Page 64 of Silent Lucidity

I am yours,her eyes said.

The gesture was enough to force him back from the edge, though it did not quench the fires in him. He allowed her to lead him to the nearby couch, where he sat down beside her and looped his left arm around her shoulders, leaving his right hand free in case he needed his blaster. Part of him still hoped for a good reason to draw it.

Alkorin sat down across from them, spreading his arms along the back of the couch and crossing one leg over his other thigh. The sedhi’s legs appeared to be cybernetic as well—the same dark metal as his hands, the same sleek design, the same faintly glowing yellow lines.

“Shall we leap to it?” Alk asked. “Are either of you currently registered in the Consortium’s identification database?”

“No,” Abella said.

“So, we will need two fresh chips. One for a terran, the other for a…?”

“Khetun,” Tenthil replied.

“I’m not sure I am familiar with any such species, and I make a point to keep myselfverywell-informed of the peoples listed in the Consortium registry.”

Tenthil released a sharp breath through his nostrils;khetunwas what his people had called themselves. What they should’ve been called here and anywhere else. But they were a race who had not even progressed beyond living in mud-daubed huts and cured-hide tents. They had no say in a place like this. “Zenturi.”

“Zenturi,” Alk narrowed his eyes and looked toward the ceiling, his tail—which lay across the cushion to his left—slowly undulating over the fabric. “Ah, I recall now. Popular in the underground arena circuits. I’m embarrassed by my own forgetfulness on that. It’s an unregistered species, illegally imported.”

Something didn’t ring true in Alk’s words.

“That a problem?” Tenthil asked.

“That would depend on how we approach it, my dear little zenturi.”

Tenthil tensed, but Abella squeezed his hand before he could lean forward and growl. He’d seen enough interactions between people like Alk—criminals of varying specialization and standing—that he should’ve recognized this for what it was. Shows of weakness were perceived as vulnerability and were considered fair grounds for attack. Shows of strength, whether of position, influence, or body, established superiority and—sometimes—gave pause to would be attackers.

This was a game. A dangerous game, undoubtedly, but Tenthil had always played with the highest possible stakes. He’d killed people a hundred times wealthier and more powerful than this sedhi.

“If you’re not skilled enough, we’ll seek elsewhere,” Tenthil said, pushing himself up.

For the first time since Tenthil and Abella had met the him, Alk showed something other than smugness—a flash of anger crossed his face, turning the pupil of his third eye into an almost imperceptibly narrow line and brightening the glowing marks on his skin.

“You will findno onein this city more skilled than me,” Alk said through clenched teeth, leaning forward and jabbing a finger toward Tenthil. “And you will find no one else in this line of work who treats the privacy of their clients with the respect and care I offer. If you want to pay a hack to implant chips that will get both of you arrested by the Eternal Guard or who will sell your new identities to anyone who offers a few credits, so be it. But I will not be insult—”

“Neither will I,” Tenthil said, meeting the sedhi’s gaze. He eased down onto the couch. “You are the best at what you do. I respect that. I’m the best at what I do. Respect me in turn.”

Alk clenched his jaw before taking in a deep breath. “And what is it you do, zenturi?”

“Kill people like you.”

Abella tensed, her blunt fingernails biting into the back of Tenthil’s hand. She turned her wide eyes toward the sedhi. “Let’s…just calm down. We’re here to do business, right?”

Alk didn’t look away from Tenthil. “Remove your hood and mask.”

Tenthil pulled back his hood with one hand and tore the mask off his face with the other, dropping the latter onto the couch beside him.

The sedhi’s stare persisted for a few more seconds before his eyes rounded, and he straightened. “You’re the one who attacked Drok a couple weeks ago. Right in the middle of his own club.”

Tenthil nodded once. He kept his attention on the edges of his vision, from which he could see two of the four autocannons mounted on the ceiling. Had he pushed Alk too far? Had he overstepped the unspoken boundaries of this verbal game?

Abella leaned forward slightly and said calmly, “We’re not looking for any trouble, Alkorin. We came to you because you’re the best, because you have a reputation for discretion, and because we had faith that you’d be able to help us. Tenthil and I have both been used as slaves. We have people after us, and there’s nowhere safe for us in this city. All we want is our freedom—and that means getting off this planet. Neither of us ever asked to be brought here.”

Alk lifted one of his hands. Tenthil tensed, ready to draw his gun and shove Abella away from the inevitable autocannon blasts, but the sedhi only ran his metal fingers through his dark hair, pulling it back between his horns.

“This is my business, not a charity,” Alk said. “But…we can all pretend we’re good friends while we sort this out, and I may even be inclined toslightlyreduce my usual prices in your case. Once we’re done, you go on your way, and I forget you were ever here and continue on with my life and my work.”

Tenthil nodded again.

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