Treaty

As long as Kirra could remember, diddybirds appeared from nowhere as soon as she was alone. For years they had remained her silent and precious friends.

As usual, three settled on the bench while others circled overhead or perched on the surrounding rooflines. They never crowded. Kirra always carried something to offer those who approached. Today it was bread and a slice of apple from her lunch. They accepted her gift with almost dainty gestures. They did not eat. They never did while Kirra watched. She often wondered if they took her offerings merely to be polite.

Eventually Kirra turned her attention back to the approaching shadows. She had no real interest in the life Silver offered, no matter how finely the woman dressed it up. Whenever she thought of Silver, the recollections were marred by the jangle of the gold bracelets that Silver rattled with her exaggerated gestures. Kirra started a silent dialogue with the watchful diddybirds. How she had once heard Elder Barret describe a clan member's suicide as a call for help that no one heard in time. That was precisely how she felt about Silver's proposal. She couldn't see what Barret could possibly do to change things. But she was glad to have a reason to wait and look away from that dread prospect.

Three days.

For two days, nothing happened except Kirra could not sleep. The mining office remained just another cage, the hours an endless treadmill that took her nowhere. Elder Barret vanished, calling in sick, appearing for brief moments inside the clan's residence, then gone. Kirra almost hated the older woman for the offer of futile hope.

On the third morning, Elder Barret appeared as Kirra was preparing for work. "You're coming with me."

"I'm due at the office."

"Your days at the mines are over." When Kirra still did not move, she added, "You were leaving anyway, yes? Now let's go."

They took the rattling, smelly Fifth Ward inbound transit, away from the mines. When their transport passed through the Fifth Ring, two Black Watch entered, inspected the riders, snapped a few pictures, eyed Kirra, then departed. That was the one brief moment when Kirra felt joined to Elder Barret. United by a loathing for everything that held them down.

Their destination was a nondescript office building on the Fourth Ward market's northern boundary. Kirra often spent her free afternoons strolling the boisterous lanes. Everything was said to be for sale in the Fourth Ward market, legal or otherwise. A broad avenue kept the shops and stalls from further expansion. On the thoroughfare's other side stretched a wall of warehouses and ratty structures and sidewalks filled with pedestrians and pushcarts.

The building's entrance was scarred and flanked by a pair of dirty windows. The brass nameplate was pitted and filthy and illegible. Kirra declared, "I'm not working here."

The older woman did not bother turning around. She pressed a buzzer and lined herself up so as to face a camera imbedded in the side wall. The door opened, only to reveal a second portal of what appeared to be solid steel. It slid silently to one side. As Elder Barret stepped in, she told Kirra, "Your job is to stay quiet and do what you're told."

The office was an astonishment. They entered a high-ceilinged antechamber, freshly carpeted and well lit, with comfortable chairs and benches lining two walls. An empty desk was flanked by credenzas holding an array of electronic equipment, much of which Kirra did not recognize.

Elder Barret called, "Arno?"

A man's voice spoke from the inner office, "Come on through."

The interior office was grand and very large. Original artwork adorned the walls. The room was lit by a trio of chandeliers. Two young men and a woman stood watching as a fat bald gentleman in a stained jacket and mismatched shirt sat behind a massive desk, examining a half dozen gemstones. He scrutinized each jewel in turn, then slipped the largest into some sort of device and studied the screen. He asked, "You mentioned a bracelet?"

"And ring." One of the men handed over a felt envelope.

Arno spilled the contents onto the desk, examined both briefly, then said, "All right, Quinn. Pay the gentlemen what they've requested."

Only then did Kirra notice the man standing in the corner. Which was frightening in and of itself. She had been trained from an early age to notice anyone who treated shadows as their allies. It was how a lovely young woman survived.

The man was sleek, middle-aged, and moved like flowing liquid. Kirra had met a few like this one. Not many. The kind who were brethren with dark ways. Who killed with silken pleasure.

The two men accepted their money, thanked the old man profusely, and fled.