Kalan sent Fresia home to explain things. He also sent a slice of cake for the girl’s mother. It wasn’t much, but it might soften the blow a little. While he was sure that the woman would be relieved that her living situation was about to stabilize, he rather doubted she’d like how it was happening. Then again, maybe she wouldn’t mind that, either. Kalan had firmly declined the offer to come meet Fresia’s mother. He’d already done half a dozen things he hadn’t wanted to that day, with more to come. He didn’t feel like adding to the list of unpleasant tasks. Kalan wasted the better part of two hours tracking down Monsell. When he handed the loan shark the bag of hard currency, the man simply pocketed it. He hadn’t even looked in the bag.

“Are you going to count it?” Kalan asked.

Monsell gave him the oddest look before he answered. “You’d never try to short me. It wouldn’t even occur to you. Planetary gravity is less reliable than your word.”

Kalan was taken aback by the words. “I’m surprised to hear you say that.”

Monsell offered a smile tinged with bitterness. “I don’t like you interfering with me. I never said you couldn’t be trusted.”

At a loss for what possible response would be appropriate, Kalan changed the subject. “The girl is leaving with me. We should be off-station in a day or two.”

“I’m surprised Zuran agreed to it. She’s never had clear eyes where that girl is concerned.”

“I left that to Fresia. It’s not my duty to explain things to her family. I made it clear to her that leaving wasn’t optional.”

“Good. I’d prefer it if I don’t have to do something drastic to her.”

Notions that had been gnawing around the edges of Kalan’s conscious mind finally blossomed into something he could articulate. “Why give this girl so many passes, Monsell? It seems like it’d be bad for business.”

The loan shark fixed Kalan with a look that was half suspicion and half resignation. He finally leaned against the corridor wall and glanced at his thugs. There were out of casual listening distance.

“Nobody starts out life in this business. We all came from something else. I had a little sister, once. The girl looks like her. So, I cut her some slack. I let myself be sentimental once or twice a decade.”

Kalan raised an eyebrow. “Had a sister?”

“There’s no room for family in my business.”

There was a finality to that statement that left Kalan cold. He hoped that it meant Monsell had simply moved his family somewhere far away or changed his name and moved away from them. The other alternative was unthinkable to Kalan, who would have given nearly anything to go home and spend time with his family. He’d contemplated sending his father a message and arranging a meeting somewhere off-world, but it was a childish fantasy. He was an outcast. Any contact would give his father’s political enemies ammunition. The only real gift he could give them was his absence. So, he steered his course away from them.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

When it became clear that Monsell had nothing more to say, Kalan nodded to the man and left him to his unsavory business. He hadn’t gone three steps when Monsell stopped him.

“That stays between us, Kalan.”

Remembering Monsell’s earlier words, Kalan said, “My word on it.”

By the time he’d made it out of the nearly abandoned passageways where Monsell held court, the afternoon was shading into evening. Kalan mulled over the things he should probably do and decided that they could wait until the next day, as long as he didn’t sleep in too much. Instead, he went to the upper bazaar and wandered through the stalls. He picked up things that caught his eye, asked the stall keepers questions, but didn’t buy anything until he found a wine seller. He picked through the offerings before he found a bottle that he thought Estra and Tessan would like. It was a white wine so dry that it bordered on abusive. It wasn’t anything Kalan would choose for himself, but he was the guest. It was on him to bring something his host would enjoy. It wasn’t until he was back on the autolift that Kalan realized he’d gotten that expectation from the Code.

Part of him wanted to be angry that so much of what he did was bound up in that ancient collection of rules. He’d been found unworthy of the Code. Shouldn’t that free him from its obligations? The rest of him knew that was absurd. Too much of who he was came from those rules. The training was too deeply ingrained. Maybe if he’d been younger when he was sent away, he could have put it aside. He’d been mere months from joining the Great Temple as a full member, though. A junior member with less weighty responsibilities, to be sure, but one accorded all rights and privileges. By that point, no acolyte worth the name could ever truly abandon the Code.

So, he trained as he had always trained. He carried himself as his father had taught him. The knowledge that it didn’t matter to anyone saddened him and frustrated him, but it didn’t free him. The Code wasn’t life itself, but it was the lens through which Kalan made sense of the universe. That was enough of a reason to hold to it. More than that, though, it was a tiny piece of home that he carried with him always. It was something no one could take from him. They could deprive him of his ship, his crew, and even his life, but they couldn’t take the Code. Kalan admitted to himself that Monsell wasn’t the only person who indulged in a little sentimentality. There were far worse indulgences that a man could follow, many of them straight into oblivion.

The autolift deposited Kalan on one of the residential decks. It wasn’t one of the decks that served as home for the wealthiest residents. The cabins on those decks offered an opulence of living space that bordered on obscene given how valuable every last square inch was on a space station. Estra and Tessan lived on one of the more modest decks. Their quarters might be thought of as generous with space, but not egregiously generous. Kalan approved of their more modest choice because he suspected that they could afford the better option. The cargo he moved for Estra was always higher-end and expensive enough that carrying it would have made him uncomfortable when he first bought his ship. He’d had two years to deal with that problem, though. Now, he was just cautious when he worked for her.

He stopped outside their door and announced himself to the microphone he knew was embedded in the entry pad beside the door. There was a brief pause before the door slid open. A hulking figure with no hair and a graying goatee beamed down at him.

“Kalan,” boomed Tessan. “Come in! Dinner will be done soon.”