From somewhere ahead, the delightful aroma of cinnamon and klofa wafted in the hot night air, filling the darkness with the promise of delightful pastries.
A faint stir in the darkness brought Skyla to a crouch. She eased a vibraknife from her belt. Sand shifted under a boot to her right. Who? One of Ily's agents? Or just a footpad?
Just a little closer.
Darkness weighed heavily in the stifling heat. A trickle of sweat ran down the inside of her combat armor to tickle between her breasts. Her heart, battle-tight, rapped against her sternum.
So black, so stygian. Where was he?
Cloth made a soft rasping before her. A bit of blackness moved in the alley. Skyla took him, striking high with one steel fist while she kicked low for his legs. Fesh gave under her powerful blows. He grunted and fell as she stepped back, balanced, poised for a counter-strike that never came. His body landed with a soft thump. Catlike, she pounced, her vibraknife millimeters from his throat. The man gasped, trying to catch his breath.
From her pouch, she took a small light, narrowing the beam to play it across his rugged features. Nyklos!
He groaned, swallowing, blinking stunned brown eyes in the glare of her light.
"Talk," she hissed. "And talk quick. You should be able to feel the blade against your neck. My patience is thin. I don't like rannies who follow me in the dark. Makes me suspicious."
He nodded, eyes tight at the feel of air vibrating against his skin.
"Talk!"
"Just. just looking after you, sweet meat. I… Huh! Don't!" he yipped as she pressed down, seeing skin peel away like fat under a white-hot blade.
"Then don't try me Nab." She crammed a knee into his crotch; his eyes glazed with pain. "Talk, ranny, or your voice will rise and you'll dribble your drink over your chest every time you swallow from now on!"
"I was just. just trying to see where you went. That's all. You're. pretty. So pretty. Make a man proud to turn you's all." More skin peeled as he swallowed. Blood had begun to well under the vibraknife.
"You're lying. You're looking at death Nab. And you don't care. Makes me even more suspicious." She drew the knife back slightly, eyes narrowing. "Why? Who are you working for that they could inspire that sort of loyalty? Or is it fear? Ily Takka, perhaps?" His expression hardened. "You don't like that idea?"
"No, I don't," he said with more control than she would have expected under the circumstances. "Not Ily."
She cocked her head. "You're no street hawker, for all your looks and talk. You carry yourself too well. You got professional written all over you. Want
to fess?"
A slight smile bent his lips. "Why don't you just cut my throat and we'll have it all over with."
Skyla cocked her head, studying him speculatively. "If not Ily, then might we possibly share an interest?"
"We might," Nyklos agreed quickly, swallowing again as a trickle of blood ran down the side of his throat. She recognized the game, playing for time, looking for an advantage. His voice held just enough truth to give him credibility.
Skyla slipped one hand into her pouch and pulled out a gleaming vial. Most carefully uncapping it with her teeth, she placed the tube over his mouth.
"Drink," she commanded. "It's Mytol. It'll make you talk."
An instant before he tensed to throw her off, she blasted her knee into his crotch, spilling a little more than she intended into his suddenly open mouth as he bellowed in pain.
"You Sylenian witch!" he exploded as she rolled away from his violent reaction. He writhed and contorted in the filthy alley sand.
Skyla rocked to her feet, Mytol bottle capped and restored to her pouch. She ducked lithely aside as he staggered to his feet, still bent double, and rushed her, swinging a fist. She eluded him in the darkness.
"Got to kill her," he panted under his breath. "Got to kill before. before. " His next charge slowed awkwardly as he ran into the grimy brick wall.
"Too late," Skyla told him easily. "You're mine now."
"No! No. Can't. can't. "
She waited as he stumbled this way and that in the darkness, then fell in a sodden heap. With her light, she checked his squinted eyes: unfocused.
"Come now, Nyklos, you called me beautiful." She hesitated, unable to resist the urge to tease. "Am I?"
"Yes," he muttered, voice thick.
"The first time we met, I saw desire in your eyes. Do you desire me? Am I really that beautiful?"
"Wing Commander, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen — and the deadliest."
Wing Commander? That could be lethal, Nyklos, my amorous friend.
"Good," she praised. "What are you thinking?"
"Right now?" Nyklos asked, frowning his confusion.
"Yes, now."
"I was wondering why that bastard Staffa didn't take you for his own years ago." Nyklos flopped his head back and forth before his neck muscles relaxed and he couldn't move anymore.
Skyla caught herself against the wall, suddenly unsettled.
Her heart began to race as her mouth went dry. Damn it! Thrice cursed Mytol, anyway. I asked for that. Now get him bac on track before you make a fool of yourself.
"Come, Nyklos, sit here next to me." She pulled him down to cradle his head in her lap. Too much Mytol. She tensed as his hand tried to grope her breast through the armor. To keep him under control she laced her fingers into his.
"Now, Nyklos," she began conspiratorially, "you're going to prove I'm beautiful by telling me all about yourself."
And pray to the Blessed Gods, you stay the hell away from Staffa and the way I feel about him.
Nyklos nodded, and despite his thick slurred tongue, he began to speak. Skyla felt herself stiffen as his story spilled out. Shared interest? Indeed!
"So, that's who you are, Nyklos," she added under her breath. Pieces began to fall into place.
The screen on the comm monitor wavered and finally firmed into a coherent image. Skyla crossed her arms and leaned back in the chair she sat in. Nyklos stood beside her, still groggy from the Mytol, and delightfully compliant.
From the outside, the house Nyklos lived in looked like any of the other Etarian homes on the block. The walls were brown clay and supported a flat roof of ceramic tiles. Only when she had stepped inside did Skyla find that Nyklos lived in a nest of communications equipment, monitoring devices, and comm equipment.
Skyla returned her attention to the screen. It fuzzed and cleared into the face of a young woman with kinky black hair that made a halo around her head. At sight of Skyla Lyma, she straightened.
"Greetings," Skyla gave her a smile. "I'm Skyla Lyma, Wing Commander of the Companions. Would you do me the courtesy of informing Magister Bruen that I would like to speak to him?"
"How did you… I mean. "
"Just do it."
Skyla chuckled to herself, and tossed a small object into the air, catching it playfully. The object consisted of a white, ceramic replica of a human tooth. The picture in the monitor changed again, this time presenting an old man with a wrinkled face. Only a few wisps of white hair stood up from the age-spotted dome of his bald pate. He looked at her and blinked, as if to clear his head of sleep.
Finally, he sighed and said, "I suppose that since you've gained access to this comm net, there wouldn't be much use in denying it exists, but tell me Wing Commander, just how did you find us, and what do you want?"
Skyla pulled Nyklos into the range of the comm pickup. "Recognize your agent, Magister?"
Bruen nodded, a tired look in his ancient eyes. "I do. That he's still alive leaves me a little worried, however."