“This is where you two are? Playing with creature blood? That’s a bit weird, isn’t it?”

Tosh turned to see Tessa stepping out from behind a small rock pile.

“Where have you been?” Tosh asked.

“Hiding. I followed those Hazak, as Bors calls them, having a feeling you two would be close. I was right.”

“What about the Gate?”

Tessa pointed upwards. Tosh saw the blue and pink sky of Ancient Mars. Then, the Gate appeared as if a camouflaged tarp was pulled off it.

“Shall we?”

The two nodded.

For three jumps, Tosh, Bors, and Tessa travelled along. The Gate did its trick of cold air, chilling Tosh to the point he thought he’d freeze solid. After the fourth use of the Gate, Tessa held out her hand for the cube. Tosh handed it over without even thinking as they looked around. They were on a small hill that overlooked a town of huts and one long lonely spire. “I think I know where we are,” Tosh whispered.

“Good, because according to the map, I have no idea where to go next,” Tessa said.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you know what ‘Nine Hammers of the Ram’ means?” she asked, looking at him.

“No.”

“You just said—” Bors began.

Tosh held up his hand.

“You know where we are?” Tessa asked, giving Tosh a doubting look. “I barely know where we are now. Yet, you—”

“It’s Mulkver. One of the last places in the Known Worlds that serves a decent kir.”

“Can you point to it on the star map?”

“No. I travelled here by rocket and was rather drunk at the time.” He stopped and turned toward the spire again. “However, I do know about a tavern here.”

“Why does that not surprise me,” Bors said with a groan.

“I’d be surprised if you didn’t know one here,” Tosh said, giving his friend—his brother a smile. “It’s right up your alley. Brutal and violent. Or it can be.”

“You mean Tallinnn’s,” Tessa said.

Both looked at her oddly, “How do you know of it?” They both asked, then gave each other a sidelong look.

“Only place to really drink around here. And that I mean to get anything at all. The rest of the planetoid, there is nothing.”

Tallinnn’s was much as Tosh remembered. It was the spire itself, a tall spire on the edge of town with a much, much larger space inside. Sets of steps led up to the higher levels, which was where the more brutish and unruly went to pass the time by brawling. Tessa looked around, obviously amazed by the sights inside.

“You look like you’ve never been inside,” Tosh said.

“I haven’t.”

Tosh stopped and looked at her. “Then how did you know about this place?”

She shrugged. “Guessed?” She then blew him a kiss and traipsed off toward the stairs, pirouetting around a few people and humming to herself in the same strange tuneless music of hers.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

There were more people than last time, but that was to be expected. The smell was still the same, perfume and smoked meats hiding the sickly-sweet smell of rot and puke. And when he ordered a kir, they didn’t stare at him like he was a mutant near-human from Europa. Relief that it was still the same place coursed through him.

“Dul Saan? Is that you?” a voice barked form the other side of the bar.

Tosh turned to see one of the men that ran Tallinnn’s. “As I live and breathe. Vas?” Tosh stuck his hand out and racked his brain trying to remember why he had used the name Dul Saan here.

“It’s good to see you. You ever find that spice merchant?” Vas asked, giving Tosh a wink.

That’s why. The short time he had tried to be a spicer had not ended well. It was another reason he had done it here in the back of beyond. Tallinnn’s was a bit of a backwater, even with Gates and rockets, but it had sounded better than it was. He’d spent three weeks in the rooms here without a way to get home. Then Vas took pity and sent him home. Of course, Tosh had also had to spend the last of the money he had conned out of Setter.

“They make your drink right?” Vas asked, pointing to the kir.

“They did. Thank you.”

“You need anything, anything at all, give me a shout.”

“Of course,” Tosh said, giving Vas another hearty handshake. Wonderful, he probably thinks he can pump more money out of me.

Tosh looked over to see a man in a golden mask cavorting around, one that banished all thought of Vas. That’s odd. Tosh watched the man over the rim of his glass of kir. He was glad he had found a bar that served the stuff properly. The only other thing he really missed was absinthe. When he was done here, he would find one of the fabled absinthe houses on Deneb Four. If you find that damn Eye.

The masked man moved again, once more catching Tosh’s attention. There was something about him . . . the fellow moved around like someone taking in the entire place with wonder. The masked man was truly happy to be around people who were drinking and starting to whore before heading up to finish their business. Even Tosh thought about paying for a woman. Bors could have been three-deep by now for all he knew. Why not indulge myself while here?

The masked man fixed the dark globes that were the mask’s eyes on Tosh. There was something about the look that disturbed Tosh. He continued to drink, making eye contact with the masked fellow. After a handful of moments, the man made his way to Tosh. The robes the man wore were ostentatious. His own Uncle Owen wore less flamboyant clothes, which was something, since his uncle wore gold lamé and pink coats with ten-foot trains of silk and cloaks of jarring neon blue. This caused people to be uncomfortable, but it was still accepted. A flamboyant gay uncle is fine. But wanting to be a boy when born a girl is a step too far?

He shook himself from the thought. “Hello,” the golden-masked man said with a smile in his masculine voice. His robes scintillated with colors as he spoke.

“Hello,” Tosh said, taking in the speaker.

There were tiny gems stitched into the cloth which reflected some kind of internal light source which emerged from the robe itself, bathing the man and anyone within five feet in wave after riotous wave of rainbow colors. The masked man shoved out a black, silk-gloved hand and said in a strange echoing voice, “Yes . . . sorry.” He shook his head a little. “Hello, we are Vostock of the Collective. What are you designated?”

“Tosh, formerly of the du’Vaul House,” he said, not seeing the need to explain who he was out here. Then he bit his tongue since he wasn’t sure if Vas had overheard or not.

“Why former?” Vostock asked, his masked head canted to one side like a dog that doesn’t understand a command.

“I broke old laws and was kicked out.” Tosh wasn’t sure why he said that. Or why he had said “formerly of the house.” He looked over to see that the bartender hadn’t heard and let out a breath. Good, I can still drink a little more. Maybe get a girl, or a man. Or both.

Vostock moved closer, the golden mask leaning in very, very close. Tosh could smell the scent of alcohol on his breath. “Why do you want a woman or a man? Or both? And why does it matter if you are formerly of House du’Vaul or not, friend Tosh?” Vostock asked, moving even closer to Tosh, to a point where Tosh was a little uncomfortable.

“Shh,” Tosh said, placing a hand over the hole where the mask’s “mouth” was. “I don’t want to get kicked out.”

“Is this guy bothering you, Dul Saan?” Vas asked, staring at the masked Vostock.

Tosh was about to say yes when he stopped and looked at the mask a little more closely. He saw something, an emblem that made him pull his hand away from the mask. “No, Vas, I would like a private room for my friend and me. And later, when I send for one, a woman and a man. Please.”

“Of course,” Vas said, giving Tosh a deep bow. “Anything for the House.”

“Thank you,” Tosh said.

Hurrying into a private suite, Tosh tugged at Bors’s arm as they passed. The barbarian looked confused. When Bors turned his head toward Tosh, Tosh pointed at the masked man. He shouted, “He’s the key. He has an emblem of nine hammers around a ram.”

“Why would the star map lead us to a person?” Tessa asked. She appeared out of nowhere, but Tosh didn’t question that anymore.

“No idea,” Tosh said. “But he could be it.”