Eidolon by Steve Miller, Sharon Lee Read Free Book Online

his direction.
    The larger man. She sighed, for she had been
known to be fond of larger men herself, but she admired him not
only for his stature but for the way he masked his elegance of walk
and motion. He appeared to the public face to be perhaps one as
might carry burdens or stand as bodyguard, and truth was he carried
a public gun. He was, however, far from the shambling person he
projected and his eyes were clear and alert.
    He looked at her with a nod, and Beba fought
to avoid reacting with other than a polite nod and smile of her
own. His form aside, the momentary scent she'd experienced was that
of urgent effort, as if the casual tour was far from that. Beyond
that was a deeper scent, and she feared that the scent was
blood.
    And there, a movement of hand, a flash of
alert orange across the face, gone, the scent of blood, gone, the
orange fading to light blue as if his burden were removed.
    She turned, to find the
third of the trio rotated between her and the hub; this neat and
tidy woman. The woman was no mere servant either, nor dumb. With
very fast eyes and hands that carried their own dark color, she was
alert as a matter of breathing, as a pilot might be, and it was
across her face and gone, the recognition, and the scents were of
wood-fire perhaps, and those of fireworks or ammonia, and under it
all, the touch of blood persisted, as if the pair had recently seen
some tragedy that underscored their lives. This one nodded and
approached--no--she intercepted !
    The hub was being guarded,
Beba realized, and glanced to where he stood yet at his own
efforts. He dismissed an ordinary carpet with a quick touch and
moved on to another of better quality, the eyes taking in a
detail--she caught a scent of carpet that was not the carpet around
her, but the carpet around him .
    Then it was gone, the scent. She'd yet to
see color there.
    "Are you one of the principals of this
operation?" The woman's hands moved wondrously smooth, accurately
describing their boundaries, the colors of her face almost absent
as they sometimes were with those concentrating on a goal beyond
the moment.
    "Yes, Gentle, I am Beba, co-operator of
Joshu's Superb Surfaces." Given the Liaden in the group Beba's nod
was deep, just shy of a bow. The nod-that-was-not-a-bow was
mirrored so precisely that Beba was concerned she'd offended but
the colors that flashed across the woman's face now were crisp,
businesslike, scentless.
    "Our group is relocating our own operations
and are seeking quality goods across a range of prices. Inexpensive
is very good, for the market we are entering will take some
building and the low end is more extensive than the high. Not
cheap, mind you, but inexpensive. We will also be looking at a few
high end goods, even uniquities."
    Beba listened and watched hard, hearing what
one might expect of a customer, remembering the scent of blood
earlier. Perhaps she'd been right and there had been a tragedy, now
requiring a rebuild.
    "We can supply all of that, Gentle," she
said, "quality goods at low cost, and a unique piece rarely
available for transport, ready to go. If you would like to enter
your order I'll be pleased to loan you a wireless entry catalog so
that you may purchase at your leisure from our marked prices."
    "Yes, I can see that you might," said the
woman, and there was perhaps a touch of humor in the eyes, even
with the small flash of alert orange, "but our chief associate is
of an older school of business than that, and having determined his
interest would like to discuss some matter of process in quieter
surroundings, it being the way he is used to proceeding."
    "Matters of process? Indeed, we might work
with appropriate amounts of cash, and pre-approved letters of
credit, and reasonable . . ." In the back of her mind Beba had
concerns, for surely Juntava worked this way, and quieter places
might not be safe places, after all.
    The woman nodded as if hearing these very
thoughts, offering open hands as she said,