Talbot is dead. I have the last of his product.
I’m in Harba City. My original offer still stands.
Please reconsider. We are both running out of time.
Clay must have read the message a hundred times over the past three hours. It was a good offer. As things stood, it was probably the only offer that would save her life. He assumed she still wanted to live, but then realized nothing was certain where she was concerned, and if Ness was to be believed, he was completely wrong about her. Perhaps she was already dead, and that’s why she hadn’t responded. Maybe she was simply out of the city on business right now. Ren could only confirm that she was registered as living there and had listed a personal terminal for receiving messages. He did not specify a location for her quarters or confirm whether she was in the area. Perhaps this was all futile.
A kindly woman walked by and refilled his glass with more of the amber liquid he had been drinking all night. His biosensors indicated it was a wine infused with many local herbs and flowers. Like the coffee back at the hostel, he found it surprising – objectively bad, with multiple overpowering flavors that did not mesh well together – but knew he could grow to like it given time. While it was strong in flavor, the alcohol content was slightly lower than wine, so he drank it without fear of dulling his reflexes.
He smiled at the woman and put two more credslips on the table.
“Thank you so much. I appreciate it. If there is anything else you need, ask.”
The credits could not be that heavily inflated in value here. They were still within the main metroplex, not a remote colony with a collapsed economy. “How much for the rest of the bottle?” He asked.
The woman smiled and set it down on the table. “You are an outsider, aren’t you? Everything here is communal. We share all we have and take only what we need from others. Occasionally, we barter for goods and services but do not ask for money from anyone. My wine is for the sharing, but your generous gift of credslips is still greatly appreciated.”
“I wish I’d known all this before I dropped fifty credits and worried about being a tightwad.” He laughed to himself. In reality, he’d spent twice that. He assumed he was a legend throughout the city now. Well, he hadn’t offended anyone, he decided.
The woman departed to the back room, and when Clay turned back to his bottle, he saw a robed figure standing in the doorway. He was a male in his early thirties, with dark skin and a shaved head. He wore a black, loose-fitting tunic over a fit, muscular frame.
“Good evening,” Clay said, attempting not to sound like he had been caught off guard.
The man said nothing but reached into a fold on his left sleeve, withdrew a round, white flower the size of his palm, and tossed it onto the table next to Clay. Without saying a word, he walked away.
Clay picked up the flower and regarded it carefully. He was no expert on horticulture, but it seemed familiar to him, most likely of Earth origin. He wondered what story brought it to the ugliest part of the most distant world from its ancestral home.
He called for the woman in the next room and showed her the strange gift he had just received.
She smiled, recognizing it instantly. “A lotus.” She nodded in appreciation. “Pretty one at that. Big for this time of year.”
“A man just stepped in, gave it to me, and walked away. Does it have some significance?”
“I’m no expert. The Buddhists use them, so it probably has some significance to them.”
“Where would I find these Buddhists?”
“Oh, they’re spread out all over. It’s one of the more minor religious factions around here. They grow these in their shrines. I’ve heard each shrine grows a different color.”
Buddhism might make some sense, Clay thought to himself, trying to remember if the ninjas in the old stories were Buddhists. It could easily have been Hēi Gēzi himself who brought the flower. The size and build of the man were close to what he had briefly seen back on the roof the previous night. Of course, this assumed he was an actual, practicing ninja, not some military-trained soldier who merely donned the garb. For that matter, few had ever spoken to Hēi Gēzi directly, meaning it might be simply an assumed identity, and there were multiple specialists, an entire cult, who took on the mantle as needed.
Finally, he decided that speculation was getting him nowhere, and his only option was to accept the invitation. “Where is the temple where they grow these white ones?”
#
It took Clay nearly 90 minutes to maneuver the labyrinth of corridors and buildings that eventually led him to the Jizo shrine on the city’s west end. Most of this time was spent interpreting directions from the woman at the cafe, who seemed to assume he would understand the combination of coordinates, landmark references, people’s names, and various local terms to describe non-compass directions in a three-dimensional space.
He found the shrine behind a beaded curtain in the back of a small antechamber situated halfway down one of the most trafficked corridors in the quarter. A sign on the wall next to the entrance indicated that the shrine was dedicated to Jizo Bosatsu, a protector of travelers. It was open to all as a place of solace and meditation, regardless of faith, provided they remained respectful.
Clay pushed the beads aside and stepped into the temple itself. It was one of the largest rooms he had encountered in Harba City, and he had not realized how claustrophobic he was beginning to feel until he saw it. The walls were all vertical gardens containing a thick ivy-like vine that bore sweet-smelling white flowers that reminded him of honeysuckle, though they were probably indigenous flora. The center of the room was a sunken, two-diameter pool of muddy water. Floating on the water, he saw dozens, possibly hundreds, of white lotus flowers blooming.
At the room’s far end was a small pergola with two concrete benches flanking a stone statue. Grow lights set to mimic natural daylight, including what was now the last rays of sunset, illuminated the room, giving everything a peaceful glow. He could make out the baby-like features of the statue and the distinctly feminine features of Ursza Venter kneeling on the ground in front of it. He cautiously made his way around the perimeter of the room, careful not to step in the muddy garden, and knelt beside her in an approximation of her submissive pose — kneeling, sitting on her feet, palms down on her thighs. Eventually, he succumbed to his age and failing joints and opted to sit cross-legged on his rear end instead.
