A Thousand Words For Stranger (10th Anniversary Edition) Read Online Free PDF Page A

perhaps you’re worse—a runner for ~~**~~.” My surprise at the chirping whistle emitted by his pursed lips must have been plain enough. He frowned, a trace of puzzlement raising one dark brow. “Stop looking so desperate, chit. I won’t hurt you. But you’ll tell me who set you on my back.”
    He made it sound as though he had some unknown means to force such information from me. I stifled an urge to laugh. “I followed you because I need transport,” I said truthfully, though I doubted he’d believe it. “Back there, I heard him say you had a ship.”
    For the first time, the man seemed to notice the spacer clothing I wore, so like his own despite its present unwashed state and odd size. His nose wrinkled. “Who are your kin?” he demanded. I realized with a rush of hope that he was becoming troubled.
    Kin? A word possibly with meaning for another me; an empty space here and now. “Do you have a ship or not? I need to leave Auord.”
    “I don’t need crew,” he said, his expression making it plain that he’d rather be somewhere else too. But he hesitated.
    “We’re both spacers,” I pleaded. “You can’t leave me stranded.”
    He was silent for a moment, blue eyes hooded. I could hear a distant murmur—voices. We were close to the market. Louder was the pounding of my heart, counting each second in double time.
    Then: “I’m sorry, chit,” and there seemed an honest regret in his voice. “I’m booked for lift already. Your kin must really be down on their luck. Spacers should stick by their own. Especially on this dirtball of a planet.” He paused and then shrugged as though he was doing something against his better judgment. “Here.” One hand dug into a pocket and pulled out a crumpled handful of what appeared to be local currency. He pressed it into my unresisting fingers. “Next street over you can flag yourself a groundcar. Go to the north gate and ask at traffic control for Thel Masim. Got that?”
    “Thel Masim, north gate,” I repeated without understanding.
    “Tell her Morgan of the Fox sent you. Thel’s got a soft spot for youngsters. That’s the best I can do.”
    I raised my chin. “I don’t need her help. I need to get off this planet. I must leave. Please . . .” then, although I didn’t plan it, my voice failed me. Waves of exhaustion and pain roared in my ears. I leaned back against the doorway.
    The spacer, Morgan, had already assumed an absentminded air that I knew meant he was done with me. “I’ve been grounded myself a few times, chit; happens to everyone,” he said briskly. “Start taking care of yourself, though, or no ship will take you. Get a wash and a good meal . . . you’ll feel better.”
    Suddenly, I was looking at his back. He was leaving.
    And I would have to follow, whether I wanted to or not, even if I had to crawl.
    I tried to call after him, but my voice lost itself somewhere in my throat. He turned a corner and was out of sight. I shivered, dropping the currency heedlessly to the ground. One thing I couldn’t do was lose him.
    The compulsion to follow was strong enough to push me away from the doorway’s support, when I couldn’t have done it alone. I had to get to my ship. I had to follow Morgan.
    I had only taken a couple of unsteady steps when a familiar sound whined out of the rain, exploding against my skull to drag me like an anchor into total blackness.

INTERLUDE
    “He’s coming around.”
    Barac sud Sarc, First Scout, Third Level Adept of the Clan, and current owner of a body that was one giant ache, allowed himself a small groan before making the effort to open his puffed-shut eyes. The strange voice had been a warning. Barac peered up at the two uniformed figures bending over him and carefully hid his dismay. “Ah, Enforcers. It’s to you I owe my rescue,” he said hoarsely. He could think of a lot of better places to be at the moment. Almost anywhere, in fact.
    There was a quick shuffle of feet as the curious officers