. . . Truffles continues
12
THE EXALTED GODDESS Tearoom was, despite its name, a claustrophobic shop snugged close to the side of the Claws & Jaws. Bins of dried wisps of plant material lined the walls, each labeled not in Comspeak, but a script I didn’t recognize. The lettering was exotic, not least because it appeared hand done, and I wondered if customers bought what was in the bins more for the art than the contents.
Not a question to ask at the moment. I did my best not to elbow the shelves, squeezed beside Morgan in front of the counter. Behind it, an aged humanoid of indeterminate species—alien wrinkles continued to baffle me—waved hands in dismissal. “Bu-sy time. No soc-ials.”
I resisted the temptation to look over my shoulder at the empty space behind us.
My Human bent his fingers, using them to hook his hands together as he bowed. “We need to speak, Ruggio.”
“If not buy-ing tea, Ja-son, don’t clog my floor.” A dry spit to the side.
Rather than be offended, Morgan chuckled and bowed again, lower. “A joy to see you, too, old friend.”
“Bah.” The wrinkles reformed into what I took for a smile. “This the Si-ra?”
“Hello.” Copying Morgan’s gesture, I bowed.
Wrinkles collided. “You stu-pid? He bow. You too old. You jig-gy.” The little being vigorously bobbed its head up and down, then moved its shoulders, revealing extra joints beneath the frilly shawl. “Jig-gy!”
“I couldn’t possibly,” I said truthfully.
Ruggio stopped its performance to give me a long suspicious look. Suddenly, another wrinkly smile. “Smart Si-ra! So what’s this need to speak, Ja-son?”
Morgan leaned on the counter and told our tale of truffles.
It was after we were once more outside, a package of overpriced tea now tucked under my arm, that I stood firm and looked at my Chosen with my own suspicion. “What’s the point of all this?”
“Folks need to know.”
“Then why not use coms? Why—” I held out the package, with its lettering that looked disturbingly like the “Yummy-Yums” of my previous encounter.
Morgan’s lips quirked. “Coms don’t get it done, Witchling.”
“Get what done?” I kept my voice down with an effort. We weren’t alone here—a steady line of beings were heading for where we should be, the Claws & Jaws, so temptingly close.
“One last stop, I promise.”
You could tell me, I sent impatiently.
Instead of the teasing grin I expected, his face turned serious, the blue of his eyes darkening with intensity. “This is how Plexis works. The real Plexis. You put out the word. If others think it matters, they do the same. What happens after that?” An expressive shrug. “I’ve no idea.”
I’d learned about gambling, this past year. I’d also learned about him. “You’re betting it’s something to help us.” In disbelief, I waved the package of tea at the bustling multi-species horde of shoppers around us. “You believe in them.”
Something vulnerable touched his face, quickly controlled. “I believe we’d better make our last stop before a certain Carasian gets wind of what we’re up to from someone else.” Are you with me?
Always, I replied, whatever I thought of his plan. A lock of hair brushed the back of his hand. Aloud. “Where next, Captain?”
“Captain Morgan.”
His face assumed that pleasant, yet unreadable expression as we both turned. “Constable.”
Plexis Security, when we didn’t need help or a delay. I found myself facing an older Human. The constable wore authority like someone else would wear a comfortable coat. Her keen gaze recorded everything about me before locking on Morgan. “Word’s out you’ve an issue with your cargo.”
I tensed.
“Officer E’Teiso has an issue,” he corrected. “Thought you’d be taking it easy today.”
She scowled. “And let scum like you walk around loose?”
Morgan grinned. “Glad to know you still care, Hutton.”
“Huh.”
Humans. Sorely perplexed, I looked from one to the other as Morgan held out his hand and the constable took it in a firm, brief grip.
“Say hi to the big guy for me.” She walked away into the crowd.
“What was that about?”
“That,” Morgan said, as if it were all the explanation necessary, “was Plexis, too.”