the boy had received medical attention in time to keep from bleeding to death after having his arm torn off at the shoulder.
"burg," the voice said, quieter now. "Durg at-Morakh. It's you, isn't it, man?"
He froze, turned slowly. The tall gaunt figure that shuffled toward him from blackness into mere darkness did not much resemble the owner of that voice as he remembered him. Still, the pale eyes of a being shaped by gene engineering and training to be the consummate bodyguard were not to be deceived by a few alterations in silhouette.
"Dr. Meadows." Durg performed a brief bow, accompanied by a hand gesture.
The taller man stood there in a posture of helplessness. Durg waited, legs braced, head up. He would maintain that pose all night or all week: awaiting orders.
"Uh, how's life, man?"
"My job as a stevedore provides adequate exercise. The pay affords me such comfort as this overly warm and insufficiently civilized world can provide." Thin lips smiled. "Should I require more funds, my coworkers are ever eager to wager on contests of strength and dexterity. Some of your people are dismally slow learners, lord. I would hope your own fortunes have changed for the better."
"No. Not really. Except-except I've found my little girl."
"I rejoice that the Little Mistress has been discovered. Does your government still hold her captive?"
"Yeah." Mark bit his lip and shuffled his feet. "I-I have to get her back. God only knows what she's going through."
"You mean, then, to employ force?"
Mark's gaze rummaged among the fissures in the pavement. He nodded. "You know I'm not comfortable with this kind of thing. But I'm desperate, man. I'm really strung out. I need to know, will you help me?"
"Does the sun yet shine on Avendrath Crag?"
"Beg pardon?"
"A Morakh saying, lord. So long as the sun of Takis shines, so long as the great rock of Avendrath shall stand-so long shall the loyalty of a Morakh run true."
"It'll mean breaking the law"
The elfin head tipped back, rang laughter like the pealing of a big silver bell. "I care as much for the laws of your kind as you care what legislation dogs might pass. Had you listened to me, you would have defied the law long since and fought to keep your daughter by force or stealth."
"I wasn't ready, man. I-I still believed in justice."
"Your world entertains many quaint superstitions. What now, my lord?"
"Now I'm gonna get Sprout back," Mark said. "Whatever it takes."
Bloat said he hated pity. His visitor pitied him, and he found it oddly pleasurable. What the man didn't feel was repugnance. That made all the difference.
"Dr. Meadows," he said, "welcome."
Mustelina and Andiron took their cue and left. Meadows stood blinking up at Bloat's bloatblack-slimy sides. "Thanks, uh, Governor. Like, to what do I owe the honor?"
You're dying to know what's become of your friend, Bloat thought, and couldn't help but giggle. The poor man. Should I tell you where he is?
"I understand you have a project in mind."
The tall man swallowed. Bloat heard him turn up the deception card and toss it away without hesitation, as if he were unused to its use. How rare that was.
"It's my daughter, Governor." He glanced at Kafka. "I have to get her back." With or without your permission. He didn't speak the words, but of course Bloat heard them.
"You don't need my permission," Bloat said, and tittered at the way Mark jumped to hear his own thoughts quoted. "But you have it. My blessings, even. More than that, Doctor. I want to offer my help."
"What-what do you mean, man?"
"You want to see if you can bring your friends back. Don't look so surprised, Doctor; you've got to know I can read your mind. I know what you need. You need certain drugs and a safe place to work. I can offer those things."
"What do you want from me?"
Bloat clucked. "My, my. The Last Hippie has gotten cynical."
"It's just the way the world works, man."
"Exactly. Dr. Meadows, you've felt the anger of the straight world-the anger and the fear. We've offered you shelter from it."
"Yeah, thanks, man, like I really appreciate--"
"Wait. That's understood. I want to make sure you understand that this can't last. The nats-the straights-won't let us defy them forever. They have to reassert their power. To destroy us for being different and daring to hold our heads up and not be ashamed."
Meadows nodded. "You think the Combine will move in on you. Makes sense."
"The Combine? Oh, you've been talking to K.C. Strange. Yes. We're