The Glass Galago Read Free Page B

or four times now. You vanish into silken courtesy.”
    â€œI suppose I take pleasure in denying them a reaction.” He clucked. “It’s pride.”
    â€œThose monks who raised you would disapprove?”
    A nod. “Pride is a sign of immaturity.”
    â€œThen I can stop worrying that you’re wise beyond your years?”
    â€œLittle fear of that.” And that was a note of regret.
    â€œWhat’s say you let me do something about this mess?”
    He shook his head.
    â€œRefusing to accept help when it’s offered, that’s a sign of pride too.”
    He didn’t answer.
    *   *   *
    Annela was six feet tall and built like a statue of Bounty—full breasted and round-hipped, with huge hands. The two women were cousins, though nobody would guess it to see them. Gale was unmistakably Verdanii, pale and knotted like a wind-blasted tree. Annela was a rare throwback to the copper-skinned, slate-haired islanders their foremothers had invaded and displaced on Verdan, centuries earlier.
    She collapsed on a chair that looked barely big enough to hold her. “How far have you gotten?”
    â€œTalked to the spellscribe, the girl, and a pro snoop from Foghorn .”
    â€œA reporter—you? How’d that happen?”
    â€œIrrelevant. She didn’t tell me anything useful.”
    â€œDid the Patents girl let you in?”
    â€œNo, she showed us the door. Could she be in on it?”
    Annela nodded. “I’ve been thinking she might. It’d be the easy way to get that flask from her safe.”
    â€œIf so,” Parrish said, “She could have given it to any of the Convenors pushing for increased regulation.”
    â€œToo risky.” Annela examined him minutely. “No Convenor would get caught holding the thing.”
    Gale said: “Someone close to Rasa will have the flask. It is, literally, her life.”
    â€œWho could she ask to hazard her that way?” Parrish looked sceptical. “It’s too much to ask.”
    â€œIt’s an expression of trust,” Gale countered. “Asking someone to let her suffer, perhaps die. It shows she has faith in their connection.”
    He gave her a too-canny look. “I was raised by monks, remember? I know a sermon when I hear it.”
    â€œSomeone Rasa trusts to hurt her,” Annela rolled ice in her glass.
    â€œCan’t be many people like that around.”
    â€œHer parents aren’t in Fleet,” Annela said. “Her child’s father?”
    They went into her sanctum. Parrish—seas, was he in a huff?—remained in the outer office, seeking out the galago cage. Asleep, the creature was a lonely-looking bundle of glass fluff, aglow with color. Parrish took out the flask, rolling it in his hands.
    â€œIs that boy who I think he is?” Annela murmured.
    â€œSloot hired him. He’s to be the new captain of Nightjar .”
    â€œWhy’re you dragging him around with you?”
    â€œHe’s useful, Annela.”
    â€œHave you told him about Erstwhile?”
    â€œI’ve told him I’m courier to a strange and little-known place; he thinks I mean a minor islands in the outlands.”
    Anella shook her head. “Then you’re not yet certain of him. Cut him loose.”
    â€œTeeth, not you, too! He hasn’t killed anyone, Nella.”
    â€œYou remember Ramjo Fells?”
    â€œNo … wait. Bull-headed man, from Grimreef?”
    â€œA good man, Gale. Stubborn, yes, but smart. He didn’t believe in using the Convene to wring wealth from the weak nations. And, incidentally, widely beloved.”
    An ally of hers, then. “He killed himself, that reporter said. While Parrish was on guard duty.”
    â€œNiner Parrish, as he was back then and Fells had an unscheduled meeting that evening, a long one. Afterward, Fells sent a messenger to Constitution . Parrish said it was meant to be a