broccolifloret

  The bedroom in Torres's apartment had very little room for anything other than the bed, the slim closet, and the door to the bathroom. With us, it was practically filled to capacity. Valentino stuck his back to the door so I could move around.

  I id myself on the bed over my stomach, like a lizard, and stretched my head toward the window. It was open to let in the afternoon breeze; a mosquito net blocked unwanted visitors and a thin old curtain, enough of the sunlight. They also blocked me from the intrusive stares of the newcomers, as long as I didn't raise my head. From what I could glimpse, they did have the look of the toughs gathering at the main avenue.

  "What happened to your hand?" one of them asked.

  "What's that to you?" Torres replied. His right hand was missing. I was used to it, so I didn't really think about it.

  "The pale ones did it?"

  Torres snorted. "Factory accident. I was all of twenty. Got kicked out without my monthly pay so I took up hustling. Turns out I'm real good at it. What, wanna write a book about that? You should."

  My stomach tightened. Valentino had heard that. He'd know what the tough meant. Even if they didn't call guards "pale ones" in the capital slums, it wasn't hard to connect it with their white-and-gold uniforms. And he had to know that people suspected of being dissidents were often short a hand when they left prison cells. Sometimes alive, sometimes not.

  They wouldn't dare accusing Torres of being a dissident, right? Of course you didn't need proof, but throwing spells for bck market sellers is even worse than being a hustler. Nobody wanted to attract the guards's attention. They wouldn't dare!

  If anything happened to Torres because I'd attracted this party to his door...

  "So that's why you're hiding one," another tough said.

  "Don't be stupid. Why would a guard bother hiding in my apartment? From who? Leave. You look stupid."

  Of course they weren't going to leave just like that. If I wanted to get rid of them, I had to give them what they asked for—but not what they wanted.

  I threw myself on the bed hard enough to make some noise. "Hey, stop!" I whispered, making sure it was just loud enough to be noticed from outside. "You can't just shove it in!"

  "What's your problem? My nephew just dropped by with his lover," Torres said.

  "Oh, yeah! Nephew!"

  Of course Torres wouldn't expect them to believe that, but a part of me wanted to jump out and make sure they weren't assuming I'd brought a client to his pce. I might not be more than a dabbler, but I still was more professional than that! My lovers may not pay me in nureals, but they paid for a room! When I slept with Torres or his friends, it was just for fun.

  Valentino caught my eye. He pointed at himself.

  I couldn't really hide him in the bathroom, so he might as well join in. I nodded, trying to think of further instructions.

  You know, I'm sure Torres talked about hustling because it'd be too suspicious if the toughs asked around and got another story, and I went with the same thing partially out of consistence and partially because, in a pinch, you tend to fall back on what you know. But it's a good thing we did that, because it helped me come up with an idea.

  "You're not a guard!" I whispered. "Just a guy from the capital who got mistaken for one. And you're pissed at them for interrupting your fun."

  He nodded. Man, he sure could undress fast. He also shook his hair free of its braid and tied it back loosely, a good idea—it still was too eyecatching for my taste, but a bit less so. Betedly, I tugged my boots, socks, and pants off, and almost fell off the bed on my face. Torres was still arguing with the toughs, but I wasn't going to stop and listen to them. Valentino looked at me.

  "Go pick up a fight," I said.

  Not gonna lie, it's good guards are used not to question orders, because I think mine sounded pretty questionable. But maybe Valentino's intuition helped him again. He burst out of the bedroom with his shoulders hunched in mock anger. At least I hope it was mock. I followed him, struggling to open my shirt and hoping it looked like I was struggling to put it back on.

  "Open up!" Valentino barked. Silently, Torres unlocked the door.

  One of the toughs burst right in, almost smming the door on Torres's face. He compined, but nobody was paying him any attention--myself included, because Valentino had taken me very seriously, and lunged at the toughs with magic firing up all over his skin.

  I threw myself on his way, wrapping my arms around him as if I didn't know he could shove me aside without even trying. Valentino smelled a bit of sweat and the kinda cheap soap he used. He stood still as soon as I touched him—I think he was concerned about hurting me, and after that mess with the Tekitekis he might as well be. I gave him my back, facing the toughs. Silhouetted against the afternoon sun from outside, they were a breathing shadow.

  "I'm gonna kill 'em," Valentino said. He sounded different from his usual bnd capital accent; I couldn't pce it, but I'm pretty sure that was his slums accent coming up.

  "You're wrong!" To be honest, it wasn't very hard to sound frightened. Valentino tried to push me out of his way—I don't think he looked very effective, but I guess it was believable that he wouldn't want to hurt his lover. "You got the wrong guy!"

  "He's a guard," two of the toughs said at the same time.

  "No, no!" I stuck closer to Valentino. He grabbed my shoulder, but didn't do anything. "We've been here since te morning! I don't know what happened since, but it has nothing to do with us! And—you asked about a blond man with a Vorsa accent, didn't you? Because, because, if you wanted a local guard you wouldn't go asking around, you could just find out where he lives."

  I could, just barely, notice them sckening a bit. Hesitating.

  "Look, I don't know who you're looking for, and I don't care, but you're gonna miss him like that. Did you think of that? I bet he's already gone on his way."

  "You're saying," one of them asked, "the guard wanted to lead us here?"

  Aw, man! Why did I have to get a smart tough? The longer this went on, the easier for me to fuck up.

  "Well, yes. He's a Sabrewing, they're complicated like that. They're used to the court!"

