Serpent's Reach (10 page)

Andra’s Jewel
reached Silak and, docked.
Ship will continue to Istra
, the message flashed to the three passengers who should have disembarked there with the others, to seek connections further. So grand a ship as
Andra’s Jewel
did not make out-planet runs with her staterooms empty. But the passengers who had packed, unpacked, with the desperate fear that they would do better to disembark anyway and seek other transportation, however long they had to wait. A few more passengers boarded. The
Jewel
voyaged out, ghostly in her emptiness.

“It’s the Kontrin,” the ITAK envoy whispered to his wife. “She’s going to Istra.”

The woman, his partner-in-office, said nothing, but glanced anxiously at the intercom and its blank screen, as if this might be carried to other ears.

“What other answer?” The Istran shaped the words with his lips, soundlessly. “And why would they come in person? In
person
, after all?”

The woman regarded him in dread. Their mission to Meron, dismal failure, had been calamity enough. It was their misfortune that they had chosen the
Jewel
for their intermediate link to Silak—tempted by the one brief extravagance of their lives, compensation for their humiliation on Meron. They were executives in a world corporation; they had attempted to travel a few days in the grand style of their innerworld counterparts, once,
once
, to enjoy such things, foreseeing ruin awaiting them on Istra. “We should have gotten off this ship at Silak,” she said, “while we had the chance. There’s only Pedra now, and no regular lines from there. We should have gotten off. Now it’s impossible she wouldn’t take notice of it. She surely knows we’re Istran.”

“I don’t see,” he said, “how she could be involved with us. I don’t. She’s from
before
Meron. Unless—while we were stalled on Meron—some message went through to Cerdin. I asked the azi where she boarded. They said Kalind. That’s only one jump from Cerdin.”

“You shouldn’t have asked the azi.”

“It was a casual question.”

“It was dangerous.”

“It was—”

“Hush! not so loud.”

They both looked at the intercom, uncomfortable in its cyclopsic presence. “It’s not live,” he said.

“I think she owns this ship,” the woman said. “That’s why there aren’t any guards visible. The whole crew, the azi—”

“That’s insane.”

“What else, then? What else makes sense?”

He shook his head. Nothing did.

They reached barren Pedra, and took on a straggle of lower-deck passengers, who gaped in awe at the splendour of the accommodations. Nothing the size of the
Jewel
had ever docked at Pedra. There were no upper-deck passengers: one departed here, but none boarded.

The game stood at four hundred eighteen to four hundred twelve. Bets had spread among the free crew. Some of them came and watched as the azi’s lead increased to thirteen. It was the widest the game had ever been spread.

“Your luck is incredible,” the Kontrin said. “Do you want to quit?”

“I can’t,” Jim said.

The Kontrin nodded slowly, and ordered drinks for them both.

Andra’s Jewel
made out from sunless Pedra and jumped again. They were in Istran space, beta Hydri two, snake’s-tail, the Outside’s contact point with the Reach.

There were, after the disorientation of jump, a handful of days remaining.

The game stood at four hundred fifty-nine to four hundred fifty-one. Midway through the evening it was four hundred sixty-two to four hundred fifty-three, and there was still a deep frown on the face of Kont’ Raen. She cast the wands governing aspect of the dice. They turned up star, star, and black. The aspects were marginally favourable. With black involved, she could have declined the hand and cancelled it, passing the wands to Jim for a new throw. She simply declined the first cast of the dice. The azi threw six and she threw twelve: she won the star and it took next star automatically. twenty-four. The azi declined first throw on the deadly black. She threw four; the azi threw twelve. The azi had won black, cancelling his points in the game. A low breath hissed from the gallery.

“Do you concede?” Kont’ Raen asked.

Jim shook his head. He was tired; his position in this game was all but hopeless: her score was ninety-eight; his was zero…but it was his option, and he never conceded any game, no matter how long and wearing. Neither did she. She inclined her head in respect to his tenacity and yielded him the wands. His control of the hand, should black turn up, afforded him a marginal chance of breaking her score.

And suddenly there was a disturbance at the door.

