A key turns and the door opens. The man who enters is balding, middle-aged, and slightly thick about the waist. He wears small spectacles, a flowery shirt and carries a bottle of water and a glass.
Not my idea of a kidnapper.
‘My lady,’ he says. ‘I heard you moving around.’
Not sure what Paulo sees in Sef’s face, but his voice falters. Putting down his offering, he begins to back towards the door. He’s not doing this because he thinks Sef might attack. It’s embarrassment that keeps him bent double.
‘Try to get some sleep,’ he suggests.
‘What?’
‘It’s for the best.’
‘Paulo,’ Sef says. ‘You locked me in.’
‘Lady Isadora said-’
Shouts from General Luc’s house stop anyone finding out what Sef’s Aunt Isadora said. Scurrying to the window, Paulo slides it up and throws back its shutters. A street door opposite opens hard enough to hit the wall. The Wolf has returned to find us gone.
At a sound of feet on his stairs, Paulo freezes.
No chance it’s General Luc. He’s still busy issuing orders on the street below, his voice tight and angry. He sounds a bad man to have as a CO.
Had a few like that in my time.
‘Serafina . . . my dear.’
Treacle sliding down razor blades. Maybe Sef feels the same, because her face tightens. Although she forces a smile, and turns from watching the street to face her visitor.
‘You have no idea how hard it was to track you down.’ Both Serafina and the newcomer are young, both blonde, both blue-eyed. There the likeness ends. Although they’re obviously twins, the newcomer got the brains.
Behind Sef and her reflection stands a man, looking concerned.
‘You’ve come to take me home?’
‘Of course,’ she says. ‘We’ve been looking all day. Vijay must be worried sick. As for you . . .’ Her gaze hits Paulo. ‘You’ll be dealt with later.’
The man behind the newcomer interests me.
He’s U/Free, dressed in elegant robes.
Some kind of smart silk that swirls through carefully chosen colours. His hand on the newcomer’s hip says he’s already had her. And his smile as he examines Sef says he’ll be happy to have her as well.
‘So,’ he says. ‘This is your sister?’
The reflection nods.
‘Ladies Simone and Serafina Rivabella y Kama.’ Although he sweeps them a low bow, there is something predatory in his gesture. And his grin is mocking as he strips Sef with his eyes.
‘Sir,’ Leona whispers.
I’m gripping the door frame tight enough to crush wood.
Morgan Trefoil is married to Paper Osamu. We have history. He cost me a corporal who could skewer an abseiling spider across a crowded bar with a single throw. We were lovers, Franc and I. She still throws that knife some nights in my dreams.
I’ve killed Morgan once already.
Unfortunately, he’s U/Free. So he had a back-up.
You can tell he’s U/Free from his smug little face. The puffy cheeks, the arrogant sneer. His type might preach equality, but only because they can afford to. They control the richest civilization the galaxy has ever seen. We’re the ones still scrabbling our way out of ditches.
You’ve probably worked it out.
I want him dead.
Again.
‘Time to go home,’ he tells Lady Serafina.
As Sef nods, something strange happens. Although Paulo’s obviously terrified of Morgan, he thrusts himself between the U/Free and the open doorway. Men like Paulo don’t do well in Farlight. It’s probably only his ability to dress the high clans that keeps him safe. Now, he’s risking it all. And for what?
‘Please,’ he begs. ‘Lady Isadora said-’
Morgan’s face tightens. ‘Stay out of this,’ he snaps. ‘You’re meddling in matters far above you.’
That’s Morgan all over. Patronizing bastard.
‘My lord,’ Paulo says.
A scowl floods Morgan’s face.
‘The U/Free don’t recognize titles,’ he says. ‘We certainly don’t use them ourselves. All people are equal in our eyes.’
Self-righteous, as well as patronizing.
‘But Lady Isadora insists-’
‘I don’t give a fuck what Lady Isadora insists.’
‘My lord . . .’
One second the dressmaker is standing there, the next he’s against a wall and his feet dangle six inches above the floor. Morgan has him by the throat. The U/Free’s muscles are augmented. Nothing else explains the speed at which he reacts.
Never seen Morgan lose it before.
Pretty impressive, if you take it at face value. I don’t . . . Taking things at face value gets you killed, according to my old lieutenant. Mind you, he read meanings into the number of vultures at the water hole, how many flies swam in his brandy and what time of day he first farted. Took bets on it too.
