Scavenger Hunt

Chapter 1: Hunt Ball-2

Tyla, meanwhile, was left with Nillia Rathering. “It’s nice to see you again, Nillia.” Tyla could lie socially with the pleasantest of smiles.

“Yes, my child, it’s been far too long,” Nillia said. “Do come over here and let me see that stunning outfit.”

Tyla obliged grudgingly. Nillia Rathering was harmless, but such a dreadful bore. And, Tyla noticed with distaste as she approached, Nillia had gained yet a few more kilos since their last meeting. Some women just seemed to lose all pride in their appearance once they’d reached a hundred and fifty. I’ll never let that happen to me, Tyla decided silently.

Nillia examined the dress closely, oohing and ahing with delight. “Oh, to be a hundred years younger. I could really show you a thing or two, my dear.”

“I’m sure you still can,” Tyla said, landing the compliment Nillia had been fishing for.

“Oh, no, no, dear, you flatter me too much. My days of glory are all behind me, I’m afraid.” Since Tyla knew Nillia didn’t believe it, the truth came out sounding like a polite social lie.

“And what about you, Tyla?” Nillia prattled on. “You’ve been something of a hermit these past few months, haven’t you? I’ve missed your lovely face at all the parties. I haven’t seen you since…since the Maze, wasn’t it, on New Crete?”

“Personal affairs became a little too pressing, I’m afraid,” Tyla answered, ignoring the obvious curiosity.

“And speaking of personal affairs, dear,” Nillia said, lowering her voice to a just–between–us–girls level, “have you heard about Randa and Mendasan?”

“I heard their marriage broke up, but I hadn’t heard why.” This conversation might be of some value, after all. Information was everything in Society.

“She caught him in bed with one of her lovers. And they hadn’t even had the grace to invite her. It was all the talk of the Blue Star Ball. Of course, that was before Fendon showed up with an alien.”

“What sort of alien?”

“Goodness knows, I can’t keep them all straight. Of course, he claimed it was part of a business meeting, but the alien was wearing Dorin’s platinum pendant and Dorin was conspicuously absent. Neither of them was at the Delder 400, and you know how regularly they used to attend.

“And there’s rumors of a duel to be fought before the Hesperion Ball. Certain unnamed parties took exception to other unnamed parties calling them ‘an ineffectual whiner and a blue–nosed hypocrite,’ so they went home to Gavilon to practice their marksmanship. Why do men have to have such fragile egos?

“But there is some good news. Cathalia Ling is getting married.”

“I hadn’t received an invitation.” It was unthinkable that anyone of any worth would get married without inviting Tyla.

“Well, of course, they haven’t announced it yet, but Walsa assures me he drew up the contract himself.”

“Who’s she marrying?”

“That hasn’t been decided yet. One of the two younger Untermann boys, almost certainly. That will make quite an alliance, don’t you think?”

Nillia’s voice dropped to even more conspiratorial tones as she continued, “And speaking of that sort of thing, dear, I know it’s none of my business, but have you gotten married yet?”

You know I haven’t, you old busybody. Nothing in the galaxy happens without your finding out about it. “Now don’t be silly. You know I wouldn’t do anything like that without inviting you to the wedding. You shouldn’t worry about it so.”

“I know, dear, but I can’t help it. I did promise your mother I’d look after you, you know.”

There it was, the old promise Nillia dragged out of mothballs at every social occasion, like some ancient soldier emerging from the attic wearing a uniform threatening to burst at the seams. Maybe it gives her some kind of thrill to think she’s responsible for me, Tyla thought. Just once I’d like to get all the way through a party without it.

“You must admit it’s not normal for someone your age not to have been married at least once,” Nillia continued, blithely unaware of the younger woman’s annoyance. “You’re completely wasting your best years. Youth is the time for experimentation, you know.”

“I thought I’d been doing quite a bit of experimentation, myself.”

Nillia dismissed that with a wave of her hand. “Those are affairs, dear, not marriages. All shallow. You need something deeper, a lasting relationship, something more than just a week or two.”

“I’ve yet to find a man I’d even want a lasting relationship with.” Tyla had used Nillia to escape from the Barb, and now she was looking around for someone to rescue her from Nillia. The orchestra had stopped playing momentarily. Over Nillia’s shoulder she caught sight of Tendric Parto. If she could manage to catch his eye….

“It wouldn’t have to be forever, you know,” Nillia persisted. “A year or two would be fine. I can think of several young men who’d make an excellent first husband for you. You just haven’t been looking hard enough, that’s all. Even your brother was married once, and goodness knows he’s….” She caught herself in the faux pas and let her voice drift off awkwardly.

“‘Odd’?” Tyla supplied, enjoying for a moment the feeling of putting her inquisitor on the defensive.

“No, of course not, dear, I was going to say ‘eccentric.’ But if even he and the Barb could survive a marriage, there’s certainly no reason why you can’t. Look around the hall tonight. Every eligible, desirable man in the galaxy is here. And in that outfit of yours, you’ll certainly have no trouble attracting the man you want.”

Tyla looked around. Tendric Parto had been pulled aside by some woman, probably his new wife—Tyla had missed the wedding and hadn’t had a chance to meet her yet. But there had to be someone she could use as a ruse for leaving Nillia. Her eyes roamed over the tables set around the perimeter of the dance floor. Every face was familiar from previous parties except….

“Who’s that?” she asked, pointing at a good–looking young man sitting alone and dejected at one table.

Nillia’s expression dropped, and her voice became a whisper. “Oh. Believe me, dear, you wouldn’t want anything to do with that. It’s the android.”

The Barb had mentioned something about a ‘great android scandal’ but, true to form, she’d been long on opinion and short on detail. “What’s it doing here?” she asked.

