Read Online The Bronze of Eddarta by Randall Garrett - Free Book Online

who was as tall as I, middle-aged, with a touch of softness around his stomach, had assured me that their short absence could be explained easily as a trip to visit an ill relative, should anyone inquire. He had given us that, and other, information in response to our questions, and he had volunteered little else.
    Rassa, his daughter, had said nothing at all. She was a physical type that Tarani could imitate easily. As tall as Tarani, she had the same smooth brow and delicate planes at cheek and jaw. It was obvious that the two women shared some genes. But where Tarani’s headfur was black and silky, Rassa’s was thick and golden. Body curves at breast and hip were more pronounced in Rassa, and she walked with an unconscious sensuality that wasn’t damaged at all by her haunting beauty.
    Yoman and Rassa had become our key to Eddarta, and we had sent Lonna to Thymas with instructions to look for us at Yoman’s tailor shop when he reached Eddarta. But I was uneasy as we walked within Tarani’s illusion. I couldn’t rid myself of the feeling that the merchant had been holding something back, that he had been running from Eddarta for a reason more specific than weariness of his lifestyle.
    I didn’t want to be recognized as Rikardon. But I was halfway expecting some hassle when I was recognized as Yoman.
    That danger didn’t materialize, much to my relief. A couple of people said hello, but in the crowded streets, with folks hurrying to get home before dark, there wasn’t time to do much more than wave and smile. By the time we located Yoman’s shop, staggered through the doors and closed them behind us, I was a bundle of exposed nerves.
    “Who is it? Who is there?” The quavering voice came from a man at the top of a flight of stairs that ended just to our right. He was silhouetted against a small window which let in some light from the street lamps below. He was a small man, and looked frail. He was wearing only a pair of trousers, tied with drawstrings at waist and ankles, and I could see the outline of his ribs.
    I squeezed Tarani’s hand. “He can’t see us. Can you give me Yoman’s voice?” I whispered. She returned the pressure, and I cleared my throat loudly.
    “Who am I? Yoman, that’s who! Now who are you, in my shop this time of night?”
    “Yoman?” the voice whined. “Yoman, it is Bress, your good friend! Wait, I’ll get a lamp …”
    Bress. Yoman mentioned him—another fabric merchant.
    “Bress!” I bellowed. “I need no lamp to see what is going on here! I am gone a few days, and you move in to take over my shop!” I started up the stairs, stomping heavily. The skinny old man whimpered with fright.
    “No, I moved in here to
protect
your shop, Yoman! I didn’t know where you had gone—someone else might have—”
    I was near the top of the stairs, drawing Tarani up right behind me. The old man was holding a lamp base and struggling with a scissor-shaped sparker.
    “No one else needed to,” I yelled, causing the little guy to drop the bronze platform onto the hallway table. The fall jarred the glass chimney, which had been set aside, off balance; it toppled, rolled off the table, and made a nerve-jangling noise as it shattered. Bress jumped two feet into the air and completely lost his nerve.
    “Please, Yoman, I meant no harm. You went away and left no word, you know how small my shop is, we have been friends, I didn’t want them to think it was abandoned—”
    “Out!” I said. I grabbed one thin arm and propelled the man toward the stairs, turning Tarani behind me to keep her hidden. “And be thankful you still have your head. Rassa and I have traveled a long, hard way this day. Anything you moved
in
, you can move
out
tomorrow.”
    The little man dived halfway down the stairs, clutched at the railing to save himself, and stumbled the rest of the way. At the door, he paused to look up. I could barely see him.
    “Rassa is with you?” he said in surprise. “But I thought