“Slight,” A’Meer said. “It’s good to see you. Been cutting down on the fried sheebok fat, I see.”

“I weigh almost as much as all my girls combined,” she said proudly. “Who’s the cock? He want some? You want some, cock?”

Kosar shook his head, unfeasibly embarrassed in front of this mountain of a woman. The inside of the great machine was unrecognizable, hung as it was with drapes and curtains. It was an assault on the eyes, so much color and form stealing concepts of up or down, left or right. Someone passed by on the other side of a drape wall, but they were little more than a shadow. Someone else snored gently nearby. From elsewhere, he thought he heard the muted sounds of lovemaking.

“Slight, I’m looking for someone,” A’Meer said.

“Someone other than him?” the madam said, nodding at Kosar. The movement sent her whole bulk shaking. Her loose breasts, each almost the size of a small sheebok, quivered as if possessing of a life of their own.

“A boy,” A’Meer said. “Slight, it’s important. This boy is precious to me, and his life is in danger.”

“Precious to you, or precious to New Shanti?” A’Meer did not reply. Slight looked her up and down. “And you all tooled up.”

Kosar did not like her. She seemed too casual, too ready with a witticism, and all the while he sensed a wily mind working behind her button eyes.

“There are a few things about me I’ve never told most people,” A’Meer admitted.

“I’ve heard about Shantasi warriors,” Slight said, shifting her weight to one side and moving, slowly, toward a wall of curtains.

A’Meer looked at Kosar and shrugged. He frowned, trying to communicate his distrust.

“Girls!” Slight called. “Slight wants a word!”

“I’m busy,” a voice said, sounding as if it came from the next street.

“When you’ve finished, then, Honey. Don’t rush the gentleman; he’s paid his way.”

Shadows came first, appearing on curtains and drapes from different directions, slowly manifesting as women. They pushed through into the central room where Slight, A’Meer and Kosar waited. One of them was beautiful. One was fodder, fat and scarred with bites. One was with child, another looked half dead from rotwine and bad fledge, and the last was a fledger, tall and yellow-eyed.

“The boy a stranger?” Slight asked, and A’Meer nodded.

“Girls, my friend here’s looking for someone. A boy. You won’t have seen him before. Maybe he was on his own; or if he’s a stranger, someone in the districts may have picked him up. You seen anyone with a stranger? Anyone we know?”

“Hope,” said the fledger. “That mad old fucking witch-whore threw a sac of poison spiders at me. She had a boy with her, filthy little bastard farmer boy, scared.”