Diamonds On The Soles Of Her Shoes

Debreth was a very pretty city, Capitaine Elienne Desorlay thought, despite the grey sky and cold wind that cut through her coat like a knife through sandwich spread. The buildings were pretty, in their matching yellow stone. The river was pretty, if a little frightening as it churned its way under the bridges. The trees were pretty, even without their leaves. And the people were pretty, too, not in the uniform way of the holoreels but with clear eyes that were used to seeing sky and an easy way of walking that said they were used to having enough space to finish a stride without stepping on the heels of the person in front of them.

Could be Farm-boy's home town, come to think of it.


Lieutenant Charles Etay's home town, maybe, but not Elienne's. The gaping open space above her head gave her the creeps, for one thing, and she had no idea how anyone could have a preference for living in a place that had no working temperature control.

Nice enough to visit, well, anywhere was nice enough to visit for a day or so, and Elienne hadn't said no when Charlie had suggested they put their names in the pool to see who'd get sent on the consult request from the local force.  And they'd gotten lucky, or else Charlie's star was on the rise again, even if his big war-crimes arrest had ended with the file marked 'deceased' and not with a trial.

Closed is closed, that was the rule.  And closing a case got you anything from an slap on the back to a promotion, depending on just how big and ugly and political the case had been and just how neatly you'd tied all the ends together.

Charlie had got a trip to Annelle XI, on expenses, which Elienne judged meant the case against Sarakai Voutelen fell somewhere in the middle of the range.

The case here hadn't even been a bad one, financial fraud, not even properly Crimes-Against-Persons except an accounts clerk had gotten a nasty bump on the head when he'd stumbled over the perp working late in the office. Enough to scramble his memory, sure, but not enough to break his skull.

No blood, no deaths, no kids.  That's what I call a good case.


And Charlie had been fast-tracked for a reason, before he got up the noses of the higher-ups.  Boy reads bank records like they're kids' primers. It hadn't taken them more than a few hours to wrap up the case and give it to the locals, all but with a bow on top.

Leaving the rest of the day for sight-seeing.


There were churches, apparently, old ones, that Charlie thought were worth looking at. Elienne had wished him joy of them and trudged off into what the locals had assured her was the right part of town for shopping.

Nothing that she'd have called a shop, not really, just poky little rooms no bigger that Elienne's own living room crowded with shelves and tables of things for sale.  Most seemed to sell only one sort of thing, too, which made for a lot of unnecessary tramping into the little hot rooms and back out into the chilly wind that funnelled through the narrow alleys and blasted up through the wooden walkways, as Elienne tried to find something to take home for Robert that was cheap enough for what was left of her travel allowance, nice enough not to be obviously cheap, and small enough not to get her stuck with an excess baggage charge on the Interbus home.


The last requirement was the hardest. Dirtsiders don't spend much time thinking about mass-lift costs, obviously.

Pausing in her search to buy a crisp sugared pastry baked in a cone, Elienne was eating it while looking in the window of a little shop that sold nothing but shoes when a familiar pretty face appeared reflected next to hers.

She swallowed a mouthful of sweet dough. "Find your church?"

Etay's reflection smiled. "More or less.  Find your souvenir?"

"Not yet," Elienne said. "Look at those shoes. You ever see anything like that? The soles are are some kind of stone, sparkling like that. You'd go slipping all over the place if you tried to run in them."

"I don't think they're for running," Etay said.

Elienne snorted. "Hardly anyone thinks their shoes are for running when they get dressed in the morning, Charlie.  And then you and me are standing in an alley somewhere looking down at some poor cow, and shaking our heads, and thinking that a little bit more speed and none of the three of us would have needed to be there."

The corner of Etay's mouth twitched up slightly. "There's a cheerful thought to have when looking at dancing shoes."

"You're a romantic, farm boy, that's your problem."  She turned to looked at him, and paused. "Had time for shopping after all, did you? That's a nice looking coat."

"It's a ..." Etay looked down, brushing at the rich fabric. "A loan."

"A loan. From one of the local boys?"

He shook his head wordlessly.

"So a complete stranger just walked up to you and lent you a coat, then? A nice one like that?" Elienne asked dryly.

"No," Etay said quietly. "Not a stranger."

