Galaxy's End: Book One LeRoy Clary (dark books to read TXT) 📖

seen too many brawls had a narrow alley that took me onto the gaudy main street where beings of every race mixed. I slipped in front of a Phan, which was a large snail-like creature in appearance. Underneath the protective spiraled shell lived a mollusk with dozens of small feet on short legs. Together, they moved the creature along at a reasonable pace.

I said, “Hello,” to the Phan and walked alongside it for a block, certain it was the same one I had sat across from in a game involving predicting the numbers on a pair of rolled dice. It might still hold some of the credits it’d won from me.

“Hello, Kath,” the Phan replied in a thin, reedy voice.

“I’m known as Kat, these days.” My tone was as low as the underside of my feet.

A rumbling grumble came from inside the shell, which was probably a laugh. It said, “Have you a destination?”

“You know that flashing green street cart that sells veggies on sticks?”

“I love those things. I was in search of a cart that boils local insect larvae, but now that you mention the veggie sticks, may I accompany you?”

“Certainly.”

“I heard a rumor about you coming into money this morning.”

I paused. Did I owe the Phan a few credits and should deny the winnings? I didn’t think so but there were many I owed money to. “Word travels fast.”

“Good or bad. Yes, I agree.”

Ahead, a fight broke out. As with the rest of the people on the street, I could use a little free entertainment and angled closer to watch. A Scan and a Molder were wrestling in the street and a small crowd gathered.

The Phan at my side paused and a pseudo-arm snaked out and grasped my elbow. It pulled me closer and spoke softly, for my ears only, “It may not be of concern, but danger lurks in many places these days. A being standing ahead of us is not what it is portraying itself to be.”

“The Scan or Molder?” I asked.

“Neither. At the edge of the crowd, there is a strange being with green hair and long legs, and it is displaying weapons.”

My eyes found the object of the Phan’s attention. “I see it.”

“The hair is synthetic, as is the green coloring of the skin. Legs that long are not strong enough to support the weight of the being’s trunk, arms, and head. It is a disguise.”

The Phan and I moved aside to where we were less visible, next to a wall where a knife-maker often set up shop to sell his wares. They were not of a quality good enough to be sold closer to the center of town, but still useful to chop celery or slice hard bread. While looking surreptitiously at the green being, I used my imagination to remove the long, thick green hair, shortened the legs, and ignored the green tint of the skin. I hissed, “Human?”

“My visual perception tells me it is a human woman in hiding.”

“Interesting. Dressed like that, the question is why is she trying to hide her race.”

“Perhaps she wishes to stand out, but not be recognized, which on the surface is a contradiction in terms. She is drawing almost as much attention as the fight that just ended.”

“I can’t see her face,” I said. Knowing I should only use my empathic powers sparingly, I mentally reached out and nudged the woman, giving her the impulse to turn and look at the Phan.

She slowly turned while wearing a growing smile. She ignored the Phan and looked directly at me. She mouthed, “Found you.”

The green being on long legs moved quickly in my direction. She reached me in a dozen long steps, then paused and looked down on me with satisfaction. She said, again, louder this time, “Found you.”

“Me?” I asked in what I wanted to be an innocent voice. I was confused, ready to flee, and hoped the Phan would run a little interference for me and slow her down. My left hand held the knife I’d pulled and hidden behind my leg.

The woman in green seemed to choose her words carefully, “I fought in the arena this morning. Against a Hoot.”

“You?”

“And now I am here to speak with you as a friend who helped me. Have you a place where we can converse in private? Forgive me, Phan, my manners are not what they once were, however, this woman and I have a mutual business proposition to conduct. Might you excuse us?”

The Phan turned to me, although it was hard to tell its front from its rear. “Kat? Would you like my protection, or do you wish me to withdraw?”

I wondered how a snail in a shell was going to protect me if that was my choice. I said, “Thank you, my friend. I’ll be fine.”

“Have you a room where we can speak?” the green woman asked.

“A tent in the woods.”

“That is acceptable. May we proceed?” The woman closed the front of her cloak, concealing the butts of seven deadly knives, and motioned for me to lead.

“Who are you?” I asked, not moving a step in any direction. It was not that I was scared as much as confused, although I was both. “And why are you searching for me?”

The woman in green squinted her eyes as if thinking of a proper response and waited for the Phan to amble away before saying in a soft tone that wouldn’t be overheard, “I’ll tell you the truth, empath. Stone is my name. Captain Stone, of the Guardia, a trading ship.”

So much information in so few words. Some of them were direct but she relayed much more information indirectly in a brief time. It confused me more. The woman knew what I was, if not who. Now she knew who. There was