The Backworlds by M. Pax Read Free Book Online Page A

interested in
such opportunity?” She lifted the pitcher to make a toast, swinging it toward
his cup, the smile suddenly dripping off her lips. “You not drinking your ale.”
    The stuff tasted as vile as Croakman piss, but Gattar seemed to like it, so he couldn’t
say that without offending her. He couldn’t mess this up again, not when the
Jix stood on the verge of falling for Craze’s wiles. It didn’t take him long to
come up with another excuse. “Not craving beer at the moment.” His lips pursed
and he leaned in, stroking her wrist. “I’m interested. You find leads to
fortune here?”
    The Jix dumped his cup into the
pitcher and finished the ale off, belching as she put the empty ewer down. Then
she moved closer, her smelly breath inches from Craze’s wide nose. “The perfect
one should be arriving shortly. When I spied you, I had you in mind for this
deal.”
    He tried not to inhale much, the
reek of the house beer making him queasy. Despite that, he inched closer to
her. Whatever racket she exploited on Elstwhere, he had interest, as long as
she didn’t prove to be a psychopath or worse. Craze didn’t want to wind up in
jail.
    Gattar didn’t seem as dubious as
Bast though. No bloodlust sparked in her enormous eyes. So far. He hoped it
would stay that way. If it didn’t, well, he’d deal with the insanity then. This
much he knew, the Jix wanted a rube for something and probably something quite
risky to pluck at aid from a stranger. Risk meant great fortune. Fine. He’d
play the part, and while doing so would figure out how to veer circumstances to
his advantage. Seducing her was merely exploiting a weakness, not a plan.
    He breathed his words against her
neck, watching goosebumps of pleasure rise on her
skin. “What’d you have in mind?”

 
     
    CHAPTER 8
     
     
     
    The sweep of the Jix’s neck curved
gracefully. She didn’t push Craze away. In fact, Gattar moved her chair so she
practically sat on top of him, encouraging his attention. He obliged, sliding
an arm around her, flattening his palm against her stomach, splaying his
fingers wide.
    “So you need me in your negotiatin ’?” he asked, using his experiences in scamming
for Bast to keep the keen interest out of his tone and expression.
    The rhythm of her breathing changed
and she nestled in against his side. Craze suppressed an urge to gloat. She was
putty in his hands, which meant more chips would be coming his way soon, and
perhaps a heftier sum if he kept the Jix happy and purring.
    “I need a big, strong man,” Gattar
said.
    Ah, now she played him back. His
potential fortune shrank again. For now he’d let her think she had him, to lure
her in deeper.
    “That takes no effort on my part,”
he said.
    “Good.” Her fingers curled over
his, tracing the valleys and joints. Then she suddenly broke away, pushing his
hands off and her chair back to its side of the table. “Go ‘n get us more
drink. Huh?” Gattar slid the empty pitcher at Craze.
    From the corner of his eye he
glanced behind him, noting three figures draped in black making their way
toward the table he shared with the Jix. They swaggered, pushing around the
rough bar patrons as they passed by them, flashing peeks of weaponry concealed
in their clothing. The air became more fouled with trouble.
    Shit. Craze could use a good nip to
steel his nerves for the contest about to start, but he couldn’t drink any more
of that crappy beer. “Do you mind if I upgrade?” he asked the Jix.
    “I still want ale ‘n that’s my
favorite one.” Her fingers drummed and her shoulders stiffened, ramping up her
game to deal with the shadowy trio. Hardness stole over her features, a side
Craze hadn’t seen yet. Oily she was, oilier than a leaky valve. As quickly as
her mettle showed, she tucked it away. With a big exhale, Gattar donned the
smile of a coquette and blew Craze a kiss, giggling like a twit.
    The change in her moods could
disorient a whirligig. Craze knew he