The guard swallowed and followed Xolto and Udo out of the alley.
Aria trailed after them. Something about all this made her very uneasy—why had the Dires tracked Udo for so long before approaching him? They could have just walked up to them in the street and asked for a meeting. A better question—why hadn’t they simply sent a message through the usual channels?
Udo seldom took on new clients directly. For him to do so, from someone strong-arming him in an alley, was unusual.
And in her books, unusual spelled trouble.
2
As the sun set behind them, Ngubi and Nikolai walked out of the Kalahari Desert and into the Khomani settlement.
The thatched huts, some with branches for walls, stood surrounded by scrubby trees and sun-bleached grasses, almost as though nature had grown them there. They blended so well that it was hard to tell that everything was new—these people had only recently been permitted to return to their ancestral lands.
The adult residents possessed the wariness that spoke to a lifetime of broken promises, but the newest generation knew little of the strife of those who had come before. The instant the travelers moved among the huts, curious children surrounded them. They gazed up at Nikolai; he attracted them like bees to honey. Sometimes they simply stared with wide eyes. But today, they pushed in on him.
Unaccustomed to the contact, Nikolai had to stop himself from flinching. They meant no harm.
“Nikolai, you have grown again!” The little girl spoke in her native language, filled with clicks and elaborated with elegant hand gestures.
“I was only here last week,” he pointed out in the same language. “I doubt I’ve grown since then.”
“No, you have, I can tell.” She seemed quite sure.
“How tall are you now?” a little boy asked.
Nikolai sighed. On a whim, Ngubi had measured him. But neither had believed he could be that close to seven feet. So he settled for, “Tall.”
“You are a giant!” exclaimed another boy with a wide grin. “How do you find clothes?”
Nikolai supposed that among the Khomani, many of whom barely topped five feet, he was a giant. “With great difficulty,” he answered, tugging at his shirt, which had holes and scarcely hung to his waist. His stretchy sweat pants clung to his hips and came half-way up his calves. The boots were a gift, a second-hand pair from a park ranger.
Ngubi waved at the children. “Okay, enough questions. Every time we come here, you ask the same ones.”
“I don’t mind,” Nikolai protested mildly. At least when he answered them, he felt a little less like an outsider.
Because there was no doubt that he was one.
Rather than heed Ngubi, the crowd pressed even closer. A slim hand slid along Nikolai’s buttock, the fingers curving for a quick grope. He reacted as though stung, flinching violently away with his entire body tingling from one point of contact. Twisting to look, he glimpsed a shapely form melting into the crowd.
While the settlement’s men knew him well enough to have reached a level of tolerance, and a degree of acceptance, the women were different. Some used the press of people to sneak close for a grope and poke as though they wanted to know what lay beneath the clothes. But most avoided him and wouldn’t meet his eyes.
It wasn’t his appearance they feared. But even before they’d seen what he could do, they’d viewed him with suspicion.
“You’re just different, and they can sense it,” Ngubi often told him, usually accompanying the comment with his trademark shrug.
Whatever it was, the young woman that emerged between the children was so afraid that she trembled. Her brightly colored dress stood out among the thatched grasses. The settlement’s construction might evoke the traditions of their ancestors, but like most, she wore modern clothing, probably bought at the PEP store in Tsabong.
She didn’t meet Nikolai’s gaze, but rather addressed Ngubi.
“My son is sick,” she said. “Can your giant heal him?”
Ngubi flashed Nikolai a look. The two of them didn’t often come into the settlements, but Ngubi liked to keep abreast of events by visiting his nephew at this one. Usually twice a month, but they’d come last week, and someone asked Nikolai to heal their broken leg.
Ngubi didn’t like it when Nikolai used his talent. Since his healing ability had manifested, news of it had spread. And for them, there was a risk in that.
“How sick is he?” Ngubi asked. “If it is just a cold...”
She shook her head. “He has had a high fever for four days. And he is only a baby.”
