GHOSTS IN THE GLASS Read online

  Tears broke past the dam of her eyelashes and washed down her cheeks in a hot river. It was too much, seeing him standing there, a dour grin on his bearded face. Too much to think about her father back in Dogton, perhaps dead because of this drunk, whom she’d once thought a friend. And the Sulari man, panting behind her, and the drell and the long days walking. . . all too much.

  She covered the last few yards with slow, even steps.

  Gairy nodded at her. “Did you—”

  Senqua slapped the bearded face as hard as she could. Her fingertips barely brushed his jaw.

  Blinking, he rubbed his chin. “The hell was that for?”

  “You son of a bitch!” Senqua struck him again, hitting his chest this time. Her fists had as much effect on that solid, heavy flesh as they might have had on a brick wall. “You selfish coward, Gairy Reidur!” Stepping back, she spat on his boots, shivering in mute rage.

  “That was. . . very stupid, He-Goat,” Aizr-hin said, leaning against his rifle. His words came between deep gulps of air as he caught his breath. “You. . . could have been killed.”

  Gairy grunted, fingering his chest. “Drell aren’t usually hostile but that one was getting too curious. Best to chase it off.”

  “I wasn’t talking about the drell bird killing you,” Aizr-hin replied dryly. “Senqua, on the other hand, is another matter, and I would not blame her. That was a very stupid thing to do given what passed between us a little while ago.” He lowered his voice. “Do not be such a fool to throw away your life, or ruin a friendship with a Shyiine.”

  “We ain’t friends,” Gairy said. All the triumphant swagger was gone, replaced by a sneer. “She’s just a scrawny girl who screwed up my chances at having a good life. If it wasn’t for her, I’d still be at the Old Tree Well, with water rights.”

  Senqua left them standing there, arguing. As she moved back to the fire, her heart slowed. Each beat squeezed her chest until it hurt. Her fists hurt, too, and when she rubbed the last of the tears away, her cheeks were still hot with a flush of anger. Worse than all of it was the tight knot of contempt her belly. Cruel and mean-spirited as he might be, Gairy Reidur was right to despise her. Maybe he would have been back at the well with his water rights if she’d have stayed inside the shack and kept her mouth shut.

  She sat near the fire, took the old knife from her belt, and began hacking at the cooked s’rat, not caring the grease scalded her fingers. Without thinking, Senqua took a bite, but the meat hung in her throat. She spat it out, tugged her yalei over her head, and curled up in the sand, listening to Aizr-hin and Gairy coming through the darkness—still arguing.

  Father always knew how to make sense of things, but I ruined any hope for him, too, didn’t I? He was right when he said it was too dangerous to be a scout.

  Far away, from the direction of the Senbehi foothills, the drell cawed. Senqua wished she, too, could soar high over the desert and leave the world behind.

  Homesteader

  “Damn it!”

  Mi’et turned at the sound of Kaitar’s voice. A field pack thudded to the ground. Others dangled from broken leather straps, which had bound them to Molly’s saddle. The mule lowered her head to nose at the lumpy bag.

  Kaitar kicked sand. “Half a mile from Steig’s and of course this would happen. That’s my shit luck, hm, Molly?” The scout sighed as he inspected the frayed end of rawhide, then stooped to pick the tarnished buckle from the sand. With an expression of pure disgust, he shoved it into his back pocket. “Going to have to fix this before we go on.”

  Annoyance tickled the edge of Mi’et’s dark mood; he hadn’t wanted to go see the old Druen Kaitar said lived in the low scrub valley and further delay their journey to the Belt.

  “Just carry the pack,” he said. “I’ll get the waterskins and canteens. We’ll fix them at that homestead you want to go waste time at.”

  Kaitar fixed him with a sidelong look. “Ten minutes, Mi’et. The fuck difference is that going to make? Steig isn’t going anywhere. It’ll be dark in two more hours. And by the time we’ve worked out a deal with him, he’ll want us to stay and camp in his barn.” He balanced a sleeping roll across Molly’s withers. “Be happy we’ll have a roof over our heads for a change.”

  “I don’t care about having a roof over my head.”

