Two drinks.
“I want to head to Rigel,” she continued as the man’s eyes observed her body appreciatively.
Three drinks.
“I want to be a dancer!” Ugh. Dancers on Rigel were hardly reputed for cultural or classical moves. She had a vision of drinking her entire profits.
“I might be able to help you with that,” the lead man said as he cockily stepped out of the vehicle. He was tall, which was good, but she couldn’t stop staring at his single eyebrow. She hoped he would interpret it as admiration.
Maybe she could take part of Ardin’s profit for a couple more drinks.
Avienne smiled and cocked her head back a bit, signalling to the alley behind her.
“I’ll be right back,” the man called to his crew, as they laughed and jeered.
Avienne put her hand on the man’s chest, stopping his advance.
“I’m hoping, to, um, make a lot of money tonight,” she said, giving him a crooked smile which in different circumstances had sent men fleeing in terror.
The man’s eyes lit up at the implication of spending an entire night with her, instead of just a quick back alley tumble.
She would beat Ardin up, steal his money and head to the nearest bar.
“Don’t wait up,” the man called back and, amidst their laughter, she heard at least one of his comrades mention that they would call in a temp to replace him, and to enjoy his early birthday gift.
Perfect, Avienne thought, walking ahead so that he wouldn’t see victory flash in her eyes. The Destiny was ready to intercept that call and assure them a replacement was on the way, which Ardin would supply. Now all they needed was a uniform.
The engines powered up again and the vehicle was gone. Silence surrounded them, and the instant they were within the sheltered, windless confines of the alley, she felt his hand reaching for what little her skirt hid. She whirled around, kneeing him. As he bent and gasped for breath, she elbowed him hard and sent him sprawling to the ground, unconscious.
“Nice job!” Ardin said as he stepped out, laughter lacing his eyes. He had obviously enjoyed the show.
“I need a drink,” she said simply, and he handed her a small canister. She had never been more pleased to be predictable.
When she had taken a good swig, he handed her a leather pouch with some real clothing in it, and he began stripping the uniform from the soldier.
“I still don’t like that you’re going in there alone,” Avienne said, wondering how he planned to hide his long hair. It was not exactly standard uniform. But then, according to rumours, very little was done according to standard at Gullwing.
“I’ll be fine,” he grunted as he pulled the man’s pants off. Avienne forced herself not to comment as she pulled her knives free. “Just stick to the plan and I’ll see you in a few hours.”
Avienne nodded and walked into the darkness, wondering why in the world she had given the canister back to Ardin.
CHAPTER 5
Her head hurt. Her mouth tasted of copper. Her limbs were too heavy to lift.
Moments passed before she could even feel anything aside from pain, and the first sensation to return was the cold of metal underneath her. Her coat was ripped and her left arm was uncovered, the flesh debating between pain and numbness.
She took another few deep breaths, her ribcage only complaining where it hugged the hard ground. Another good sign. Broken ribs took dangerously long to heal.
She managed to move her feet, slowly, pleased that nothing seemed broken there either. Her head ached, and her ears were still ringing, but her mind felt empty instead of assailed by visions she could not control or decipher. She must have passed out when the Kilita had tried to pull visions from her mind, and so escaped the torture she had gone through years ago.
She sobbed in relief, her heart still pounding hard as memories receded slowly.
It had just been a beating, and a beating she could deal with.
She slit her eyes open, light clinging to the end of her eyelashes, little white dots breaking her bleak, blurred vision. She opened them all the way, only able to see metal, cold and blue from the light.
She lifted her head, pain exploding at the movement, nausea clinging to her. The world tilted and cold sweat poured from the few limbs she could still feel. She waited a moment, gathering her strength, and then, eyes closed, sat up the rest of the way, crossing her legs to support her sore and tired body.
The world spun a few more times, her discomfort centralizing in a line racing from her head to her stomach, her entire neck throbbing. She swallowed hard and breathed deeply, the world stabilizing again.
She dared to re-open her eyes. She was still in the small metal room. Another deep breath steadied her enough to glance to her right; then, after several other deep breaths, her left.
Metal. No chair, table, or even a protruding light. She guessed the ceiling must have some breaks in it where the light fixtures were kept, but the very idea of bending her head back to look for them made her neck throb.
She sat and focused, as she used to do when she and Yoma had to wait for a guard to pass, or a store to close, or someone to look away. Thief’s breaths, Yoma used to call them, laughing as she acted out stealing a breath.
Layela hadn’t found it funny, but she had understood. It was, in some ways, better to imagine you were stealing someone else’s breath than having your own breath stolen by your inability to act. Layela had always been better at that, the waiting. But now, she needed to get out, before they came back. She had no doubt the Kilita would break her mind again, and although she also knew she would tell them nothing, she feared her mind might not come back from the darkness
