But the looks aren’t all that’s going on. There was power here: considerable power. Bobo? Nita said silently.
Five point six, said Wizardry itself in her ear, assessing. Plus or minus point six. And on a slow climb. Hormonal, long term. Final status when the hormones settle, somewhere around six point nine, maybe seven.
Nita breathed out. And he’s what? Fifteen going on sixteen? Wow . . . So why’s he looking at us like he thinks Kit might bite him in the leg?
The guy leaned there against the table and watched them come. As they got within chatting distance, their guide-lights went out—confirmation, if any was needed, that their little group’s members had found one another.
He stuck out his hand to Kit. “Penn Shao-Feng,” he said. “Dai stihó—”
“Dai,” Kit said. “Kit Rodriguez. My partner, Nita Callahan—”
“Hello,” Penn said, glancing at her, then back at Kit. “Nice to meet you.”
Not nice enough for me to be offered a handshake, was the first thing that went through Nita’s mind. Don’t I rate a dai?
Or am I just being hypersensitive?
“Want to grab a drink and sit down somewhere?” Kit said, gesturing toward the ice-cavern’s walls, where all kinds of force-shielded seating had been carved into the bodies of numerous niches and cavelets.
“Uh, not right now, thanks though,” Penn said. “Listen, did you see where Irina went?”
“Uh,” Nita said, startled by complete confusion into politeness. “I’m sure she’s still around somewhere. They said she was going to hang out for a while after the introduction.”
“They said? You don’t know?”
Nita stood there trying to make sense of the odd, slightly mocking expression Penn was leveling at her. “If I could read a Planetary’s mind,” she said, recovering, “I don’t know that I’d advertise the fact, because there might be some pushback about spreading that around. So no, I don’t know. But then we’re only two of about a thousand other people who’d love to drag her off somewhere and monopolize her attention. Think you’ve got a shot?”
Kit threw a Did you just say that? look at her. Nita ignored it, waiting to see what Penn would say.
Instead he ran a bored-looking hand through his hair and turned away from Nita toward Kit, as if what she’d said wasn’t even worth engaging with. “Look, why don’t I get in touch with you tomorrow and we can set up a meeting,” he said. “You can come out and see me in San Fran; I’ll put the coordinates in your manuals. I’ve got a nice place, you’ll like it, it’s quiet, and we can take an hour and you can have a look at what I’m doing. Yeah? Kind of busy tonight.”
Doing what else besides meeting with the people who’re supposed to be helping you win this? Nita thought. She opened her mouth—
“Sure,” Kit said, and Nita had the brief satisfaction of noticing that his voice sounded tight around the edges. “Fine. Tomorrow, then. Dai . . .” And though Nita thought he’d been about to turn and walk away, Kit stood still with a casual sort of look bent on Penn, and waited.
“Yeah, dai,” Penn said after a moment, then turned himself around and stalked off.
Nita and Kit stood there for a moment more, then looked at each other.
“Is it just me,” Kit said, “or were we just not only blown off but totally disrespected by someone wearing that shirt?”
Nita shook her head. “Fashion statement,” she said.
Kit made a sarcastic sound at the back of his throat. “A statement that he thinks fashion beats style.”
“Ooh. A little judgmental, there? Maybe he’s not the blazer type.” She gazed after Penn. “I could be wrong, but I think he’s been through one of those fashion streets in Japan, you know? Where they’re big into mixing and matching everything on the planet.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Kit said. “That’s more ’Mela’s department. But wear a Hawaiian shirt to something like this? When you’re not Hawaiian? I don’t know that I feel that sure of my dress sense. And I’m not sure I ever will . . .”
“You need more coaching from Carmela, maybe.”
“Please, as if she needs to know that. Life with her is bizarre enough already.”
Nita stood there watching Penn push farther into the crowd; his height wouldn’t allow him to vanish completely at close range. Well, maybe it’s nerves . . .
“Come on,” Nita said, “let’s go look for Dairine and see if she drew a better hand than we did.”
Kit gave her a brief look. “Kind of a snap judgment from you . . .”
“Sounds like I’m not the only one, either. But who knows, we might even find someone more mature. Or less self-absorbed.”
Very quietly, Kit started snickering. “He has no idea what he’s in for, does he.”
“What?”
“I know that tone of voice. Like you’re absolutely intending to be kind to somebody, but it’ll be the sort of kindness that’s gonna kill them.”
It was embarrassing to have to admit that killing was somewhat on Nita’s mind. “Seriously,” she said under her breath, “who comes to an event like this and acts like that?”
“Someone who’s sure he’s the hottest thing on the street,” Kit said. “Or thinks he is. And doesn’t mind who gets annoyed by the shade he’s throwing.” He gave Penn a sidelong look, and watched him head off through the crowd.
Nita snorted. “Or else he’s trying to make a strong first impression. Well, he has.”
“Maybe he’s stressed,” Kit said. “Or freaked at meeting us.”
“Us!”
“Yeah, well.” Kit shrugged. “Looked at your précis in the manual lately? The version of it that someone sees when they don’t have the right association levels set? Who knows . . . it could be intimidating.”
Nita shook her head. “Intimidated by us?”
“If you were young and not real sure of yourself . . .”
“The way he’s not sure of himself? Give me a break.”
“I’ve seen stranger coping methods . . .”
Nita sighed. It wasn’t fair to let their first impressions of Penn get in the way of what they’d all come here to do. And the Powers were behind their assignment: there had to be something about them that this kid needed. “You’re probably right,” she said. “This is stressy for everybody, there’s all this—” She waved a hand. “Frustrated wizardry in the room. Or maybe ‘frustrated’ is the wrong word. Eager.”
“Competitive,” Kit said.
Nita nodded slowly, because he was right. And it was something she wasn’t used to seeing where wizardry was concerned. Almost since she’d been called to the Art, all the wizards Nita had ever found herself working with were intent on getting the job done, whatever it took—very often at the expense of their own egos and their own stress. This is already looking like a different kind of scenario, she thought, and I’m not sure I’m going to like it much.
“Still . . .” she said.
“Thinking out loud, Neets?” Kit said. “Or talking to Bobo, maybe?”
“No,” she said, “just myself.” She threw a sidelong look at him, then glanced back to look for Penn in the crowd, but he had finally vanished. “But I have a feeling you’re going to be hearing a lot of that in the next few weeks . . .” she said, with a sigh. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go have some pitanga juice.”