Chris Wooding - The Fade
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- Название:The Fade
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Liss shrank. 'She's so mean, so mean sometimes,' she said, apparently to herself. 'I don't know how I stand it.'
'Oh, don't.'
'Well, you are.'
'It's yourself I'm saving you from.'
'You're not saving anything, and you can't stop me!'
'She thinks I can't stop her,' Casta said to me.
'She thinks she knows what's best for me!' Liss cried.
'It's been like this ever since she agreed,' Casta said, tossing her hair and glaring away across the club.
'She just can't bear to see me happy,' Liss countered.
'She won't be happy,' Casta replied, addressing thin air.
'Well, I won't be lonely any more when she's away,' Liss said, and then burst into tears. Casta, all ill feeling forgotten, immediately hugged her twin and kissed her repeatedly until her tears dried.
Even I was bewildered.
Food arrived and I ate, even though I wasn't hungry, because it was so expensive. Casta was somewhat subdued for a while, but she picked up again soon. It was clear that she still disapproved of Ledo's plan for her sister. Liss, true to form, was either oblivious or pretending to be.
Those two. They existed entirely in their own little world, like most of the Plutarchs and their families. Why was it that the people with power were the only ones licensed to act like children?
Sometimes the aristocracy scared me. I often wondered if we shouldn't be more afraid of our rulers than our enemies.
34
Heat, shadows, hard breath. He pushed against me amid a shifting landscape of bedclothes. The little whimpers I made had long ceased to be fake. I'd given him one climax already but I was building unstoppably toward another, and this one would be the real thing. This bastard knew what he was doing. I hated him for that. I hated him for making me enjoy it.
We came to a gasping, shuddering halt together, and I held him close so I wouldn't have to look at him. He stroked my hair as I shivered in his arms. Afterward, there would be the ugly wash of guilt, the poisonous self-hatred. But for now, just for this moment, there was only exquisite post-orgasmic sensitivity and the feel of his thin, muscled body against mine.
Thankfully, he wasn't one of those that liked to hold their women as they slept. Alcohol and sex combined to put him out only minutes after we finished. I lay next to him for an hour until I was sure he was deep under, then I slipped gradually out from beneath the covers.
The chill air of the city settled against my skin, raising goose-pimples. Slats of light, thrown from the nearby shinehouse, stretched across small piles of discarded clothes. It was near the end of the third seg, and the streets were quiet beyond the shuttered windows.
Naked, I padded across the room and out into the corridor beyond. The apartment was silent and still. Expensive sculptures stared blindly into the gloom. I found the door to his study, opened it and went inside.
He had carelessly left the files I needed in an unlocked cabinet. Perhaps he thought the guard on the apartment door was security enough for him. Perhaps years of being the accountant to a crimelord had made him think of himself as untouchable. Well, whichever: it saved me looking for the key, or going back for the lockpicks hidden in the heels of my designer shoes.
One thing I liked about accountants: they were meticulous. They kept records. They liked to know where every last scrap of money went. Take a safehouse, for instance. The kind of place where a crimelord might hide somebody. Safehouses cost money. It didn't take me long to find three addresses in the city. My target was staying in one of them.
I headed to the bathroom, flushed the toilet, and then returned to bed. I'd rather have left then, but I didn't want to do anything that would make him in the least suspicious of me. I was just a woman he picked up in a bar. He'd probably want to fuck again when he woke – he seemed like the type – and I'd act the obliging slut once more. Then I'd be gone, leaving promises to call on him, and I'd never see him again unless it was to cut his throat. I'd dearly have loved to do that. Not for making me cheat on my husband. But for making me like it. It was always cold in Mal Eista. The city had a bite in the air. The light possessed a sharper edge than in Veya, chill and bright. Steam rose from vents and lakes and lungs.
I sat in a cafe, sipping at a mug of hot, syrupy sweetroot, eyes unfocused as I swam in thought. I was wrapped up in a fur-lined coat and hat, warmed by a nearby wrought-metal brazier. Beyond the forecourt, the alley was crowded with shoppers. Restaurant windows glowed with firelight; inside, men and women talked animatedly over their meals. Lichen-trees stood stiff and skeletal in rows. White bats darted across the rooftops of stern, imposing apartment blocks.
I'd spent too long here, tracking this man. It was beginning to feel more like home than Veya did. The brief time I'd spent with my family in the subsurface caverns seemed a lifetime ago, but the resentment at my situation had not faded one bit. Unworthy as it made me feel, I was bitter at being sent here. I knew it was my duty to obey the Clan in all things, but I didn't have to be glad about it. I wanted to be with Rynn and Jai.
The annoying thing was, I didn't even know who to be angry at. My orders were generally delivered on behalf of the Clan, not from any specific person. It made evading the blame easier if I should screw up. But I had a pretty good idea.
None of the lesser Clan members had the authority to command me. The twins wouldn't have paid for me to go on vacation only to send me off on a mission the very same turn. At least, I didn't think so. That would be odd, even by their standards. So it could only have been Ledo.
But I couldn't resent my master. A Bondswoman didn't do that kind of thing.
My instructions concerning my target were very clear. Kill him in his sleep if possible. If not, do it from a distance. Make it quick and definite. Don't mess around. I didn't usually get orders that specific. Often they left it to my discretion as to the best way to get the desired result. I wondered what he had done to Clan to incur their wrath, and why they were being so careful about specifying a quick and quiet kill. But in the end, it wasn't my place to ask.
He was a small-scale merchant named Gorak Jespyn. A man who'd made some wise investments and wiped them out with some unwise ones. I wondered if he owed the Clan money, but I'd found no indication of that; and besides, killing someone wasn't the best way to get them to pay you back. Even if he'd fallen on hard times, experience had taught me that people possess an amazing resourcefulness when faced with sharp objects and the threat of losing certain valuable extremities.
No, it was something else they wanted him for, but I had no idea what.
The other mystery was Jespyn's connection with Sladek Dev. Jespyn was staying at the pleasure of Mal Eista's premier crimelord in return for I-know-not-what kind of favours. For someone so insignificant, he had a lot of powerful people interested in him. I'd been after him all over the city, trading favours, leaning on people for information, digging and digging. He'd cost me a lot of time. I wanted to take it out of his hide. But that was idle fantasy. I'd play the good girl and just kill him straight.
I replayed the events of the previous turn in my mind. The casual meeting, the seduction, the sex. I wished I could tell my husband that the easiest way to get inside someone's place is to be invited. That a man's guard is at his lowest when he's in bed with you. That what I did was necessary, unavoidable even. To get the information I needed, without alerting anyone, I had to let him fuck me.
But you didn't have to like it, I heard him reply, and I had no answer to that. I didn't want to. I just couldn't help it.
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