No comment...
The bar had become hot and noisy, filled with the clatter of glasses and the loud voices of the miners. They had appeared one or two at a time as they realised the danger had temporarily passed and the raiders were beaten off - they were resilient out on the Fringe. Emily felt that she would miss this town full of sunburnt, bearded men with sand calloused hands who gave her and her companion looks filled with open suspicion. The miners brought the red-brown sand in with them and the floor, freshly swept when they arrived, had become gritty with it. The orange light from the wall lanterns reflected off the empty glasses on the table and glowed within Quinton Harrington’s hair.
"I never thought to thank you for assisting us on the roof." Emily said. She had stopped checking the time; she should have left hours ago but she rarely slept and she did not want to spend her last night in Calendara sitting amongst her possessions waiting for the sunrise. Furthermore, she was curious for the more questions she had answered, the more there seemed to be. Quinton inclined his head slightly and damp locks of pale hair entwined themselves with his eyelashes.
"The honour is all mine." he said, gazing at her through the strands of hair and Emily felt her blood beating in her ears. Jocastra had been correct at least in part and Emily hoped that she had the opportunity to tell her. She did like him - he was clever and attractive in a boyish, unnaturally perfect sort of way. Emily knew that he was looked strange by the standards of the Foundations - somehow he more closely resembled Emily.
"Where did you get your sword?" she asked.
"It belongs to my family." he said. "It is formed of a special composite; I won’t bore you with the details... However, it is extremely expensive, very valuable and immensely rare; there are only five in existence." his voice became loud and haughty. Several of the miners turned and stared at him. Emily fingered the energy weapon under the table and hoped that none of them were criminal and interested in rare artifacts. He put his hand on the hilt. Emily lent towards him, rapidly covering his hand with hers to prevent him drawing the sword. The back of his fingers moved against her palm. "Not in here." she hissed. Quinton blinked at her.
"Who are your family?" she asked quietly. He narrowed his eyes. "One of the Foundation families?" she persisted.
He glanced in the direction of the door. "Perhaps... perhaps not" he said.
"Is that anything to do with the errand for your friend?"
"Not directly."
"But indirectly?" Emily prompted.
"Yes..." He leant forwards, looking straight into her eyes. "You are trying to interrogate me." he said, amused. "Stop it."
"But..."
"Sshhhhh." he put a finger on her lips; Emily felt her face heating with his touch."It’s a secret. I’m working undercover," he declared proudly in a very loud voice. Several people turned around and stared at him.
"On what?" exclaimed Emily, incredulously.
A pale pink flush spread over his cheekbones. "That’s made you more interested, hasn’t it? Dammit."
"What are you, a spy or something?" she hissed. He looked away from her again towards the door. Emily placed her fingers against the soft, translucent skin of his cheek and steered his face back to face her. She rubbed away the spot of dried blood and her fingertips pushed back a strand of hair over his ear. His skin was silken smooth. He flinched as if stung.
"Now you’re trying to seduce me." he muttered sulkily, removing her hand and placing it on the table. He took the lens from his pocket and examined it, ignoring her. It was no more than a piece of glass but when he touched it a certain way, colours began to drift across it. They appeared rather like oil floating on water. Emily remembered that she had seen this when they had first met on the roof.
"What is that?" she asked, peering over his shoulder.
"It’s a sensor but the atmospheric disturbance is distorting the signal."
"Can I look?" Emily picked it up. The shifting colours accelerated under her touch until they seemed to be boiling. Finally they disappeared and refused to return.
"What the deuce did you do to it?"
"Nothing."
"Give it to me." Emily placed it into his palm. Her fingers lingered on his hand. He shook the lens and then poked it a couple of times. The glass remained utterly clear. Finally dropped the lens back into his coat pocket."It’s broken." he concluded, irritated.
"What does it sense?"
"Dust."
"It won’t have any problems here then."
"Not that sort of Dust..." he began to say loudly in a patronising tone of voice. Then he stopped and something appeared to dawn on him.
"What sort of Dust?" Emily asked into the pause.
Quinton Harrington picked up his hat and coat and replaced the hat on his head."Emily. It is late; you are doubtless tired. I am... tired. Now I must return to the hotel. It has been a pleasure meeting you. Goodbye."
With that, he left. Emily sat for a moment contemplating. After a few moments, she also left. The temperature contrast between the inside and outside was significant. The duststorm had died down and the raw, pale light from the smashed lantern caught a few grains dancing in the night air.
She could see the silhouette of Quinton Harrington moving out of a patch of light. He was going the wrong way.
"Hey." she shouted, running after him. He stopped and turned around. He had moved from a patch of light cast by a lantern hanging outside one of the doors but she could still see his green eyes looking at her. Emily felt a sudden twinge of fear; she was sure that she shouldn’t have been able to see his eyes. Perhaps it was her imagination but she was sure that they were glowing.
"Yes...?" he said as she reached him.
"Are you going to the Gemstone?"
"I am trying to go there, yes."
"You’re going the wrong way. It’s over there; down the side street, turn right."
"Ah." he said, following her finger. "I am drunk. I have lost my sense of direction."
"Follow me." she said, clasping his hand. He laced his fingers between hers. Emily led him into a darkened sidestreet "I could be anyone, you know. I could be trying to rob you."
"I have a sword."
"I have a gun." she replied.
"Really?" And he tried to disarm her of it. Emily blocked him. At some point, the energy weapon skidded away across the street and he sliced off a lock of her hair with the sword. She fell on top of him and he grabbed her wrists.She could feel the tension in his pale fingers where they held the lock of hair against her skin and the warmth of his body in the desert night. She was definite that his eyes were glowing with a subtle, faint phosphorescence. He was grinning demonically. "You’re fortunate that I didn’t miss." he said. "And yes, I am an idiot. I’m the first to admit it."
A breeze blew down the street and the dust stirred against her back and legs as she rolled onto her side. She could hear his ragged breathing. Abruptly, he kissed her. His lips brushed against hers; Emily’s heart pounded in her ears. Her lips parted and the tip of her tongue touched his. His fingers loosened on her wrists and his arms slid around her, embracing her so the entire length of her body was pressed firmly against his. She slid her fingers through his silky hair, shut her eyes and kissed him hard in return. he was very warm in the cold of the desert night. His arms slid limply from her back, he rolled away and brushed the sand off his coat.
"Goodbye Emily." he said and vanished into the night.
Emily’s breath was loud in her eyes and her heart was beating rapidly. She could still feel a ghostly sense of where he had touched her. She thought of going to the Gemstone, banging on the door until someone let her in, going to his room and... The first rays of the morning sun rose over the horizon, turning the sandstone pinnacles a firey red. The sky had a faint purple tinge to it and Emily was reminded of the raider, clutching at his throat and tumbling down the stairs as his face turned purple. She walked to the home of the Mercanter to collect her luggage. By the time she arrived, the orange glow of dawn had spread right across the sky.