Shield and Crocus by Michael R. Underwood Page B

Naked and mostly naked women and men were peppered throughout the room like furniture. One man even was furniture: a broad-backed Qava who lay on the floor having finger food eaten off his back.
    The air was thick with threads the flushed pink of lust, the orange of greed, and even a few dashes of fearful yellow.
    A stocky man in a grey suit nodded at the Shields from the second floor, waving them up.
    “I don’t like this place,” Sapphire said.
    “Neither do i.”
    Dlella didn’t want them to be comfortable—classic business tactics. Take your opponent out of their everyday routine, put them on guard. Create and exploit every advantage. Luckily, First Sentinel was too angry to be defensive. He headed for the stairs, the weight of eyes following both him and Sapphire.
    The elder Shield crossed the room with a hand on his belt, ready for the trap that he’d all but convinced himself was waiting. At the top of the stairs, a Jalvai attendant ushered them into a sitting room with a low black-lacquered table and pillows for seats. Dlella was coiled into an upright sitting position, with four more guards in grey suits posted in the corners.
    Dlella had set the stage well—no matter where the Shields stood, they would be flanked and outnumbered. If they stood at the door, they’d show their distrust and continue to draw attention from the main crowd, but if they made a display of courtesy and sat at the table, they’d have to turn their backs to two of the guards.
    Dlella swayed side to side as they entered. She gave a slight nod. “Please sit.” First Sentinel threw back his longcoat and took a seat, turned to keep the far corner guards in peripheral vision. Sapphire knelt into a crouch beside him, ready to spring up in a Pronai’s heartbeat.
    Eyes darted across the room, from the guards to Dlella to Sapphire. For a long moment, the seven waited for someone to make a move.
    First Sentinel chuckled, and the tension spilled over. “If you’re going to jump us, all I ask is that you do it now, so we don’t waste our time.”
    Dlella just looked at First Sentinel, still swaying back and forth. “Your paranoia may have kept you alive so far, but it’s not terribly endearing. We’re here for a deal, nothing more.”
    “Good. Where is the artifact?”
    Dlella produced a map and spread it out on the table before them. A bright-eyed Pronai boy appeared beside the table in a simple suit.
    “Can I interest anyone in a drink?” Dlella asked.
    “No, thank you,” First Sentinel said.
    Dlella sighs. “We’re not going to poison you.”
    “Not thirsty.”
    Sapphire ordered a dounmo tea. It’s not that she was more trusting than First Sentinel. If Dlella had poison strong enough to disable a Freithin, the Shields were doomed regardless.
    Dlella ordered blackberry liquor, and the serving boy disappeared in a flash of red. The Millrej then drew the Shields’ attention to the map. “The artifact is called the Rebirth engine. It’s kept in a guarded facility on the north end of Audec’s Bowels.” And that’s all we need to know for Blurred Fists to case the location. If we can string this out and get the explosives and more about Nevri’s hidden agendas, then all the better.
    She pointed at a building with a scaled finger. The building was located in the heart of the industrial district, high crime rate, no safehouses within an easy walk.
    We’ll have to stage out of the coffeehouse basement, or from The Rack, talk to Colni and her sisters. The Shields could move through the district undetected, but it wouldn’t be easy.
    “What else do you know?” First Sentinel asked.
    “Onyx leads a contingent of fifty Spark-touched guards that rotate on three shifts, starting at noon, eight, and four. Nevri recommends that you strike at the shift change at eight—that’s when Onyx takes his respite after two shifts on.”
    The middle of the evening. It wouldn’t even be true dark by then. It wasn’t the Shields’ usual