  “You’ve never been caught out in a dust storm. You learn to appreciate a roof after camping in one of those.” Testing knots with quick, strong jerks, Kaitar finished tied the broken straps. He rubbed one of Molly’s long ears, then hoisted the fallen pack. The miet slid out and hit the dust. Staring at the weapon as though it might rise up and strike, he said, “I can’t believe you brought that.”

  “You have your yatreg. A miet could be just as useful.”

  “Useful for what? Taunting threk?”

  Mi’et nearly smiled at the scout’s sour expression. “There are more uses for a weapon than that.”

  Kaitar picked up the miet, inspecting it. “My yatreg can skin a snake, but this? This thing only has one use, so tell me. . . you planning on murdering me in my sleep?”

  “Is that what you think I’m going to do?”

  “I never know what the hell you’re going to do.” Kaitar shoved the weapon back into the pack and tied it closed. “That’s the problem, and it’s why Orin kept you on such a tight leash.”

  “And where was your leash?”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Not today.” Mi’et’s nostrils flared as the wind rose. “I can smell that homestead from here. Are we going to go, or are you going to stand around talking all night?”

  The scout didn’t even look his way as he adjusted the mule’s girth strap. “I might. Molly’s better company than Steig—or you. Go on ahead if you’re in such a hurry. It’s just over that rise and down the valley. You’ll see it once you hit the top.” Kaitar paused, the late afternoon sun cutting shadows across his face and turning his amber eyes golden.

  Worm Glass. The Shyiine will want him even if he doesn’t understand that yet. I—

  Shame pushed against Mi’et’s thoughts, an impenetrable wall crushing whatever hope had been budding beneath its shadow. The rosy petals of recollection went gray and dead.

  They won’t want a ruin.

  With an effort, he regained a measure of the stoic apathy that had served him so well as a slave. “The old Druen might shoot me if I just walk up to his door.”

  “Hm?” Kaitar glanced up from his work. “No, he won’t. If you were Estarian and didn’t have anything useful to trade, he might. Now, if you were Pihranese, he’d shoot you on the spot. But he’ll like you.” He flashed a sardonic smile. “You two can communicate in grunts and get along just fine. Go on, Mi’et. I’m going to give Molly a little rest before she climbs this hill, anyway. I need to check to make sure nothing else is going to break. Might as well do it now. Just tell Steig you’re traveling with me.”

  “Are you going to run off when I turn my back?”

  “For fuck’s sake, you know I’m not.” The words sounded more weary than angry. Kaitar leaned against the loaded saddle. “Go on. I’ll be behind you in a minute. I want a bit of peace before I deal with another Druen.”

  “I thought you said this Steig was a friend? If he’s not, we’ll just keep going west.” Mi’et wiped some of the dust from his brown yalei, but the grime and sweat on his palms only left a long smear. “I’m not going to waste time trying to negotiate with an enemy.”

  “Heh, Steig’s decent enough. Me, on the other hand? You know I’m not one for company.”

  “Neither of us are. We never did like people. You used to like scaring the other culls, but you’d talk to me, sometimes. Ask how my mother was. Ask who was supposed to win the fight.” The memory warmed Mi’et more than the desert sun beating against his shoulders. “You helped me put on the miet, and I’d make sure your ahn’raka was tied, do you recall?”

  Kaitar nodded solemnly. “And we’d swear vengeance on the entire Sulari empire t
ogether. I haven’t forgotten.”

  Mi’et grinned. “Don’t run off, or I’ll come and find you again.”

  Kaitar waved him away and fished a pepper bloom cigarette from his pocket. Mi’et left him to smoke in peace and trudged up the incline.

  The foliage had grown increasingly sparse the further west they traveled; even the thorny scrub and patches of reedy grass became scarce. Acacia were still common, however, and several jutted on the horizon like bony arms waving a farewell. He didn’t like the way their long shadows stretched as the afternoon inched to evening.

  At the bottom of a long slope, a small homestead poked up from the middle of the valley. A few chickens pecked near the dusty front yard, seeking out spiders and flies. Several yards from an ancient barn, an old windmill creaked rustily. If it had ever been painted, the wind had scraped clean every bit of color years ago. The cabin itself sported a green tin roof, glaring brightly under the afternoon sun. Heavy canvas draped across each window, obstructing his view of whatever might be inside the cabin.

