9

Wenthi had stopped at one carbon and rum, at least in terms of the rum, as had Paulei. The same could not be said for Lathéi or Oshnå, who each had several. Both of them were giggling and stumbling as they left the club, the last to leave when the doors were shut at nine on the naught.

“How do we get home?” Oshnå asked. “I mean, the hotel called me an autotaxi before—horrid drive—”

“I don’t know why they even bother bringing autos to the central part of the city,” Paulei said. “The streets aren’t made for it.”

Oshnå looked at the curving alley, with its sharp drop as they made their way down to where the cycles were parked. “I might get sick from all these curves and winds. Don’t you Pinos believe in straight lines?”

“You’ve had too much,” Lathéi said. “We need to get you to your hotel.”

“Well, get me an autotaxi,” Oshnå whined, waving her hand to the green car winding through the tight street ahead of them.

Wenthi and the others laughed at that, pulling her back into the alley.

“You never want to just hail an autotaxi,” Wenthi said. “Have one called from your hotel in the 1st, sure, because they know who to call. But on the street? At this sweep? Anyone could be driving.”

“Yeah,” Oshnå said, stumbling through a bit of a slur. “But this is a safe neighborhood, right? No . . . what do you call them . . . banzi here?”

“Baniz,” Lathéi said. She helped lead the pale girl down the next curving alley slope, guiding her to the walking steps. “Probably not, but you have jifoz who work here, and they’re nearly as bad. They have to get a work permit to come in here, of course.”

“So what’s the—”

“I’ve heard stories. They’ll patch together cars, paint them green, and dolly up fake papers, all so they can grab rich, drunk folks and rob them blind.”

“And worse,” Paulei said. “Heard it too many times.”

Lathéi snapped her fingers, pointing at Paulei. “Yeah. And a zoika girl like you stands out.”

“Like you don’t,” Oshnå said. “Well, I’m not going to walk to the 1st Senja.”

“No, we’ll get you there,” Wenthi said. They had come up on the spot where he and Paulei had parked the patrol cycles.

“What, on those?” Oshnå asked. “Are you crazy? Are they crazy?”

“It’s what they do,” Lathéi assured her. “They’re cycle cops.”

“No, no,” Oshnå said. “These streets are crazy enough.”

“Let’s show her it’ll be fine,” Wenthi said to his sister. He gave her his helmet as he mounted, and she got on behind him.

“Really,” Lathéi said. “Best way to get around.”

“I will likely vomit,” Oshnå said, joining Paulei on his cycle.

“I can take it,” Paulei said. It would hardly be the first time they had been vomited on by someone who had had a few too many rums.

Wenthi kicked his cycle up. Patrol issue Ungeke K’au, high-quality Sehosian engineering. One of the better machines on the market. Not quite the Ungeke K’am, or the Reloumene Maherœk 500. He had gotten to try a ’rœk once, and that was nothing short of divinity between his legs.

With his sister holding on, he cranked up the throttle, up the hill as the road curved around a statue of General Esobåk, an Alliance hero of the Great Noble, and then split into a main road up toward the Damas Kom, and a narrow fork down the hill. Wenthi weaved to one side of a trio of cars—all but stopped on this street as the first one tried to park—and then darted around a traffic circle to pop down into the tunnel leading to the 1st Senja.

If they had taken an auto, they would have had to have gone around the long way, probably gotten stuck behind three snarls, and taken an entire sweep to get Oshnå where she was staying. Between that and petrol rations, he honestly didn’t understand why anyone chose an auto over a cycle. Of course, truck drivers had no choice; they drove those to haul cargo. But to just get through the narrow streets, the wild curves, the rising hills, and sudden drops of the Ziaparr streets? The cycle was the only way to go.

He revved it up a gear, seeing that Paulei and Oshnå were right on pace with him, racing through the Bidsaip Tunnel at a speed that would be dangerous if the two of them hadn’t been old hands at this sort of thing.

A hard horn wail came up from behind them. Two others on cycles behind them, blue and white uniforms with full mask helmets. Alliance Guard. Wenthi yielded to one side, giving a hand signal for them to pass, but as they reached the end of the tunnel to emerge in the 1st Senja, the Alli nucks pulled parallel, making it clear they needed to pull to the side.

“What’s going on?” Lathéi asked as he braked to a stop.

“Probably just want to give us a bit of grief,” Wenthi said. “Maybe we buzzed past a checkpoint. Shouldn’t be an issue.”

The two nucks came up, lifting up the visors of their helmets. Both of them looked full-blooded Sehosian, which wasn’t that different from Paulei or Lathéi.

“Where you racing to?” the first one asked. She gave Lathéi an odd look. “And I’m going to have to see some cards.”

“Of course,” Wenthi said, handing over his identity card. Lathéi did the same. “Did we miss the checkpoint for the 1st Senja?”

“I’ll ask the questions,” she said. “Like why is a rhique patrol officer riding a student through the tunnels, especially one who’s llipe?”

“She’s my sister,” Wenthi said.

“Half-sister,” the second nuck said, throwing Wenthi’s card back at him. “You’re not on duty. So why are you riding around after nine stint?”

“Is there a problem with being out late?” Lathéi asked. “I thought curfew locks were lifted years ago.”

“Hush, miss.” The first frowned. “And those two? Also mixed-caste siblings?”

“No, he’s also an officer in the Civil Patrol,” Wenthi said. “And she’s from Hemisheuk.”

“She’s got all her travel papers and entry documents,” Lathéi added.

“I’m sure,” the first nuck said. She pointed at Paulei. “You planning on fucking her? Last thing she needs is you putting a rhique baby in her.”

“I will report you!” Oshnå shouted.

“No, don’t, don’t,” Paulei said sharply. “Leave it.”

The first one glared back at Wenthi, and then Lathéi. “Same mother?”

“That’s right,” Lathéi said. “Angú Tungét?”

The nuck looked back at Wenthi. “So did she start with jifoz trash to have you, and then get her senses on with her father?”

“Do you know who our mother is?” Lathéi snarled.

“If she has rhique and llipe children, she sounds like a dirty castejum—”

That got Lathéi’s blood up. “You will regret that, when she gets word—”

“Can we move on?” Wenthi asked quickly, not wanting this to escalate further. Though it was clear this nuck was one of those Alliance types who took blood caste very seriously. “You can see our family name on our cards.”

“They can,” the second nuck said. He waved to Paulei to drive off. “But your sister will have to find her own way. We’ve got a call to bring in one Wenthi Tungét to the Damas Kom on sight. So you better come with us.”

Lathéi got off the cycle and gave him his helmet. “This is probably Mother’s doing.”

“Can you tell me what this is about?” Wenthi asked the nuck.

“No,” the first nuck said. “But we’d rather you come quickly and easily.”

“Of course,” he said. He gave a glance to Paulei, who signaled that he would take care of Lathéi, make sure she got home all right. Paulei was already on the radio, calling for an escort support. He had it covered. Wenthi put on his helmet and started up his cycle again. “Lead the way.”