Two passengers stood there, male and female, betas. The azi of the salon, so long without visitors to serve of evenings, took an instant to react. Then they hurried about preparing chairs and a table for the pair, taking their order for drinks.

The game continued. Jim threw two ships and a star. He won the ships and had twenty; Raen won the star and took game.

“Your hundred fifty-four,” she said quietly, “to your four hundred fifty-two.”

Jim nodded.

“Take first throw.”

He shook his head; one could refuse a courtesy. She gathered up the wands.

A chair moved. One of the passengers was coming over to them. Raen hesitated in her cast and then looked aside in annoyance, the wands still in her hand.

“I am ser Merek Eln,” the man said, and gestured back to the woman who had also risen. “Sera Parn Kest my wife.”

Raen inclined her head as if this were of great moment to her. The betas seemed to miss the irony. “Kont’ Raen a Sul,” And with cold courtesy. “Grace to you both.”

“Are you…bound for Istra?”

Raen smiled, though coldly. “Is there anything more remote?”

Merek Eln blinked and swallowed. “The ship must surely start its return there. Istra is the edge of the Reach.”

“Then that must be where I am bound.”

“We…are in ITAK, Istran Trade…”

“…Association, Kontrin-licensed. Yes. I’m familiar with the registered corporations.”

“We offer our assistance, our—hospitality.”

Raen looked him up and down, and sera Kest also. She let the silence continue. “How kind,” she said at last. “I’ve never had such an offer. Perhaps I’ll take advantage of it. I don’t believe there are other Kontrin on Istra.”

“No,” Eln said faintly. “Kontrin, if you would care to discuss the matter which brings you here—”

“I don’t.”

“We might…assist you.”

“You aren’t listening, ser Merek Eln. I assure you, I have no interests in ITAK matters.”

“Yet you chose Istra.”

“Not I.”

The man blinked, confused.

“I didn’t divert the ship,” Raen said.

“If we can be of service—”

“You’ve offered me your hospitality. I’ve said that I shall consider it. For the moment, as you see, I’m engaged. I have four games yet to go this evening. Perhaps you’ll care to watch.” She turned her back on ser Merek Eln and sera Kest, looked at Jim, who waited quietly. Azi were accustomed to immobility when not pursuing orders. “What do you know of Istra?” she asked him.

“It’s a hive world. A contact point with Outside. Their sun is beta Hydri.”

“
The
contact point. I don’t recall any Kontrin going there recently. I knew one who did, once. But surely there are some amusements to be had there.”

“I, don’t know,” Jim said very faintly, quieter in the presence of the Istrans than he had been since the beginning. “I belong to Andra Lines. My knowledge doesn’t extend beyond the range of my ship.”

“Do these folk make you nervous? I’ll ask them to leave if you like.”

“Please, no,” Jim said hoarsely. Raen shrugged and made the cast.

It came up three stars. She took first throw. Twelve. Jim made his: two. Raen gathered thirty-six points. Jim took up the wands as if they were venomed, threw three whites. Raen won the dicing and automatically took game.

“Your luck has bit a sudden downward turn,” Raen said, gathering up the three wands. She passed them to him. “But there’s still margin. We’re at four hundred fifty-five to your four hundred sixty-two.”

He lost all but the last game, setting the tally at four hundred sixty-three to four hundred fifty-seven. His margin was down to six.

He was sweating profusely. Raen ordered a drink for them each, and Jim took a great swallow of his, all the while staring at a blank comer of the room, meeting no one’s eyes.

“These folk do make you uncomfortable,” she said. “But if you win—why, then you’ll be out among them, free and very wealthy. Perhaps wealthier than they. Do you think of that?”

He took yet another drink and gave no answer. Sweat broke and ran at his temple.

“How many games yet remain?” she asked.

“We dock three days from now.”

“With time in the evening for a set?”

He shook his head. This was to his advantage. He still had his lead.

“Twenty games, then.” She glanced at the Istrans, gestured them to seats on opposite sides of her table, between him and her. Their faces blanched. There was rage there, and offence. They came, and sat down. “Do you want to play a round for amusement?” she asked Jim.

“I would rather not,” he said. “I’m superstitious.”

Azi served them, all four. Jim stared at the area of the table between his hands.

