Captive - Cheryl Brooks Page 0,91
in a pair of flimsy high-heeled sandals. Once again, she would have given a bundle for her boots. And her speeder. “Speaking of speeders, don’t suppose you know whether mine was destroyed in the fire, do you?”
“Dunno,” he replied. “I’m a castle guard. The Barrens are out of my jurisdiction.”
She fought the urge to laugh. “I had no idea you guys were so specialized.”
“You’d be surprised. Like I said before, I wasn’t one of the hunters you paid to let you go. Those of us who serve in the palace are more, um, cultured than the hunters and prison guards.”
This time, laughter got the better of her. She’d noticed the disparity, however slight, herself. What she hadn’t considered was that the difference was a question of culture. “So you’re saying there are a variety of social classes among Nedwuts?”
He skidded to a halt and spun around to face her. “Are you kidding me? Of course there are, and the higher classes treat the rest of us like shit. Why else would we have left home?”
“Point taken,” she said, although she sincerely doubted their life on Haedus Nine was significantly better than the one they’d left behind. Noting that they’d reached a wide hall where three passages intersected with a stone stairway, she pointed toward the steps. “That way?”
With a nod, he sped down the stairs, making far less noise with his bare feet and curved toenails than Klara did in her sandals. Moments later, he slammed into a door at the bottom of the stairs and forced it open. His subsequent howl told her the answer to her question long before she’d taken a breath to ask it.
She followed him into a tiny alcove to the right of the door that was just big enough for a speeder. An empty alcove. “Looks like we were too slow.”
Stepping outside, she glanced at the dusty streets leading away from the arena and cursed her sandals once again. Running all the way to the spaceport was pointless. By the time she got there, she’d be too late to catch Pelarus or help Moe. Added to the fact that she’d be dead lame.
Think, Klara.
If her speeder had been salvaged from the fire and remained intact, it might actually respond to her whistle if it were near enough to hear her. Unfortunately, she’d never tested the limits of its range. Still, it was worth a try.
She whistled. Once. Twice. Three times.
She was about to give up when a soft whine to her left had her shoulders sagging in relief. “Looks like some of your buddies stole my speeder before it got burned to a crisp.”
“Sounds like something they would do,” Harlex chortled. “Probably sold it to one of the local merchants.”
This proved to be true. The speeder was the same dark blue it had always been, but the side panels had been emblazoned with the logo for Chagatut’s Fresh Food. There was even a crate of wilted-looking radishes in the rear seat.
“Someone’s gonna be pissed,” Harlex remarked as he tossed the crate onto the dusty street.
Klara was already strapping herself into the pilot’s seat. “If you’re coming with me, climb in and hang on.”
Never in all her wildest dreams would Klara have imagined having a Nedwut sidekick. Harlex had surprised her, although she wasn’t convinced he wouldn’t double-cross her at some point. Then again, if she and her gang succeeded in catching Pelarus and somehow getting Moe’s starship back, they might be his best hope of getting offworld. She started to ask him where he would like to go before concluding that almost anywhere was better than Haedus Nine.
“I’m in,” he announced, slapping the side of the speeder. “Hit it!”
She closed the canopy, aimed the nose toward the spaceport, and slid her fingertip up the control bar for maximum speed.
Arriving too late was not an option.
Chapter 24
As she threaded the speeder between pedestrians and the occasional vehicle, Klara chastised herself for not knowing more about her enemy. “Still can’t fathom why I didn’t know about the wings. Although it does explain why the little bird women are so loyal. They probably think he’s really hot.”
Harlex let out a disgusted snort. “Yeah, well, there’s no accounting for taste, is there? I’ve always thought he was a butt-ugly bastard. Really bad hair, too.” After a contemplative pause, he added, “Never thought the birds were very cute, either.”
Klara’s fangs nearly drew blood as she bit her lip to keep from laughing. “Neither did I,” she finally managed to