After, Cantra made a pot of garden-tea, its soft, tangy taste everything that was different from the usual ship-board brew. He savored it no less than the quiet ease between him and his comrades, and put the cup down with a pang when the tea was too soon gone. “Business on the port?” Cantra asked, reading him sharp and accurate. “I told Dulsey I’d come by, and I do want to talk to her,” he pointed out. She leaned back, long legs thrust out before her and crossed at the ankles. “You’re thinking the Uncle is looking for that same bit of Old War tech you’re after yourself,” she said, “and that the rest of the treasure hunt’s a shadow-play?” “I wouldn’t go that far. The rest of the artifacts are probably of interest, if the Uncle’s as keen a collector as you’ve said. And it could be that they’re the only reason the team’s here.” “And it could be that Dulsey won’t be telling you the truth, either side. If she knows it, which she might not. Young Arin struck me as being a thought tight on the need-to-knows.”
