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“No. But I am fairly certain that they have two arms. Same as us.”
Curses.
“Two arms,” Fallon said brightly. “That is a very good number!”
“Would be a good number if there were also a tail,” I grumbled.
“I do not believe I’ve ever heard you spit out this many words in one conversation, Silar,” Zohro said. “If you’ve changed your mind, go in and tell Warden Tenn you do not want a bride. The vote is cast, but there’s no point in bringing one out here for you if you do not want her.”
My chest felt strangely hot. I knew my eyes were white when I pulled my reins tight and turned my mount homeward.
“I did not say I do not want one.”
I urged my mount into a run.
3
CHERRY
Bone-tired from my shift at the New Toronto shuttle engine factory, I let myself into my gloomy apartment. I closed the door. Then I locked it. Then I deadbolted it.
Then I dragged a chair in front of it.
It had become my new ritual. Ever since last month, when I’d missed the interest payment on my loan for the first time.
None of Magnus’ men had come for me. Yet.
When they did, I was pretty damn sure that a lock or deadbolt or chair wouldn’t do anything to stop them. But at least it might buy me a little time, or at least make enough noise to give a girl some warning.
Never should have taken that loan, I thought bitterly, shaking my head at the dumbass six-months-ago Cherry Dawson who’d gone to a fucking crime boss to make rent instead of figuring something, anything else out. A small voice reminded me just how tough that month had been. A parts shortage had led to a factory shut down immediately after a rental increase. To top it all off, this had come directly on the heels of Mama’s death, which meant our household income had been slashed by more than half, since she’d had more seniority at the factory than me and had made a much better wage.
If Mama could only see me now. Her only daughter double-locking the door and shoving furniture in front of it to keep the loan sharks at bay just one more night. She’d be just as pissed at six-months-ago Cherry as I currently was.
I may have been just trying to stay afloat on a sea of stinking shit at the time. But now my boat had a hole and I was fucking sinking in it.
I sighed, taking out my Old-Earth-style cast iron pan, the only thing of Mama’s I had left that I hadn’t yet sold. At this point I knew I needed to sell it too, but nobody on Terratribe I, humanity’s oldest industrial colony planet, would likely have any use for the hunk of iron. If someone did buy it, it would probably just be melted down for its base metal. The thought of losing the seasoning my Mama, and her Mama, and her Mama before that had lovingly built up on the surface of the pan made me woozy with a sorrowful sort of fear. That feeling was far worse than the terror of angry mobsters at my door wanting their money back.
I left the heavy black pan to heat on my small apartment stove and turned to my fridge for a protein block to fry up for my dinner.
But I never opened it.
Because I heard someone else trying to open another door instead.
I froze, my heart swelling all the way up to my throat as my apartment door’s handle rattled. Whoever was out there didn’t bother with that strategy long. Once they figured out it was locked, they switched tactics. A buzzing hiss was soon followed by the sound of sizzling, and I watched in horror as a moment later the entire handle fell to the floor, laser-cut right out of the door. The laser’s beam went to work along the edge of the door after that, melting through the deadbolt.
I stood there staring, paralyzed in a way I’d always assumed I wouldn’t be. I thought that when this moment came, I’d be ready for it. That I’d have some semblance of a plan besides stand there and gawk as a hardened criminal comes to gut you like a factory rat.
The door swung inward with sharp force, as if kicked. It sent the chair toppling, and that shocked me into motion, breaking whatever stupid spell I’d been under.
The fire escape.
I just needed to get to the window in my bedroom. Then I could get down the fire escape.
Only problem was that my apartment was twenty-two stories up. By the time I climbed all the way down, somebody could take a lift down and beat me there.
And that wasn’t the only problem, it turned out.
The other, much more immediate issue was the massive mountain of a man who was already shoving through the open door. He got between me and my bedroom before I could even take a step.
