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D’irk, Sisip’s second-in-command, waved me toward the projected map where he leaned against the rail, one eye on me, one eye on the location of his teams. “Doin’ okay? Hill just reported in. That was some crash.” He scanned me from head to toe, assessing my health while admiring my new armor. “Stillcan’t believe Yurst has the balls to demote you, but expects you to stay on the team. What a sack of mantu gas.”
I flashed him a smile I wasn’t feeling. Last moon’s patrol had been a disaster. I’d wrecked my hovee and had to be rescued yet again. “Not a scratch on me.” I ran a thumb over the bright white fur lining my tunic. “Lead protector or not, there’s no way I would leave Yurstille to the hellsna.”
Ginger had given me another gift. A magnificent one. Then she’d left before I could even acknowledge it, leaving me even more confused.
Saluda sidled up beside us and pressed a container of hot javae into my hands. “You owe Ginger for that one.” He whistled, eyeing my new clothes. “That’s one fine female.” The young Drack’s eyes glazed over, and the fierce itch under my skin returned with a vengeance.
A week had passed since Ginger left, and the deep purple skins she’d left me moved like an extension of my body. I’d never owned this caliber of clothing. On Yagras, the clothes had been designed to protect the wearer, but they were generic. These were tailored to perfection, and every line of my body thrummed, ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice whenever I put Ginger’s expert work on. A true warrior’s clothing. But my vision turned red at Saluda’s open appreciation of Ginger.
I turned to Saluda. “Her needs lie with a Rock Dweller. Expect no gifts from Ginger.”
D’irk’s gaze moved from my clenched fists to Saluda’s dreamy face and his chest heaved as if he were holding in laughter. “Geo mentioned Ginger will be at the market today.”
That’s right, today’s market day. Someone must have a salve for this rash. D’irk couldn’t deny me a hoverbike if I brought back supplies. It bothered me that Ginger had not contacted me while she was at Makir’s. She’d come back if her symptomsreturned, right? I really hoped her stubbornness wouldn’t prevent her from asking for further treatment. If I could just get a quick look at her…
“D’irk, I can do the supply run today.”
Stars shone in Saluda’s eyes. “Me too.”
D’irk’s gaze fixed on the map, where a clump of enforcers, represented by blinking lights, congregated near the mantu plains. “You two need some rest after last moon’s patrol. D’Rasma’s on it.”
“Fine,” Saluda muttered, the knobs on his back stretched his shirt as he headed for the tunnel to rest as directed. Any day now, I expected his wings to sprout.
Jaw clenched, I jogged back to the lift tube. D’Rasma had been in the hover bay not long ago. I could catch him. My lunal ring tunic swooshed softly as I ran. Breathing deeply, I reminded myself that Dracks were useless to Ginger.
Beside a pile of scrap metal, D’Rasma backed his hoverbike up to a waiting trailer. Twisted metal ribbons, scavenged fragments from past times, leaned against the black volcanic rock wall that housed the hoverbikes.
With seconds to spare, I helped him attach Makir’s supply trailer. “I need a salve for this blanting rash.”
“A salve, huh?” His deep brown Boola skin gleamed in the sun. “Nothing to do with a certain someone selling her clothes at the market today?”
I squirmed under his narrow-eyed inspection, resisting the urge to scratch in front of him.
His smile warned of the smart comment coming. “Although you are strangely shimmery. Maybe they have a de-glitteringpoultice?” D’Rasma laughed and lifted his chin to the trailer. “Hop on.”
Was I that obvious? Warm spring air passed over my exposed arms. Copper rings traveled down my arms and hooked over my three fingers. I flipped my hands over, eyeing the skin between the rings, more silver than gray, and dismissed it as an allergic reaction.
Main Street’s market spread before us as D’Rasma parked next to a motley collection of hovees. Fabric banners hung from tables and rustic wood booths, where they curled and drifted in the light breeze. Stacks of baskets of all shapes and sizes, overflowing with wares, were suspended from ropes and spread across tables. Savory mantu sizzled on skewers, and containers of tangy fermented vegetables filled the streets with their mouthwatering aroma. A Nacer female pushed a cart laden with packets of warm roasted seeds so spicy my stomach burned from the scent alone.
Amid the cheerful chaos, I scanned the crowd, searching out Ginger. My ears buzzed, and my nose twitched as I worked my way toward a piece of fluttery white fabric I confused for Ginger’s hair. An older Boola sat on a cushion on the ground, where he plucked the strings of his wartu as a chorus of voices accompanied him. Before I wove around him, I swiped my wristport over their meter, depositing a few credits.
Pressure throbbed at my temples. Why hadn’t Yurst or Sisip placed enforcers around the market? A couple of off duty Dracks staggered out of the cantina and through the mix, but they’d be useless if the market fell under attack. Though D’Rasma was in the crowd somewhere, the tingle didn’t ease, and I palmed the back of my neck.
Eyes landed on me from every direction with each step I took. Either the news of my banishment had spread, or my warrior’s clothing was drawing all this attention.
“JayJay?” Sully asked.
I turned to my friend and slung an arm over his shoulder, laughing. “Who did you think it was?”
“What the blant happened to you?” Sully cracked a wide smile. “Do they have a shop selling Rock Dweller clothes for the rich and famous in that volcano? You look like an ancestor from one of the history books in the Keepers’ Library. Shiny like them, too.”
Shiny ancestors? The Keepers’ Library admitted very few. I wasn’t surprised that Sully had a more complete education in Rock Dweller history—after all, his fata was a keeper. My shoulders rolled back. “Ginger made them for me.”
Sully’s deep baritone shot up an octave. “A gift?” His eyes locked on my raw wrists, and his eyes glazed over for a breath. “True mates…” he whispered.
Images of the ancestors, as they’d appeared in my mind when I’d meditated in the hot springs, sprang to life. Males with iridescent skins and tattooed arm cuffs stood hand in hand with their females, each mated couple’s wrists etched in the leaves of the sacred linnea tree. Only in the spiritual plane did female Rock Dwellers exist in numbers that matched the males.
Sully’s younglings bumped into me, jerking my mind back to the present. I shook my head at the doubts creeping in. It couldn’t be true.
