Dreamer by Steven Harper Page A

up to the curb and one mirrored window lowered itself a few centimeters. The boy sauntered up to it. The window lowered further and he leaned inside. Ara noticed that his ragged clothes were definitely on the tight side and many of the rips seemed strategic.
    “Uh oh,” Ara said.
    “What happens, Mother?” Harenn asked. “I have met Gretchen and we are coming.”
    “Ben,” Ara subvocalized hurriedly, “hack into the nets and find out who owns a ground car with registry number—” she squinted “—H14 dash 35J. Hurry!”
    “On it.”
    “What is it?” Gretchen asked.
    Ara stepped up to the street. The boy was still leaning into the car and couldn’t see her, though she was barely three meters away. For a brief moment she considered trying to plant a transmitter on him and almost instantly decided against it. He might notice. Plant one on the car? No. Any car that expensive had disruption devices for just such an occurrence. She scanned the street instead.
    “Ben, are there any cabs in the area?” she asked.
    “I can’t check that and find the registration number at the same time, Mother.”
    “Mother Adept, what’s happening?” Gretchen demanded.
    “I think our boy is a...working lad,” Ara murmured. No cabs were in sight.
    Harenn spoke up. “So pick him up and offer to pay for an hour or two. What is such a problem?”
    The boy backed out of the window. The car door opened and he climbed inside.
    “Shit,” Ara muttered.
    “The car is registered to Melvan and Xava Yshidra,” Ben said. “Do you want their address?”
    And then, by a miracle, a cab turned a corner and buzzed up the street. Ara waved frantically and it stopped. The other vehicle slid smoothly into traffic as Ara leaped into the cab.
    “Glory to the Unity. Stay behind them,” she said, pointing. There was no way in hell she was going to say Follow that car.
    The driver, a raw-boned woman with blond dreadlocks, obeyed without a word. As they drove off, Ara caught a glimpse of Gretchen and Harenn emerging breathlessly from the market.
    “Do you want the address, Mother?” Ben repeated. “And do you still want me to find a cab?”
    “Not yet and no,” she subvocalized. “Gretchen and Harenn, I’m in a cab and I’m following the boy. He’s in another car.”
    “We saw,” Gretchen said. “What do you want us to do?”
    “Stay where you are,” she ordered.
    The electric engine on the cab was nearly silent, meaning the driver could probably tell that Ara was carrying on a quiet, one-sided conversation. However, she gave no sign she heard or understood. Ara liked that. She peered forward, never letting her gaze stray from the car they followed.
    The car made a right turn, then another right, and another. Her quarry was going in a big circle. Ara imagined the car had a sound-proof partition between driver and passengers to afford a certain amount of privacy for their...activities. Ara wondered whether it was Melvan or Xava who was in the back seat with the boy. For all she knew, it was both.
    They passed the original street corner and Ara resisted the urge to wave at Gretchen and Harenn. Are settled back in her seat to think. The boy was obviously a prostitute. This didn’t bother Ara. It made her job easier. As Harenn had pointed out, she could simply proposition him and use the opportunity to talk. But Kendi had said the local houses didn’t tolerate freelancers. How had he gotten away with it?
    Ara drummed her fingers on the gritty handrest. The cab’s interior was worn and dirty. A small sign informed her that a network link was available for a surcharge, and a muted vidscreen set into the back of the driver’s seat showed a local newscast. A second sign said that slaves must prove their owners had granted permission for them to ride in a cab and they must pay in advance. A third sign said, You Are Safe with the Unity.
    What if the men in the alley had been enforcers? That would make sense. One of the houses may have