Radix

"I lied," Sumner confessed, flinching as Camboy's eyes hardened. "But I had to speak with you. I have something to sell."
"What is it?" His question was a lash.
"A brood jewel."
Camboy's face softened, but his eyes remained flinty. "When can I see it?"
"Now, if you like."
Sumner smiled inside at the surprise that showed on the merchant's face. "Now? You brought it with you?"
"I want to sell it quickly." He reached into his pocket, and Camboy tensed. When he brought out the jewel the older man leaned forward.
"Let me see that." He held out his hand, but Sumner shook his head.
"First this." He pulled out a handwrench whose jaws had been fitted with cloth. He worked the jewel between the jaws and held it up. "You try to jooch me and I'll crush it."
Camboy smirked. "You're the kind who would." He stood up and bent closer.
"Hands behind your back," Sumner ordered. Camboy reluctantly complied, and Sumner brought the jewel up close enough to be inspected.
The merchant's face remained impassive, but Sumner heard awe in his voice: "Where'd you get this?"
"Where do you think?"
"You have voor connections?" The scar along his cheek was writhing. "How much do you want?"
Sumner smiled.
"Five thousand zords," Camboy offered.
Sumner almost dropped the stone. Five thousand! That was five times more than he had hoped to get. "Ten thou-sand," he said, keeping the excitement out of his voice.
Camboy's eyes were fixed on the jewel, and Sumner thought he saw them smile. "Why're you selling it?"
"I need the money."
Camboy sighed sadly. "This is such an exquisite jewel. Don't you see anything in it?"
"I never looked." He moved the jewel closer to the merchant. "What do you see in it?"
After a lengthy pause Camboy replied: "A frightened boy who lives with his mother. She's a spirit guide, isn't she? Zelda, I believe?"
Sumner's jaw sagged.
"I also see you have a white card. Congratulations. And that you've been living off your father's savings all your life. And what's this? Sugar?"
Sumner squeezed down hard on the wrench, but that instant the edge of the desk whipped up and forward and caught him in the belly. The impact kicked the wind out of him and sent him hurtling backwards. The wrench and the jewel flew out of his grip, and he landed on his rump against the far wall.
The jewel dropped into Camboy's hand, and he held it between his fingers appreciatively.
Sumner's fury boiled up. The jubilant smile on the mer-chant's face burned into him, and he flung himself toward the desk with a howl. Camboy caught his striking hand without effort and twisted the thumb far back. With a squeal, Sumner submitted. Powerful hands bent him close to the desktop and thrumped his head against the wood several times—hard. "The next time you lose control, I'll gouge out your eyes." He shoved him back to the floor.
Sumner wanted desperately to restrain his rage and pain, but his eyes fogged and soon his grimy face was streaked with tears. He had been dominated, and the feeling was worse than the throb in his head or the deep, aching bruise inside his thumb.
"Get up," Camboy ordered, his voice metallic.
Sumner pulled himself to his feet by the edge of the desk. Rising, he saw the secret insides of the panel that had struck him. He glimpsed a glint of metal and realized that
Camboy, obviously using a foot pedal, could just as easily have released a slashing blade from the desk. He sat on the stool and tried to rub the pain out of his hand.
"You know, you're a lune to sell a jewel as fine as this," Camboy said, opening a drawer. "But seeing as you are a lune, I can't blame you for not being able to look at yourself. Here—" He counted out ten thousand zords in hundred-zord bills and threw the money onto the desk. "Take what you asked for."
Sumner was stunned. He forgot the pain and humiliation and just stared at the cash.
"Take it," Camboy barked. "You don't expect me to give you a sight draft. Brood jewels are illegal, you know."
Sumner had never seen that much money before. Ten thousand zords would be enough for him and Zelda to live well for two years. He picked up the bills with excited fingers and backed out of the office.
On the street, he put the humiliation in Camboy's office out of his head and walked past the window shops feeling proud, eyeing goods he knew he could buy if it suited him. Ten thousand zords! Mutra, that's enough to start my own shop. He mused about business and the kind of work he would like to do. A restaurant was what he wanted. Only the best food.
He was pondering what he would have on his menu when three men in black hoods stepped out from an alley and surrounded him. It happened very quickly. One of the hoods was on either side of him, and when he stumbled back a pace they seized both his arms. He tried to yank himself free, but the third one drew a stiletto from his belt and held it to Sumner's throat. It broke the skin, and a trickle of blood threaded over his chest. His knees jellied, his legs trembled, and he felt a squelch in his bowels as he dumped in his pants.
Swiftly, the two men at his sides searched him. When they found the money, one of them shoved him backwards and another tripped him into the gutter. The next instant they were gone, running off into the maze of alleys behind the shops.
Sumner got shakily to his feet and looked around. The avenue was crowded as usual, and there were dozens of people staring at him. Most of the faces were shocked, but a few were amused and almost jeering. "Did you see the wad that dingo had on him?" he heard a woman say as he bolted into an alley.
He ran wildly. When he was exhausted, he slid to his knees and leaned back against a lamp obelisk. The stench of his slimed pants fluffed around him, and he wept openly.
the great space within
Sumner's stomach quivered as he remembered that day, Thinking about it had made him speed up angrily. Now he slowed and opened his window. The sun was proud over the blue-haze horizon, and there were watery heat mirages on the road. He wiped his sweat-lapped face with his sleeve.
No way that'll happen to me again, he insisted to him-self. I'll be dead before I'm a dingo. But he wasn't so sure. What could he do now if the police suddenly appeared? Suicide? Wog! The thought disgusted him, but still it was less revulsive than the idea of getting caught.
Several times in the past hour he had seen distant strohlkraft glinting in the contrails of dawn. For the moment, the sky was empty, but half of it was blocked off by a wide arc of monolithic buttes. The buttes were bluff-red, streaked with draperies of black organic stains. He imagined a strohlkraft swinging out from the top of them and dropping in front of him to block his escape. I'll ram it! I'll trash the car before I let them take me.
His conviction comforted him, and after a while he re-laxed again. Soon he was thinking back to the time he worked so remorselessly on his revenge.
He was sure that Parlan Camboy had set him up. Who else knew about the zords? The secretary? Maybe. But he was a wiff. It was Camboy that Sumner had wanted.
The day after he was robbed, he got a job painting traffic pyramids in center-city. Zelda was pleased with him, even though he never brought any of the money home. He told her he was paying off a debt. Actually, he was saving every-thing he earned. There were some expensive items the Sugarat needed.
Zelda was even more pleased at how her son was using his spare time. For hours on end he sat before the scansule with the door to his room open. He had nothing to hide. He was just a curious kid learning about electricity.
When he had enough money and all the information he needed, he stopped going to work and spent a day cruising McClure. He was looking for a desolate spot close to Camboy's office. He found one six blocks away: a wide courtyard sepa-rating two shipping warehouses. Down its middle ran a high chain-link fence so that only half the court was open to the street.