They might not like the idea at first, but she would insist. She was the captain. They either obeyed or remained on Roma. Her thoughts turned to Kat again.
The girl was an empath for certain. Her powers were raw and minimal. How she’d managed to escape the notice of local authorities was a subject they needed to discuss. The girl had no idea that there were people out there who could detect her mental intrusions and report her.
An illicit book she owned said a good, effective empath worked in another’s mind as gently as a wisteria butterfly flying past a newly opened paper lily, the wing of the butterfly almost, but not quite touching the flower. The girl needed to learn how to do that.
The captain reviewed what little she knew about empaths, which was more than most people because she was anti-empath and she had gathered a small library of printed books and scrolls to better understand herself. No empath could enter her mind. Well, they could, but she would instantly detect it and put up a mental blocking wall.
In the arena, she’d known Kat had reached out to her, and that she wanted the gladiator to move to her right, which was counter-intuitive for a fighter. Instead of blocking Kat, she’d welcomed her help.
Three grav-sleds appeared over the tops of the trees heading in their direction. Probably equipped with infra-red detectors looking for body heat.
Bert reacted to their presence by pulling to a sudden stop. It assessed the situation as its ears twitched.
She liked that. Blind panic assured they would be captured. Bert motioned to those behind him to make a sharp turn. He headed directly into the back streets of the city via a wide trail through the forest. The grav-sleds were sweeping back and forth in their search grids.
While in the forest, the heat detectors would sense them in minutes, or soon after the grav-sleds began their search. Bert took them to the back alleys and into a crowded square where aging vendors sold their wares, most of them used and of mediocre quality. Shoppers strolled through the offerings.
Without pausing, he went directly to a stall draped in red and white, where a dour gray man said, “Hello, Bert.”
“No time for talk. The three humans with me need old, well-worn priest’s robes. Blue, if you have them.”
The vendor didn’t hesitate or ask questions. He rummaged in a pile of used and patched clothing. He pulled more than one out and tossed it back into the rejection pile as he compared them with the people trying to catch their breath. He handed one to Kat, then another to Bill, and finally one to her.
“What about you?” the vendor asked Bert.
“They don’t know about me. I’ll walk a distance from you.” Bert handed his tablet to the vendor, who palmed it for the transfer of credits. The vendor hadn’t revealed the price, and Bert didn’t hesitate to pay whatever it was. The Digger obviously had credits in an account, probably many of them. Her estimation of him increased.
The vendor said, “You know, I should just give them to you without charge. You’ve done enough for me.”
Bert said abruptly, “You have not seen us and if we’re caught, you’re totally surprised that we managed to slip into your shop and steal these robes. Act furious.”
“Leaving Roma?” the vendor asked as they started walking away.
“Got to,” Bert called over his shoulder. “Take care, my friend.”
The captain was again impressed. The three of them knew how to make loyal friends. The vendor had mentioned refusing payment, so that probably meant they had worked together before. Instead of being scared or heading out on her own, she was becoming more confident that staying with them was the right thing, for now, and in the future.
Doing favors for other beings meant they owed you. That was always a good thing and good for business. Traders often similarly did transactions for the same reason. It was always better to be owed than to owe.
The blue robes were slightly different shades of blue, although they had probably started life the same shade. Patches and repaired rips showed the hard use they’d had. The voluminous sleeves had concealed loops for their thumbs inside. When she inserted her right hand into the left sleeve in front of her, the loop found her thumb. A similar one held her left.
That was why those in blue robes walked with their hands concealed in front of them. The sleeves were like giant pockets. Those wearing the blue robes and hoods were usually converts to an obscure, strict religious order prevalent on Roma. Since they didn’t partake in any of the lewd offerings the hawkers called to others, they moved through the streets almost invisible.
Bert went a dozen steps ahead, walking slowly, upright, matching the pace of others on the streets and he maneuvered them to one of the busier pedestrian avenues. There were others in blue robes, here and there. They lived near the sea, which the blue of the robes indicated. Others of the sect wore green for forests, and a few brown colors, for desert worlds.
Their sect was not purely religious. They always worked hard at menial tasks to purchase plain food, owned nothing, and helped each other when possible. Most were constantly on the move, seldom remaining in one location for more than a couple of days.
Bert drew a few curious glances, most of which soon shifted elsewhere. Staring at a member of an unfamiliar alien race was considered bad manners on any civilized planet, and a nude Digger was certainly unusual. Stone fell into step beside Kat
