Turn 53

    Valarin's suggestion that the crew of the TTS _Distraction_ celebrate their new status is taken up with enthusiasm, and the next several days are taken up with preparations... and a few other things.
    There is a tendency in all of them to spend their free time hanging about the ship, watching in a sort of dreamy unreality as men come and go, checking mechanisms and loading provisions. Once they leave Bral, the _Distraction_ will be on her own, but Three Trees will ensure that she leaves well-stocked for her mission. Those few Bralians with idle time are often there as well, eying the antics of the frisky space swine on the dohwar vessel and asking questions none of the _Distraction_'s crew can answer yet, foremost among them, "Where are you going?"
    Eventually they group decides to hold a dinner at Valabar's**, an excellent but unpretentious restaurant on a second floor near the center of Bral. For 100 gold coins they can have a private room, a pleasant meal, all the wine they care to drink and several trained and discreet staff on hand throughout. Another handful of coin secures the services for the evening of a trio of musicians ibn Fadil knows from his long residence on the Rock.
    Aside from the crew, invitations are issued as a matter of course to Theo and his wife, Delmar, the harbormaster, and unofficially to Master Volant, in case he is minded to grace them with his presence. Although no official response is forthcoming, it becomes known that the restaurant staff will be assisted by Sidney's own chef from the Enclave. The oligarch is known to be particular about his meals.

* * *

    Ibn Fadil keeps alert for signs that his less than loved superior on the Rock has heard of his return--if she hasn't, of course, she ought to be replaced immediately given all the fuss, but there is no indication yet that she is anxious to hear from him; perhaps she is merely waiting for things to quiet down. A cautious visit to his cache of tools proves it undisturbed despite his long abence. A visit to the dowhar in hopes of getting news from the chatty avians results in him barely escaping with sanity and purse intact after several pairs besiege him, each vying with the others to get him to buy _something_ and talking so fast he is barely able to get a word in. After recovering from that he pays a visit to Dominic Halfear, the only jeweler on the Rock of any reputation (unless the reputation is one for cheating customers) and leaves satisfied that his commission will be carried out properly, and will be ready by the time the _Distraction_ leaves, scheduled for two days after the party.
    He is growing increasingly concerned about Kayan as the days pass. Everyone he asks shrugs and says of the orphan "he's around here somewhere" and directs him to someone else who may know but whom, it proves, has not actually seen the lad either.

* * *

    "They dare." The words are a growl, barely to be heard through the sound of angry breathing. "They are _flaunting_ themselves. Mocking me. Me!" He hears nothing but the blood beating through his veins, a slowly increasing tempo of fury. Eventually he notices the informant cowering near the door. "Go!"
    A moment after the door closes he pulls the cord to summon a servant. The man appears in silence, waits in silence for his master to speak. Victor, meanwhile, has belatedly realized that he cannot send a servant on this mission but must go himself--galling though it is to treat that jumped-up shopkeeper as anything like an equal....
    "Fetch my cloak," Victor snaps. His authority is such to carry him unquestioned across the Enclave's open spaces, into another wing of the complex and then to the office of the man he wants to speak to, who does not look pleased to see him. "I want to change our agreement."
    "That is not done," the other replies firmly.
    "They're not to leave Bral alive, none of them. I'll double the payment. Triple it. I'll have their shrunken heads as a billiards set if they think they can mock me!" And after them, a few others he had in mind.
    "What's sealed is done." He spreads his hands in a helpless gesture. "What we agreed upon will be delivered, no more, no less."
    "Don't play me for a fool," Victor snarls. "I know about your 'friends' in the underground. They could--"
    "No." More sharply this time. "That is a senseless risk." There had already been too many disappearances; he really must finish their order and get them off the Rock before they became a liability.
    Victor ground his teeth. "An accountant and a coward, I see."
    "I am a businessman, Master Victor," the genial man corrects him. "And I do not take foolish risks. And if you are thinking of dealing with them directly," he adds, seeing Victor's thoughts without much difficulty, "bear in mind that you would be hardly considered an appetizer."

* * *

    The day of the dinner Val watches as more crates are loaded into the _Distraction_'s hold. Along with supplies, the company is providing some trade goods they can use for bartering should they find themselves far from the known Flow, in hopes of garnering more customers for their wares. The little ship is already almost bursting at the seams. And there is still the question, where _are_ they going to go? It's one thing to agree to explore unknown reaches of the Flow, it's another to point the bow away from the known universe and *do* it....
    "'Scuse me, you Valarin?" The man is off the newly arrived _Yasar_, and he's holding a sealed paper.
    "I am."
    "Got a letter for you from Janik way." He grins a little as Val can't quite keep his expression from showing his interest, and hands it over. "Long damn way, but luck was with us, none of these damned pirates. Bold as brass they're getting. Quiet elsewise, though, I swear sometimes it seems even the sluk's been scared off by something, and I'd hate to see what could do that. You have a good day, sir," he touches his forelock and glances at the _Distraction_. "Beaut little ship there."
    It's from her, he's certain of it even before he opens it, as if a trace of perfume lingers even after all these months. _My dearest friend_ it begins in an elegant hand. _I pray this finds you well...._
    Counting back the days as best he can, Val figures the letter was written two or three weeks after they left Janik; the delays brought on by the encounter with the _Tear_ and shepherding the _Twist_ to her new masters had allowed it to catch up. He skims it rapidly, reading of the kindness of the temple dwellers, the safe delivery of a daughter they have named Constance Valerian--they, for she has been reunited with her beloved. The future is uncertain and Val's parting gift all the more welcome for that, but she is happy, and hopes that he is so as well. _Never fear that you are forgotten,_ she writes. _For I fear that I cannot repay even the least of the gifts you have given me, but I hope someday for an opportunity to so attempt, even as I hope to hear news of you soon. Ever your friend, Ginevra_.

* * *

    Taking a shortcut through a pair of storage buildings on his way to the celebration, Pham is again arrested by the sense of wrongness he had once before as he wandered the byways of the Rock. Almost a smell, one that takes him back to his homeworld and his wanderings with Marcus.
    Yes. That village they stumbled across one day. Most of its poor souls had been carried off by sickness, and those that remained huddled in one home as they fought to stave off the ghouls that had come to feed on the dead. The people's gratefulness had been short-lived, he remembers.
    He stands stock-still in the quiet way, as if listening for something. That sense... it is not so strong as it was in the village. Whatever it is, is very small, very weak, or perhaps something that was once here but is not now, and he continues on his way, deeply troubled.

* * *

    The room is brightly lamplit. The musicians tune their instruments in the corner. Mouthwatering smells waft through the air, along with a faint murmur of conversation from the main room. Wine is opened. Flowers --an expensive touch on the crowded asteroid--are adjusted slightly. A man sweeps in, surveys the preparations, nods, and sweeps back out.
    All is in readiness; let the dinner begin....
    

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