11

The fug of cigarette smoke was just as bad this time. Xen felt a slight return of the fuzzy feeling in her throat, but she was breathing shallowly now. Besides, her anaphylactic response was almost totally crippled by the epinephrine. And will be until it wears off. She looked around. A long bar stretched across the wall opposite her. There were shelves lined with bottles and glasses behind it. There was an old refrigerator, and a safe built into the wall in plain sight. A yellowish Ghoul in a prewar pinstripe suit stood there. Beside him, a radio talked in a loud, cheerful voice about Project Purity.

Xen forced herself to take a slow, careful breath, hoping to prevent the dizziness from getting worse. There were a few tables near her. Three or four Ghouls, dreadfully thin and reeking of ethanol and chemicals she couldn't identify, slouched in the seats. Most showed no interest in her. She had a hard time focusing on individual objects in front of her, wanting to jump from heat signature to heat signature; and then she had to resist the impulse to stare for minutes at the blue glow on the front of the safe. Perceptual malfunctions. Work around them.

The man behind the bar was watching her closely. She felt other eyes on her as well. Xen turned to see another Ghoul standing in the corner of the room.

He was big. Xen was abstractly aware that humans of both sexes came in a variety of sizes. She had thought Masterson was on the larger end of the curve. Evidently some statistical reevaluation was in order. This one must be a good foot and a half taller than Xen; he was certainly a head taller than the bartender.

His clothing was leather, darkened by use rather than dye. It was all cracks and stains. There were rusty buckles on his knee-length boots and rusty steel pauldrons strapped to his shoulders. A matching bracer covered his right forearm. Four straps connected to a metal ring in the center of his chest. She assumed they were there to hold up the weapon on his back. A sheath as long as her forearm was strapped to his left thigh.

She looked at his face. Even before he was a Ghoul, he could not have been an attractive man. He had a flattish head and a big lower jaw. Most of his skin loss seemed to be below the cheekbones. She could see a stringy tendon on one side. He looked at her under his heavy eyelids for a second, then resumed scanning the bar in silence. Xen almost giggled as she recognized the behavior: Threat assessment complete. No threat detected. Resuming scan. He was right about that. Xen felt a faint, chilly qualm as she approached the bar, but it quickly melted in the heat pounding through her veins.

"Well, now, lookee here," the bartender said. "We got us a smoothskin I ain't never seen before. I'm Ahzrukhal, and this... This is the Ninth Circle."

"This is a tavern?" Xen said.

"Folks got problems, and I got liquor to sell to 'em... well, liquor and a few other pick-me-ups. You need anything, you just let me know." He eyed her with a small smile. He didn't have much in the way of lips. Blue-black muscle showed where the skin should be.

"No, thanks," said Xen. She had been firmly assured that alcohol would make her instantly and violenty ill, and while she was curious about whatever the other patrons were using, she had no desire whatsoever to try it. Especially not on top of the epinephrine. "Who is that in the corner?"

"That's Charon. Let's just say... well, he's a loyal employee," said Ahzrukhal.

"You mean a slave," Xen said.

"Ma'am, you insult me," said Ahzrukhal. "I do not believe in slavery. It is an abomination." The Ghoul's diction seemed to have changed suddenly, although there was no temperature rise to indicate real anger. He's pretending. Xen blinked behind her goggles.

"I apologize," she said. "I didn't mean to be offensive."

"Charon made some choices that landed him in my employ."

"So what did you mean when you said he's a loyal employee?" Xen asked.

"I hold his contract, which makes me his employer. He will do what I ask when I ask, without question." Ahzrukhal leaned both palms on the bar. "You see, Charon grew up around a very interesting group of individuals. They... well, I guess you could say that they brainwashed him. He is absolutely loyal to whomever holds his contract." He smiled tightly with his lipless mouth. "Don't get me wrong, I have no doubt that he holds no end of animosity towards me. But so long as he is my employee, he is as gentle as a teddy bear."