“It’s been a long voyage,” Kont’ Raen said. “Yet the society in the salon has been pleasant. What brings you out from Istra and back, seri?”

“Trade,” Kest said.

“Ah.”

“Kontrin—” Merek Eln said. She looked at him. He moistened his lips and shifted his weight in big chair. “Kontrin, there’s been some disturbance on Istra. Matters are still in a state of flux. Doubtless—doubtless you’ve had some report of these affairs.”

She shrugged. “I’ve kept much to myself of late. So trade took you off Istra.”

There was a hesitation, a decision. Merek Eln went pale, wiped at his face. “The need for funds,” he confided. His voice was hardly more than a hoarse whisper. “There has been hardship on Istra. There’s been fighting in some places. Sabotage. One has to be careful about associations. If you’ve brought forces—”

“You expect too much of me,” Kont’ Raen said “I’m here on holiday. That is my profession.”

This was irony even they understood as such.

They said nothing. Kont’ Raen sipped at her drink and finished it. Then she rose and left the table, end Jim excused himself hastily and withdrew among the azi who served.

The thought occurred to him, not for the first time, that Kont’ Raen was simply insane.

He thought that if she gave him the chance now to withdraw from the wager, he would take it, serve the ship to the end of his days, content in his fate.

He lost two points off his margin the next evening. The tally stood at four hundred sixty-seven to four hundred sixty-three.

There was no sleep that night. Tomorrow evening was the last round. No one in the azi quarters offered to speak to him. The others sat apart, as if he had a contagion. It was the same when one approached termination. If he won, they would hate him; if he lost, he would only confirm what they believed, the luck that made them what they were. He crouched on his mat in a corner of the compartment, tucked big knees up to his chin and bowed his head, counting the interminable moments of the final hours.

Jim was at the table early as usual, waiting with the wands and the dice. The Istrans arrived. Other azi served them, while even beta crew arrived in the salon to watch the last games. The whole ship was shut down to skeleton crew, and those necessary posts were linked in by monitor.

Jim looked at the table surface rather than face the stares of free men who owned his contract, who had come to watch the show. They would not own it after this night, one way or the other.

There were light steps in the corridor, toward the door. He looked up, saw Kont’ Raen coming toward him. He rose, of respect, the same ritual as every evening. Azi set drinks on the table, as every evening.

She was seated, and he resumed his chair.

What others did in the room now he neither knew nor cared. She cast the dice for the first throw; he did, and won the right to begin.

He won the first game. She won the next. The sigh of breath was audible all about the salon.

The third game was hers, and the fourth and fifth.

“Rest?” she asked. He wiped at the sweat that gathered on his upper lip and shook his head. He won the sixth and lost the seventh and eighth.

“Four sixty-nine to four sixty-nine,” she said, Her eyes glittered with excitement. She ordered ice, and paused for a drink of water. Jim drained his glass and wiped his face with his chilled hand. The cooling did not seem enough in the salon. People were crowded all about them. He asked for another drink, sipped it.

“Your stakes are greater,” she said. “I cede first throw.”

He accepted the wands. Suddenly he trusted nothing, no generosity of hers. He trusted none present. Of all the bets which had been made on the azi deck, he was sure now how they had been laid. The looks as the Kontrin tore away his lead let that be known…who had bet on him, and who against. Some of those against, he had believed liked him.

He cast. Nothing showed but black and white; he declined and she cast: the same. It was a slow game, careful. At twenty-four he threw a black…chose to play the throw against her thirty-six, and won not only the pair of ships, but also the black, wiping out his score. His bands began to sweat He played more conservatively then, built up his score and declined the next black, dreading black in her hand, which did not show. He reached eighty-eight. She held seventy-two, and swept up a trio of stars to take the ninth game.

It stood at four hundred sixty-nine to four hundred seventy, her favour.

“What do you propose if we tie?” she asked.

“An eleventh game,” he said hoarsely. Only then did it occur to him that he might have proposed cancellation of bets. She nodded, accepting him at his word. He must win tenth to force an eleventh.

She gathered up the wands. The living chitin on the back of her hand shone like jewels. The wands spilled across the table, white, white, white.