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“Some. I have trade crystals. How much do you want?”
“Not for me. You make your own deal. Come this way.”
She led him into the smoky interior of the Fireside, along an aisle bordered by a dozen small tables at which silver-ski
At the far end a little cubicle sat tucked away out of sight of the main room. The light was much brighter inside. She gestured to one of the cubicle’s benches with an arm that bent and flexed as though it had no bone within, and said, “You wait right there. You can’t get service, so don’t ask.”
“Where are you going?”
“Nowhere. But I have to make a call.”
She walked away with an oddly sinuous grace. Da
Could it be a human/snake/shark triplet? The Margrave had been a genius, and Da
Fireside Elsie was coming back, weaving her way past the tables. She was holding two tall beakers of black volcanic glass.
“He’s on the way,” she said. “Don’t ask his name. And here’s a Fireside special. You can’t ask for service and get it, but I can give it.”
She handed him one of the beakers and drank deeply from the other. Da
He wiped at the tears with the sleeve of his jacket. A Salamander who found it necessary to undertake self-immolation wouldn’t need rehearsals, not with drinks like this available as practice.
But he was no Salamander. Da
“You looking for somebody?”
Apparently they would dispense with introductions. That was fine with Da
Dead eyes stared into Da
“My name’s Jack Eckart.”
“Never heard of you.” The Salamander rose and was leaving the cubicle in one lithe movement.
“Wait a minute.” Da
The Salamander had turned and was back in the cubicle. “I’ve heard of Dan Casement. But anybody could say that was his name. Give me proof.”
“What kind of proof? I don’t have any identification on me.”
The wide, thin-lipped mouth opened, to show a multiple array of sharp triangular teeth. “If you’re really Diamond Dan Casement, you have something else. Show me a sample.”
Alice Ta
“I don’t care if it’s genuine or not. The fact that you have it with you is the important thing. What’s your question?”
“What was Bun doing, and what happened to him?”
“I can answer the first, but not the second. You ever hear of Flare-out?”
“Never.”
“It’s one of the big games on Salamander Row — there’s a betting board right here at the Fireside. Solar flares can happen any time, so the managers of the Nexus run a pool on flare times and sizes. Now, computer models can’t make a perfect prediction, but they can increase the odds. Of course, they rely on good inputs. You follow?”
“I do.” Da
“Now, the managers don’t want anybody beating the odds. So they make a law. The law says, it’s all right to have any computer model you like, but the input data stays locked up. A gambling group didn’t think that was fair — to them.”
“Who were they?”
“You don’t want to know. Do you?”
Da
“So this group wanted to put a tap on the input data in a way that would never be noticed. People here tried and tried, and they couldn’t do it. Not until somebody you and I both know came along, and he was smart enough to crack all the ciphers. The inputs rolled in smooth and regular and everything was fine. Until somebody talked. You don’t need to know who he was, either” — Da
“He ran. Borrowed a ship, left the Nexus, dropped into a low skimmer orbit intending to ride past and off to the outer system. But he never made it. The drive misfired and he went right into the Sun. Sent messages once he realized what was happening. Said good-bye to everybody. Salamander’s finish. End of story.”
Da
“You said you could answer one of my questions and not the other. But now you’re saying he’s dead.”
“Smart Da
It was wishful thinking, playing the wrong side of the odds. The Sally didn’t seem to realize what was involved. There would have had to be more than the faking of a death. There would have to be an escape plan, a total disappearance, an opportunity elsewhere.
“If he’s not dead, then where do you think he might be?”
“I can’t begin to guess.” The Salamander was standing up. “But I know he’s nowhere on the Nexus.”
Da
“Forget it. And forget we talked. I’m not doing this for you, and I’m not doing it for me. I’m doing it for him. I liked Bun, as much as you can like a human. If he’s not dead, and if you ever do see him again, say hello from me.”
“I don’t know your name.”
“You’re right.” The silver countenance was split by another sword-toothed smile. “You don’t know my name. You also don’t need to know it, and you don’t want to know it. You’ll have to go with a description. Now get out of here. Do you want the rest of that drink?”
Da