Page 57 of Throwing Fire

“I can leave the Deeps if I must,” Acker says slowly. “The Island has many secret places. Places the Founders’ Eyes do not see.”

“Good. See what you think. If you two can work together, I’d like you to. If you can’t, you can’t.”

Acker gives me a long, black look. “Is it that simple?”

What’s with him? I frown. “Yeah, it is.” Something’s off.

He regards me levelly, and I give him the stare back. I haven’t done anything wrong; getting wounded’s just a fact of life. I learned long ago it’s not how you go down, it’s how fast you get back up. Finally, Acker nods.

“Hey,” I say. “If sending her to you was the wrong call—” I shrug, not ready to offer an apology.

He grins suddenly, sharp teeth on full display. “Doubtless the first of many.”

“Fucker.” I grin back. “Good thing you’re there to fix it.”

“Indeed. When are you coming tomorrow?” He tilts his head to the side. “That is, if you’re still coming tomorrow?”

I nod firmly. “Seventeen hundred. Don’t forget dinner.”

“My Wisdom has already started cooking. We will meet you at the spaceport. It is foolish for you to risk the streets.”

“That’s somethin’ Payton’s lookin’ at for me. I’ll let you know if she finds anything.”

His grin becomes, if possible, sharper. “I would be happy to help you with any, mmm, pointy problems.”

“I’ll hold you to that. See you tomorrow.”

He nods and taps the viewie on his end so the screen goes black. I tap the wall off.

Kez lets out a long breath. Rubs my shoulder. “What was that all about?”

Territory. And testosterone. I should have let him invite Payton into the Deeps. “Think I stepped on his toes.” I flick water off my fingers before I put my hand on her knee. “You goin’ somewhere?” She doesn’t usually wear black genSkin pants around the house.

“It’s the Gold Ball-Ball tonight. I know you’re not up to it, but I thought I’d show my face. Keep Ape company.”

I rub my other hand over my head. I’d forgotten about the Tyngaling function. Chiara’s presenting the Roysten DeSal team with an award for being the most productive division last year – well, the most productive legit division – at a formal dinner. Most of the Tyng brass will be there, along with a bunch of local diggys. I’d planned to go just to keep an eye on the security. Now I’ll go to keep an eye on Kez.

“I’m up to it.” I put my hands on the lip of the bath and haul myself out. It’s surprisingly painless.

Kez takes a towel off a free-standing rack beside the bath; shakes it until it starts to heat. She wraps the warm towel around me, rubs water off my chest with one end and smiles up at me. “I’ll be able to keep waiting on you.”

I kiss the tip of her nose. “You don’t need to do that. But you do need to stay close. I wanna be able to see you every second.”

Kez grins. That’s no hardship, I know.

“You’re goin’ tough-kitten tonight, huh?” I ask, nodding at her outfit. Black genSkin halter. Black genSkin pants. Titanium studs winking here and there to mirror the rings in her ears and face. Paleringlets that ain’t hers piled high above her head in a nod to formality; wigs are in this season, or so we’ve been told. It’s a stark look with her milk-pale skin and the black kohl around her eyes. Much harder-edged than usual.

“They think they can fuck with us,” she says.

“Not with you lookin’ like that, they won’t.” She’s sending a message. I can get behind that. “Everyone else ready to go?”

She snorts. “Chi will be at least another hour.”

Good. Gives me time to get dressed and over to Tyng Tower before the guest of honor arrives. I did the security plan a week ago and I don’t doubt that it’s being carried out. The Tyng security grunts aren’t bad people. But they ain’tmypeople, and they’ve been useless in dealing with the threats against Chiara so far. Mike’s doing the one-on-one detail, which is the most important. I’ll keep to the perimeter.

“Let’s go then, tiger.” I wrap the towel around my waist. One bare-assed trip through the house per day is enough. Kez takes my hand and walks beside me as we make our way to her bedroom. If I lean a little on her, she doesn’t mention it. She also doesn’t mention it when I dress to mirror her in black genSkin and stow a full arsenal of knives in various sheaths. I glance at the three swords I’ve hung on the wall over Kez’s bed. A saber, akatanaand an exceptionally beautifulkaliswith a real wood sheath that my knife-seller in Tiv found for me. “How much of a message we sendin’?”

She follows my line of sight to the swords, then back to me. Her eyes linger on a point above my eyes. Probably looking at the newskin. “A strong message,” she says.

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