Aftermath - Ann Aguirre [52]
But I did learn then that credits were power, and that within the guild, wealth might be all that kept me safe if my secret became known.
But that—that is another story.
Without Trapper, I was rudderless, a bounty hunter stripped of any real desire to hunt. I had spent too many turns taking orders from that old man to know what to do with myself once he was gone. And so, as is my custom, I ran.
In time, I found myself on Gehenna, with no quarry in sight. I had wanted a place where one could get lost, outside laws and boundaries. I think I also wanted to be something other than what I was, a pretender in human skin, so I went away from the guild and everything I knew. There, I made myself over.
I do not know if there has ever been such a lost creature as I, standing in that bustling market. Nobody thought to offer a wa, and they seemed blind to body language. To my inexperienced eyes, it seemed a vast carnival of a world, with titian skies that never shift outside the dome and life at all hours. The cacophony rendered me quite mad, even through the false skin that dulled my senses. Roasting meat and spilled blood, molten ore and silicon dust, incense and scented candles, herbal remedies and rare poisons—these scents combined to overwhelm me.
To this day, I think she took me for one who had lost his wits. But there was sweetness in her dark eyes as she touched my arm. Everyone else had passed me by, jostling in their haste. I saw everything and nothing, but the world skimmed down to her face when she touched me. I could not feel it, truly, but I understood what it meant. It was compassion.
“Have you lost your way?” she asked kindly.
I had long ago received an implant, making it possible for me to communicate. Otherwise, I would have been a mute as well an exile. She waited for a response. I am certain if I had not been so shocked, I would have offered something less candid.
“I have nowhere to go.”
“Come.” She smiled up at me, laugh lines crinkling the corners of her eyes.
It should not have been that easy. With the added benefit of turns and experience, I am angry with her now. Her faith in the decency of other sentient beings stood in the face of everything I have come to learn about the universe.
I can still see her in my mind’s eyes as she was then. She came to my shoulder, and she had a softness to her, though her hands were firm.
In the shape I had taken to best cover my true form, I was tall and thin, shaping the camouflage to what was already there. I did not like it when I had to pretend to be more compact. At length it would become painful—and since I had chosen this physical representation to suit myself, it was as close to nature as I could permit. My hair was brown, I think, and my eyes, likewise.
To my surprise, she took me to her dwelling. Only a crazy woman would do that, so I readied myself for some outburst or incipient threat. Instead, she made a drink of boiling leaves, which I was afraid to touch. I had learned there were certain human foods and beverages that I must avoid on pain of death.
“I’m Adele,” she said. “And in Mary’s name, you’ll be in need of work. What can you do?”
It was a fair question. But instead of answering it, I repaid her kindness with scorn. “Is this Mary the god of fools?”
Her wit was quick. “Rather the goddess of rude and rootless men, I think.”
“It was unwise of you to take me up,” I said. “Put me back where you found me.”
“I will not. If kindness is unwise, then perhaps I do worship the goddess of fools. Answer the question.” In her smile lay pure gentleness. At that time, I had not much skill in interpreting human faces, but I did not read her wrong.
So I told her I had some ability to draw and paint, and that I could repair certain machines. Of my darker skills, I did not speak, as that was the least of my secrets.
Later, when she returned to the room from which she’d brought the drinks, I quickly