Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 144433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 722(@200wpm)___ 578(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 722(@200wpm)___ 578(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
"Got any hot tea?" I sit on one of the stools at the bar and try to ignore a smear of dried grease close by.
"Night tea?"
"Sure, that works." I put my elbows on the edge of the bar and prop my chin on my palms. "So what's new around town?"
"Quiet day today." He pulls out a steaming kettle and pours me tea, then adds a sprinkle of herbs that instantly turn the water black and sludgy. I have no idea if that's how night tea is made, but I guess that's what I get for ordering the alien equivalent of coffee at a bar that mostly does greasy snacks and beer.
I take the cup from him and put down a couple of credits. He starts to move away and I swear I've found the only bartender in the universe that doesn't want to chat with customers. Despite myself, I make a whining sound. "You don't want to chat?"
He gives me that unblinking look. "Human, I have kept my job here because I do not chat with the locals. Especially the human ones."
Oh, fair enough. "Then can I ask you something and get out of your hair?" I eye his bald, pebbled orange head, inwardly wincing. "Figure of speech. Just, uh, the other cantina that's under construction? I went over there and no one's there today."
He grunts.
I can see I'm going to have to pry conversation out of him. "I'm looking for Kazex in particular."
A look of alarm crosses his strange face. He grabs his bar towel and tries to look busy. "I'm staying out of your personal affairs, human."
"Wait, I'm not sleeping with him!" Yeesh. I try to think up a reasonable lie that won't make him think I'm chasing after Kazex like a spurned girlfriend. "I was mending a piece of clothing for him and I was trying to deliver it today. I want my credits, you know."
The credits part makes him relax. "Ah. Well, it's going to have to wait."
"Oh?" I pick up my sludgy tea and pretend to drink it, all casual like.
He nods. "Their ship left this morning. Supply run, I heard. Probably be a few weeks before they return."
A few weeks?! I choke on the night tea.
I cannot be stuck with Zhur for weeks. I cannot.
CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN
ZHUR
When I wake up, I'm still on this smelly planet. Still in this strange, square bed that feels entirely too small. Still in this hovel. The female is gone, and I don't know if I'm relieved or annoyed.
I do stare up at the ceiling for a long time, contemplating my existence. Would it have been better to be imprisoned in the coup, I wonder. Would they have better towels?
No one arrives to bring me breakfast, and I realize the depths of my new poverty. I only have one servant and she's out, doing whatever it is that servants do all day. With a groan, I get to my feet and head for the lavatory. There's water in the commode, and I hope she didn't fill my bath with that. Just the thought makes my skin itch. I scratch at my hay-like fur and shudder, then wander the rest of the tiny home, looking for something to eat. There's some cold meat left on a plate in her kitchen's cold storage, so I eat all of it. There's also a few stale buns of some kind. I eat those, too. I don't see a liquid to drink, which is unfortunate, and poke and prod at things in the hopes that there is a secret tap of aged mesakkah wine somewhere and I've simply missed seeing it.
My hand brushes a lever and water rushes out, startling me. Aha!
So she does have water! This confirms my suspicions—Meev is not very bright. This water has been here all along, in a very obvious location. I toy with the lever, watching the water turn on and off, and I feel a sense of smug superiority. She cannot be mad at having me as a guest now that I have found her water. This should hold her over until my trunks are located, along with my funding.
Hmm. My funding.
When exile had been hastily suggested to me, I'd envisioned tranquil beaches and rolling waves, sunny skies and servants bringing me exotic drinks. I'd thought it would be relaxing. Like a vacation from the stresses that society and Heirdom bring upon me. A relief from the endless meetings about finances and sponsorships, strategic meetings and partnerships between our house and other houses. Of how our family's Honor Guard is doing. How our gladiators are performing and if changes need to be made to bring additional honor to our house. An Heir's day is not his own, after all. There are appearances to be kept up, people to be met with and courted for business propositions, and endless, endless honorable events that must be attended.