My Own Kind of Freedom, page 19

My Own Kind of Freedom, page 19 by Steven Brust

e or t'other."

"I work in a bar. This bar, in fact. See, this is me, working. In the bar."

"Good job. Own it, too?"

The other laughed a little. "In effect. Not technically. Only one man owns things. I'm just grateful not to be digging bauxite."

"One man. That would be Sakarya."

He nodded. "Mister Sakarya owns pretty much everything on the subcontinent, and quite a bit on the rest of the world."

"I'm sure he finds that very fulfilling."

"Uh huh."

"And not so good for the rest of you?"

The bartender made a non-committal grunt. "I do okay. Call me Mark, by the way."

"Mal. That's Zoë."

"Pleasure."

Mal nodded, paid, and brought the beers back to the table.

"What was that about, sir?"

"Beer, and the after-affects of being on the losing side."

"Oh?"

"I sort of asked him what things were like here."

"And?"

"He gave me the kind of answer you give when you don't want to give an answer."

"It'd be a familiar story, sir."

"Seems I might've heard it once or twice before."

She cleared her throat. "I see that Jayne--"

"Let's not talk about it."

"Yes, sir. What do you think of those two?"

Other than Jayne, the only other customers were two large, rather shabbily dressed men at a table against the wall.

"The thugs? The red haired one has a piece strapped to his right ankle."

"And something behind his back; look how he's sitting."

"I'm guessing a knife. The other one--"

"With the pistol under his right arm."

"--Yes. He's trying not to look like he's waiting for someone."

"Good catch, sir; I hadn't noticed.

"I was the first one in the door. He twitched, then relaxed when he saw it wasn't whoever he was waiting for."

"Nice they aren't waiting for us, anyway."

"I'm inclined to agree."

"The curly-haired one is more experienced; he isn't nervous. He's done this before."

"So has Red, bu