He placed the lotus on the ground before her and waited for a reaction. She stared at it for a few moments as if remembering something. Her eyes were sunken with puffy dark circles under them. Her hands were still, but her fingers were fidgeting. He estimated that limiting her physical discomfort to this single outward expression was taking all her concentration.
“Do you know the significance of that flower?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly. She immediately took a deep breath to focus herself.
“No, I don’t.”
“The lotus grows in mud, rising out of it to bloom. It represents purity and beauty striving for enlightenment, leaving the worldly mud it was born in. Then, at the end of the day, it closes again and sinks back into the mud for the night, waiting to be reborn again the next day in an ever-repeating cycle.”
“That seems familiar,” Clay said without levity.
“The white lotus represents purity and spirituality. The gift of a white lotus indicates compassion and positive intentions from the giver, as well as a blessing and desire for the recipient to achieve spiritual purity.”
Clay suddenly felt a swelling of sympathy for the girl. He instantly swallowed it on the off chance that she was trying to manipulate him. “We need to start over. I know you’re Ursza Venter. You’re the handler for an assassin named Hēi Gēzi, and you have a datarod containing plans for something called Keraunos. My name is Clay. I’m with Sol Directorate, Division 5, and my orders are to retrieve that datarod and return it to Earth.”
“Did you kill Sem Talbot?” Urza asked slowly. Her voice was completely devoid of emotion, and she interrupted him as if she wasn’t paying attention.
“Yes.” Clay nodded. “Yes, I did. But he gave me a five-day supply of Shard before he died. I think, in his twisted way, he did love you. I have enough to keep you alive and comfortable until we can get you to Earth, and I believe I have the formula to make more once we get there. There’s no antidote or way to break the addiction currently, but they have the best scientists there. They can find a way to cure you.” He wasn’t sure about this, but he needed to offer her something to win her trust.
Ursza still made no indication she was listening to anything he said. “Did you enjoy killing him?”
“Are you even paying attention?” Clay started to raise his voice but looked at her gaunt face and her sunken eyes and saw how she was struggling to keep from shaking. He instantly calmed himself, searching for patience. “My job sometimes requires me to kill. I try not to put any feeling or emotion into it when I do.”
“But did you enjoy killing Talbot? You have kind eyes. He does not.”
Clay decided that the girl was on the ragged edge of sanity. He took a chance, removed the hypo containing the Shard from his inside jacket pocket, and placed it on the ground in front of her, next to the flower.
She slowly turned her head and looked him in the eyes for the first time since he sat down. Without speaking, she immediately grabbed the hypo, adjusted the dial on the back, and injected her thigh. Clay saw that she had only dispersed half of the contents. Then she tossed the hypo in Clay’s general direction and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, they were full of life. The bags and dark circles had disappeared, and the shaking in her fingers had stopped. Her complexion instantly changed to a healthy pink, and a mischievous smile crossed her lips. Clay stared at her, slack-jawed. In fifteen seconds, she had transformed from a wretched waif to a beautiful, vibrant young woman.
“You didn’t answer the question,” she said, still smiling.
“Okay, yes. I suppose I did. Especially after seeing what he’s done to you and so many people like you.”
She suddenly seemed sad. “I enjoy killing too much. Doesn’t matter why. Just pleasure. A euphoria.”
“Why did you only take a half-dose just now? Talbot said there was no way to break the addiction cycle, so trying to wean yourself off isn’t going to help. I told you I have a five-day supply. You don’t need to hurt anymore, I can–”
“Do you have orders to kill Hēi Gēzi?” she asked accusingly.
“Is that why you only took a half-dose? Is the other half for him?” She said nothing, and Clay thought for a moment. “Okay, if you can get Keraunos and Hēi Gēzi quickly, we can leave the system tonight and get you both to Earth before the withdrawals get too bad,” he lied. He may not be able to bring himself to kill the girl, but her friend would most certainly meet with an unfortunate accident somewhere on the way to the gate station. With luck, he could convince his superiors that she was an unwitting participant doing it out of addiction and had very little involvement with Keraunos.
“Kind eyes show when they’re lying,” Ursza said, shaking her head again. Clay remembered that disappointed mother’s expression from their previous meeting. She stood up. “I won’t be going with you,” she said.
“What!?”
“I cannot trust you. Everyone who sees Keraunos dies. Those are your orders. Those are my orders. That’s why you have the yin, and I have the yang. We are next. Either by your hand or mine.”
“So, you do still have it. What are you going to do, go into hiding?”
She stepped down from the pergola and started walking around the edge of the room towards the exit. “Still work to do. I need Keraunos for that.”
“I don’t understand. What work?”
“This planet is insane. It destroys people. It takes anything with honor or purity and strips it away. It has to be stopped. You should go before it gets you too, while you still have kind eyes.”
“This is crazy. I thought we understood each other. I can help you. I can protect you. I thought you believed me. I thought we were on the same page. The white lotus, didn’t you mean any of that? Good intentions, desire to find purity and rise above?”
Ursza stopped dead in her tracks. “You gifted the white lotus to me.”
Clay held up right behind her. “Well, yes, but the man in the robes. He gave it to me first.” Clay’s blood turned cold. “Oh no. You mean, you weren’t the one who sent it?”
She turned and gave him a worried look, and suddenly, he realized they’d both been set up.
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