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underestimation of him against her, a vulnerability
to exploit in the interests of business, the business of his own survival.
    “ Th -thanks,”
he said. “I appreciate you helpin ’ me out. This is my
first travel away from home ‘n I find this big city a bit of an overload.”
    Her face sparkled with his words.
Craze could almost see her calculating what she could get off of him. The
purple thing sniffed him. “I don’t know your kind.”
    He didn’t know hers either. The
silver lamé of her romper stretched extra tight over
all of her curves. She was dressed for distraction, and Craze could tell she
was used to winning the way she didn’t balk at meeting his eye. Well-traveled
boots covered her calves up to her knees. He noted a weapon slid into the left
one, then a blade resting on the inside of her thigh, just a quick flash.
    “I’m Verkinn,” he said, pointing at
the Elstwhere sky. “From Siegna.”
    “Oh. Haven’t been there yet. The
Croakmen I met at the port threatened to eat me if I headed to Siegna.” She
cackled, a sound that matched the weaponry concealed by her flesh and leather.
    Predator indeed. Craze needed to
find out more about her. “Where you from?”
    “I’m a Jix from Jix.” She said it
as if Craze should know.
    Craze nodded. He wanted to come off
as naive, not a moron. “Wasn’t sure if all your kind stayed together.”
    “We do. Always.” Her arm moved like
a ganya vine in the evening breeze, snaking around
Craze’s shoulders. “You need a guide. Elstwhere can be a nest of bothers.”
    He pressed himself against her
side. “I’d appreciate you showing me around.” Maybe she wasn’t the arrow to his
new life, but Craze felt certain she’d point him at something that could get
him what he needed.
    She steered him down the avenues
into a littered alley and into a seedy tavern. Smelling curdled and bitter,
tasting of it too, the place didn’t hint at any sense of ease when Craze walked
inside.

 
     
    CHAPTER 7
     
     
     
    Craze’s feet stuck to the floor.
With each step, he had to force himself free. Shit. He didn’t want to ruin his
new boots.
    Murky lights, some no longer
working, were set into the floor at irregular intervals, illuminating only
black. Black rectangular tables and black chairs, the composite chipped and
splintering. Black walls and floors. The tables had just enough space between
them to squish by. Craze squeezed between four sets. Three more sat between him
and the bar, making him feel caged and trapped. The Jix proved wily. He’d have
to stay alert.
    The patrons favored black,
too—hats, shirts, pants, belts, scarves, coats, and footwear. Craze tugged at
his bright red suspenders, very conscious of them, his crisp white shirt and
honey-colored coveralls. At least his boots blended in. He clutched his tan
duffel tight against his chest, following the Jix deeper into the lair. All the
folks they passed leered at him as if he would sweat loot to be divvied up. The
group was more odious than Bast’s ambitions, and
Craze knew the Jix aimed to intimidate him. If he didn’t agree to what she
wanted from him, he knew this crew would be used to get him to change his mind.
    She waved at an empty table beside
the bar. “Have a seat. I’ll get us some ale.”
    Her hospitality, Craze knew, was to
sweeten him toward her, to lure him into whatever trap she cast. He understood
this manipulation. He’d executed it for Bast often. For now he’d play along,
let her think she maneuvered him toward her goals.
    He eased down into the chair, hard
and cold, watching the shifty folks eyeing him. He fingered the tab in his
pocket. The aviarmen were out there. He’d have to think how to use them to
swing the situation around on this Jix. One thing he could do, he could ping
Talos later. Maybe the aviars knew something about these purple gender-changing
folks.
    Dull ceiling lamps highlighted the
bar and the mountain of a gal tending it. Craze had never seen such a