The Lamia Hunt

Chapter Forty-Six: Playing Cliens

19:47 21/12/1999

"Interesting choice," said Narbe, watching Ling as she turned around in her garment for the evening: a dress of dull green material, with sleeves that came down to her wrists. Aside from the colour and weight, she could almost have called it identical to the Praedatori uniform. But she wasn't going to tell anyone that.
Least of all Narbe.
"Yeah," she said, looking down at the dress. What else was she supposed to say?
"Anyway, let's get going." He stood up, interlocking his arm with hers, and the two of them walked to the door.
As he was about to open it, Ling breathed as deeply as she could. This was the last place she could be safe, the last place where nothing could go wrong.
And she was going to relish it.

Downstairs, they were led by another Lamia – she didn't think it had been the one who'd let them in – into a large room filled with people, who were, for the most part, standing in small groups in which they chattered quietly.
A band was playing softly, and there appeared to be a space where several people where dancing.
But then, she shouldn't have been using the word people.
The stench of Lamiae was overpowering here, more so than she had ever thought it could be. How many of them were there? A hundred? Two hundred? Maybe more.
At the side of the room opposite to the one at which they had entered was a raised platform, upon which had been placed several chairs.
The last time she'd seen an arrangement like that, things really hadn't gone well for her.
How many people had there been at that trial, she wondered. More than there were here? Well obviously, if these weren't real people.
She brushed the thought aside, and whispered to Narbe,
"So, what's the plan?"
He shrugged.
"Socialise; get an idea of what's going on."
"But-"
"Just stick together, and we should be fine. I know enough people here to..." He trailed off, and Ling glanced at him.
"To what?"
He shrugged, and was about to answer her when Ling was jolted in the back by a pair of hands and sent crashing to the floor as somebody behind her cried out,
"Deets! Long time no see," in an accent from some part of London.
Ling pushed herself back onto her feet, turning around to see that Narbe was now surrounded by a group of three Lamiae, all Nescii, all of whom seemed to be talking at once.
"Sorry 'bout knocking her over; just wanted to-"
"How long has it been since we-"
"I didn't think that you had a cliens, Mr. Narbe. I can remember-"
Narbe stood there in silence, not looking at Ling, but not responding to anything that was said.
But then, in his position, Ling didn't think she could have done any better.
One of the three Nescii, a man just shorter than she was, a mop of ginger hair covering most of his eyes, shook her hand, bowing slightly as he did.
"Like I said, sorry for knocking you over. I just-"
"He was trying to get Dieter's attention, but he's learnt by now that someone of his stature shouldn't attempt to tackle an adversary so large." It was a woman who said that, her accent crisply English. She was tall, pale and slim, her maroon-dyed hair piled messily above her head. Ling recognised the tight-fitting, black and red gown that she was wearing as having been in her wardrobe as well. It looked better on the Lamia than it would have on her.
"Anyway," said the female Lamia, turning back to Narbe. "What brings you to the Lamiae Verae all of a sudden? I was under the impression that you didn't enjoy it here."
Narbe shrugged.
"That may be so, but this is different; events like this don't happen very often."
"I'll say." She paused, and glanced at Ling, all the while speaking to Narbe, "So, how long have you had her?"
He shrugged again, and Ling's eyes widened. Shit. They should have made some plan, some lie that would have helped them if they needed to talk to people.
"A few weeks," he responded. "I felt it would look rather unfortunate if I turned up without a date."
There was a burst of laughter from the other three, before the woman turned to Ling again, looking her up and down before saying to Narbe.
"How's her English? Can she understand us?"
Ling sighed, trying to keep composure. It was an obvious enough assumption to make that she couldn't speak English, but for fuck's sakes! It was almost the twenty-first century, and they still couldn't accept that it was possible for a person who looked as if they were from one place to actually be from another.
Fuckwits.
"So, well, - what is your name?" It was the other Lamia speaking, and Ling was sure that English wasn't his first language. She couldn't place his accent, but he didn't sound natural enough to have been anything other than a foreigner.
Should she lie?
Probably best to.
"Lanlan," she said, trying to sound genuine. It sounded Chinese enough, at any rate.
"Oh," said the foreign Lamia, smiling. "And where are you from, Lanlan?"
Ling grinned widely, raising her eyebrows at Narbe.
"London."
Narbe smiled, weakly. He evidently hadn't found it as funny as she had.
Perhaps because he hadn't had this happen to him before.
"Anyway," said the female Lamia, "Do you think they're even going to show the main event? The Natus?"
The others shrugged, but Ling didn't feel it necessary to respond. Her place was being made obvious, and it would probably be best if she kept her mouth shut as best she could.
"My money's on yes," the woman said, her vermillion eyes wandering to the dais at the other end of the room. "Otherwise it'd be like going to the theatre without a play." She paused, and shrugged. "Oh well, not as if it matters; from here, we're not going to see anything important. Still," she sighed, "Appearances and all that..."
