CONTESSA ALISSYNDREX DELGA CANTONICA PROVINCION maintained a government office adjacent to the racetrack, in a beautiful domed tower with a patina glaze of greening copper. She did not frequent the casino often, but she loved the races, and she was known to observe them from her tower balcony whenever her duties kept her away from the track itself.
As Lexo approached the reception area, he checked the chrono. Less than an hour remaining until the first post time. If he was lucky, the countess would still be here. If he was very lucky, he’d win an audience with her.
He considered three different introductions that might get him past the door to see the countess. He settled on “a representative of Zord’s, on an emergency business matter.” To his surprise he only got as far as his name before the receptionist buzzed him through, and he was allowed to ascend the tower straightaway. Four sentry droids guarded the entrance; they followed him inside, blasters hefted menacingly.
The countess stood beside her desk, still wearing her sleeveless black evening gown. Her thick epidermis had been expertly styled into a mass of waves around her face. Behind her, floor-to-ceiling windows displayed the whole city in all its lighted glory. He could even glimpse the massive reclamation waterfall that tumbled into the sea.
“You’ve been running around my city quite a lot tonight,” she said without preamble.
There was no reason to lie. “Yes, Your Grace,” he answered.
“I wasn’t aware that Zord allowed his employees so much free time.”
“He doesn’t, Your Grace.”
She took a sip of her wine, swirled it around in her mouth, swallowed. “I don’t imagine you’ve come here to kill me,” she said. “You could have done that a dozen times at the bathhouse.”
Lexo blinked. Why would she say such a thing? “I came because I need your help,” he said.
The countess gave him a bored look, steeped in disappointment.
“It’s about Big Sturg Ganna,” he added quickly.
The countess sat, crossing her legs. She swung one ankle back and forth, taking another sip of wine. To all appearances, she didn’t have a worry in the world, but Lexo knew better. The moment he’d mentioned the councilor’s name, tension began oozing out of her, filling the air.
Finally, she said, “Tell me about it.”
Lexo told her everything about Lula, about Ganna wanting to hire him as an informant. When he finished, he took a deep breath and prepared for the worst.
The countess said, “You are guessing that Ganna and I are at odds. That I might help you in order to hurt him.”
Lexo remembered the way she watched them from the spa balcony. Surely he hadn’t misread the tension between them? He said nothing.
“Ganna is my greatest ally and a dear friend, of course.”
Lexo opened his mouth. Closed it. How could he have read the situation so poorly? How could— But, no. She was lying. The pheromones leaking from her skin screamed her lie to him.
So he replied, “Did you know that Councilor Ganna intends to buy out your share of the spa?”
“Yes. We have discussed it.”
“I can’t imagine why you’d want to sell.”
“I grow bored of the bathhouse business.”
Again, she was lying. Which meant either the councilor had something on her, or she needed the money.
Once again, Lexo decided on the honest approach. “I’m sorry for whatever is wrong, whatever he’s doing to you. He’s doing the same or worse to my daughter and me.”
“He’s doing nothing to me. As I said, he is my greatest ally.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” Lexo said, bowing his head. “Apologies for my presumption.”
“Naturally, though, the fate of any Canto Bight citizen, a child no less, is of the utmost importance to me.”
It was hard to stay calm. “Of course,” he said again.
“So I will help you, Lexo Sooger. I know exactly how to get you inside that hotel suite. But first, you must do something for me. A tiny favor.”
In Canto Bight, there was no such thing as a tiny favor. Everything inside him screamed to decline, to flee, but he thought of Lula and said, “Anything.”
She smiled, and Lexo knew she was springing her trap. “I need you to kill someone for me.”
His heart pounded in his shoulders.
“I know about you, Sooger,” she said. “Born into poverty. Raised in the slave pits of Askkto-Fen IV. You were made to serve in the steam baths, catering to fighting slaves, until you were plucked from that horrible life by a traveling merchant, who saw your potential as a masseur.”
Lexo’s shoulders felt like they were about to explode. He had told no one this. No one but Lula.
“Tell me, Sooger,” the countess continued relentlessly. “Did that merchant ever know? What you really did? Who you really are?”
Lexo felt a little dizzy. Maybe he should sit down.
“You sabotaged matches by sabotaging the fighters—or healing them, depending on who paid the most. There were so many species represented in the fighting pits, and you learned about them all. You learned their strengths, their weaknesses. My reports say you could kill with a single touch.”
He sat. “Your Grace,” he choked out. “I left that life behind. I’m a father now.”
“Ah, yes. Your daughter.” She swirled the wine in her glass, staring at it as though it contained all the mysteries of the universe. “Your human daughter. Tell me, how did you come to possess such a creature?”
He blinked at her. “I came to care for her, not possess her.”
She waved a hand. “Same difference. How?”
“I found her in the stairwell. In an empty cargo box. Someone had just left her there.”
The countess raised one eyebrow. “Did you ever try to locate her parents?”
“Of course I did. But children are so quickly and easily abandoned here. It was like trying to find a flea on a fathier. Those first few days were hard. I knew all about human anatomy, but it turns out I didn’t know anything else. I didn’t know what to feed her or how often, whether she was a species that needed or loathed physical touch, or what it meant when she made those awful wailing sounds.”
