub or something like it before you can say spit, Elmas Ofka. Think about it a minute while I get set up here. . . ." He worked in silence for a short while, tapping in the course, then he swung his chair round to face her.

"You've kept hold of those beds up to now because no one can get at them but a Dalliss.

How long do you think that's going to last?" He touched the nearest switch, let his hand drop onto the chair arm. He was serious, frowning, seemed to be groping for a connection between the two of them; his words came in quick spurts with long pauses between them. "Muhar said crude and crudest. He's right. You ever been up front in a longhauler? There's stuff in there. Stuff no one was dreaming of. Just a few years ago. When I was in school. Look at me. I'm what? One year? Two? Not that much older than you. I tell you, Elmas Ofka, what with the skills the slaves bring in from outside. And the fiddling the mechs do in their offtime. Well. The ships are smarter than some of the pilots these days."

She stared at the blackness outside and at her face mirrored like a distorted ghost in the curving gla.s.s. "Herk the Jerk," she said softly. "But why boys?They don't know anything."

He pinched his nose, dropped his hands onto his thighs. His thumbs were twitching. "Maybe he thinks they do."

"But everyone knows it's the Ommars and the Dallisses who control the beds."

He shifted restlessly, crossed his legs. "Everyone in Inci," he said.

"Everyone in any city with a Sea Farm handy. Yeh, you're probably right about them." He managed a kind of all-over shrug. He was a smallish man, his body limber and relaxed as a sleepy cat. She got glimpses now and then of another kind of person inside, mostly, though, he kept everyone away from that man.

"Things get shuffled around a bit differently in different places. You ever hear Huvveds talking about women?"

"I heard one talking to a woman once, a Hordar woman."

She could see him remembering the stories about her and feeling like a fool, then deciding that a continued ignorance would be the most tactful face he could put on. "What I'm saying is, Herk spent most of his time in Gilisim; that's inland. On the Lake. Freshwater. No merm beds there. And since he's been back, who's he talked to? Ollanin and Kabriks. All men.