Page 36 of Defiance
I cleared my throat and turned towards the port entrance. “So! Do you have a favorite local pub, Mr La?we?”
“As a matter of fact…”
?
It turns out La?we Sath was a craic time. He guided us through the markets of Hja Qiyua, the Union capital of Piaoguo, knowing very little about agriculture other than what tasted good and how to make the wide variety of mushrooms and mussels wiggle or spit. His expertise was in colony law and contract negotiations, which sounded far too important to be assigned as a glorified tour guide.
“On the contrary,” he said, walking backwards while I skimmed my hands over oysters with iridescent obsidian shells and tapped the spore blooms on a curtain of teal fungi. Afterliving in a red jungle, I hadn’t realized how starved I was for green and blue, and Piaoguo was drowning in it. “This is a dream assignment. You do live in the Union’s most elusive colony, after all, yes? Perhaps I can glean some exclusive intel.”
“I don’t know. Humans are very mysterious,” I said, waggling my brows. Fun as he was, I wasn’t giving him anything on the colony or even humans in general.
I think he expected that though, because he laughed, his big smile exposing a set of thick fangs in both the upper and lower jaws, just like a camel. They were set further back in his mouth rather than up front like the venandi or advenans, so that when he smiled without laughing, I couldn’t see them.
“Here we are,” he said, leading me with a gesture towards a shadowy arch that had been carved into intricate geometric patterns. The deep cuts of cream and pale blue marbled sandstone were rounded on the edges from thousands of hands. Sapphire drifts sloped against the corners and colored between the cobblestones, polished from centuries of foot traffic.
The smaller details looked like they might be writing. I brushed my fingertips over the diagonal wedge marks. What was that ancient writing system… Cuneiform? It was similar, save the two perfectly vertical slash marks at my eyeline.
Maybe it was a menu. Or prayers. An address? I snorted, imagining they were restaurant notices you’d find on the windows.No jeans, no trainers.
Agent Gaul glanced at the pillar with me, his face unreadable. I grinned.
“What do you suppose it says?” I asked him. “No free wifi? Restrooms for customers only?”
He huffed, but some of the tension in his face eased. His ear twitched towards me. “Are these what humans write on their business walls?”
I grinned. “No shoes, no shirt, no service. Service dogs only. Free straw with drink purchase.”
“You have to tell people the straw is free?” he balked.
Amusement cracked open the agent’s steely expression. He shifted on one hip, tilting his utility belt and the slim weapons stored along his thigh as he leaned his elbow on the pillar. I swallowed, ignoring how unsteady his attention made me feel. Hot and cold at the same time. My soul was muggy, damp, somewhere between anticipation and embarrassment for how easily I’d forgotten our river rendezvous was a calculated choice.
I wouldn’t forget again.
“What can I say? Some of us haven’t the full deck.” I tapped my temple. Gaul’s tongue tasted the air as he hissed a chuckle.
Mr La?we wound back around the alley and gestured to me.
“Come, Ms Halloway.”
The little restaurant had no door, rather a set of stairs that led into a half-basement room with alabaster-painted walls and floors. A sort of net covered the floor like a rug, and attracted sand particles into its fibres so that the areas of netting around the windows and stairs were vibrant blue while the rest was faded maroon. Agent Gaul looked in, then stepped aside so I could enter first.
“Da le!”our host called. The dining area was empty with smooth benches enough for only two or three parties.
“Da le, da le!”someone responded from beyond a set of curtains.
Mr La?we gestured me in and I stomped my feet on the net. I wandered to a bench with a long, narrow table, all carved right out of the floor. It reminded me of cob houses with their smooth round walls and windows. The entire interior here was plastered over, too. Probably to keep the gritty stone from crumbling.
“We’ll be having a universal dish that’s native here,” Mr La?we said, sitting down on the other side of the bench. “Since you’re an ichthyologist, I assume you’re comfortable eating water vegetation?”
“Aye, and I’ll try anything once,” I said, scootching down my side of the bench. I looked out the door where Agent Gaul was still standing and patted the seat beside me. “Come on, Novak!” My heart twisted using his first name out loud since the last time I’d said it was at the river, but it was wiser to use the name he’d introduced himself with. “No sense in roasting out there.”
Gaul peered inside, his hands holding the same places on the archway that others had for as long as it had existed as his tail paced from one side of the narrow alley to the other. He was taller than Mr La?we, ears bending back where they hit the top of the arch. Their eyes met and he blinked away first.
“Thank you, Ms Halloway, but I’ve already eaten.”
I squinted at him. No he bloody well didn’t.
“Please, I insist,” Mr La?we said. The hjarna from the back room came out with two bowls of bouncy, curly seaweed and paused halfway to the table, staring at Agent Gaul. Mr La?we held up his hand to him with a smile and the proprietor’s eyes caught on the markings on his crest. “There’s no reason for Novak to stand out in the heat, yes?”
