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of disgusting, short-term gigs usual y reserved for immos – the desperate il egals from the continent who tried to forge lives in the shadows of Pinchon. Everything else he owed to Kai Durin, who gave him a soft bed and two meals rent-free and asked for nothing beyond a brief, warm kiss each morning.

Kai was generous. Kai was suave. But Kai had an agenda, like anyone with a working brain. Ryl en knew Kai’s endgame. He sensed it every time Kai made him dinner. He heard the implication each time his eighteen-year-old roommate mentioned “special opportunities” or “the way without judgment.” Only a week ago, when Ryllen put the pieces together, did Kai almost reveal his hand.

“I wasn’t eavesdropping,” Ryllen said over breakfast of Kohlna cakes and spiced cabbage. “You were on the bicomm. I heard you mention Lan Chua.”

Kai folded his fish cake into the stringy cabbage, his permanently embedded half-smile giving away nothing.

“Everyone knows Lan Chua. Powerful man.”

Ryllen knew al too wel . “Father warned me about him once, during the reprisals. Father died a few days after.”

“Are you suggesting …?”

“No, but they were rivals at Nantou. I don’t think they got along, even before independence. But I hear things about Lan Chua.”

“Such as?”

“That maybe he’s more than Executive Chairman of Discipline at Nantou. Kai, what do you know about the Green Sun?”

Kai chewed with a slow, purposeful rhythm, his artful smile

undeterred. He wiped his lips with a napkin and returned it to his lap.

“Now there’s a mighty question, RJ. You first. Where did you hear this colorful name?”

“My last job. Sewer maintenance with a crew of immos. Said they had a friend hunted by the Green Sun. They’re more afraid of it than the immigration consort. They couldn’t believe I was in the dark. They said Green Sun was run by executives for the seamasters. It would make sense for an ECD like Lan Chua. No one would chal enge him.”

“Interesting conjecture.” Kai pointed to Ryllen’s plate. “Are you going to eat your last cake?”

“I’m good. I’l fil up on breadfruit. So?”

Kai stabbed at the cake with a fork and mumbled between bites.

“What do you think Green Sun does, RJ?”

“I hear different stories. Trackers. Collectors. Enforcers. Assassins.”

“Hmm. Sounds brutish. I heard they’re defending The Lagos. Stil , I would think there’s opportunity, given the right connections.”

“Opportunity for someone like me, you think?”

Kai washed down his cake with infused mango juice.

“I’d have no idea, RJ. But I’m good at asking questions. Maybe I know someone who knows Lan Chua.”

Ryllen gambled with his next words, knowing they might be enough to end his rent-free holiday.

“Kai, are you Green Sun?”

Ryllen’s host almost let go of a ful smile, baring teeth. Instead, he grabbed both plates and carried them to the steam wash. Kai spoke without turning around.

“You know I’m in love with you,” he said. “I’ve wanted to have you from the first night, RJ. But I can’t, and not because you might say no.

Given a choice of tides, I think you’d prefer women. The real reason I can’t share your bed is because I’d have to reveal myself. It’s against the rules. I’d end up worse off than when you were sleeping outside in Umkau. It’s no accident you’ve never seen me undressed.”

Kai returned to the table, finished his mango juice, and studied Ryllen with a pensive stare.

“I like your braids,” he said. “But they need a flourish. I’m thinking of accents in rose and violet. Appropriate for Ascension, don’t you

think? I’l add the accents when I come home tonight.”

Ryllen agreed because he had no choice. Kai was shutting down the conversation. Just as important, Kai was an expert in hair; he changed his own colors and styles weekly.

“If there’s anything I can do, Kai, please tel me. I’d like the opportunity, if it becomes available.”

Kai flexed his brows then kissed Ryllen on the cheek. As he turned to leave, Kai hesitated. Ryllen’s stomach roiled in the momentary silence. Had he said too much?

“RJ, have you heard the nickname my friends gave you?”

“Sure. They’re not subtle.”

“Do you know why they cal you the Idiot of The Lagos?”

“I haven’t asked, but I assume.”

Kai reached into the chest pocket of his yellow, double-breasted jacket and revealed a cylindrical pipe, packed with poltash weed.

“A misfit, they say. Off-worlder passing as Hokki, stupid enough to leave the shield of his family. Worse than an immo. They don’t see courage. They see idiocy. It’s a good thing you have me, RJ.

“But I worry. How much longer can I do this? The worst word in al of Engleshe is idiot.” He tapped his pipe, and the end glowed blue. He inhaled. “I’l see what I can do for you. In the meantime, be patient. Work on your rifter. Stay within the narrows.”

Which is precisely what Ryllen did over the next nine days, with no hint of what was to come. He awoke to a prerecorded bicomm message from Kai, who left for work prior to sunrise. The hologram rose from his wrist before he stepped into the shower.

“I told him about you,” Kai said. “He thinks you have promise, but he never makes a decision like this without looking a man in the eyes. Meet us, RJ. You only have this one chance.

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