  Listening to the sound of a da’mel bellowing from its pen near the barn, Mi’et shielded his eyes and studied the place. He could smell water, faint but clean, mingling with the stronger scent of livestock. His tongue ached for a taste of water not made stale by a canteen, but he hesitated. Except for the chickens, the valley remained still—even the da’mel had fallen silent. A faint electric hum reached his ears, coming from a shining wire fence at the foot of the hill, bedecked with bells, silverware, and old belt buckles. They clattered in the breeze, throwing a metallic spectrum of white, orange and gold.

  Unease rolled deep in Mi’et’s belly; he stood in plain view, yet the Druen hadn’t come out to see who had come calling. Before he could ponder the situation further, the soft thud of hooves dampened the fence’s electric drone.

  “Why are you standing there?” Kaitar asked, leading Molly so close Mi’et could feel her warm breath against his back.

  “The fence.”

  “There’s a switch on the main post. Right over there, at the bottom of the slope. See it? Come on, I’ll turn it off.”

  Irritated, Mi’et turned on his heels. “How many times have you been here? Why didn’t you ever tell Orin? There’s no record of a homestead this close to the Belt.”

  Kaitar tugged Molly’s reins. “Steig asked me not to map it. Shit, Mi’et, not every Enetic wants to be on those files they send Avaeliis. And what difference does it make? He just lives out here and minds his own business and doesn’t bother anyone. Told me he’s been out here half a century or better.” Glancing over his shoulder, he added, “First time I ever heard you worry about what was on Orin’s reports. Why’s it got you so worked up?”

  “You keep too many secrets. What else are you hiding out here?”

  “Enough to keep us alive for a long time without having to go to the damned Belt. I keep telling you that. We don’t have to go west. I have some resources out here we could tap into, if we need. You could have come out with me scouting all those years and saw for yourself.” Kaitar’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me the truth. Why didn’t you?”

  Mi’et shrugged. “Orin told me I wasn’t fit for scouting.”

  “Bunch of bullshit, Mi’et.” Kaitar tossed the reins at him, then paused to rub the mule’s cheek affectionately. “Hold him back, Molly, or he’ll walk right into the fence and get himself killed, hm? Looks like Steig’s out rounding up his goats for the night. He’ll be back before dark and you’ll get to sleep in a barn for a change. No threk tonight.”

  “She can’t understand you. Why do you talk to her? She’s a mule. If you wanted me to hold her, just say so.”

  “She’s Enetic, same as you and me. Maybe she doesn’t know the words, but she understands my mood. She’s got one up on you there.”

  “Shyiine shaman can talk to animals and make them understand. My mother told me the old stories.”

  “Anyone can talk to animals if they pay enough attention. Most people don’t want to take the time, that’s all. Molly’s smart, so with her, it’s easy. She likes you, Miet, did you know that?”

  Mi’et grunted; it wasn’t the mule he was thinking of, but the day he’d first seen Kaitar, some forty years past. Madev’s household guards had dragged Kaitar to the sparring pit, still dressed in the tattered clothing of a stable slave. The scent of horses had clung to his hair—an innocent smell, soon to be washed away with blood and bitterness. The smell of bread and spices from Gah’leen’s kitchens had been scoured from Mi’et’s own skin, replaced with the visceral odor of a pit champion.

  The hum of the fence swelled in Mi’et’s ears, so loud his eardrums beat with the electric pulse. It snapped to silence as Kaitar reached across the line, found the switch at the old wooden post, and flipped it off.

  “That damned noise,” the scout muttered, tugging the wires loose from the post. Buckles, silverware and bells jingled as he jerked at the fence, oddly musical. “Don’t know how Steig lives around it. I’ll have to wrap it again once we’re inside. Bring Molly through.”

  They waited the better part of an hour in the front yard, watching the chickens peck around. Molly wandered, lipping at the scrub near the barn as if she’d proclaimed it hers. The da’mel in the corral bared its teeth at the red mule several times, but she merely flicked her ears, swished her tail, and grazed past.

  “The da’mel doesn’t like your mule,” Mi’et said. The heat soaking into his back from the porch post grew more uncomfortable by the minute. “It’ll bite her if she gets too close. She’s taunting it.”

