stroll in the evening rain. Occasional vehicles appeared briefly as they crossed the various intersections in the distance, though none came our direction. Half a block ahead, at the mouth of an alleyway on the far side of the Fraklog-Oryo Hotel, a lone figure in a rain poncho and badly worn clothing had broken into a public trash receptacle and pulled out several of the compressed blocks. Two of the blocks had already been prodded apart into little piles of assorted garbage at the edge of the sidewalk, and he was laboriously poking at a third with a crooked stick, searching for food or buried treasure or God only knew what.
And at the edge of the nearest pile to us, squarely in the middle of the sidewalk, was possibly the last thing I would have expected to see on an alien world: a bright yellow banana peel.
Including the venerable tradition of slipping on a banana peel.
I took another, harder look at the scavenger's back. It could be, I decided. It could very well be.
And suddenly our odds were looking a whole lot better
Bayta finished settling the poncho into place. 'I suggest you hang back a little,' I told the two Halkas as I stepped to Bayta's side. 'Stafford isn't likely to come out if he sees a crowd.'
Neither of them replied, but in unison they took a step closer to us. It was about the response I'd expected. 'Fine—have it your way' I said. Taking Bayta's arm, which was oddly stiff and unyielding, I started us toward the museum.
We were about ten paces from the hooded scavenger when he gave a startled little yelp, his hands bobbling something in front of him as if he'd suddenly come into possession of a bird that was trying desperately to get away. A second later the unknown object shot out of his grasp, arcing high over our heads.
And as every other eye in the area automatically swung to track its flight, I grabbed the back of Bayta's head and buried her face against my shoulder. Pressing my own face against the side of her head, I squeezed my eyes shut.
The blast was surprisingly quiet, not much louder than a kid popping a paper bag. But the intensity of the flash more than made up for it. Even through closed lids and with my face turned mostly away it was bright enough to make me wince. God alone knew what it was doing to all those unshielded Tra'ho and Halkan eyes.
Though perhaps the strangled gasps from our two watchdogs were a clue. Getting a grip around Bayta's shoulder so I wouldn't lose her, I veered sharply to my right, hoping to get us out of grabbing range before the Modhri recovered from the shock and got his Halkas hunting us by sound and touch.
We'd made it barely three steps when a pair of louder cracks, the sound of large-caliber killrounds, rendered the point moot.
And then a strong hand grabbed my arm at the elbow, urgently pulling me along. Cautiously, hoping he didn't have a second sunburst grenade already on line, I opened my eyes to slits.
It was Fayr, all right. The stripe pattern on his chipmunk face had been radically altered, and there were the first signs of age-graying on his cheek fur. But his eyes were bright and steady as he peered over his shoulder from beneath his hood, and there was no mistaking the professional steadiness with which he held the large handgun pointed warily past my side. Turning my head, I looked at the crowd of walkers behind me.
It was as if Fayr had lobbed a concussion grenade squarely into their midst instead of just setting off a sunburst half a block away. All of the Tra'ho'seej had dropped to the ground and were writhing on their backs in agony. Writhing in perfect unison, actually, with each to and fro and squirm duplicated by all of them. It made the whole thing look like some strange dry-land version of synchronized swimming.
Gargantua and the other Halka weren't in much better shape. They weren't exactly writhing, but they had dropped to their knees and were swaying back and forth, their faces buried in their massive hands. Penny was half collapsed on Morse's shoulder, her body shaking with silent sobs, her face likewise buried in her hands. Morse himself had his back to us, and I couldn't tell what shape he was in.
But it didn't really matter whether he could see or not. With the whole cadre of walkers incapacitated, this was our chance to get them free. 'Wait a second,' I muttered toward Fayr, leaning against his guiding hand to try to stop us. 'We've got friends back there.'
We didn't even slow down. Fayr was stronger than his diminutive size suggested. 'Leave them.' he muttered back. 'Too dangerous.'
'They aren't walkers,' I insisted.
'Are you certain?' Fayr countered.
I grimaced. But he was right. In this shadowy war, you could never tell for sure who the enemy was. 'Not a hundred percent,' I conceded.
'Then leave them,' he repeated. 'The Modhri won't hurt them without cause. Besides, there is no time.'
He was right on that one, too. The sunburst had lit up the sky over the entire neighborhood, and already I could hear the sounds of sirens as the police headed back to see what the hell had happened now.
Their reaction when they found out the government oathlings had managed to lose their Human prisoner ten minutes after I'd been left in their custody would probably be highly entertaining. But it wasn't a conversation I wanted to hear with my hands cuffed behind me. 'You have someplace to go?' I asked Fayr.
'No fears.' He gestured with his gun toward the next side street. 'There.' As he drew back his hand, he slid the gun back into concealment inside his poncho.
I took one last look at the two dead Halkas lying crumpled behind us on the sidewalk.
FIFTEEN :
The sirens were still approaching when Fayr turned off the sidewalk onto a garden path leading to the back door of a modest house on a block full of similar residences. He opened the door and slipped inside, leading us through darkened hallways to a windowless room in the center of the house. 'I had this place prepared in my mind in case the Modhri should locate me at the hotel,' he explained as he turned on a small flashlight and set it in the corner to shine against the ceiling. 'The family is on vacation and not expected to return for five more days.'
I looked around. The place was decked out like a cross between a conversation room and a traditional Japanese garden. There were a couple of couches and a recliner chair in the center, accessible via curved flagstone paths winding their ways from each of the two doors. One of the couches had a shimmery gray cloth, window curtain-sized, draped casually over one end. The rest of the room's floor space was filled with potted plants of various types and sizes, with concealed fixtures in their bases that probably provided a muted, understated light. 'Interesting place,' I commented.
'It's a contemplation room,' Fayr said, crossing to the other door. He opened it, peered briefly out, then closed it again. 'The design is Filiaelian in origin, though the Tra'ho'seej have adapted it to their own cultural personalities.'
'They must spend hours just keeping the plants watered,' I commented, looking around.
'I believe that's one part of the contemplation aspect,' Fayr said, returning to the recliner and sitting down. 'That, plus the maintenance and the observation of the plants in general. Are either of you hungry?'
'I never pass up a chance to eat,' I told him. I reached for Bayta's arm, but this time she was having none of it. Evading my grasp, she took a step away from me.
Fine. Whatever. 'What have you got?' I asked Fayr as I headed alone along the flagstones toward the center, leaving Bayta to follow on her own.
'The pack is under there,' he said, pointing to the couch without the gray drape. 'Take whatever you wish.'
