Her face had gone very still. “I don’t know.”
Veyre lifted one hand. “Do not return to Verdara. Trust the Red Harp Nebula, it will always play true. And when the silent moon asks for your name, give it his.”
Jack pointed at himself. “His as in mine?”
The mirrored slits angled toward him. “Jack Grey is harder to erase than hers.”
A chill moved through him.
Madelaine’s voice dropped. “Who are you?”
“A debt paid before it is owed.”
“That is not an answer,” Jack said.
“No,” Veyre agreed. “It is not.”
The broker shoved the hover sling around the counter. “Take your cubes and get out. Dock patrol shifted early. If anyone asks, I never saw you.”
Madelaine grabbed the front handle of the hover sling. Jack took the rear.
The moment his fingers closed around the bar, alarms began to shriek somewhere beyond the exchange.
Red lights flashed across the ceiling.
The broker cursed. “Too late.”
Jack looked at Madelaine. “Too late for what?”
“Move,” Veyre said.
The door behind them burst open.
Two station enforcers in plated gear filled the entrance, followed by a third figure wearing a Verdarian dust cloak. Given that most of the folks on Verdara looked like they made their own clothes, it was clear that the hierarchy in charge dressed better.
Jack’s stomach dropped.
The thief who’d stolen from them obviously knew people in high places. It could be Dirk Zandis, but in this case it didn’t matter. They were a threat in the here and now.
The dust-cloaked figure pointed directly at Madelaine. “That courier is carrying restricted Paladin property. I have a seizure warrant.”
The station enforcers raised their weapons.
Jack tightened his grip on the hover sling. “Madelaine,” he said in a low tone. “Get ready to move.” He didn’t know what might happen, but figured they needed to run, not stop and discover what a seizure warrant was. It sounded made up.
Luckily, Veyre moved first. He did not draw a blade. He did not fire a pistol. He simply stepped into the space between Jack, Madelaine, and the enforcers.
All of a sudden, smoke poured from beneath his robes. Not fog. Not steam.
Smoke. Thick and black and curling with sparks of blue light.
The enforcers shouted. One fired. The shot vanished into the smoke with a hiss and didn’t come out the other side.
Veyre’s masked face turned slightly toward Jack.
“Run. Now.”
Jack did not argue. He and Madelaine shoved the hover sling forward and bolted.
