Burning Bright

“All right, anytime after noon. I’ll have a voucher for the fees waiting then, too.”

“It sounds good,” Lioe said. “I’ll see you then.”

“It’s good to have you in the house,” Medard-Yasine said. “Even if it’s only for a few days.” They clasped hands again, and then he and Gueremei moved away.

Left to herself, Lioe took a careful step backward, away from the crowd of Gamers. She was flattered by Medard-Yasine’s praise, flattered and startled and suspicious in about equal measures, and she wanted time to think. It wasn’t that she disliked the noise and the babble and the flying cross-talk that surrounded her, compliment and critique and commentary filling the air around her, but it distracted her, made her feel almost too much at home. Her decision wasn’t irrevocable—she could always refuse to sign the contract the next morning—but she felt the sudden need to sit down somewhere quiet and work out what she’d done. Nothing but good, seemingly: a damn good session, a contract, even a compliment from Ambidexter, which, after she’d used his character without permission, was an accomplishment indeed. From what the others had said, Ambidexter had a reputation for being possessive— and I probably wouldn’t ‘ve done it if I’d realized he was still around.

She scanned the groups of players, looking again for Ambidexter— Ransome, she corrected herself, Illario Ransome—but the thin figure had vanished. Out of sight, or gone? she wondered, and the stab of disappointment was unexpectedly keen. Why the hell should I care? Except that he was—is?—Ambidexter, and he complimented my play. That’s reason enough for any Gamer. But… I want to talk to him again.

“So.”

That was Africa’s voice, at her elbow, and Lioe turned, was vaguely startled to see Roscha’s striking face instead of the session’s icon. Roscha went on, apparently unaware of the other’s surprise, or so used to it as to be immune to the effect.

“Did he make you a decent offer?” She held out a glass of methodeas she spoke, added, “I saw you weren’t drinking.”

“Thanks,” Lioe said, and accepted the tall glass. The wine was comfortingly familiar, and she drank with pleasure.

“So will you be working here?” Roscha asked.

Lioe lifted an eyebrow, and the other woman stared back, unimpressed and still curious. “We’re—negotiating,” Lioe said after a moment, and Roscha grinned, not the least abashed.

“Shadows is a good club, and the play’s quality. You ought to think about it.”

“I am thinking about it,” Lioe said, and laid the lightest of stresses on thinking. The party was winding down around her, session participants and observers alike edging toward the door. She glanced sideways to call up the implanted chronometer’s display—one of the minor conveniences that came with a pilot’s job—and saw without surprise that it was past local midnight. Savian and Beledin stood close together near the far wall; even as she watched, Beledin smiled, and touched the other man’s shoulder, easing him toward the door. He caught her eye, and the smile widened to a grin, and then they were gone. Vere was nowhere in sight, nor Imbertine; Mariche was deep in conversation with a handsome, greyhaired man, who leaned close, resting a tentative hand on her waist. Huard stood next to a full-bodied woman with gold flowers painted on her dark skin and hsaii ribbons woven in her hair. Even as Lioe watched, the woman reached up to touch Huard’s face, the flowers glittering in the cold light.

She looked away politely, feeling vaguely jealous—why should she be the only one going home alone?—and Roscha said, “If you’re interested, I know a good after-hours bar. After that session, I owe you a drink.”

Lioe glanced curiously at her, wondering if she really had heard a double invitation, and what she would do about it if she had. Roscha was a striking woman, there was no doubt about it, the strong sexy curves well displayed by the plain workcloth trousers and the thin knit shirt beneath the worn jerkin. More than that, though, she was something familiar, a kind of Gamer Lioe knew and understood, and all of a sudden she was hungry for just that familiarity. “Thanks,” she said. “I’ll take you up on that.”

Roscha’s smile in return was dazzling. “It’s the least I can do. You gave me a great character.”