U/Free aren’t supposed to lose it. That’s for barbarians like us. So if Morgan is going apeshit he’s pretending or he’s scared. And why would a man like Morgan be scared?
Paulo’s eyes are popping.
The way they do when pressure builds behind them. Much more of this, and it’ll be a dead tailor Morgan holds.
‘You’re nothing. Understand me? You’ll do as you’re told. All of you . . .’
‘All of us? Really?’
General Luc stands in the doorway.
Light glitters from a lamp in his hand, and the flash of purple behind his rank badges shows almost black in the shadows. He has a smile on his lips at odds with the barely restrained fury in his eyes.
‘We’ll do what we’re told?’ General Luc repeats the words softly. As if he can taste them.
‘You know the agreement.’
‘Do I? Really?’
The Wolf steps into the room. A captain and Sergeant Toro step into the room behind him. His immediate staff from the look of things.
‘You know,’ General Luc says, ‘I don’t remember agreeing anything at all.’ He nods stiffly to the women. ‘My ladies. It’s late to find you out. And in such strange company.’
General Luc glances at Paulo.
The little dressmaker is on his knees, holding his throat.
It’s obvious the Wolf knows Serafina and Simone Rivabella y Kama. Equally obvious that Sef’s sister is unhappy to be recognized.
‘This has nothing to do with you,’ Morgan says.
‘It has everything to do with me.’
‘Paulo locked me in,’ Sef complains. ‘I don’t know why. He said he had some special lace he’d been saving for a dress as beautiful as mine.’
Yes, that sounds stupid enough for her to believe.
‘It didn’t occur to me he’d . . .’
The Wolf shows his teeth. ‘No,’ he says. ‘Obviously not. So, he asked you to travel all the way across the city just to look at lace?’
‘No.’ Sef looks more puzzled than ever. ‘That was my aunt.’
‘Lady Isadora?’
Sef nods. ‘She said Paulo had mentioned the lace to her and . . .’
As Sef’s words trail away, I wonder if she’s ever finished a sentence in her life. And decide I don’t care and it doesn’t matter. What matters is the friction between General Luc and the U/Free.
‘We’re taking Sef home,’ Simone says.
The general ignores her. ‘Tell me,’ he says to Paulo. ‘Why did you lock her in?’
‘Lady Isadora said it would keep her safe.’
‘From what?’
‘I don’t know, sir.’
‘Maybe not. But that’s the question. Isn’t it?’
Morgan draws himself up, and I know the man’s an idiot. If you have to draw yourself up when facing someone like the Wolf, you’re in the wrong fight.
‘You should stay out of this.’
‘Should I?’
‘Yes,’ says Morgan, nodding. ‘You should.’
When General Luc grins, yellowing canines gleam in the half dark of the room. And it’s obvious how he got his nickname. ‘My dear,’ he says to Sef. ‘What do you think your little dressmaker is keeping you safe from?’
She doesn’t answer. She just looks wide-eyed and beautiful and stupid. When she realizes General Luc is waiting for an answer, she shrugs to show she’s waiting for him to tell her.
Instead he asks if her aunt is kind to her.
‘Always,’ Sef says, tears in her eyes. ‘Very kind.’ She says this as if the rest of the world has been nothing but cruel.
‘So you trust her?’
Sef nods.
‘Then perhaps you should stay here?’ Walking over to the open shutters, General Luc looks at the windows opposite and glances at the rusting girder, judging the drop from the window where we were trapped.
‘You opened this window yourself?’
‘Yes,’ Sef says.
‘When?’
‘When I heard the noise outside.’
The Wolf nods to himself. ‘What’s through there,’ he demands, pointing at the door we hide behind.
‘A bathroom,’ Sef says.
‘You don’t object if I take a look?’
‘Don’t . . .’ Her voice is a squeak.
‘Why not?’
‘Because . . .’ She’s now bright red. ‘I didn’t . . .’
‘Flush it,’ the Wolf tells her.
‘The power’s gone.’
‘I can wait while you close the lid.’
That’s the high clans for you. Perfect manners and strict propriety, mixed with vast sums of money, extended lifelines, and a certainty everyone else exists to keep them amused. Much like the U/Free really.