"He'll do whatever his contract holder says?" said Xen, puzzling over a couple of odd word choices. She couldn't place Ahzrukhal's syntax.

"Given one or two small caveats, yes," said Ahzrukhal.

Xen looked from Ahzrukhal to the big Ghoul in the corner. He would certainly have had ample opportunities to harm the smaller man. And she had seen no change in Ahzrukhal's temperature profile that would indicate he was lying.

"If I bought his contract, he would protect me?" she asked.

"Oh, certainly," said Ahzrukhal. "Unfailing, unflinching, until the day his employment ends. There've been plenty of times when he could've offed me with nobody the wiser, believe you me. The person who holds Charon's contract is the one person who will always be safe from Charon. And most other things, too. You point at something, Charon hurts it."

"Will you sell the contract?" Xen asked.

"What do you have in mind?" Ahzrukhal asked. "Charon is a highly valuable asset to me and to the 9th Circle."

"I'll give you two thousand caps," said Xen. "If you let me read the contract first."

"Let's see the money before I agree to that," said Ahzrukhal.

"I'll get it," said Xen. She went out to the packbot, taking a deep lungful of cleaner air as she did it, and collected four of the bags of caps to take back with her. Her hands shook slightly. She tried not to reveal this as she carried them back and set them on the bar.

"You can count them while I read it," she said.

"I suppose that could work... Yes. Here's the contract." He handed over a yellowed piece of paper. Xen read the closely-written typescript, squinting through her goggles. The paper glowed slightly above normal background radiation, evidence of its being in a Ghoul's possession for some time, but it wasn't enough to be a threat to her health.

"These are his operating parameters?" she said out loud. "Really?"

"That's a funny way of putting it, but yes," said Ahzrukhal. "The money's all here, so it's all yours. I'll give you the pleasure of informing Charon yourself." He whisked the bags out of sight behind the bar. Xen took the contract and went back to the corner. The big Ghoul watched her approach with no sign of interest.

"Charon?" she said.

"Talk to Ahzrukhal," he said, and resumed scanning the bar. His irises were dull red, like every other Ghoul she had seen. His skin tone was darker and less yellow than the bartender's; the overall impression was of dusty red and tan.

"I bought your contract," said Xen. She held up the piece of paper. Charon's eyes snapped back to her instantly. "I'm your new employer."

"You purchased my contract from Ahzrukhal?" he said slowly. His face showed no emotion, but his temperature shot upward as she watched. Xen nodded, started to feel dizzy, and stopped. "So, I am no longer in his service. Dat is good to know. Please, wait here. I must take care of something."

Xen watched in total puzzlement as he walked past her without another word. Under the typical Ghoul vocal damage, his accent was even stranger than Ahzrukhal's. She held the contract carefully with slightly numb fingers. Charon moved with a firm solidity to his steps, a mechanical sense of purpose that was very familiar. He walked up to the bar and looked down at his former employer.

"Ahzrukhal. I'm told dat I am no longer in your service," he said.

"That's right, Charon," said Ahzrukhal. He made a short, sharp sound that might be mistaken for a laugh. "Have you come to say goodbye?"

"Yes," said Charon. He whipped the gun off his back and pulled the trigger almost at the same time. Xen flinched from the blaze of heat and light, then stumbled as she lost her balance. She steadied herself against the wall. When she opened her eyes, blinking against the painful afterimage, she could no longer see Ahzrukhal. There was a splatter of blood and what she recognized as bits of brain matter against the wall and the safe. A moment later she caught the excremental stink of human death. She closed her eyes as Charon fired again. She fumbled her way toward the door, jerked it open, and lunged out onto the balcony. She leaned back against the wall with her eyes tightly shut. It took every ounce of self-discipline not to vomit. Red blood wicking up the sleeve of Dr. Montalban's lab coat..

Her heart pounded harder in her ears. She wondered if she would burst a blood vessel. Would it be a small one, blinding one of her eyes for weeks? Or a large one, ending her journey instantly as she bled out in this strange place far from home? There was nothing Camel could do about that, nothing at all...