She began to glide away into the crowd, and none of the others made a move to stop her.
"Well," said the foreign Lamia, patting Narbe on the back, "It has been a pleasure, Mr. Narbe. Perhaps we will see each other later." Saying this, he, too, left, weaving away from them at high speed.
Narbe turned to the other Nescius.
"Are you going to leave, too?"
He shook his head.
"Nah. Good spot you got here; it's pretty hectic once you get further in."
Ling would have contested that belief – the crowd didn't seem too thick in her opinion – but something told her that it wouldn't be a wise idea.
"Anyway," said the Nescius, turning to Ling, "I'd much rather hear about your cliens." Then, to her this time, he continued, "So, you're a London gal, are you, Lan..."
"Lanlan."
He nodded.
"Sorry; I'm no good with names. But what part of the city're you from?"
Shit.
No matter what she answered, it wasn't going to end well. She couldn't tell the truth – that was definitely not going to happen – but any lie she told, there was the possibility that this Lamia would manage to catch her out on it, and she didn't want to think of the consequences of that. No, best stick as close to the truth as possible.
"Not sure, exactly," she said. "Actually, my family left when I was pretty small; moved out into the country."
"Oh." The Lamia shrugged. "Bad choice."
She nodded.
"That's true; things were better when we were in the city."
That was bullshit. Well, not really, actually. Things had been better – for her and the rest of her family – when they'd lived in London. First off, her parents had been alive. That had kind of been a bonus.
But that didn't mean that she'd enjoyed living in London.
There was a pause, and the Nescius continued,
"So, how did you become a cliens, Lanlar?"
She didn't bother correcting him, and shrugged.
They really should have come up with a plan.
Narbe replied for her.
"That's an odd story, isn't it, Lanlan... Where was it, again?"
"Maidstone?" she suggested, hoping that that was what he'd been hoping for.
"Oh yes, Maidstone... What was I doing there?" He paused, and turned to the other Lamia. "Have you ever been to Maidstone, Sam?"
The Nescius shrugged.
"Maybe." He paused. "Maidstone... That's... Isn't it in Sussex or somewhere?"
"No. Kent."
"Oh." He shrugged. "I was close."
Ling laughed, quietly.
Sam – the Nescius – shrugged.
"Anyway," he said, "Continue; I haven't heard anything interesting all week, and I could do with some kind of entertainment."
"Well," said Narbe, before taking a long breath. Ling could tell that he was thinking of what to say next, and she could only hope that the other Lamia didn't notice.
Fortunately, his speech was cut short by the sound of a teaspoon being tapped against a glass. That was funny. Ling wondered whether there were any other glasses in the house, or any other teaspoons, for that matter; they wouldn't need any, being Lamiae. Either possibility was ridiculous, although she wasn't sure which one was more so.
Silence fell across the room, all eyes turning to the area from where the sound had come, where there stood a tall, thin Lamia – she couldn't tell what kind from this distance – who held the glass apathetically in one hand, fiddling with the teaspoon with the other.
"Greetings, all," he said, in accented English. "I trust that sufficient time has been given to introductions among you all."
There was silence for a response, and the Lamia nodded, slowly. Had she seen somebody who looked exactly like him in public, Ling would have thought nothing of it. There was nothing in his appearance that suggested anything out of the ordinary, almost to the point where he was too normal; his hair was a mousy colour, cut unremarkably, and although his skin was pale, it wasn't to the point where one would think anything was wrong with him.
However, as he stood there, Ling couldn't help but feel that there was something wrong with him, something that she was missing. She didn't know why, but the feeling wouldn't shake itself, and she continued to feel unsettled, even after he had ceded the centre of attention to another Lamia, also male, who stood awkwardly above them, as if disturbed by his audience's stares.
"Hello, everybody," he said, wringing his hands together. He was English, definitely. Ling wasn't sure at present what exactly that meant.
The Lamia continued,
"I... I've spent a lot of time around Lamiae, probably more than I have around humans." He paused. Where was he going with this? Ling was sure she wasn't the only one he was making uncomfortable. "And you know," he continued, "I've... I've actually found that, here, with all of you, I've been truly happy. And I guess you all have too, because you came back – and it can't have been for free food."
There was muffled laughter at that, and the Lamia smiled, continuing, "But I know this isn't about the Lamiae Verae. This... This is an event that we, as a species, could never have dreamed of... I really don't know what I'm saying here, actually." He paused again, and then said, "In case you have to do this, always remember to draft a speech."
More laughter. Ling was still uneasy. She doubted that this Lamia had much to hide, but there was something unnerving in the way he spoke, and she felt an overwhelming desire to leave – catch some air outside, perhaps.
But then, she couldn't do that. If she did that, someone would realise, and that would be the end.
No, she had to sit through this, endure it like everybody else was.
If she didn't, she'd have to pay the price.