Elienne sighed, but not aloud. Seeing two sons through adolescence had given her plenty of practice prying information from young men. Never let them sense your impatience. She looked back at the flimsy shoes with their silly high heels and impractical soles. "So who else do you know in Debreth?"

"I ran into someone," Etay said.

"And who would that be, then, Charlie?"

Etay's reflection looked away from hers.  "Amieta."

It took Elienne a moment to place the name.  "Your fruit woman?"

He smiled a little at that. "Yes."

Elienne made her voice neutral. "The one with the sister." The podder sister.


The pretty, podder sister.


"The very same," Etay said mildly.

"And she gave you that very nice coat," Elienne said flatly.

"Lent, not gave," Etay corrected.

"And why would she do that, Charlie?" Elienne asked.

He shrugged slightly.  "It's cold out?"

Elienne did sigh aloud at that.  Oh, Charlie.  "I don't suppose it was much of a surprise to you to run into this woman here, was it? Given how quick you were to volunteer us both for this little trip?"

"Not all that much of a surprise, no," Etay admitted. "Did you know syrup comes from trees?"

"No, but I always thought it tasted funny," Elienne said. "And don't change the subject, Charlie. We're partners, remember? If you're neck deep in the shit, so am I.  And - " She turned and tipped her head back to look up at him.  "My nose is closer to the ground than yours, farm boy.  So do you think that when you're next planning an interstellar trip to stalk a capsuleer you could let me know what you're dragging me into?"

Etay regarded her mildly. "Stalking seems a little strong."

"Stalking is what it'll say in the complaint, if she makes one.  It's not like you've got any official business with her, is it?"

"No," Etay admitted.

"Is she going to make a complaint?" Elienne asked.

He shook his head. "I don't think so. She gave me tea. And lent me her father's coat."

"Wait, the pilot lent you the coat?" Elienne said.

"And gave me tea."

Oh, Fortune fuck me with feathers. She's pretty and she's kind enough to give a man a warm drink on a cold day.

It wasn't that much, all in all, but then, it didn't take much when it came to young men and pretty girls, in Elienne's experience. Or pretty boys,for Tomas.  A polite smile was as good as a declaration of love, a basic acquaintance with the inside of a textbook was a sign of genius, the ability to walk across a room without tripping over the furniture was the hallmark of incomparable grace ...

And elementary hospitality is no doubt proof this podder is as kind and virtuous as all eight graces, as far as poor Charlie's concerned. 

Elienne shivered, and tugged her coat tighter.  That's where all the trouble in the world starts, she thought.

With pretty faces and foolish hearts.

"Charlie," Elienne said carefully. "She's a capsuleer and a confessed murderer and she's richer than sin-cake and twice as deadly. You do remember all that, don't you?"

"Sure," Etay said. "Sure, Eli. I remember all that."

Elienne studied him, squinting against the cold wind whipping up the alley. Her heart sank a little at what she saw.

Sure, he remembers, she thought.

Care, now.

That'd get me a different answer.

Not one that would do either of them any good, though.

Elienne dusted the sugar off her hands and shoved them in her pockets with a sigh. "Come on, farm boy.  I still need to find something to make Robert forgive me for running off with a pretty boy like you after twenty-seven years of marriage."

Etay laughed, just a puff of air. "There's a shop by the river that might have something," he said.

"Oh, yeah?" Elienne turned in that direction. "Your fruit woman tell you that? Or her pretty podder sister?"

Etay fell into step beside her, shortening his stride to match hers. "The sister," he said. "Ciarente."

Elienne hunched her shoulders against the wind. Ciarente.


First name terms with a capsuleer. 


Not a wise place to stand.


Not a safe one, either.


She glanced at Charlie and bit back the words.

Can't make his mistakes for him, any more than I could make them for Jules or Tomas.


He'll find out soon enough.


Find out that there were cold days no cup of tea could proof a man against.

No borrowed coat, either.


Even one as fine as that.


Elienne took one hand from her pocket and tucked it through the crook of Charlie's elbow as he walked beside her.  Can't make his mistakes for him, no. But with, now ... that's something else.


Partners are partners. And what's his is mine. Poisoned fruit, podders ...


And mistakes as well.