The Rusty Bucket was packed with crew and other less savory characters, including the ones Cifer had asked to join him. He left Master and his goons in the shadows of the bar at a tall table and sidled around the room, not quite in camouflage, but less than obvious. Music pounded, and the center of the bar had become a makeshift dance floor for a few grinding beings. The Gordinian occupied the same low table in the far corner, facing the door. Varik strutted in, and Cifer took advantage of the distraction to adopt his persona and shift into the Gordinian’s peripheral view.
The goon gasped with a stinky eruption. “Where the hell did you come from?”
Cifer lifted his lips in a predatory grin.
Varik neared the table and pointed at Cifer. “Who are you?”
“It’s none of your business who I am.” Cifer glared at Varik but addressed his question to the dirtbag. “Why are you letting this overgrown fish disrupt our business?”
Varik sputtered. “Fish? You rotting corpse of fetid fungus.”
“I’m amazed they let your kind in this bar.” Cifer held back a grin. Establishing dominance in the negotiation had been too easy.
The Gordinian raised his bulk from the chair. “Sit down, Yonash, before you draw the authorities.”
Cifer, responding to his fake name, settled into a chair facing Varik across the small round table.
“So…” The word came out with a belch of gas. “Where shall we start the bidding?”
“On what?” Cifer asked.
“You know what,” Varik insisted.
Cifer turned from Varik to the slave trader. “I haven’t seen any proof you have the goods.”
The slaver held up his data pad, the live streaming indicator on, an image of five children in a pile in a metal crate. As Elaya had told him, the oldest appeared to be about ten.
“They look dead.” Cifer rolled his eyes as if he didn’t care.
The Gordinian tapped a message on his pad and held it back out. An arm holding a rod shifted into view. Cifer stiffened. He’d been electrocuted more times than he could count with a similar device. The bar smacked the cage, and the oldest boy jerked awake. “Good enough?”
“Sure,” Cifer said, swallowing the urge to kill the Gordian there in the bar. The location of the children was still unknown. He had to be patient.
“They’re smaller than I expected.” Varik sneered. “What are you hoping to get for them?”
Cifer kept his blank face firmly in place.
“This is quality merchandise.” A noxious puff of gas accompanied the declaration.
Varik wrinkled his face and recoiled. “I need a drink.”
Cifer glanced back at the bar to flag down a server and froze with his hand in the air. Flaming red hair caught his attention.
Blaize.
At the worst possible time and place.
Chapter 19
The Rusty Bucket wasn’t packed, but it was still early. They secured a round table in a high booth tucked into a shadowed corner against the metal walls faux oxidized with the impression of rust. A server approached. His ill-fitting black tech pants, speckled with pockets, barely reached the end of his long, lean legs. Ankles with a large brown and white pattern peeked out. An unruly shock of blond and brown hair stood on end, as if he’d been electrocuted. Blaize wondered if he endured ridicule for his appearance too.
“Blue Crowns, all around,” Rhysa announced.
The server loped off, and Rhysa gave the team a devilish grin. “We are queens, after all.”
Bodi flinched. “Careful what you wish for. It’s not as exciting as it sounds.”
Rhysa placed her elbow on the table and rested her chin on her fist, locking her gaze on their communications expert. “Convince me.”
