[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
The rest. Thirty guims for thirty minutes. Catch.
The sac arced through the air and landed at Pikka Machletta s feet with a
satisfying chunk chink.
Kynsil squatted, pulled the drawstring loose, and dumped the coins into the
street. She stirred them with the tip of her bootknife, counted them. Thirty
ah ri .
She gathered them, dropped them in the sac, and got to her feet.
Satisfied? The offworlder sounded tired, her voice was getting sharper.
Pikka Machletta tapped a metaled fingernail against a stud on her neckleather.
You pay the shot at the
Oy.
Nonsense. Pay for yourself, I ll take care of me.
Ah ri . We s posed to walk, on that lot?
No problem. Plenty more around if the occasion should arise where I needed
them.
Pikka Machletta grinned. Ya true.
The horde twitched, then seemed to explode it disin-tegrated so fast. Within a
breath or two, the street was empty.
The girl resettled the strap, then strolled over to Razor. She seemed very
calm, matter-of-fact, as if she d played games with street gangs every day of
her life.
Pikka Machletta considered that, added it to past events and decided to go
very very carefully about this hoshyid. She signaled the T gurtt to come round
her.
Fann, take point, Ingra, rear. Mem, you be here be-side me. Kynsil, Hari, in
the middle, keep your eyes open. Les do it.
6
Pikka Machletta waited until they were on the bridge before she spoke again.
You got a name?
Shadow.
Really?
Really.
The wind was snatching at them and making the cables sing around them, a
multiplicity of notes, chords of whines and groans. The sky was starting to
gray in the east and along the shore, fishing boats were lit up like the fair
as they unloaded the night s catch.
You speak the Bogmakker. Most ... urn ...
Hoshyid?
You said it, not me; anyway, they don t.
I learned it on University. From a man called Tsee-waxlin. Old man. You may
have heard of him.
Or not.
Pikka Machletta clicked her tongue. You a studier like him?
Not exactly like him, but close enough. He s an opener, I m one who comes
later.
A heavy flat pulling a trailer came rumbling past them, both piled high with
boxes of fresh produce from the farms beyond the rim of Karintepe-on-Main. The
loaders in the trailer stared stolidly down at them. One spat, the wind
splattering the gob of mucus against the down-swooping cable, just missing
Ingra.
She slapped her hand against her forearm. Ketch-kang, she yelled. Kanch.
Goomoo. Yossyoss.
Silent Hari patted Ingra s arm, closed her hand about the wrist of her
sister-in-T gur, and tugged her after the others.
Ingra snorted her disgust, but yielded.
Pikka Machletta ignored the whole incident. How d you get those
hashshar to do what you wanted?
Page 57
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Shadow did a thing with her mouth, a quick pull back of the corners, a quicker
release; she d done it several times before, it didn t seem to mean much
except she was tired of questions. It s a Talent, that s all. Like singing.
Something one s born with.
Huh. Pikka Machletta brooded over that while pro-duce flats trundled past,
then a city bus loaded with fac-tory workers and cleaning staff for the Island
hotels, then more flats.
Pale hair whipping wildly about her face, her gray eyes watering, her hands
tucked into the pockets of her jacket, Mem circled round Pikka Machletta and
walked beside the stranger.
Pikka started to object, but changed her mind. It gave away too much. She
shivered. The bridge was empty for the moment; the wind sweeping along it was
strong enough to shift the lead weights on her hair thongs, mak-ing them chunk
dully together, hit against her earlobe, the side of her neck.
The tension was drained out of her; she was tired, tired, tired.
She wouldn t get her edge back until she managed some sleep. If Kidork popped
up in front of her right now, she couldn t do a thing about it. Or about the
girl, if she went crank on them.
Luck stay sweet, she thought and cast the thought like prayer to whatever ears
would hear it. She scowled at Mem.
Her sister-in-T gur was sneaking sideways looks at the stranger, a muscle
working beside her mouth as she fought her shyness, starting to say something
and losing it, starting again, losing it again.
Pikka Machletta thought she knew what Mem wanted. Her sister-in-T gur missed
her father terribly.
Razor could cherish her and protect her, but they couldn t talk to her like he
did, they didn t have the education. Pikka winced, jealousy was a stab near
her heart. She steamed along, hating that offworlder, that fairhaired [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl fopke.keep.pl
The rest. Thirty guims for thirty minutes. Catch.
