Kelthia, Miraj City, Holding District
The Harbinger's home
Luc stood aside to let Wulf enter his home. Across the street, one of his idBot guards sat in a hover; two more strolled along the opposite sidewalk walking a dog. The one in the hover gave a hand signal that all was well.
Satisfied Wulf would be safe, Luc entered and shut the door, and secured both locks. Wulf had already wandered into the family area and was perusing books on a shelf. Luc joined him.
"Are these textbooks?" Wulf tilted them toward himself one by one. "Determining How to Charge for Field Work. The Use of Lockpicks in Emergency Situations. Bypassing the Vassindorf Security System." He pulled a wry face. "Who reads this kind of crap?"
"Note the publisher."
He checked each one. "A publication of the Kelthian Thieves' Guild. Sounds fascinating." He mimed a yawn.
"Did you notice the author?" Luc went up close behind him.
Wulf went back to each book. "Hmm. Some guy named Luc Saint-Cyr." He shrugged. "Never heard of him."
Luc grabbed him by the waist and tickled him, making him squeal.
Wulf shoved his hands away and stood up straight. "Uh, hello."
Luc turned to see where Wulf was looking. Senthys was standing in the doorway, hands behind him, studying the ceiling. He needed a haircut; his straight dark hair hung to his shoulders. Oh well, one battle at a time. Clearing his throat, Luc adjusted his jacket and stood a bit straighter. "Senthys, I'd like you to meet someone. Come here, please."
The youth shook hands with Wulf when he offered his hand. "Wulf Gabriel."
"Senth Antonello."
"Senthys Antonello," Luc corrected.
"Nice to meet you, Wulf. To my friends, I'm Senth."
"No, you are not." Luc shook a finger at Senthys. "You will not divide and conquer. You will call Mr. Gabriel by his title and name, and you will not refer to yourself as Senth. Your name is Senthys. Are we clear on that?"
"Yeah." He shrugged. "Whatever."
"And not 'yeah' or 'whatever.' It will be 'Yes, sir,' and 'No, sir,' and nothing less. Do you understand me?"
Senthys stared at Wulf as if Luc were not in the room, then rolled his eyes. "Yeah, whatever, sir. Yes, sir. Is that good enough, sir, yessir?"
"Senthys!" Luc clenched both fists. "Go to your room."
The boy grinned at Wulf. "See ya." He saluted Luc. "On my way, sir, yessir, sir." He laughed as he almost bounced from the room.
"Oh!" Luc ground his teeth together.
"What's wrong?" Wulf took his arm.
"Did you see that?" He pointed toward the door. "The cheek of that boy. He has no respect for authority. None!"
Wulf tsked. "Lighten up a little. I think he's cute."
Narrowing his eyes, Luc snorted. "I was going to forgive the escapade that got him thrown out of school, but after that show of disrespect, I think he's going to need more discipline than I'd planned."
Wulf tugged his arm. "Hey. Chill a little. It's not that bad, is it? What did he do?"
He loosened his collar. "Never mind, Wulf. I'll explain later." He gestured to the family room. "I don't allow Senthys to surf Imperinet. You won't have the same number of choices you had back on Tarth, so there's no more than fifty sports channels, but if you'd like to watch something while I go sort out things with my son, you're more than welcome."
"I think I can manage." He glanced around. "Anyone else in the house I have to contend with?"
"Not today. I'll introduce you to the staff in a day or so, if we're still here." He leaned in and gave Wulf a quick kiss. "Sorry you didn't get a better introduction to Senthys."
"Don't worry about it. I have a feeling I'll be around."
"Be right back, love. Oh--idBot is everywhere outside, but I'd feel better if you didn't go near the windows."
Wulf gulped.
Luc went back into the foyer and took the stairs two at a time.
*
Wulf seated himself on the sofa and put his feet up. So, this is the Harbinger's home? It was like his own house had been, growing up. Nothing fancy. Plain slip-covered furniture. Not even a big screen to watch. Couldn't be more than 50 or 60 inches, tradestandard.
He aimed the remote and went googly-eyed at the porn that came on the screen. Something about a female copbot strip-searching two female criminals. He snickered. Something tells me our Senthys has been a very, very naughty boy lately.
He surfed around a bit until he found his favorite sports channel, and then settled in to watch a live rematch between the Tarthian Fists and the Kelthian Killers.
The game was already past half-time but he didn't bother restarting it. The Fist offense had set up O'Brady Tyrell with the ruckball and he was running for the end zone. Killer Ensak Ssarg came out of nowhere and tackled him. They rolled out of bounds then back in as they fought for the ball.
Wulf swung his legs over the side and turned up the volume. "Tyrell! Don't you let that asshole get the ball!"
The wrestling aspect went on for almost two minutes, with neither side gaining an advantage. Finally, Ssarg threw himself over the ball. Tyrell grabbed the edge of his helmet and yanked him up and off it, kicked the ball over the end zone and threw both hands in the air at the same time as the referee.
Wulf jumped up. "Touchdown!" The holocam focused on Ssarg and Tyrell, who had gone back to wrestling in the grass. "Hot damn. I love a good fight." He perched on the edge of the couch to watch.
A boom of thunder rattled the vase on a table. Wulf turned down the sound and listened but heard no other sounds of a storm. He turned the volume back up and followed the game as referees pulled Ssarg and Tyrell apart.
Both players were penalized for fighting after touchdown--ten seconds time taken off both their record times for the season. "Damn. That much could cost 'em contract money." He popped up and went hunting for a snack while the local announcers argued over who should have lost more time.
He found the kitchen, pulled a soda out of the cupboard, and popped the top. It chilled instantly in his hand. He grabbed a bag of chips from the counter and did a double take at the type.
"Sweet potato chips? Prolly organic on top of it." He tossed them back on the counter and headed back to watch some more.
Tyrell was back in the game, running all out for a touchdown when here came Ssarg again.
"Oh, shit. I don't believe it. Those two always play like they're the only ones on the field." Tyrell was twenty tradestandard yards from a touchdown when Ssarg tackled him around the legs. They both went down hard, totally out of bounds this time.
Ssarg slammed both fists into Tyrell's chest. Wulf felt the ground shake as if he were there. "Ouch! That had to hurt."
Referees stood by, watching to ensure the fight stayed within rules. Ssarg had been known to draw blood on more than one occasion. Some idiots in the bleachers were chanting, "Ssarg, Ssarg, Ssarg." How stupid could you get? That game's on Fist home territory. Likely be blood in the stands before it's over.
The deep rattle Wulf had felt before shook the house again. He muted the game and stood up. "What the hell is that?" He started toward the window, recalled Luc's warning, and stood stock still in the middle of the room.
What if it was one of the hit men, trying to get in?
At that moment, the chandelier above rattled and swayed.
Luc? What the hell are you doing? He wouldn't hit Senthys, would he?
Wulf pounded up the stairs and listened at the top. It sounded like a game of ruckball was going on up here, with voices raised as something heavy hit the wall on his left. He ran down that hallway, yanking open doors. Bedroom, bathroom, bedroom, study room...
A thud jarred the next door. Wulf jerked it open in time to see a boxing glove headed right for his face.