Free How Dark the World Becomes by Frank Chadwick Page B

move you and the kids. Right now,” I added. 
    “They’re sleeping.” 
    “Then wake them up,” I answered. “They aren’t safe here anymore, and neither are you.”
    “But Mr. Arrakatlak—”
    “ Fuck Arrie! ” I shouted, and she jumped in surprise. 
    “Arrie doesn’t know shit! He sure as hell doesn’t know Kolya Markov. All this double-cross pretend-your’re-hiring Kolya ying-yang might work most of the time. But Kolya’s tried to kill me twice in the last three days, and I’ve gotten away twice, and when things start going that bad, Kolya goes into Operating Mode B, which is No Loose Ends . 
    “So wake the kids up.”
    *   *   *
    After about ten minutes, she came back with the two little Varoki. They were wearing purple silk robes, with Chinese characters embroidered on them in gold. Arrie was right about that—it really was pretty amazing how Terrakultur had grabbed hold of the imagination of the Cottohazz , especially the wealthy Varoki.
    The Varoki are hairless—eyelashes don’t count as far as I’m concerned—and for us hair styles are a big clue to gender. But if you’re around them enough, you start noticing other gender differences, things like proportion of hips to shoulders, prominence of the jawline, that sort of thing, even in little squirts like these two. Early physical and emotional development isn’t that different from Humans, either. The boy was older, maybe early teens, on the verge of adolescence, with his left hand in a clear bandage case. The girl was a couple years younger, about twenty centimeters shorter. Both of them were very frightened, but the boy was trying hard not to show it. His ears were trembling with the effort to keep them from folding tight back against his head. I was glad their last bodyguard had been Human; that would help.
    “Hello,” I said. “My name is Sasha, and I’m going to keep you safe and get you back to your family. Do you understand?” 
    The boy nodded, but the girl looked to Marfoglia, who translated in what sounded to me like perfect aGavoosh—clicks and glottal stops like a native. The girl not speaking English was a problem; we’d need to work out some simple words so she and I could communicate in an emergency. Well, I had a couple words of aGavoosh, and it wouldn’t kill me to learn a little more.
    “What are your names?” I asked.
    “Barraki,” the boy answered. 
    The girl must have figured out the question from his answer, because she said, “Tweezaa.” 
    I held out my hands.
    “Take my hands,” I said. The boy took my left hand right away. The girl looked at Marfoglia, who said another couple words in aGavoosh and nodded, and then the girl reluctantly took my right hand.
    “Barraki. Tweezaa. I’m not just something you see and hear. I’m something you can touch. I want you to feel my skin, how warm my hand is, and remember how it feels, so you’ll remember I’m real. And remember I’m going to get you home safely.” I squeezed their long, bony little hands, and Marfoglia translated, but the girl looked away and said something softly.
    “What did she say?” I asked.
    “She said, ‘There is no home,’” Marfoglia answered, and her voice had a catch in it. 
    The funny thing is, I don’t even remember deciding to go along as their bodyguard. I just knew I was. And all of a sudden, a lot of things started looking clearer. There just might be a way out of this mess for all of us. 
    Have you every noticed how often happy thoughts like that come right before a disaster?
    My comm link tingled behind my left ear. Then it stopped. Then five seconds later it tingled again, and stopped. 
    “We’ve got company,” I told the three of them.

EIGHT
    I expected more of an argument. When I told Marfoglia she had thirty seconds to grab the passports and identification we’d need, she did it almost that fast. She started to say something about getting dressed before we left, but she looked at me and something she