Leie certainly wouldn’t have bothered. Leie would have said “good riddance.”
But with the freightmistress grudgingly satisfied, and ten minutes to go before departure, Maia went looking for her errant assistant. She had reached the far end of the platform, with no sign yet of the irritating blonde, when a whistle blew some distance beyond the kiln district—another train approaching the station.
A young man could be seen holding a lever that would magnetically transfer the oncoming locomotive to one of three sets of rails. Several young women stood nearby, giggling, perched on a wooden walkway in front of a tall house with red curtains. As she neared, Maia saw two of them open their blouses and lean over the youth, shaking their well-proportioned torsos. His color, already flushed, grew redder by the minute. Maia wondered why.
“Not now!” He muttered at the women. “Go back inside an’ wait a minute!”
The young man was trying to concentrate on the approaching train, still half a kilometer away, its flywheels squealing as it began to brake. The young women seemed to relish the effect they were having. One pointed in glee, causing the others to laugh uproariously. The youth’s taut trousers barely concealed a stiffening bulge. He looked up, saw Maia watching, and turned away with an embarrassed moan. This only brought more gales of hilarity from the local women.
“Hey, Garn,” one shouted. “You sure yer holdin’ the right stick?”
“Go ’way!” he shouted hoarsely, trying to look over his shoulder at the approaching train. Across the poor fellow’s brow emerged a line of perspiration.
“Aw come on,” another topless var crooned, jiggling at him. “Want another taste?” She proffered a clear bottle. Instead of liquid, it brimmed with a fine, bluish, iridescent powder. One corner of the boy’s mouth bore a similar stain.
“What’s goin’ on here!”
Everyone turned toward the nearby red-curtained house. At the doorway stood a burly older man and— Tizbe!
But not the Tizbe she knew. Maia blinked. Her instant impression was that the var hitchhiker had, in just twenty minutes, changed her clothes, dyed her hair, and gained ten years!
“These frills distractin’ you, Garn?” the big man asked, wiping his lips with the back of one hand. Shaking his head vigorously, the youth replied. “N-no, Jacko, they just—”
“Lennie, Rose, get your iced-up perfs inside!” cursed the woman who looked like Tizbe. “No one’s supposed to see that stuff, let alone get free samples!”
“Aw, Mirri, we were just testin’—” one girl whined, dodging a slap. The bottle was snatched out of her hand and she ran for the house.
With a cold eye, the older woman turned and glared at Maia. “Who the vrilly hell are you?”
Maia blinked. “Ah… nobody.”
“Then take off, Nobody. You haven’t seen—”
“Garn!” the big man shouted. The youth below, confused by both commotion and his hormones, had forgotten the oncoming train and begun leaning on the lever, perhaps to spare his painful tumescence. There came a deep, electric hum and click. In dismay, he pushed the lever the other way, and shoved too far. Two loud, grinding clicks. He yanked back…
A shrill toot filled the air as an alarmed engineer threw his emergency brakes, watching helplessly as momentum carried the oncoming locomotive along slick, invisible magnetic fields onto a track already occupied by another train.
The boy dove under the platform. Everyone else ran.
Maia knew now why her assistant baggage handler had looked familiar.
Past the crowd that gathered to gawk at the damage, Maia saw once more the woman she had mistaken for the hitchhiker, conversing intently with the real Tizbe. One or both had dyed her hair, but side by side it was obvious. They wore older and younger versions of the same face.
And now Maia recalled where she’d seen that visage before. Several sisters of their clan had been lounging at a cafe on the main square in Lanargh, outside another house equipped with plush curtains. Looking a second time, Maia saw the same emblem above the building overlooking the tracks—a grinning bull, grasping in its jaws a ringing bell.
Most towns possessed houses of ease—enterprises catering to human cravings, especially those of deep winter and high summer. “Escape valves,” Savant Judeth had called them. “Bordellos,” said Savant Claire, with finality that forbade even asking what the latter word meant.
The reality seemed rather ordinary and businesslike. Such houses provided one outlet for seamen who lacked invitations to clanholds when aurorae made their blood run hot. And in deep winter, when men were more interested in game boards than physical recreations, even normally cool Lamai sisters sometimes felt need of “a comfort.” Especially when glory fell from heaven, they would head downtown, to visit one of those elegant palaces catering to richer hives.
Naturally, such profitable establishments were run by specialized clans, although frequent use was made of hired var labor. Maia and Leie had never thought themselves pretty or vapid enough for such a career. Still, they used to speculate what went on inside such places.
Both Tizbe and “Mirri” looked her way, causing Maia to turn quickly, feeling a chill of apprehension.
It was pure luck of Lysos that no one had been seriously hurt in the wreck, considering how the two trains met in a tangle of sheet metal and spraying lubricants. Medics from the town clinic were still treating scratches and lacerations as the engineer of the second train shouted, pointing at his locomotive, then at the boy, Garn, who looked downcast and miserable.
Garn’s older colleague yelled back, clenching his hands menacingly. In a sudden outburst, Jacko reached out and pushed the aggrieved engineer, who stumbled two paces, blinking in surprise. That only seemed to catalyze Jacko. Although physically no larger, he loomed over the retreating engineer, who now raised both hands placatingly.
Jacko punched him in the face.
Onlookers gasped as the engineer fell down Whimpering, he tried crawling backward, holding a bloody nose. With dismay he saw Jacko follow, bearing down, clearly intent on more mayhem. Reading the engineer’s bewilderment, Maia sensed the fallen man was furiously trying to
Abruptly, the woman Maia had mistaken for Tizbe was at Jacko’s side, tugging his arm. It looked impossible, like trying to restrain a berserk sash-horse. Panting hard, Jacko appeared not to notice until Mirri reached up and took his ear, twisting it to get his attention. He winced, paused, started to turn. Gradually, her crooning words penetrated, until he finally nodded jerkily, allowing her to pull his elbow, drawing him about and leading him through the hushed crowd toward the red-curtained house.
