Jessica stopped in the shadows and peered through the bars of a gate. The broad, furry silhouette of Iztho came to a halt behind her. His voice rumbled somewhere near her shoulder. "In here."
An abandoned garden. Reddish moonlight gilded creepers trailing the rim of a dry fountain, a statue at its centre. Not a single pinprick of light lit the dark form of the house. Exposed roof beams clawed at the night sky like the ribs of some dead creature.
Iztho pushed her gently aside, sliding his hand under his cloak. "Let me go first. I don’t like the look of this."
They had gone back to speaking English; for this night only, he said.
Jessica pushed him back, a bit rougher. "No. She said no weapons."
His eyes met hers in a stern look, the glacial blue irises faded to lifeless grey. "This situation could be dangerous. You don’t know what they want. It could be a trap."
A shiver crept over Jessica’s arms, but she refused to be put aside by him. When he opened the gate—it creaked—she was the first to enter the garden. Long shadows slid over the pavement as they walked up the path and the steps, Iztho behind her, his hand again under his cloak.
Jessica glared.
He said, "I swear I have never met a woman as stubborn as you."
"Then what are the women like where you come from?"
He muttered a curse and pushed himself in front again.
She followed him, up the path, between broken statues, up the steps to the porch, into the darkness of the shadows. His fur-clad back moved in front of her. Really—now whose idea was it to come here? Who was trusted by the Pengali?
Something shuffled in the dark.
"Watch out!" Jessica sensed the presence of others, their warmth radiating amongst the stone pillars of the porch. "Is this the Pengali hide-out?"
Shit—Iztho’s charge gun glinted in the shadow under his cloak. Jessica made frantic gestures for him to put it away. If she could see the gun, the Pengali with their much better night vision would see it too.
"I am Trader Iztho Andrahar of the Miran. I have come in peace. However, if you will not show yourself and talk to me in an honest way, I’ll have to assume you’re hostile."
Oh, the pompous arse.
A small figure emerged from between two pillars, the head ringed in white hair like a ghost. She wore a too-wide gown of uneven length that looked like a worn nightgown. A familiar voice whispered, "Anmi."
In two steps, Jessica had crossed the distance between them. She threw herself into Ikay’s arms, and would have lifted the old female off the ground had she not been wearing that silly too-wide gown, which slipped off her shoulders in Jessica’s hug.
When Iztho took a step towards the house, two Pengali jumped out from behind the pillars, one cried, "Only Anmi." Knives glittered.
In a flash of metal, Iztho raised his gun in a two-handed grip.
Jessica jumped between them, facing the Pengali. "Oh, stop this nonsense. He’s helping me. He can come."
Pengali eyes glinted in Ikay’s direction. She made a hand signal; knives lowered.
Iztho glanced at her.
Jessica mumbled, "Put that bloody thing away, or they’re not even going to talk to us."
"You really do want to be difficult, do you?"
Jessica stepped past him.
Ikay preceded them into the house. Two once-great doors, the wood now rotten, sagged on elaborate hinges. A short hallway led to a carved arch, and opened into a hall. Silent figures crowded on haphazardly-placed couches and mattresses.
YOU ARE READING
Watcher's Web
Science FictionShe’s not your ordinary country girl, even though she might look like one. She casts webs of power, reading the feelings of living beings and telling them what to do. Nobody knows what causes it, least of all her. Her name is Jessica, but most peopl...
