Carnelians by Catherine Asaro

of someone powerful. Just seeing her made Aliana feel as if bugs were crawling on her skin.
    The car hummed behind them, its turbines growling. Aliana sped up, pulling Red, and he stumbled as his shoes scraped the pavement. She suddenly knew he had never before worn shoes. His mind blazed with it. She often picked up moods from people, but never with this clarity. She kept her grip on his arm, afraid someone would try to tear him away. He had only been with her a couple of days, but he already felt like a part of her life.
    The car came around and settled down in front of them. Aliana skidded to a stop and Red stayed with her, staring at the car.
    The woman stepped out and stalked over to them. “Come along,” she said. “Both of you.”
    Aliana tensed. Although the woman wasn’t wearing a uniform, she moved like a military tech-type. Even so. Aliana could lose this prowler babe if she sprinted for the labyrinth of alleys that networked the old city. She knew this town better than any half-Aristo spawn. But she doubted Red could keep up, given his problems with the shoes. So she stayed put, tensing for a fight. Good thing she’d been working with Tide.
    “Come on,” the woman said. “Into the hover with you both.”
    “Why the hell would we go anywhere with you?” Aliana said.
    The man stepped out and lounged against the car, his arms crossed, watching them with an amused look, as if they were his entertainment. Although red streaked his hair, the rest shimmered black like Aristo hair. His eyes were red. He wore a collar like everyone else, but he was obviously in the stratosphere of taskmaker slaves, maybe even more than half Aristo.
    The woman’s expression hardened. “Someone should teach you respect, girl.”
    “For what?” Aliana asked. “Why should I respect some random stranger who stops us on the street and tries to haul us off some place where you and that asshole”—she waved her hand at the guy—“can get your kicks making us scream.”
    The woman studied her as if she were a bug. “You’ve never been a provider.”
    “Yeah, well, neither have you,” Aliana said. “So what?”
    The man wasn’t smiling anymore. He came over to the woman and spoke in a low voice. They probably didn’t think Aliana could hear. She often picked up conversations that people believed were private. It had to do with feeling their minds and extrapolating their mood to their words. Or something. She didn’t know why it worked, but it was useful.
    “She isn’t wearing provider restraints,” the man said. “But gods, her mind is a furnace. The boy, too. Find out who they are.”
    The woman spoke louder, to Aliana. “Who do you belong to?”
    “Same as you,” Aliana said. “Garret Muze.” Lord Garret was related to Orzon Muze, a cousin of a sister of a brother of who the hell knew what. A minor Aristo, but still an Aristo, so he owned things, like this slum, which more important Aristos didn’t even want. Aliana didn’t know what this guy meant by “furnace,” but she doubted she would like it.
    The woman came forward, her laser-like focus boring into them, and stopped in front of Aliana. “We’re part of Lord Orzon’s household.”
    Aliana stood her ground, glad she was taller than this fake Aristo. “Good for you.”
    The woman’s mouth tightened. With no warning, she moved—like a blur.
    Shit. Aliana responded by instinct, ducking the blow and kicking out her foot. The woman countered with surreal speed, fast and brutal, as if she had augmentation to her body.
    Their fight went fast. With her mind so pumped up, Aliana couldn’t separate details. She combined the street brawling she already knew with the training Tide had pounded into her every day these past three months. The fight took all her strength, tricks and cheats, and even with that, she felt as if she were struggling with two people. She barely held her own.
    Finally Aliana got a choke hold on the woman’s neck. She wanted to snap it