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The youth, who had no name, sat on a bench against the café wall. He relished the cold of the stone and the rain which crept in under the eaves. Most of his fellow customers, he noticed, were imbibing things hot, clutching steaming cups and bowls to drive the chill from their fingers. For a moment the youth considered doing the same, as camouflage, but he decided no. There had been too much heat in his life.
There were so many, so many different beings on this commerce planet. Fellow sapients of every shape and size. For one who had grown up isolated, it was bewildering. He had to stop himself flinching whenever one of the aliens passed too close to him. (Hands shaking, claws trembling against his glass. Weakness, weakness...)
He forced himself to focus on a group of Sabaceans sitting at a distance. He wondered - were they his kin? Was that Sabacean male his father? That female, his mother? If he dared speak to them, could they tell him what he wanted to know? Awareness of his quest tightened his gut and made his brain sing. Where in the wide universe could he learn his origins?
One of the Sabaceans noticed him staring, and he looked down and away.
There was a blue woman sitting apart, talking to - no, negotiating with - a hirsute alien. The boy’s eyes lingered on her, savouring her spiky coolness, the hard shell of her. Her energy signature caressed her body - perfection meeting perfection. Without being conscious of what he was doing, the youth had risen and moved towards the couple.
“ - As collateral. I think you will find them, hmmm, satisfactory.”
“He’s lying.”
Two pairs of eyes upon him, one startled and angry (and trying to conceal it) the other pale and measuring. A row of sharp teeth, bared in a smile. Just like- . (No. Not like her.)
“Lying?” (Her voice was as sweet as pirin nectar.) “Who are you? And how do you know this? And why have you decided to tell me?”
The words were out before he could stop them. “Because you - you are beautiful.”
Her laughter was as clean and cool and refreshing as snow. (Something he had never experienced, but dreamed of through hot nights.) “So young,” she said, “and so gallant. But you still haven’t answered - my other questions.”
The other alien rose, blustering. “I don’t have to listen to this. Natira -”
“Sit down Caderos.” One dainty hand shot out and grasped him by the wrist, pulling him down. “Since you are so honest you will not mind staying to hear what this - young man - has to say. - Well?” Except for a brief glance sideways when she seized Caderos her gaze had remained fixed on the youth.
It took all the control learned over fifteen cycles for him to remain standing there. He felt her eyes inventorying him - ugly, inelegant, weak. (Not weak. Strong.) “I’m - nobody,” he said at last. “I have an ability - “ (An ability well tested since he had fled the Scarrans.) “I can see the heat patterns people create around themselves.” His finger traced a pattern as if outlining Natira’s own energy signature. “When people lie, the patterns change.” He looked at Caderos. “This one lied.”
There was no obvious change in Natira’s expression, but he sensed, somehow, that she had weighed the truth of his words and was inclined to believe him. Caderos’s nose-slits quivered, and his energy signature flared. “Natira. This is nonsense. This creature -”
“Hmm-mmm.” Natira tilted her head slyly to one side. “And if it is nonsense, why are you so afraid? What are you hiding, Caderos? Your, ah, collateral. Perhaps it is not quite as - safe - as you would like me to think?” She plucked something - a data chip - from Caderos’s fingers. “Maybe I had better investigate more closely. My principals would be most upset if you contemplated cheating them.”
“You have no right -”
Natira took one of his fingers and pulled. There was the snapping sound of bone breaking, and Natira dropped the data chip on the ground and crushed it under her heel. The youth watched, fascinated by the efficiency of her actions. “Never try to cheat me again, Caderos, or next time I will have your eyes. Now go!”
As Caderos fled, Natira switched her attention back to the young man in front of her. “Well, young No Name, it seems you have saved me some currency.” She reached out - he steeled himself for her touch - and brushed his face gently. “My you are - hot-headed. - I know Caderos, you see. This talent of yours - is it certain?”
He nodded, then added in strict honesty, “That I know.”
Natira ran her tongue over her teeth and murmured, as much to herself as to him, “You would be a most interesting protégé.” She addressed him directly. “And you have nowhere to go.” It was not a question.
The youth blinked and frowned. “No.” (Was his outcast status so apparent?)
“You do now. Assuming, of course, you wish to come with me.” Her manner made it clear that he would be a fool to wish otherwise.
Once again the youth nodded. (Oh yes.)
“Well, that is settled.” She held out a hand, then paused as if she suddenly noticed something. For a moment, an almost hungry look crossed her face. “Delectable,” she said. “And quite rare. A bonus -”
“I always did love blue eyes.”