The sac arced through the air and landed at Pikka Machletta s feet with a
satisfying chunk chink.
Kynsil squatted, pulled the drawstring loose, and dumped the coins into the
street. She stirred them with the tip of her bootknife, counted them. Thirty
ah ri .
She gathered them, dropped them in the sac, and got to her feet.
Satisfied? The offworlder sounded tired, her voice was getting sharper.
Pikka Machletta tapped a metaled fingernail against a stud on her neckleather.
You pay the shot at the
Oy.
Nonsense. Pay for yourself, I ll take care of me.
Ah ri . We s posed to walk, on that lot?
No problem. Plenty more around if the occasion should arise where I needed
them.
Pikka Machletta grinned. Ya true.
The horde twitched, then seemed to explode it disin-tegrated so fast. Within a
breath or two, the street was empty.
The girl resettled the strap, then strolled over to Razor. She seemed very
calm, matter-of-fact, as if she d played games with street gangs every day of
her life.
Pikka Machletta considered that, added it to past events and decided to go
very very carefully about this hoshyid. She signaled the T gurtt to come round
her.
Fann, take point, Ingra, rear. Mem, you be here be-side me. Kynsil, Hari, in
the middle, keep your eyes open. Les do it.
6
Pikka Machletta waited until they were on the bridge before she spoke again.
You got a name?
Shadow.
Really?
Really.
The wind was snatching at them and making the cables sing around them, a
multiplicity of notes, chords of whines and groans. The sky was starting to
gray in the east and along the shore, fishing boats were lit up like the fair
as they unloaded the night s catch.
You speak the Bogmakker. Most ... urn ...
Hoshyid?
You said it, not me; anyway, they don t.
I learned it on University. From a man called Tsee-waxlin. Old man. You may
have heard of him.
Or not.
Pikka Machletta clicked her tongue. You a studier like him?
Not exactly like him, but close enough. He s an opener, I m one who comes
later.
A heavy flat pulling a trailer came rumbling past them, both piled high with
boxes of fresh produce from the farms beyond the rim of Karintepe-on-Main. The
loaders in the trailer stared stolidly down at them. One spat, the wind
splattering the gob of mucus against the down-swooping cable, just missing
Ingra.
She slapped her hand against her forearm. Ketch-kang, she yelled. Kanch.
Goomoo. Yossyoss.
Silent Hari patted Ingra s arm, closed her hand about the wrist of her
sister-in-T gur, and tugged her after the others.
Ingra snorted her disgust, but yielded.
Pikka Machletta ignored the whole incident. How d you get those
hashshar to do what you wanted?
Page 57
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Shadow did a thing with her mouth, a quick pull back of the corners, a quicker
release; she d done it several times before, it didn t seem to mean much
except she was tired of questions. It s a Talent, that s all. Like singing.
Something one s born with.
Huh. Pikka Machletta brooded over that while pro-duce flats trundled past,
then a city bus loaded with fac-tory workers and cleaning staff for the Island
hotels, then more flats.
Pale hair whipping wildly about her face, her gray eyes watering, her hands
tucked into the pockets of her jacket, Mem circled round Pikka Machletta and
walked beside the stranger.
Pikka started to object, but changed her mind. It gave away too much. She
shivered. The bridge was empty for the moment; the wind sweeping along it was
strong enough to shift the lead weights on her hair thongs, mak-ing them chunk
dully together, hit against her earlobe, the side of her neck.
The tension was drained out of her; she was tired, tired, tired.
She wouldn t get her edge back until she managed some sleep. If Kidork popped
up in front of her right now, she couldn t do a thing about it. Or about the
girl, if she went crank on them.
Luck stay sweet, she thought and cast the thought like prayer to whatever ears
would hear it. She scowled at Mem.
Her sister-in-T gur was sneaking sideways looks at the stranger, a muscle
working beside her mouth as she fought her shyness, starting to say something
and losing it, starting again, losing it again.
Pikka Machletta thought she knew what Mem wanted. Her sister-in-T gur missed
her father terribly.
Razor could cherish her and protect her, but they couldn t talk to her like he
did, they didn t have the education. Pikka winced, jealousy was a stab near
her heart. She steamed along, hating that offworlder, that fairhaired [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]