Booted feet approached. They stopped. She felt the heat of a large body, a signature she was already beginning to recognize. Xen opened her eyes and looked up at Charon as she heard the sound of Camel's laser powering up. He still held his gun in both hands. Up close, she recognized it as some sort of combat shotgun, with a metal drum for ammunition in front of the short stock. The barrel radiated several degrees higher than his body.

"Physical violence on your part will invalidate our contract," Charon said calmly.

"Camel, don't shoot Charon," she said faintly. Her voice sounded hoarse and far away. "Charon, don't shoot the packbot, either."

"Acknowledged," said Camel.

"I unnerstand," said Charon. The consonant d seemed to get lost somewhere. He replaced the shotgun on his back easily.

"Why did you kill him?" Xen asked.

"Ahzrukhal was an evil bastard," said Charon. "So long as he held my contract, I was honor bound to do as he commanded. But now you are my employer, which freed me to rid the world of dat disgusting rat. And now, for good or ill, I serve you."

"Are you going to kill me if I sell your contract?" Xen asked. She still held the paper in one hand, though it had crumpled slightly in her convulsive grip.

"I have no reason to do dat at this time," said Charon.

"I see." Charon watched the piece of paper closely as she held it out toward Camel. Her hand was still shaking. Worse, if anything. "Scan this into main memory. This is Charon's contract. Acknowledge receipt."

"Acknowledged," said Camel. "Secondary programming requires me to inform you that it is highly unlikely a human being would voluntarily adhere to this."

"'M not int'rested in your secondary programming," said Xen. She refolded the paper and put it into a bundle of clothing, where it would be padded. "'Leave Charon alone unless he tries t'kill me." Her lips tingled slightly, slurring her speech. Can't be happening again already. "Run firs' aid subroutine."

Camel hummed as her sensor light blinked twice. "Your core temperature is falling," said Camel. "The epinephrine prevents severe imbalance of your circulation, or you would be at risk for death from shock. Exposing yourself to further allergic stimuli and an additional psychological trauma was foolish. It is likely you will lose consciousness shortly."

"Do you require a doctor?" Charon asked.

"No d'r," said Xen. "Back t'Carol's. Don' let anyone -"

She had planned to say more than that, but just then everything got very cold, and then it was dark.

Light shining through her eyelids woke her. She started to open her eyes, winced at the blinding glare, and quickly shut them again. My goggles are off, she realized after a second. She fumbled at her neck until she located the strap and pulled them back up. Her fingers felt thick and slow, and her throat hurt. Had she had an allergy attack while she slept? That hadn't happened in a very long time. It was strange that Bunni had turned the Lab's lights up, too. She was too tired to think about it. A moment later she was gone again.

The second time, she woke up with her mind a little clearer. She felt at her face to make sure the goggles were on before she opened her eyes. A pair of legs in dark leather pants obstructed her view of the plastic divider. She rolled onto her back slowly. This gave her an excellent view of Charon looking impassively down at her. "Oh," she said. "That did happen."

Xen sat up. She was still tired and achy, but she recognized this as an aftereffect of epinephrine plus residual muscle stiffness. Camel hovered at the end of the bed.

"How long was I out, Camel?" she asked. Her throat was still hoarse. Not surprising.

"Approximately ten hours," said Camel. Xen looked back at Charon.

"How did I get here?"

"I carried you," said Charon. "As per your orders."

"Oh. I remember." She pulled her hair out of the rubber band and shook it loose, then combed her fingers through it before putting it up again. "I'll have to pay Carol for another night. Charon, would you do that? There's money in the smaller bag there." She waved vaguely at Camel. "Hand me a bottle of water first."

"Iddis what you wish of me," said Charon. Xen drank thirstily while he was gone. Camel apparently had nothing to say. Xen supposed that she would be quick to inform her if Charon had done anything threatening while she was asleep. Assuming the laser going off didn't wake her, that was.