Jo Clayton - Shadowkill

And still the tumaks hit and hit again.

In the middle of the night a ministinger crashed into the side of the House, blew out a large chunk of wall and floor, just missing Shadith’s bed. The bed tilted, creaked and fell through the gap before Shadith woke enough to understand what was happening.

It landed on the roof of the women’s quarters, slid down the pantiles and shattered on the paving stones.

Shadith was jolted by the sudden stop, bruised and more than a little terrified, but nothing was broken. She crawled out of the mess and knelt on the still-warm paving stones, gaping up at the hole in the wall. “Tsoukbaraim!”

More of the wall fell away and her boots came flying down, hit the tiles, and slid off to land close by the bed. She got shakily to her feet, stood looking at the boots and laughing.

“Kiz, you all right?”

She looked up. Tinoopa was leaning out her window, her dark braid dangling past her shoulders. “Bruised but intact,” Shadith yelled back. “Better than the bed.”

“Hang on, I’ll be down and let you in.”

“Th-thanks.” She was suddenly shaking all over her body, shaking so hard her knees gave under her and she dropped to the mattress; she grabbed the boots, hugged them to her breasts, and started crying. She was alive. But it’d been so close. So CLOSE.

She was still shaking, still crying, still clutching the boots, when Tinoopa came down and led her inside.

She woke to afternoon heat and the realization that the Grays had gone away as if they’d never been. She was ALIVE!

The Hook Is Baited: Autumn Rose Goes Fishing In A Pond Of Sharks

Autumn Rose poured more of the resinated wine into the stemmed glass and looked out across blue blue water to the lichenous city that spread gray and olive and dull brown along the curve of the shore. “I drink enough of this and I might even get to like it.”

They were sitting in a nest of pillows and reed mats on one of the many small barren islets spattered across the bay; the catboat he’d come in was moored to a rock, her outrigger snugged next to it. The maneuver had gone as planned, with Hadluk providing the meal and the comforts. He liked his food and he’d used the Shimmery’s cooks to good purpose. He’d also avoided even a hint at the proposition she was out here to hear from him, steering her away from it when impatience got too much for her.

A flock of birds rose from the next island over, a sudden swirl of orange and blue; they circled around twice and settled back. Seeing ghosts, she thought. She sipped at the wine, enjoying the harsh roughness against her palate. The birds swirled again, went screaming away, came fluttering back.

She flicked on the mute cone and turned to Hadluk. “Wasn’t very nice of you, aiming Uj at me like that.”

For a moment she thought he was going to turn away even that oblique attempt to focus on the reason for this picnic, then he said. “Found out what I wanted to know, didn’t I?”

“Did you?”

“Found out you’re hungry but not desperate.”

“I told you I wasn’t hurting.”

“So you did.”

“Hunh.” She refilled her glass, held it up so the sun shone through the straw-colored liquid. “So what’s this about?”

“Hungry, yes.”

“Belaboring the obvious, Hadluk. I’m assembling a stake. If you want a piece of that, think again.”

“No gain without pain, Rose.”

“I choose my pains, Hadluk. This isn’t one.”

“All right.”

“So,” she stared down into the glass, tilted it side to side to make the light wine swirl, looked up suddenly, challenging him, “do we say thanks for lunch, pack up, and go home?”

He wrinkled his nose, refilled his glass from the amber bottle he kept close to his side. The wind blew the smell of the soursweet ouiskag across to her, it was a smell that hung around him like a halo, stronger today than yesterday. Good thing she wasn’t depending on him for much. He sipped from the glass, cleared his throat. “JuhFeyn opens up the Mewa Room three, four times a year for Topenga Vagnag. Same rules as always, table stakes only, no markers, truce ground, and everyone with masks. Last few years, it’s been more or less the same players, same sort, anyway, some of the Southern Vaarlords… um, might be one, two, three, um slummers, you know the types, and probably someone from Mimishay, there’s usually at least one. He’ll come by flit from their place on Haed Nunn. Maybe the manager of the Black House, if he’s not too busy to get away. And sometimes the High Vaar. Though juhFeyn’s the only one knows for sure who’s coming.

“He does the inviting; he handles the security, no bodyguards allowed; he supplies food, drink, and Dasuttras. Word is the High Vaar wanted a good game and a safe ground, got juhFeyn to handle it because ol’ Jao’s married to one of his cousin’s daughters. Jao uses me to keep things honest; you’d be surprised what some of these types get up to… He glanced at her, shook his head. “Or maybe you wouldn’t. Player gets one warning, then he’s out.” He coughed, squeezed his hands into fists. “Big,” he whispered. “Piles of gold-there-begging someone to take it. I want some of that, Rose. I have one chance. One and run.”

“Masks. Hmm. You wouldn’t have to worry about tells. Or Pulleet, what about him?”

“You played him.”

“I get the point.”

“Even if I could do the calcs, Rose, juhFeyn would slit my throat if I tried slipping in.”

Autumn Rose let her head fall back against the boulder behind her, stroked her fingers under her chin and down the curve of her throat. “I’ve got this perverse fondness for breathing through my nose, Hadluk.”

“You’re an outsider, Rose. He doesn’t know you. With your help and a little luck, I can work it. If you want it.”

“Oh, yeh, I want it. How good are they?”

“Better than average but nowhere as good as they think they are. I’ve watched those games the past twelve years, Rose. Watched and sweated. And waited for my chance. You’re it.”

“I like the setup, but I’m still not risking my stake. Financing’s up to you. And it has to be big, Hadluk, or they’ll freeze me out of every hot one.”

“Pulleet and me, we’ve had some things going for us. We’ll bank you. We’ll cut the take four ways, three to us, one to you.”

“Seems to me, I’m the one doing the work. Down the middle. Half to me, half to you, you can split your half however you want.”

“I’ll go three ways, it may be your labor, Rose, but it’s also the past twenty years I’ve spent scraping together that stake. I’ll throw in passage offworld with me and Pulleet. You do realize you’d better be somewhere else when the sun comes up?”

“Hadluk, my Luck went soft for a while, not my head.”

He grinned at her and lifted his glass. He shouldn’t grin, she thought, he looks deformed when he grins. “The Lady bless,” he said, then gulped down the ouiskal without waiting for her to join him. He coughed and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth; his eyes glittered at her over the soft white curve of his pampered palm. “We start building you tonight. I want you in dresses like the one you wore first time we played, I want you to clean the marks down to their toenails. They love a winner on this world. A winner’s as good as a saint, maybe better. Every night after that, as long as we can pull in marks who want to beat you, I want you winning, I want rumors breeding like maggots in meat. You hear?”

“Fine with me. One thing, Hadluk, and you better believe it. I start getting official pressure, you know what I mean, I fade. My nerves are a tad touchier than they were back when.”