“You mean you hadn’t heard about the scandal? My dear, you have been out of touch, haven’t you? That creature has enrolled in the Hunt.”

Tyla was genuinely shocked. “I didn’t know they’d let one in.”

“Devon didn’t want to, I assure you. But the Rules were quite explicit—any male sentient being who can pay the entrance fee can enroll. There were social niceties, and the Committee of course didn’t want to look as though they were excluding aliens. But who would ever have believed an android could come up with enough money to enter?”

“Where did it get the money?”

“Apparently all the androids in the galaxy contributed to pay its fee and buy it a ship. It’s like a cause or something with them—some nonsense about trying to prove their equality with human beings.”

Tyla’s eyes narrowed. “Do you think it stands much of a chance?”

“No one I’ve talked to thinks so. But just the thought of its being in our Hunt is disgraceful. I can assure you the Rules will be changed by the next time.”

Tyla nodded. The android’s entry into the Hunt could tarnish the contest slightly, but the Hunt’s tradition was so glorious that the damage would be minimal. A year after it was over, all anyone would remember was the winner. She wasn’t worried about the android as competition, either—not if, as the Barb had said, it only had a battered old ship and robots as a crew.

Most of the regular entrants competed solely because a failure to do so would have meant loss of status. They’d pursue the Hunt lackadaisically, perhaps gather a few of the objects on their list and lose gracefully, later telling exciting anecdotes about how they might have won if it had not been for thus–and–such unfortunate accident. There was only one person she was really worried about. One person who took the Hunt as more than just a game.

“Hello, Tyla,” said a voice from behind her, and she recognized the sound of the enemy.

“Hello, Master Jusser,” she said, turning around. “I was just thinking about you.”

Ambic Jusser looked the part he played—a broad–shouldered, sophisticated ladykiller. He stood a full two meters tall and had a handsome, craggy face with a deeply space–tanned complexion. His mustache and goatee were sprinkled with silver–colored dust; the shaved strip front to back down the center of his skull was three centimeters wide and lavishly tattooed by the famous Corinarr himself.

Jusser’s shirt was smooth, semitransparent plastisilk, swirling in blues and reds and yellows. The design at first glance seemed haphazard, but it was planned to direct the eye around his magnificent frame and then downward toward the waist. His knee–britches were rainbow velvet, shining in all colors at once, and so tight they might have been painted on. His codpiece was grossly padded, and he wore soft leather boots that glided noiselessly along the smooth ballroom floor. His hands were neatly gloved, the right in red and the left in yellow.

Jewelry flashed excitingly all about him. A string of diamonds circled his head, tied at the back of the neck with two tassels. A ruby earring dangled from each ear, and tight bracelets of canary diamonds circled his wrists. His belt was a row of emeralds, while his garters were mosaics of rubies, emeralds, sapphires and diamonds. There was a platinum spur on his right boot with a large star sapphire instead of a rowel. And around his neck was a clear plastic tube filled with hundreds of small, living firebeetles that glowed and sparkled—alive and warm, yet ever–changing in hue and pattern. The firebeetles were hideously expensive, even by Society’s standards, and could live for only a few hours inside that tube.

Tyla hated Jusser with a passion so intense it was a fire in her gut.

Jusser’s smile was the one he always wore: the sportsman, the magnanimous winner, the charitable superior. God on the seventh day. “I hope they were nice thoughts,” he said.

“They were about you,” Tyla reiterated.

“You look exquisite this evening, my dear,” Jusser continued. “But then, you always do.”

“And you’re the same as ever,” Tyla said sweetly.

Nillia Rathering could sense the upswelling of unpleasantness and decided that her attentions were wanted elsewhere. With a graceful apology she glided casually to a less intense corner of the hall. Other people around Tyla and Jusser also drifted toward safer areas.

“It’s certainly wonderful to see you again,” Jusser said. He took her arm so smoothly that she had no alternative but to let him. “I’ve missed you, you know.”

“You seem to have managed well enough while I was away.”

“Of course I managed. I’m a winner, aren’t I?”

“That depends,” Tyla said carefully, “on the games you play.”

Jusser shrugged. “The only thing I’ve wanted that I’ve never had is you, my dear, and now that I’ve made up my mind on that, it’s only a matter of time. Why waste your energy fighting me?”

As they talked, he had been leading her towards the center of the hall. Just as they reached it, the orchestra began playing again. “Would you care to join me in the Zolthen?” Jusser asked before Tyla could frame a reply to his previous question.

Tyla hesitated for just a fraction of a second, and that was her undoing. Jusser took her silence as consent and swept her up into his arms in time to the music. It had been a smooth ambush, and timed perfectly.

“I suppose you’re here to watch the start of the Scavenger Hunt,” Jusser said as he whirled her gently around him.

“In a manner of speaking, yes.” She took her cue from the music, backed one step away from him while holding his left hand in her right and ducked under his arm to come up behind him.

“I’ll expect you to be down at the Hermes to see me off.” He let go of her hand with his left, took her other hand with his right and spun once more to face her.

“I’m afraid that will be somewhat difficult,” she said, stepping up close to him and slipping her free arm loosely around his waist. Together they moved three steps to Jusser’s right. “I’ll be aboard the Honey B at the time.”

“Bred’s ship? Is he in the Hunt?” Jusser pushed her gently away from him and she did a slow pirouette.

“Yes, he was a last minute entry.” She waited the required beat, then leaped into the air and came down on one foot. Her partner took her free leg, knelt, and slipped it over his shoulder. Then, grabbing an outstretched hand, he lifted her into the air.

“Wouldn’t you prefer to be with a winner?”

“I intend to be.”

He spun her around once, then set her down again. “You don’t really expect that flying bawdyhouse of his to be a serious contender, do you?” He turned halfway around, so that the two of them now stood back to back.