Kameron Hurley - God's War

“So when things got hot, you smuggled him out of the country.”

“He did the same for me, later.”

“You don’t act like a rebel.”

“We rebel in our own ways.”

“Here,” Anneke said. She dragged a box toward Inaya. “Should be a couple transceivers in here. Some might be broken.”

“All right, then,” Nyx said. “If you can give us com, then maybe we’re ready to run. Anneke, I want you to get me a couple of empty cake boxes from that friend of yours who owns the teahouse.”

“Cake boxes?”

“Khos,” Nyx continued, “I want to talk to some of your whores tomorrow, early. I’ll need a half hour of their time and yours.”

“I’ll go down and tell them,” Khos said. “Where do we want to meet them?”

“That diner in the Mhorian district, just before dawn prayer.”

Khos put on his burnous and headed out. “It’s about fucking time,” he muttered.

“Anneke?” Nyx said.

Anneke straightened. “Eh, I’ll go get her up. The teahouse is still open.” She concealed her shotgun beneath her burnous and followed Khos.

“Hey, you fucker!” Anneke called after him. “Give me a ride!”

Nyx turned and watched Inaya open the box and pick through its contents. She kept the kid in a sling so he had easy access to her breast. Unlike a Nasheenian woman, she didn’t keep the breast bared. Instead, she kept an old tunic slung over one shoulder so it covered the kid’s head and her breast. An odd affectation, as it wasn’t as if Anneke, Nyx, and Khos hadn’t seen breasts before.

Nyx sat on the divan and watched as Inaya set out the transceivers. She opened the little tool kit with her small deft fingers. She shook a couple of the transceivers and frowned.

“This equipment is in terrible shape,” she said.

“So Taite always told me,” Nyx said.

Inaya did not look at her but pulled out one of the com picks and began prying open one of the transceiver cases. “You’re doing this to bring him back?”

“That’s the idea,” Nyx said.

Inaya worked in silence for a time. Nyx pulled out the diagram of the residence.

“So why wouldn’t Taite tell me you were rebels in Ras Tieg?” Nyx asked.

“You used to cut off the heads off Nasheenian rebels. Why would it be different with us?” A low buzzing sound came from the transceivers. Inaya poked at its innards.

“Seems like you hate me a lot for somebody who doesn’t know me.”

“I know all about you. You’re an ungodly, sex-crazed woman.”

“I’m a… what?”

“I’ve read all about women like you, the sort who use everyone around them for pleasure. You’re worse than the sort who cavorts only with women. At least they’re honest. Ungodly, but honest.”

“I’d say I was doing a great job submitting to God by submitting to my desires. Who do you think gave me desire in the first place?”

“God does not want us to kill, yet we are able to kill. If you were truly following God’s desire, you would repress your own desires and marry. Marry a man.”

Nyx settled back on the divan. “Tell me your marriage was happy.”

Inaya’s cheeks flushed faintly. Ah, yes, that color. Nyx covered her mouth. She’s fixing your transceivers, Nyx thought, be nice.

“Is that why it takes a near-death experience to get you to shift?” Nyx said. “You like it too much?”

Now Inaya’s face went bright red. “Do not judge me. You know nothing about me.”

“If God wanted you or me different, He’d have made us that way. I’d think you’d be more unhappy with all the killing I do than with all the men and women I fuck.”

“Sometimes killing is necessary.”

“Sure, of course. Bloody God and all. You and Taite must get into some pretty good arguments.”

“Taite doesn’t kill people.”

Nyx said, “I mean about the sex.”

“Men have certain needs, needs that are unnatural in women. Brothels are a sin, but I can understand his needs for female companionship.”

Now Nyx laughed. It was a full-belly laugh, and she laughed so hard it hurt. “ Female companionship?” she gasped. “Oh, hell, you want a drink?”

“I don’t drink liquor.”

Nyx got up and poured herself the last of the whiskey in the bottle. “Inaya, when we get Taite back, you and your brother need to have a talk.”

When, she had said. Not if.

The lie tasted all right.

The next day, just before mid-morning prayer, Nyx drove the bakkie to the east side on her own. Nikodem’s residence was in a decent part of town, not one where a bakkie like hers prowled the streets. A few blocks north, the blue and green tiles of the business buildings at the city center reflected the new dawn as it bled to violet.

Nyx parked a block from Nikodem’s residence, partially hidden by a gaudy fountain splashing at the center of the square. She had a clear view of the entrance and the sidewalk just north of it. Nyx pulled out her transceiver and rubbed it absently.

No sign of Rhys.

She hadn’t touched any sen all morning, so she was a little shaky, but having red teeth and numb fingers for this job would be about as stupid as being drunk. She glanced at the cake boxes on the seat next to her and rubbed the transceiver again.

The transceiver buzzed.

She shook it, put it to her ear.

“Yeah,” she said.

“I’m moving in, boss,” Anneke said.

“Good. You see Khos?”

“Not yet.”

“Khos?”

“We’re on our way,” he said over the line.

“All right. Go in.”

Anneke severed the connection.

Nyx hated manual transceivers. They were easier to eavesdrop on, easier to trace. If Raine or Rasheeda or Fatima ran a transmission sweep, they were fucked.

She watched Anneke move in and gave her ten minutes by the fountain clock. Then Nyx locked the bakkie and walked up the street to the residence.

She nodded at the armed, veiled woman playing door guard as if she’d known

her all her life and stepped through the sliding doors.

Anneke’s voice hit her as the doors opened.

“I asked for a head-of-household room three months ago. Is this how you treat your heads of household in this residence? How do you lose a reservation—”

The bewildered desk clerk kept opening her mouth and closing it again. She was little, young, veiled, and neatly dressed. The murals on the wall were glass mosaics of dense jungle and jeweled bugs. A chittering mass of soarer beetles sprayed a fine mist of water from their cages along the edges of the room. The whole residence felt humid, dense.

Nyx hurried up to the counter and mustered up her best Chenjan. “Excuse me,” she said, nudging Anneke aside. “Has a delivery arrived? My employer is having a party on the third floor. There should be two pastry deliveries—”

“I’m sorry sir,” the clerk said. “There have been no deliveries—”

“Your reservation policy clearly states—” Anneke continued.

“I’m sorry, but without a state-approved confirmation—”

“Pastries. The bakery on this street. Are you sure?”

“There have been no deliveries, sir, I—”

Nyx went back out into the street. She sat in the bakkie and waited.

Five minutes, tops. Anneke was a good catshitter, but not that good.

Nyx saw Khos and four women dressed in the gaudy colors of whores, their hair uncovered, approaching the residence. Khos stared down the door guard, and they walked inside.

Nyx pulled the two cake boxes out of the back. They were filled with bags of sand. Sand was cheaper than cakes.

She walked back to the residence, carrying the boxes. When she went through the sliding doors this time, she heard a wave of angry voices.