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

just about. And how many got away, ’Whix?”
    “I heard at least two running after the explosion, Commander, likely the ones responsible,” the Tolian replied quickly, russet-and-gold feathers fluttering delicately as each word of Comspeak left the tiny speaker on his throat. Barac disapproved of Tolians in general, especially at the moment. They had a depressingly thorough approach to things. “I also saw Hom sud Sarc’s companion run in another direction,” the Enforcer continued. “It was my duty to stay with the wounded.” There was a faint note of regret in the dry voice, audible even through the speaking device.
    “My thanks for that,” Barac said truthfully, feeling some of his tense muscles relax. So Sira had gotten away— somehow. For once, these lackeys of the Trade Pact had been of some use. Usually they were a minor irritation, to be distracted as necessary by lower-rank adepts such as himself, or avoided altogether. He concentrated for a moment, assessing the damage to his body. Cracked ribs, burns, bruises, nothing worse.
    Bowman wasn’t telepathic, but her instincts were good. “You were lucky, indeed, Hom sud Sarc. Our meds say you’ll be up and about very soon. But first, I’ve a few questions for you.”
    “Your attention is flattering, Commander,” Barac said. “But surely this is a matter for local authorities. What interest can it have for Pact Enforcers?”
    Bowman leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “When local assassins are using classified Pact equipment, it is a matter for us, Hom sud Sarc.” Bowman held up three connected disks of dull brown, the small two attached to the larger by a hair-thin wire. “We recovered one from each of your attackers.”
    She paused. “These are mind-shields, in case you don’t recognize the effect. Quite impenetrable, aren’t they?” Bowman lifted the hair from the back of her head, turning so Barac could see the small, shaved half circle where her neck and skull met—an unnecessary confirmation of what his mind had sensed.
    Barac remained silent, feeling this was the safest course. Bowman regarded him thoughtfully for a moment, choosing her next words with care. “You haven’t told me the whole truth, Hom sud Sarc. Why did your attackers need mind-shields? Why take the risk of stealing equipment from us? As if that weren’t enough, these so-called common thieves of yours also underwent surgical implantation—which I’ll confess to you is very dangerous indeed. Which makes me wonder if all their precautions were necessary for protection—from you.”
    Barac sud Sarc coolly raised a brow, then winced as the movement irritated the bruises which marred one side of his lean, handsome face. He avoided looking directly at the disks. “I don’t know what you’re implying, Commander,” he said. “I was the one attacked, remember?”
    Bowman apparently reached a decision. “Leave us,” she ordered her subordinates. Once the door had closed behind them, she continued. “I imply nothing, Hom sud Sarc— Clansman.”
    “My ident is on record, Commander,” Barac said. “I’m sure you’ve also verified my travel clearance.” Who was she? he wondered furiously. How much did she know? How fortunate she sent out her guards, a darker thought intruded.
    “Yours. But let’s talk about your companion. Her records are, let’s say, less than helpful. No name. No planet of origin. According to Port Authority, you were walking alone last night, Clansman.”
    “We comply with your obsession with record keeping when convenient,” Barac countered. “The Clan—”
    “—is not bound by Pact regulations. Yes. I know.” Bowman smiled. “Well, enough of this. Do you want to see your companion now?”
    “Do not try your tricks with me, Human,” Barac tried not to snarl. “She has gone her way—as would any Clan. One of us here,” he glared around the room, “is more than you deserve in your net.”
    “Net? I’m not your enemy, Clansman. In