  Kaitar sat on the dusty porch step, looking more amused than concerned. “It thinks it’s going to scare Molly off. Doesn’t know she’s used to facing worse than a surly da’mel. She’ll give it a good kick if it tries to bite.”

  Mi’et stretched to alleviate the stiffness in his shoulders. A line of ants marched from a nearby nest and circled around his boots. “We could have made another five miles by now. The Druen might not be here. He might have been chased off. Died, maybe.”

  “He’s here. Steig does things on his own time. If he were dead, I’d know something was wrong. Molly would, too. She’d have scented it and would be nervous. But look at her.” Grinning, Kaitar pointed as the mule nosed a chicken pecking between her front hooves. “She’s not even twitching an ear.”

  “You never smiled like that in Dogton. Not around anyone but that mule.”

  “If you expect me to walk around grinning like an idiot because you’re jealous of a mule, you can—” Kaitar sat up straight, alert. “Mi’et, listen.”

  At first, he heard nothing except the distant buzz of the fence. Molly, too, lifted her head to stare westward toward the far side of the valley, where red dunes rose against the horizon. Then, his ears picked out the bleating of excited goats. The frantic sound of jingling bells grew steadily louder, overriding the hum of the fence and proceeded by a high plume of grit. Shadows cut across the land, dancing ahead of the noisy goats like spidery wraiths.

  “Here he comes.” Kaitar stood and kicked dust from his boots. “I told you, Steig does things on his own schedule.”

  “The hell are you doing on my land?” a voice boomed. “Who’s sitting there on my porch? Speak up, or I’ll stop botherin’ with courtesy and shoot you on the spot.”

  Mi’et glanced at Kaitar. “You said he would welcome us.”

  “He will,” Kaitar replied, looking undisturbed. Raising an arm, he called to the approaching Druen. “It’s me, Steig. Besh! We’re traveling through and wanted to stop here.”

  “Besh! Should have known,” Steig called back, a huge, black smudge against the glare of sunset. “Kaitar the bandit! First thought I had. Laughed my ass off at the thought. Your mule’s about to get overrun.”

  “Molly won’t mind. But keep that da’mel of yours locked up.”

  The first goats scampered into the barren yard, bleating a welcome as they roved about, scaring the chickens and trampling the dust under their da
inty, split hooves. Molly snorted with casual annoyance as the Druen’s entourage inspected her. A few came close to Mi’et, staring up at him with strange, elongated eyes, their beards waggling. One butted its head playfully against his thigh. He shoved it away.

  “Who’s that with you? Tell him to keep his hands off my goats.”

  “His name’s Mi’et. He’s a friend,” Kaitar called. “He was a pit slave under the Sulari, same as me.”

  “Yvres-cursed Sulari!” Steig lumbered into the yard, trailed by the last of his shaggy convoy. He stood nearly seven feet tall and seemed wide as a boulder. An iron-gray beard and side whiskers hid much of his broad face, and his wide, flat-bridged nose shadowed two shrewd, blue eyes. Atop his head, Steig wore a slouch-brimmed cap, so caked with red grit the true color had been completely lost. A varmint rifle hung from a strap along his shoulders, looking like a mere toy.

  The old Druen glared at Kaitar. “You think you can just bring strangers here? You know how I feel about company that I don’t personally invite. He ain’t got no Pihranese in him, does he?”

  Mi’et bristled. “I am not Pihranese.”

  “Or Estarian,” Kaitar added.

  “No, guess not.” Steig swiped the cap from his head and beat it against his leg. “You got Druen in you, though, and Shyiine. That’d account for your looks, I guess.” He sniffed. “Might be we’re kin.”

  “All my kin are dead,” Mi’et said.

  “So are mine, that I’m aware of. That’s not sayin’ I don’t have relatives wandering around somewhere. Might be some even got desperate enough to bunk up with a Shyiine.” Steig grinned as he slapped the cap back over his shaggy head. “Suppose you two will want somethin’.”

  “You owe me a few favors.” Kaitar lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “We’ve got a long way to go, and need to restock our supplies.”

  “Where the hell would you two be goin’? Why you out here this time of year, Kaitar? It’s winter; you usually den up closer to Dogton ’til spring, don’t you? Got no sense, damned Shyiine.”