can make up my own mind.
Rent stared at him silently. His eyes shone with a power that seemed to penetrate every facet of Hodakai's being. You're taking a very long time to decide where you stand, my friend.
To that Hodakai had no answer, because it was true. When he replied, he chose his words carefully. I sent him away, telling him nothing that would help him. But I suspect that he will be back. He seemed very interested in me. Seemed to want to offer some kind of . . . dragon friendship. Hodakai stared at Rent, leaving his words hanging. It seemed just possible that, for the first time since he had become a captive in this land, he might actually have some bargaining power. Though he was hardly interested in any sort of friendship with the dragon, it might not hurt to have Rent believe that someone else was offering him enticements. And he had heard rumor of at least one other rigger who had formed such a friendship, so it was not a wholly empty threat.
It was impossible to judge the success of his tactic. Rent smiled inscrutably. Tell me, Hodakai. Can this dragon, with its friendship, give you back your body? Can this dragon let you walk as a man? Rent's underrealm figure executed a little tap dance for Hodakai, to emphasize the point.
Hodakai could not answer. In the end, it always came back to this. Rent, like Hodakai, had lost his physical body. But Rent, who not only served Tar-skel but also wielded his sorcery, now walked again as a man. Hodakai, Rent had promised, could do the same—if only he would swear allegiance to the Nail of Strength.
If only.
If only Tar-skel didn't give him such a bad case of . . . he didn't know what, exactly, but just the mention of the invisible sorcerer's name made Hodakai tremble. He couldn't say why. He just had a feeling that there was nothing good about this being, who was not a human or a dragon or anything else he had ever heard of.
Still, he couldn't say that to Rent. I was only telling you what happened. I didn't say I was planning to throw in with the blasted dragon.
But Rent persisted. He made a stabbing gesture with his finger. Can the false dragons let you walk as a man, Hodakai? Can they?
Hodakai shook his head; the gesture appeared as a slight tremor in his shadow. No , he whispered.
I can't hear you, Hodakai! Rent cupped a hand to his ear. Can they?
No, he repeated, a little louder.
No , Rent agreed. They can't.
And you of course can, Hodakai thought glumly. Or could, if you wanted to. But your price is high. I wish I could end this conversation.
The burden is light, Hodakai, and the pleasures are many. Think of that, before you do anything foolish.
I wasn't planning to do anything at all, Hodakai muttered.
I'm glad to hear that. I truly am. You will let me know if this dragon visits again?
Hodakai nodded reluctantly.
Splendid . Then I must be tending to other business. If there was nothing else—? Rent held his hands out in question.
Hodakai made a slight bowing movement, not quite in supplication but acknowledging the dismissal. He hated himself for doing it.
Then we shall speak later, Rent said and vanished, along with the window into his domain. Hodakai was left holding open the threads of a nonexistent connection in the underrealm.
Hodakai let the nimbus of his own world close back around him. He was trembling with anger and frustration. It seemed that every conversation with Rent ended this way. Around him he heard the chittering sounds of the sprites. He didn't have it in him to engage in their banter, or even to tell them to shut up. He couldn't keep his thoughts off Rent's offer; and he wept, as his world shimmered with the dark crimson heat of his trapped emotion.
Soon it was more than he could take. Thoughts of the Flux opened up before him and he drifted back into memories of Hodakai the rigger, fingers and hands stretching the net, crossing the gulfs between the stars, slipping the surly bonds of human space and time. . . .
But