Robert Charrette: Choose your enemies carefully

Inu won the race up the stairs as usual, but Sam was^ not winded as he would have been last summer. His

She gave him a look that left no doubt that she didn't agree, but she didn't say anything. Her stony silence indicated that she had taken the subject as far as she thought necessary. Sam didn't want to take it any further, either. They would be snapping at each other again soon enough.

"Are we going to do some exercises?" "What for? You wouldn't learn anything. You're too pig-headed." Sally gestured, casting an illusion spell, and Sam knew that to a viewer he would appear to be literally pig-headed. It was juvenile of her to resort to such a poor joke.

"I haven't given up trying to learn," he said. "Have you given up teaching?"

She snorted. "You don't pay me enough for this lost cause."

Wondering how serious she was being, he said, "I didn't realize I was supposed to be paying you."

Scowling, she breathed a long sigh. She shook out her hair and turned to stare through the grimy window. Her voice was distant. "Drekhead. You want to learn something tonight, you do it on your own."

Conversation ended; sentence pronounced. There would be no point in Trying to change her mind. Sam found that he didn't mind. He almost felt relief. As much as he knew he needed to learn, their sessions had become increasingly difficult. Another teacher might be better. Professor Laverty had offered; so had the dragon Lofwyr. The dragon's offer had surely been false, since his agent had betrayed Sam and the runners instead of helping. And Laverty surely had his own reasons. Sam was sure he did not want to get involved with some as high up in the Tir Tairngire power structure as Laverty appeared to be. Sally had seemed the only mage he could trust, and now he was having his doubts about her. He would have to sort the mess out soon. He'd need whatever magical ability he could muster to go after Janice.

He watched Sally pretend interest in the outside world. She was flighty in her anger sometimes. Maybe she would relent.

"Just as well that we're not going to practice. I've got a meet with Mr. Johnson tonight. I'd like you to run backup."

"Got better things to do than baby-sit," she said without looking around.

Sighing, Sam let the insult slide. It was just her heat. He hoped that she would feel differently later. "All right. I'll catch you later."

"Later," she replied almost inaudibly.

He left her sitting in the apartment. As he walked down the stairs, Inu skipped at his side. Sam wondered if Sally would be there when he got back.

As Sam approached the corner of South Main Street and Fourth Avenue South, the dark bulk of the Renraku arcology loomed ever larger before him. The megastructure towered above its neighboring buildings, blocking most of the sunset's red tones. Already lights were sparkling on the east face. Low down on the north face, the glare and blare of the club quarter was awakening. Less than a year ago, the arcology had been his home\a151and his prison.

He turned right on Fourth. He was less than two blocks from Club Penumbra, but the walk seemed lengthy. The first time Sally had taken him here, he had almost run away when he had realized how near to the arcology the club was. It had only been a month after the firefight on Pad 23, that regrettable battle which Renraku security forces believed that he started. He hadn't really been there, but a deception on the part of Lofwyr's agent had made it appear that he had led the attacking raiders. Sam had been afraid of 'Raku retaliation. The thought of walking exposed anywhere near the megastructure had frightened him. But he had learned that he was just a face in the crowd; no more remarkable than anyone else to the guards on the west face of the arcology.

He still wasn't completely sure the corporation had decided that revenge was uneconomical. He had to force himself to keep pace with the pedestrian traffic around him. He didn't want to attract attention. As a member of the crowd, he could pass, but if he gave the guards cause to single him out, who knew what might result?

He reached the alley that led to the club. He was surprised but pleased to see that one of the three bikes parked against the wall was Dodger's Rapier. Penumbra was no place for animals, so he looked around for Inu to tell him to wait. The dog was scampering across Yesler Way, off to find his own entertainment. He'd be back eventually, as always. Sam had met Inu on the streets and had no worries that the dog would be all right.

Though twilight was still gathering among the rainladen clouds outside, night had already fallen in Club Penumbra. The gloom was deeper than usual, since the wall-sized tridscreen was dark. Sam picked his way through the entryway mostly by following the sound of Big Tom, the Club's resident sound engineer and backup musician, practicing his drumbeats. As Sam cleared the arch and entered the main floor, Big Tom deflated his throat pouch and hooted the dual tone he used for greetings. Sam did his best to return the sasquatch's sound. Big Tom grinned his lopsided grin which only showed the fangs on the left side of his face. Sam was never sure if the furry metahuman was smiling with pleasure or amusement at Sam's attempts to greet him in kind.

Big Tom took up his practice again as Sam crossed the floor. His was the only music in the place, but it was a weeknight and still early. The Penumbra wouldn't start rocking for another couple of hours. There were a few patrons scattered about at the freestanding tables and in the alcoves along the back wall. That was fine. There were enough people to keep things friendly but not enough to crowd sensitive discussions. The club's regulars minded their own biz.

Jim at the bar inclined his head, and Sam altered his path in the direction indicated. The sole occupied booth in that corner had a black booted foot thrust from its recesses. The stud pattern on the footwear's straps and the faint gleam of a white shag of hair advertised Dodger's presence.

Sam kicked the sole of the boot, saying, "Hoi,

Dodger. You're early. Are you feeling all right?"

"In truth I was. Until you wounded me with your remark, Sir Twist." Dodger cocked his head to look up at Sam, causing sparkles of light to flash from the three jacks on his depilated left temple. To anyone who didn't know the elf, the computer interface ports would seem incongruous next to his pointed ears, but Sam knew they were as integral to who Dodger was as his slim elven bones.

"You'll heal. Get anything on Mr. Johnson? Like maybe why things got screwed up last night?"

"Some data has fallen into my hands but, as to yesterday's difficulties, I can do no more than speculate."

"Well if you've got any data, you're ahead of me."

Sam slid onto the bench next to Dodger. The elf pushed a minicomp across, allowing Sam to scroll through while he gave a summation.

"As you can see, Mr. Johnson is Andrew Glover of ATT. For someone with his background and standing in the corporation, this shadow work is a bit out of line. The bodyguard is Harry Burke, pro muscle from the European circuit. Very expensive."

"Hmm. Think our Mr. Johnson is moonlighting?" "Possibly. He might have legitimate ATT business in Seattle, since he arrived direct from headquarters in London on his corporate passport. I'll need more time to check that out." "So he might be legit or he might not." "Time is data, and I had very little time." Sam spotted something and froze the scroll. "Saeder-Krupp," he said softly. He shuddered, remembering his dealings with the dragon who owned that megacorporation. "Interesting, is it not?"

"I'd hate to think that this has some connection to

Lofwyr. I've dealt with more than enough dragons." Dodger nodded agreement. Sam returned to scrolling through the data that the elf had collected, but his mind wasn't really focused. The reflections on the screen seemed to echo the glints of a dragon's eye, and he kept drifting back to thoughts of Lofwyr. Sally had robbed the dragon of his prize, and Sam had no idea how Lofwyr had taken that. When Sam had tried to use the telecom numbers he had been given to contact the dragon or his agents, he had found them all disconnected. He had assumed that meant that the dragon was calling it quits, finding revenge as expensive a luxury as Renraku appeared to believe it was. Now there was this connection, tenuous but real. Was he already enmeshed in the coils of another of the dragon's plots? Had Lofwyr only been biding his time? Waiting for the opportunity to strike?