The Worker Prince by Bryan Thomas Schmidt Page B

to her, then took her hand in his and kissed it. “Thank you for your generous hospitality.”
    “Thank you for your kindness to Nila,” Lura said as she stood.
    Davi bowed slightly and walked to the door. “I’d appreciate it if my visit here stayed between us for now,” he said, turning back toward her.
    “Of course,” Lura smiled again. Her face lit up every time she did. She was a striking woman with long, flowing brown hair. Feeling sorry for the hardness her life must have been, he returned the smile then turned walked out the door.
    As Davi crossed the courtyard and entered the tunnel, he struggled to keep his pace steady while his mind raced. This was almost beyond belief! His whole life had unraveled before his eyes—everything he thought he knew about the world, about his family, about who he was.
    His mind filled with question after question. Why didn’t his mother ever tell him? Protecting him as a child was one thing, but he was far from a child now. She must have expected him to wonder about the necklace and his nickname. He’d always been one to ask a lot of questions. How much did his uncle know? Would the High Lord Councilor actually accept a worker child as his heir apparent? Based on what he’d been learning about his uncle, he doubted it. How would his friends and colleagues react if they found out? Certain his whole life would change, he wasn’t sure he was ready for it.
    He meandered through the neighborhoods for a while before realizing he needed to get back to the office. He was already late. Stopping on a main artery, he looked around for a familiar landmark. He spotted the market ahead through some arches. It would be easy to find his way back from there.
    He headed in that direction; ignoring the stares of the people he passed. Can they know by looking at me that I’m one of them? He shook off the idea. The stares had been because of his uniform, as always. Boy, I really am getting paranoid!
    Passing beneath an arch onto another corridor, he glimpsed the tents and booths of the market up ahead. Thank the gods, I know where I am. He quickened his pace as he entered the market and the familiar smells and sounds assaulted his senses. The market seemed less crowded. It was mid-afternoon, and most of the workers would be at their jobs. Raised voices came from up ahead. He rounded a corner between rows of booths to find the humanoid vendor he’d asked about Lura and Nila, arguing with two workers.
    “It’s a fair price!” The vendor’s purple eyes glowed with rage.
    “This fruit is not even ripe,” said one worker, tossing two gixis back at him.
    “I provide the highest quality,” the vendor insisted.
    “You should be ashamed ripping off people!” The other worker said with disgust. “Give us back our money!”
    The vendor spotted Davi passing and motioned to him. “Captain, please. You’ve been here before. You know my product.”
    Davi sighed. Don’t get me involved in this. He turned to the vendor and smiled. He had bought some fruit there two days before and it was fine. “I didn’t have any complaints.”
    “Well, he’s an off-worlder. How would he know when gixi are at their ripest?” the first worker said.
    “Don’t you men have jobs to attend to?” Davi asked. They showed no fear, despite his uniform.
    “Our supervisor won’t pay us if the gixi isn’t ripe,” the second worker said. His face formed a question. He examined Davi like he knew him from somewhere.
    The first worker angrily grabbed the vendor by the collar, his eyes still locked on Davi. “Stay out of this. It’s a dispute between us. We want our money back!”
    Davi stepped forward and put his hand on the first worker’s muscular arm. He could feel the man’s strength through his sleeve. “Let him go.”
    The second worker’s eyes went wide with recognition. Davi couldn’t imagine how they knew each other.
    “What are you going to do? Kill us like you killed that Captain last week?” the