The Gathering Flame Read Online Free Page A

Waycross.”
    The captain threw a quick glance in her direction. “People say that about me, do they?”
    She didn’t know what to say in reply—most of Nivome and Ser Hafrey’s comments on the subject of Jos Metadi had been even more uncomplimentary than that. But the captain had already found what she supposed was the way out, another hinged door set flush with the grimy plast-block wall of the service corridor. He set his hand against it, pushed, and the door swung open.
    “This way, Domina.”
    She followed him out into what looked—and smelled—like a back alley, full of slimy puddles and malodorous garbage bins, illuminated only by the occasional blue safety glow. She wrinkled her nose.
    “It’s not as clean as the front lobby,” Metadi said, as if he’d seen her change of expression. “But it’s probably safer at the moment.”
    Something hot and bright red zinged past them before he finished speaking, and the plast-block next to Perada’s head bubbled up and blistered from the sudden intense heat. She drew breath to exclaim something—she wasn’t sure what—only to have most of the wind knocked out of her when the captain pushed her full-length onto the reeking pavement of the alley.
    Another instant, and he was on top of her, a warm and solid weight, with the gold buttons of his fine velvet coat digging into the flesh along her spine. Any urge she might have felt to protest died as soon as she realized that his entire body was between her and the source of the unexpected attack. For attack it was; Metadi had his blaster out and in hand, and she heard footsteps approaching, sounding rapid but at the same time cautious. She felt the captain’s free hand on her shoulder, pressing her down … Stay quiet. She had no trouble in interpreting the wordless command. Don’t move.
    Perada endeavored not to breathe.
    The footsteps drew closer—coming to check on the kill, she supposed. Then the weight on her back lifted as Metadi rolled away. A loud, high-pitched buzz sounded from close overhead, followed by the pop-and-flash of an exploding glow. She turned her head sideways as much as she could without raising it above the pavement, and saw Metadi, now in deep shadow, fire the heavy blaster twice more down the alley.
    The whole exchange, from the first shot to Metadi’s last, had taken only a few seconds. The owner of the footsteps was nowhere in evidence. Metadi rose out of the half-crouch from which he had fired, and held out a hand—presumably, Perada thought, it was safe for her to get up. She took the offered hand, and stood.
    Her mask was gone, forgotten and left back in the Double Moon. The blue dress—carefully chosen for the interview just past—had lost several of the tiny, hand-sewn buttons that gave the bodice its exquisite fit, and she didn’t want to think about what nameless substances might have been ground into the delicate fabric. On the other hand, she was alive, when she might well have been otherwise; and the understanding of it filled her with a peculiar sense of exhilaration.
    “Time to leave this place behind,” the captain said. “Even in Waycross, if you fire a blaster somebody eventually shows up to investigate.”
    “How soon is ‘eventually’?” Perada inquired. Getting arrested was something that Nivome and Ser Hafrey could extricate her from, but they’d exact a high price for their complicity in such an escapade. Legal entanglements, then, were best avoided.
    “Soon enough that camping out at this address isn’t a good idea,” said Metadi. “Where were you supposed to be meeting your two buddies after our chat was over?”
    She gestured at the building behind them. “In there—the front lobby.”
    “No good, I’m afraid. You came here from off-planet; is your ship waiting for you dirtside, or up in orbit?”
    “‘Dirtside’? Oh. Down here, yes.” She paused. “I’m sorry I can’t give you any better directions—I never expected the need.”
    She