Chapter 18 - Fall From Grace #3
Suddenly, she turns and enters a pub. It’s set back from the road and separated from the houses around it; a holo-sign stutters in and out of sight, declaring it the Bright Star.
I stumble at the boundary, my nerves sparking.
Watching the door swing shut behind Tanisira gives me a moment to catch my breath.
It’ll be hard to hide in there, and if she spots me and rips into me for being a creepy stalker whacko, she’d be entirely within her rights.
I’m hoping the pub is busy, hazy, and booming.
I inhale deeply and duck inside, instantly swamped by sensory stimulation.
Loud, folky music plays, accompanied by a dozen voices talking over each other, singing and murmuring.
The aroma of something thick and meaty sets my stomach rumbling even as the smell of hops and body odour sets my nose to wrinkling.
With my cap pulled as far down as it can get before it becomes a necklace, I skirt the hand-sawn tables crammed into every possible nook and cranny until I reach the bar.
Like all pub counters, it’s noisy and sticky.
I join the line of punters waiting to be served and surreptitiously glance around.
From my vantage point, there are two stories, and I can’t tell where the stairs are—there’s definitely no lift in this place.
The inside isn’t as run-down as its exterior.
Exposed beams arch overhead, illuminated by floating holos with more staying power than the sign outside.
The folk music is coming from a band playing live on a small stage, although the singer is a projection.
I’m a little confused as to why the floor is covered in sawdust, but the rest of the surfaces are a mixture of sturdy materials, slightly worn with time but well maintained.
After I grab a bottle of something sweet and cloudy, it takes me ten minutes to scan the whole room without outright staring into everyone’s face.
I use the bottle as a kind of shield and walk around like I’m looking for a seat or a friend.
It works, somewhat, and I only receive a handful of weird looks, none of them Tanisira.
When I hit a wall, literally, I gather that she’s either upstairs or she snuck out the back.
The idea of heading back to the ship by myself in the smoky darkness of night is terrifying.
A hand tugs at me, startling me out of my thoughts. The man attached to the hand leers at me. “Hey, darling,” he says in Tellurian.
I back up. He’s not very tall or very big, but he is a man with a broad hand on my arm and a smirk on his face.
I glance behind him to see if anyone is watching, if he has friends with him, but no one seems to notice us in the corner.
Deciding to play the tourist card and shake him off, I stare back with exaggerated confusion.
He crowds me, penning me in between the wall and his body. He smells like sweat, oil, and vodka. When I don’t say anything, though I shift onto my back foot like I’ve seen Tanisira do, he looks me up and down sceptically.
“What are ya, foreign?”
We’re all foreign; Novus is a man-made waystation with no native population.
But I’m struck by an idea, and a torrent of words pours out of me.
I babble in Mandarin, one of the languages I’m fluent in.
If a native speaker joined us, they’d have something to say—my execution isn’t perfect—but for this guy, it’s more than enough.
His confusion is written in the deep grooves on his forehead.
He’s too slow to stop me from ducking under his arm.
Back in the main room, a small, previously overlooked staircase is tucked beside the bar.
Before my new friend decides to track me down like game, I slip around patrons with ease; my stature coming in handy, for once.
I bound up the dimly lit stairs, coming to a halt on the landing.
As I follow the hallway, I catch a familiar voice raised in irritation.
It’s coming from behind a closed door at the end of the hallway.
I press myself to the wall, straining to hear over the music wafting up from the bar.
Still, I catch the next sentence with startling clarity.
Maybe it’s because the timbre of the man’s voice is something like a hammer along my spine, or maybe it’s because I hear danger in it.
“The prodigal, Myth, before my very eyes. How things have changed. Business not booming?”
Myth?
“Are you done?” Tanisira’s voice is cold, icier than I’ve ever heard it, and a chill runs across my body. I don’t understand what that man’s talking about, what’s happening, or why I’m suddenly fearful. She continues. “You know my terms.”
“Indeed.” The man then drops into Surya-Vaani with an ease that belies his fluency but without the melody that’d mark him a native.
“I heard about your fall from grace. Imagine my surprise when I found out you’re not actually the stand-up citizen you pretended to be.
All along, you were a dirty little trafficker. ”
“I’ll take my money to someone else,” Tanisira replies.
She sounds bored, but if I’m not mistaken, this man just called her a trafficker. I stare at the door in confusion. In her shoes, I’d want to refute an accusation like that.
“Sit the fuck down,” the stranger snaps.
“Don’t talk to me like that, old man. Do you want my business or not?”
“Tell me something first. Was it your idea or Gil’s to move from contraband to flesh? I must admit, I didn’t think you capable, but I suppose greed gets everyone in the end.”