Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79941 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79941 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
That was because their hair was sentient and—some said—more intelligent than the Blurbians themselves. It was composed of a series of ten to fifteen thick braids that stood straight up on the Blurbian’s head. These braids were called “bullybraids” or “bullies” for short and they all had tiny black oil-drop eyes and little pink mouths. They were able to shout and sing and discuss things among themselves to reach a consensus. In fact, it was often the bullies who made decisions for the Blurbian they happened to be living on, not the other way around.
Knowing all this, Ketha kept a careful eye out for anyone matching that description. And sure enough, after wandering among the food stalls and vendors and cantinas for about half an hour, she saw a thick-bodied Blurbian sitting behind a chipped plasti-wood counter, staring vacantly into space.
Looking around to be sure no one else was near, she stepped up to the counter and cleared her throat.
The Blurbian ignored her. He was contemplating the eight pudgy fingers on his right hand as though they fascinated him and he didn’t say a word even though Ketha was right in front of him.
“Excuse me,” she said in a low voice. She didn’t want to draw too much attention to herself—there weren’t many other women here and most of them were whores—at least if the way they were dressed was any indication. It was better to hide her sex behind the anonymity of her long gray cloak.
Still the Blurbian didn’t answer—but his bullies did. He only had about eight of them but they were lively enough to bend and sway as they examined Ketha with their tiny, sparkling black eyes.
“Here now, here now!” the tallest one, which seemed to be the leader squeaked loudly. “See what we’ve got! A customer—hey!”
“You come to buy some solla wool, did you?” another bullybraid demanded, swaying eagerly on top of the Blurbian’s head. “Or perhaps some nice dehydrated ganja milk? We have that on special this solar week!”
“I’m actually hoping that you can tell me if this, er, person you’re living on is the vendor called Fry’nox,” Ketha said politely.
“Oh yes—Fry’nox! He’s our man—Fry’nox!” all the bullies agreed at once in their shrill little voices. “Fry’nox is the one! He lets us do whatever we please! Couldn’t ask for a better host.”
“Oh, good!” Ketha was cautiously pleased. “Well then, maybe you can tell me if you’ve seen a smuggler—er, a trader—by the name of ‘Styx’ around here lately? He’s about so tall,” she went on, holding her hand as far above her head as it would reach. “With dark red skin and golden eyes. Oh, and horns—he has two horns growing out of his forehead.” She made motions in the air to indicate the short, curving horns.
But this seemed to be the wrong thing to say, because at the mention of Styx’s name, all of the bullies became extremely agitated.
“Styx! That liar!”
“He’s a cheating bastard!”
“No good asshole!” they all began screeching together in their tiny, high voices.
“String him up by his balls!”
“Saw off his horns!”
“He’s no good! He lied to us! Lied!”
“Okay, all right—I’m sorry!” Ketha exclaimed, trying to calm them down.
But it was too late—the loud shrieks of the bullybraids had drawn some very unwanted attention. From the corner of her eye, she saw two males who were dressed in dark blue uniforms with white trim approaching her. Were they Peace Keepers of some kind? Ketha didn’t want to wait around and find out.
She started to slip away from the plasti-wood stall, only to be stopped by a hand clutching her arm.
“And where do you think you’re going, stranger?” a voice asked.
Ketha turned and saw that it was a third man in uniform—a Dexian. He was frowning at her with both of his mouths and glaring with all three of his eyes.
“Now what have you said that so upset the wee bullies?” he demanded.
“Nothing—I only asked if they had seen a Kindred trader named Styx anywhere around here!” Ketha exclaimed.
But again, Styx’s name seemed to cause trouble.
“That big bastard, eh? So you’re in league with him?” the Dexian holding her arm demanded.
“No, I just…I only met him once!” Ketha said. “Please, let me go—I barely know him.”
“Oh, a likely story, so it is,” the Dexian snapped. “She barely knows him, she says. But do we believe her boys?”
“No, not a bit!” one of the other Peace Keepers snarled.
“I think we’d better take her in for questioning, Chief,” the third one remarked. “Maybe she can tell us how to find the big red bastard!”
“No, wait—you’ve got me all wrong! I’m not in league with Styx—I only met him once! I’m not even from here!” Ketha protested.
“Oh? And just where are you from then, stranger?” The Dexian, who was apparently in charge, pulled back her hood, revealing her face. “Ah—a pretty face to go with a traitorous mission!” he exclaimed, staring at her.