SPIRIT WALKER

Chapter 7: Blue Holiday (part 3 of 3)

Most of the town stood within hearing range of Phylomon's words, and the rest of the people seemed to be coming.

Wisteria watched the mayor intently. Lady Devarre had taught her girls to try to read a competitor's thoughts just by the way he held his head, the way the nervous lines crinkled near his eyes, the timbre of his voice.

Mayor Goodman obviously knew that there was no threat from pirates and he feared to gather the town. Phylomon could be plotting to turn the townsmen against him.

"As you wish," the mayor conceded with false courage.

"I have often heard good report of the inn of Scandal the Gourmet," Phylomon said, "Is this the town where it lies? Could someone tell him that I'd like a room for the night?"

Scandal's high, bellowing voice cut through the crowd, "You can tell me yourself!" he said, and the townspeople laughed a false, nervous laugh.

"I've heard you have a bed in one of your rooms—a very special bed, guaranteed free from vermin," Phylomon said softly as Scandal shoved the crowd aside, making room for his belly to squeeze through. "Is that room available?"

Ever the showman, Scandal played to the crowd, answering loudly so that everyone could hear. "Well, a bed is only as free of vermin as the man who's sleeping in it. If you want my special bed, you'll have to hike up your breechcloth and let me check for fleas, just like every other customer!"

Phylomon grinned at the game and pulled up his brechcloth, exposing his muscular legs. Scandal grunted and bent over, making a great show of scrutinizing the blue man's skin.

"I hereby declare this man to be totally free of vermin!" Scandal announced, laughing. "And therefore worthy of my finest room——free of charge!" Several people cheered, while others just laughed.

Phylomon said, "Then show me to your inn." Phylomon took the Dryad's hand and helped her rise. Together they made their way across town and up the hill.

The crowd began to disperse.

Wisteria felt unsure of what to make of the blue man's appearance, and wanted to ask her father about it, but she didn't see him in the crowd. She rushed home to the large house on the north end of town.

Her mother was quietly preparing dinner in the kitchen. Her father sat in a large upholstered chair in his study, reading The Sayings, a book of wise words purportedly spoken by Phylomon over the centuries. Wisteria had never seen her father read the book before.

So, she thought, he is preparing to meet him.

Her father, Beremon Altair had graying hair and bright blue eyes. He was a learned man, knowledgeable about arcane mathematics and physical theories that let the Starfarers travel faster than light, a man who'd made a fortune backing shipping ventures in dangerous waters. A man others feared because he, himself, was a rare genetic throwback to the Starfarers—Beremon Altair was a Dicton, one of the few humans left on Anee who carried the extra pair of genetically engineered chromosomes that were the Starfarer's greatest legacy. Beremon could calculate nearly any mathematical problem instantly, and from birth he had known every word in the ancient, universal trade language of the Starfarers, a language from Earth itself, called English.

As a Dicton, Beremon was marked from birth to become a man of power, and he'd lived true to his promise.

Shipping on Anee could be a dangerous gambit. Because of the extreme gravitational pull of the gas giant Thor, Anee's tides could fluctuate by a hundred feet in a few hours. During raging storms, a strong gravitational wind could send a sailing ship a thousand miles from its destination overnight and leave it smashed against a rocky coast.