“But you figured it all out.”
“I did. And I almost went broke hiring someone to care for her while I was at work. Humans aren’t independent until they’re many seasons old.”
The countess was leaning forward, eyes wide, hanging on his every word.
Lexo resisted the urge to flinch away. “Why are you asking me all this?”
“Would you be interested in finding her real parents?”
Lexo stared. He didn’t know such a thing was possible. Thousands arrived and departed Canto Bight via the spaceport every single day. Lula’s parents could be anywhere in the galaxy. “You can do that?” he said.
“I might. Let’s see…it was about thirteen years ago, and she is a dark-skinned variety of human, yes?”
Lexo nodded, still dumbfounded.
“That’s enough information to begin making inquiries at least. I’ll tell you what. You do this tiny favor for me, and I’ll help you get inside Ganna’s suite and make inquiries about your daughter’s parentage.”
“Only if Lula wants to know.”
“So you’ll do it?”
“I…” He hadn’t killed in decades, and he was rusty. Killing required finesse, strength, young tendons, a willingness to bear the burden of conscience. He wasn’t sure he could do it. He certainly didn’t want to, maybe not even for Lula.
“Do you have a better plan for reaching your daughter?”
His silence was all the answer she needed.
She smiled. “If I know you’ve been running around town all night, then it’s only a matter of time before Ganna knows it, too. He will hurt your daughter. Maybe even kill her. You must act tonight or lose her forever.”
The countess was right, and Lexo didn’t know what else to do. His gut churned and his shoulders grew tight, tight, tighter as he said, “All right then. Tell me about the mark.”
The countess set down her wine as relief pheromones filled the air. “It’s a human male, middle-aged, light-toned skin, blue eyes, black facial hair. Very tall for a human; the top of his head would probably reach your shoulder. His name is Jerdon Bly, and he’ll be entertained tonight by Baron Yasto Attsmun on his yacht, the Undisputed Victor. The yacht is scheduled to sail within the hour, so you must hurry.”
A human. Lexo knew all about humans now. Hard to raise, easy to kill.
“Jerdon Bly is a buffoon,” she said. “Easy to manipulate, very full of himself. He’s an easy mark if you can just get him alone. I’ll arrange for you to be on that yacht in a serving capacity.” She gave him the berth number and a passcode.
He memorized the information and asked, “Why do you want him dead?”
“That’s above your pay grade.”
“It most certainly is not.”
The countess seemed astonished that he would contradict her. “I will tell you only what you need to kn—”
“A good assassin wields knowledge as much as any physical weapon. You know this to be true, or you wouldn’t have been tracking me with spies. Councilor Ganna also understands this, or he wouldn’t be going to such lengths to recruit me. So you will tell me exactly why you want him dead, because my success may hinge on that knowledge.”
She pressed her lips together, considering. Then: “He’s an arms dealer. A dangerous one. He’s playing both sides, you see. Selling to both the First Order and the Resistance.”
Lexo gave her a withering look. “Everyone in Canto Bight plays both sides.”
“Yes, but he is gauche about it.”
“Gauche? In Canto Bight? I can’t imagine.”
She swept up her glass and brought it to her smiling lips. “Dangerously gauche. This city survives on open secrets. Yet Jerdon Bly boasts to anyone who will listen about the major deal he has arranged, something going down very soon. He’s going to bring trouble on my city, mark my words.”
Lexo could smell the lie, but it wasn’t a strong one. A partial lie, perhaps. The intended mark was almost certainly a weapons dealer, just as the countess claimed. But Lexo would bet his floating distal bones that the real reason the countess wanted him gone was to eliminate her competition. She was the one who wanted to play both sides.
Lexo stood, and the countess grabbed her wineglass and stood with him. If she were a head taller, they’d be nose to nose. On impulse, he reached for her arm. Her epidermis was thick and protective, but porous enough, allowing the chemicals from his fingertips to penetrate.
He squeezed gently and said, “Ganna must have considerable leverage on you, for you to be willing to help a lowly masseur, assassin or not. As I said, I’m sorry for whatever he is doing to you.”
To his surprise, tears filled her eyes. “I don’t want to sell my share of the spa. But I need resources…my husband…”
Her husband the count was rarely seen in public. In fact, Lexo couldn’t remember the last time he’d made an official appearance. “Is he all right?” Lexo asked, his voice full of sympathy.
“He…” The countess’s eyes widened, and she swung her arm, throwing off his hand. Wine sloshed in an arc across the wall, onto the rug. Anger pheromones filled the air. “Never touch me again,” she spat out.
Lexo bowed, backing away. “Apologies, Your Grace. I’ll return when the job is done.”
She turned her back to him and stared across the balcony toward the racetrack. “You do that,” she said.
Lexo stopped at the door to get his bearings. He was using his ability too often. He needed food and rest. Not getting them soon might cost years off his massaging career.
“Why are you still here?” the countess said, still gazing into the Cantonica night.
Lexo said to her back, “I don’t know if this will help or not, but I’ve heard that it would be wise to bet against DeFancio Storsilt’s stable tonight. Maybe place a small wager on a long shot instead.”
“I always bet on Hard Luck.”
Lexo sighed. “Me too, Countess. Me too.”