Brother to Dragons, Companion to Owls - Jane Lindskold [19]
“I am sorry to hear,” he chuckles at his own joke, “that you have lost your voice, Ms. Rena. Do you have a copy of your license and registration? I need to check them before we negotiate a possible sale.”
I nod and dig again for my wallet and pull out the paperwork.
As I drop the wallet in Betwixt and Between puff reassuringly at me. I notice as I snap my bag shut that they have gotten into a roll of breath mints and curls of silver paper roll around their stout, stocky ankles.
Mr. Joon invites me into this office, pours me coffee, and offers me a selection of magazines. Then he disappears behind a burlap-textured screen. I strain and hear the snap as the forged identities are run. Beyond fear, I wait in confidence of Abalone’s skill, sipping coffee and leafing through a magazine. Blushing, I realize that I have it upside down and flip it over just as Mr. Joon reemerges.
Pushing shiny black bangs from his forehead, he smiles.
“All looks fine, Alice,” he says.
I almost look around, but remember that the name on the car’s papers is Alice Rena. Instead, I nod and gesture with my head toward the shark.
“I’ll need to run a diagnostic on the vehicle itself,” Mr. Joon says, taking an oval box from a cabinet by the door, “but if everything proves in as good shape as it appears, I am interested in making you an offer.”
We walk outside and he plugs the oval into an aperture in the dashboard. Abalone has explained to me that this small computer will talk with the shark’s computer and provide a systems analysis. Mr. Joon will combine this with his own visual inspection and certain trade standards will set his price.
I watch as he caresses seat covers, fingers the wear on the floor mats, and plays with the sound system. The whistle from his oval box blends into the sound pouring from the vehicle and Mr. Joon ignores it until he sees the amber readout flashing a completed operation and pops it free.
Face professionally neutral, he scans the readouts and then courteously shows them to me.
Biting my inner lip to keep from revealing my growing insecurity, I wait a moment as if studying the figures and holodiagrams and then nod, looking at him with what I hope is a decisive expression.
Mr. Joon’s patter about the shark’s condition flows over me. Caught in the crosscurrents of his voice and my own fears, I wait for the numbers Abalone had promised me would come. I know what is acceptable and what is not—or did when I left the Jungle. I pray inarticulately that I will not forget.
He names a figure. Resisting the urge to grab at it as a life-line, to nod “yes” and flee, I weigh it against Abalone’s lessons.
I do not even need subtlety. The number is far too low. Extending my hand, I shake my head and gesture upward with my thumb.
The next figure Mr. Joon names is better, but I hazard one more raise. He does, not as much as I might wish, but within the range Abalone had set. I nod agreement. We close the deal and I walk away with a slip showing that Alice Rena is thousands richer—as am I.
I walk quickly toward the subway entrance and find Abalone lurking where she promised to be. We vanish down into the smelly tunnels and in ten minutes Alice Rena is gone and only Sarah and the thousands remain.
Abalone waits until we are safely away to ask me how things went. “Were you scared, Sarah?”
“True nobility is exempt from fear,” I reply, winking at her.
She throws her arms around me and together we laugh until the laughter shakes away all memory of my fears and leaves only the triumph of my success.
Six
A FEW DAYS AFTER THE HUNTING OF THE SHARK, HEAD WOLF lets me know that he would be pleased if I wanted to spend some of the day with him in his lair. I gladly agree and, after informing Abalone where I would be, I go. As I had resolved previously, I leave my dragons behind.
I return to my place in the Reaches somewhat sooner than I had planned (Bumblebee had decided to join us and while Head Wolf welcomed her, I was not interested in