Part 40 (1/2)
”But he does truly indeed speak the truth,” Luzelle insisted, bad Grewzian deteriorating under stress. ”This is all our own property that belongs to us, if you please.”
”No doubt. And the two of you are really rich travelers, disguising yourselves as dirty tramps for the sheer novelty of it all. You go to a masquerade, perhaps?”
”No, no-we are in accident, all of our clothing is lost-”
”Better and better.” The officer holding the two pa.s.sports checked each. ”Girays v'Alisante, Luzelle Devaire, Vonahrish citizens.”
”We are,” Girays concurred.
”The real v'Alisante and Devaire will soon report the theft of their property to the authorities. Perhaps the report has already been filed.”
”Constable, sir, how shall I prove I am myself?” Luzelle implored.
”That is a.s.suming the owners remain alive,” the officer continued as if he had not heard her. ”We have here a large sum of money, worth killing for. Perhaps you found it necessary to dispose of the real v'Alisante and Devaire, yes?”
”The constable concocts fairy tales.” Girays could not repress a slight curl of the lip.
”We'll see soon enough. Hands behind your back.”
Girays obeyed and the constable snapped manacles on him.
”You too,” the second officer informed Luzelle.
She dared not argue. The irons closed about her wrists. She jingled the short length of chain disbelievingly. One of the officers was holding her left arm above the elbow, and he pulled imperatively.
”Where do you take us?” she asked.
”West Street Station. Move,” he commanded.
They marched straight through the heart of Jumo Towne, and everywhere the citizens paused to stare at the khaki officers with their outlandishly garbed, fettered captives. Luzelle's cheeks burned. Longing for invisibility, she kept her eyes fixed on the ground at first, but soon self-respect or vanity came to her rescue, and she raised her head to advance with the remote dignity of some formerly-Exalted en route to execution in the days of the revolution.
They entered the station house, its front door bearing the emblem of the Endless Fire, and the pressure of glaring sunlight and staring humanity vanished. The front office was dim, airless, and quiet. A desk clerk and a couple of guards on duty there greeted the arrival of constables and prisoners with mild interest.
”A pair of undesirable aliens,” one of the arresting officers announced in Grewzian. ”Caught a.s.sisting a fugitive native. Obstructed justice and a.s.saulted two officers of the law. Suspected of grand larceny or worse. Stolen property found in their possession.” He slapped the confiscated wallets and pa.s.sports down on the desk.
The clerk checked the contents of the wallets and his look of boredom vanished. Carefully he entered a notation in one of his ledgers, then locked the money and doc.u.ments away in the top drawer of the desk.
”Any reports on that yet?”
”Not yet.”
”Keep an eye open. This may be a big one.”
”We are not thieves! This is not stolen property!” Luzelle burst out. ”We have done nothing wrong!”
”Name?” the clerk demanded, pen poised above a notebook.
”Luzelle Devaire. I am Vonahrish. I compete in the Grand Ellipse. So also does M. v'Alisante. We did not mean to obstruct justice. It was an accident, and we are sorry. We-”
”Enter her as 'Anonymous female, nonresponsive,'” directed a constable. The clerk complied.
”This is not true! I am not nonresponsive. My name truly is Luzelle Devaire. I-”
”Name?” the clerk inquired of the male prisoner.
”Girays v'Alisante. Vonahrish traveler. Before you enter me as 'Anonymous, nonresponsive,' let me suggest that you allow me to speak with the captain, or whoever is in charge here. Only permit this, and all confusion will soon correct itself-”
”The confusion is yours alone, if you imagine that these lies will help you. As for the captain, rest a.s.sured that you will answer to him when he returns.”
”When will that be?”
”Two days from today, at which time you will almost certainly be transferred to Central Station jail.”
”Two days!” Luzelle exclaimed. ”We compete in the Grand Ellipse, we cannot sit around this place for two days!”
”If you are simply thieves, you will sit around the South Ygahro Territory House of Corrections for some years to come, or else you will be a.s.signed to the road gangs, and our station house will seem a pleasure garden by comparison,” an officer informed her. ”If we discover that you have murdered the legitimate owners of these wallets, you will be shot. Decapitation used to be our favored local form of execution, but we are in the Imperium now, and our methods have improved. Lock them up,” he instructed the guards.
Luzelle protested in vain as she and Girays were herded through a stout wooden door at the rear of the office and into the reeking lockup beyond. The place contained some half-dozen cells, one of them larger than the other five combined. The large cell alone was occupied, confining seven men, five native Ygahris and two westerners, all stinking of xussi, filth, and vomit. The ennui of the West Street Station staff now explained itself; official activity in this particular neighborhood focused largely upon the control of public inebriation.
A couple of the caged drunks eyed Luzelle with interest as she came in. One smiled and waved amiably, but most remained glazedly inert.
The manacles were removed. Luzelle and Girays were placed in adjoining unoccupied cells. The doors clanged shut, the locks snapped, and the guards exited.
Luzelle's closet-sized cell contained a pallet bolted to the wall, a slop bucket, a rusted water pannikin, many buzzing flies, and nothing else. The compartment backed against one of the supporting stone walls of the station house. The other three cell walls consisted of floor-to-ceiling iron bars that left her entirely exposed to view. Should she need to use that slop bucket, there would be an audience.
As if he could read her mind, one of the drunks in the big cell smacked his lips to draw her attention, then cheerfully began to unb.u.t.ton himself. She looked away.
Girays caught her eye. He extended his hand through the bars that separated them, and she took it. For a while they stood silently attached, until she asked, ”How long do you suppose it will take these imbecilic policemen to figure out that we're not thieves and murderers?”
”Eventually it will dawn on them that no one is reporting any pertinent crimes, and then they'll reconsider. We might find help sooner if we could get word to the Vonahrish legation here in Jumo, but I'm not certain it remains open in the wake of the Grewzian invasion.”
”Grewzians, again. Always the Grewzians.”
”This time the offenders are colonial Aennorvis.”
”Collaborators, though.”
”Can't altogether fault their suspicions, in view of our present appearance.”
”Well I I can fault them easily enough, and I do. Nitwits. Oh, I suppose we'll laugh about all of this someday-” can fault them easily enough, and I do. Nitwits. Oh, I suppose we'll laugh about all of this someday-”
”a.s.suming they don't shoot or decapitate us.”
”But I can't laugh now. All I can think about is the time this is costing us. Every minute we spend locked up here is undermining our chances, eating away at our lead.” Our chances...our lead. Our chances...our lead. She caught the slip and frowned at herself. She was forgetting their rivalry as he had forgotten it not long ago. She would not let it happen again. Aloud she continued without a break, ”Tchornoi, Zavune, or a couple of the others might still catch up.” One name was omitted. Suddenly self-conscious, she drew her hand from his. She caught the slip and frowned at herself. She was forgetting their rivalry as he had forgotten it not long ago. She would not let it happen again. Aloud she continued without a break, ”Tchornoi, Zavune, or a couple of the others might still catch up.” One name was omitted. Suddenly self-conscious, she drew her hand from his.
Girays looked at her and said flatly, ”Stornzof.”