Shadow's Son by Shirley Meier, S.M. Stirling and Karen Wehrstein ...
Shadow's Son by Shirley Meier, S.M. Stirling and Karen Wehrstein ...
Shadow's Son by Shirley Meier, S.M. Stirling and Karen Wehrstein ...
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Generated <strong>by</strong> ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />
the stone flush with the surface. Some things were the same in this sort of dive anywhere there were big<br />
cities: the grub<strong>by</strong>, defeated-looking hangers-on playing chess in a corner, the dedicated soaks, the<br />
bitter-eyed youngsters with shoddy-bright clothes, <strong>and</strong> knives—here worn under the arm with the hilt<br />
down. Something bothered her for a moment or two before she realized. Arko, of course; the crowd<br />
was all-male, down to the tired-looking prostitutes on stools in the corner. The sweet-musky odor of<br />
Arkanherb drifted under the rafters.<br />
Now, she thought,a bath —It wasvery fortunate that Arkans bathed <strong>and</strong> excreted in private wherever<br />
they could—<strong>and</strong> tomorrow, I go to…it . The Great Central Edifice of Post, to find out the relevant<br />
facts about Box 596, General Deposit, 5th Southwest Quarter, intersection of Delas Rii; Crescent <strong>and</strong><br />
Aesas-Berakalla Road.<br />
The Edifice of Post was a large building even <strong>by</strong> Arkan st<strong>and</strong>ards, a square block of greenish stone four<br />
stories tall; the topmost story below the flat roof was streaked with pigeon dung from the forest of coops.<br />
Fast, light horse-drawn carriages drew up <strong>by</strong> the side entrances, to be unloaded <strong>by</strong> burly stevedores in<br />
loincloths <strong>and</strong> gloves under the direction of rabbity clerks. More crowds of people pushed in the row of<br />
glass doors on the bottom level, facing the court; long lines of them, in fact, in clothes ranging from rags to<br />
outfits that made her conservative dark-green long-sleeved tunic <strong>and</strong> brown cotton pants look extremely<br />
restrained.<br />
Wouldn't mind mugginghim, she thought, eyeing anAitzas whose clothing positively shimmered, almost<br />
enough to dim the jewelled arm-rings, earrings <strong>and</strong> bracelets. The courtyard had an exaggerated version<br />
of what she was coming to think of as the Arko-city smell: charcoal smoke <strong>and</strong> alcohol fumes, since<br />
wood fires were forbidden, sweat, hot damp stone, soap, perfume <strong>and</strong> Arkanherb.<br />
She craned her head as she elbowed her way into the courtyard; it was rather odd that the area around<br />
the near-identical building on her left—it even had the same noisome pigeon coops on the roof—was<br />
virtually ab<strong>and</strong>oned. Except for the clerks, who were moving with a swift dispatch that seemed positively<br />
unnatural.Oh, yes. That's the tax-collection headquarters. Getting all the money into Arko .<br />
Governments facing defeat found all sorts of unexpected calls for cash, not counting that which stuck to<br />
the fingers of high officials heading for safer climes.Rake it in, buckos, we want it all here when the<br />
Alliance army arrives. Good thing they haven't had time to debase the currency yet .<br />
It was a little strange not being one of tallest people around, too; Arkans were not as big as Kommanza,<br />
but nearly, which meant many of the men in the crowd were taller than she. She looked into the long<br />
room between the glass doors. Plenty of movement in the long chambers that opened out beyond the<br />
counter; plenty of milling about in front of the counter, but the clerks actually serving at it moved with a<br />
glacial slowness that raised indolence to the level of an art.<br />
Civilization, she thought contemptuously. Back in the Zekz Kommanz, on the northern plains of<br />
Almerkun, if you had a message you sent a messenger with a couple of good horses.Oh, well, it could<br />
be worse. I could still be working in Senlaw . The ancient trading city at the confluence of the Maizap<br />
<strong>and</strong> Zaura rivers, south of her homel<strong>and</strong>;there aristocrats waged blood-feuds over kidnapped<br />
rosebushes, <strong>and</strong> the ministry of interior decoration drew more funds than the army.<br />
The line in front of Shkai'ra moved more quickly than most, almost as swiftly as the one reserved for<br />
Aitzas business; she had let the chicken blood in her b<strong>and</strong>ages age, <strong>and</strong> gobbled a little occasionally.<br />
Even the other solas present—some of them wounded as well—drew back. Finally she stalked up to the<br />
stone counter, littered with rubber stamps <strong>and</strong> pads of cotton soaked in inks of various colors.