THE MONSTROUS RHYTHM

1563 4D

Frei, motionless in the roar and banging, stared after her. How could she know? Would she tell Arlen? He started forward, but a hand caught him and dragged him into a line of men singing a chant. He glared at the young man beside him, a street player in a carapiece, with lizard skin on his scarred face and ears, and a long poniard at his side. Frei‘s hand fumbled for his jector.

“Darko Hejji, talaam,” the man said under the music, and Frei let his hand fall. A clan cousin, just above Frei‘s age. He must have arrived in Sobi since Frei had left. Together they swayed with the line; as the man turned his head back and forth, scanning the crowd, he shot bursts of words at Frei.

“Parthren will kill you, pretty boy. I know that look on her.”

Frei cringed. Everything he did seemed to be common knowledge. “Who are you?”

“I’m not Arlen‘s boy, like you.”

“I’m from here. I’m not Arlen‘s boy.”

“You’re not from here. Only Arlen‘s boys talk to Parthren now. Your shoes tell me where you walk. Way upcity.”

Frei had forgotten his new footwear. “These are my streets. Treadmire, Old Feather, Wallenstone…"

“You know the names like anybody could. What else do you know?”

“I was Jaeg‘s boy, on Teshill Slope. He had a speeder in his optics. And he cut Norress' ear off just before the rest of the Hejj killed him.”

The other man stared at him. “I’m Engel. Jaeg had a sister two years older. Jorrel. She taught us both the knife.”

Engel: Frei suppressed a start. Arlen‘s choppers were on their way to kill this man. He groped for words. “He talked about Jorrel like she was a goddess. I’m Frei. Jaeg said you’d left.”

Engel frowned. “I was out in the country. It was supposed to be safer.” Engel scanned the buffeting crowd. “Your friend Arlen stuffed me out there. Killed my whole family and fucked me. And when he was done his subcocks chopped me up. Now he knows I’m back.”

A burning pain lit the base of Frei‘s spine. Engel said, “Don’t move anything. Just tell me why you’re here for Arlen, and I won’t shish you. Now.” Engel still scanned the space around them. Frei‘s bladder let go, soaking his leg as he wondered. His knees shook. He hadn’t seen Engel move, not at all. Engel‘s lizard-skin ear twitched. “Now.”

“Parthren took me to him when I owed her,” Frei said. “She was gonna give me to the bugboys.”

“Owed her what?”

“For a K of ‘thellin and some other stuff.”

“Tell me what stuff.” The burning in Frei‘s tailbone spiked a little. He sweated.

“Two Ms of triperixanthon, an M of werecyclase, half an M of 3Z, two Cs of decatrophinyl.” Frei listened to the words, confession enough to have him executed, flow steadily from his own mouth.

“That’s better. But you were better off with the bugs.” Engel paused. “Now. What I want is this. You tell me how to get to Arlen‘s. You tell me what it’s like there. And right now, you tell me what keeps you going back. It’s not him, is it?” On a beat of the music, the pain spiked higher; Frei jerked.

“Indrio,” he said, almost calling it out as if she were there to help him. Two women, halfway to term, smiled giddily at him as they danced past.

“What?”

“She’s his… woman. Slave.”

“Very good,” Engel mocked. “You’re fucking Arlen‘s toys… hold it!” Frei gasped, started to turn on Engel in rage, but the blade reached deeper, and now the nerves of his legs burned.

“I love her,” he said, lowering his head. The thumping around them rose up over his head like quicksand.

“So you’re the toy. You’re in too deep, cock. What do you think he’ll do to you?” The pain vanished. Frei picked his head up again. Engel grinned at him. “Let’s go where we can talk, and you can tell me all about Arlen. You will, won’t you?” Frei nodded dumbly. His jector and dispenser hung before him, held in Engel‘s scarred and twisted hand.

Engel led the way, not bothering to look back at Frei. Frei debated vanishing in the crowd, but he sensed something wrong growing inside him. Trying to keep up with Engel, he staggered. Many passing hands reached out and righted him. At last he fell. Engel‘s face bent near him, but it melted, coalesced, turned feline and rapacious, grinned long teeth at him.

Then Frei himself was the cat, his haunches cramped and pain-shot, his jaw huge and heavy, as he stalked an empty street in a dream of hunger; abruptly, the face, the haranguing music, the monstrous rhythm clicked off.