  "And how did you know he's a Sabrewing?" another tough asked. More than one quick thinker! But this time I was anticipating the question, and had my answer ready.

  "Why else would a guard from the capital come all the way down here? They know we have our own guards, you know."

  I could anticipate what they were thinking, too. A Sabrewing wouldn't go somewhere with no Lemarezins, but there was a single Lemarezin to be found in I Doronte. In my travels I'd learned that many people knew of my existence, but almost nobody beyond El Meandro and the nearby hills knew my name, never mind my face. To most, I was much like the King of the Dying Sun; a real person less real than a legend.

  "He's right, you know", Torres said. I think he'd kept his mouth shut so far to avoid needling the intruders any further. He's not the most diplomatic person, as you've probably noticed. And I have to say the toughs didn't seem very pleased to be reminded of his existence. "Are you really gonna mess with one of Her Magnificence's pdogs? Did you ever see what happens to an oathbreaker? I did. The Imperium will get you, just as it got that person. They won't find enough of your dust to fill a matchbox."

  The toughs hesitated, but not as much as you'd expect, considering they knew perfectly well Torres was right. It was exactly as I'd suspected, then.

  I had to raise the stakes.

  "Dust?" I asked. "Not even that."

  This time, I couldn't even hear them breathing.

  "Her Magnificence nothing." Valentino tried to push me away once more, but I stood firm. "I'm gonna kill 'em all."

  "No you won't! Look, we don't have to do this!"

  Before I could even finish that sentence, vague indecipherable shouts came from the distant left, in the main avenue's direction. Maybe if we hadn't been so busy trying to talk over each other, we could've heard them before. The toughs hesitated for only a moment before they all ran away, just like that.

  Reacting before Torres or me, Valentino went to the door and looked around, not even caring that all of his clothes had been left on the bedroom floor. Well, if I had that broad chest—and everything else—I'd let everybody feast their eyes on it.

  I slumped on the same chair from before, staring at my hands. My intuition, if that's what it was, had grasped at least some of what was going on, but my conscious mind didn't want to think about it.

  "Azul," Torres said. I lifted my eyes. "Take a deep breath."

  I did. He put a beer right out of the coldbox in front of me.

  "Your Excellency," Valentino asked, "should I go over there and find out what's going on?"

  I sighed. "Yes, do that."

  Valentino saluted and disappeared into the bedroom. He could re-dress just as fast as he could undress; a few moments ter, he was rushing out of Torres's apartment and into the streets. Wisely, Torres locked the door behind him.

  I sipped my beer. It was thick and dark and malty. I would've appreciated it more some other time. Strangely, I thought Vanth would probably like it.

  Torres dropped himself on the chair opposing mine. "Azul, what the fuck is going on?"

  "I don't know. Way too much shit is going on, all at the same time." I thought of the strike and the guard with a dog's head and the sniffers and hells knew what else. If I tried to expin it all, I'd miss my train. "You've already figured out the Megarchon summoned me to the capital. I don't know why."

  "If she's gathering up all the distant retives, shit's bad."

  I suppose he was thinking that many Lemarezins don't survive a new Megarchon's ascension.

  "No, it's probably not that bad. For me, at least." He didn't need to say he wasn't buying it, I could see it right in his face. "Well, it's the first time there's no proper successor who can quicken the Imperium. Whoever wins will need all the help they can get." Oh, right! Vanth! "And also, I'm not in this alone. Wanna see something that's really something?"

  Torres frowned. He looked like he hadn't been impressed in his life and wasn't going to start now.

  I lifted my left sleeve. The snake bracelet lifted its head and licked the air.

  Torres inhaled. "Is that real? What a stupid question! Of course it is."

  I let him examine the bracelet while I finished my beer. He didn't touch it though, only my arm.

  "Who gave you that? Surely not one of your lovers."

  "Kinda. He's the King of the Dying Sun."

  Torres scratched his head with the end of his right arm. "That makes as much sense as anything, I guess."

  "Yeah. He said it protects its owner against bleeding out."

  "Well, I don't think you should just take him at his word. What if it doesn't protect you when you're relying on it?"

  I swear the little snake's green eyes glowed with wounded pride. Torres was right, though.

  "Sure, wait a second." I took my utility knife from my boot, rolled up my right sleeve, and made a cut along my right arm.

  Torres hissed. "Azul, what the fuck! I thought you'd just prick your finger!"

  "What's the point of testing it in a safe pce if I'm not going to test it properly?" I shook my arm. Not even a drop of blood slid out. "Hey, look at this! I'm going to be harmed if my blood can't circute properly, though."

  Just as I was saying that, the wound closed itself, leaving behind only a white line, and then nothing.

  "Nice!" I examined my arm closely. It was as good as one of Grandma Cielo's healing spells.

  "What's your problem?" Torres asked.

  "It's only a problem if you mind that it hurts. I don't."

  Torres stood up, sighing. "I'm going to get myself a joint. Wanna share it?"

  "I don't wanna impose."

  "You just gave me a thousand nureals."

  That was more than fair, I supposed. Weed usually gives me the munchies, but I had more than enough leftovers in my bundle, so I didn't have to worry even if Torres's pantry was empty.

  First, though, I showered. Through the thin walls, I could hear more distant shouts, never close enough to make out what they said. Seemed like everyone else was keeping their heads down and waiting for the shit to be over, which isn't surprising because that's the smart thing to do.

  I wasn't worried about Valentino. Most likely, I shouldn't have worried to begin with. But then, I wasn't used to traveling with a Sabrewing.