The Agent Gambit (39 page)

"Dear me, what exemplary behavior! I believe they may be ill."

"On the contrary, sir, they enjoy their customary robust health. I believe, if I may say so, that this morning's quietude may be attributed to Miss Nova's promise that they would be allowed to visit you only if they behaved as became those of Korval."

"Ever more terrifying! But perhaps they don't yet have a firm grasp of family history."

"As you say, sir."

Shan grinned and turned right. "To my sister in the study, then! Be well, Jeeves."

"Be well, sir."

He went perhaps half a dozen paces before turning back. "Jeeves!"

"Sir?" The midsection rotated, and the orange ball lit in inquiry.

"Is Miss Anthora in the house? And Gordy?"

"Miss Anthora is with the First Speaker in the study. Your foster son has contracted an alliance of pleasure with Karae yo'Lanna and spent last evening in her company. Shall I contact Glavda Empri and inquire for him?"

"Ken Rik's granddaughter, is it? No, don't disturb the child; just ask him to call me at his earliest opportunity. The
Passage
will know where I am, if he doesn't find me here or at Pelthraza Street."

"Very good, sir." Jeeves rotated once more and wheeled off in pursuit of other imperatives. Shan grinned and headed for the study.

The door slid away
and two heads turned toward him-one blond and one dark, violet eyes and silver. Anthora stood and came forward, small hands outstretched, welcome riding a warm wave between them.

"Shan-brother."

He ignored the hands and bent to hug her. "Hello, denubia. How's the contract-husband?"

She laughed, nose wrinkling. "Many days gone, thank the gods! But the twins are very good, don't you think?"

"Very good, indeed. I could have done no better."

That earned another laugh as a tug on his sleeve pulled him across the carpet to where Nova waited in cool uncertainty.

"Sister." He smiled and extended a hand, marking with what relief she took it. Not for the first time, he regretted that Nova's talent was one that gave her access only to the memories of those already dead, rather than to the living emotion all about her.

"Brother. Thank you for coming so promptly."

"The least I could do, when you'd gone to so much trouble and expense! Only why a pin-beam to the
Passage,
denubia, when a local call might have gotten you the same result?"

She looked coldly into his face, every inch the First Speaker of Liad's First Clan, her hand gripping his until he feared for the bones.

"Local calls can be too easily traced," she said. "Come see what we have." She waved to the comm on its corner of the wide desk.

"I've seen it," Anthora said to his hesitation, her emotive grid suddenly and suspiciously bland. "Would you care for some morning wine to help you read, brother?"

"Wine by all means-but not morning wine. A glass of the red, if you please." He glanced at Nova's face, but saw only waiting there while her pattern glimmered, chameleonlike, too changeable to read.

He slid into the desk chair and tipped the screen to the proper height. Amber letters spelled out words in High Liaden:

tCOMMUNICATION BEGINSt

GREETINGS.

TO NOVA YOS'GALAN FIRST SPEAKER-IN-TRUST CLAN KORVAL, SHE WHO REMEMBERS, FIRST SISTER TO OUR SHARED BROTHER, VAL CON YOS'PHELIUM SCOUT, ARTIST OF THE EPHEMERAL, SLAYER OF THE ELDEST DRAGON, KNIFE CLAN OF MIDDLE RIVER'S SPRING SPAWN OF FARMER GREENTREES OF THE SPEARMAKER'S DEN, TOUGH GUY.

Shan blinked and leaned back in the chair, absently accepting the glass from Anthora's hand, wondering at the significance of the final two words being rendered in Terran.

KNOW THAT ON THE TWO HUNDREDTH AND FORTY-SECOND DAY OF THIS STANDARD YEAR NUMBERED 1392 OUR BROTHER AND HIS LIFEMATE, MIRI ROBERTSON MERCENARY SOLDIER, RETIRED, PERSONAL BODYGUARD, RETIRED, HAVE WEAPON WILL TRAVEL, DEPARTED FROM LUFKIT PRIME STATION BY TESTIMONY OF HE WHO WATCHES ON A SHIP OF THE CLAN, FLEEING NAMELESS ENEMIES.

KNOW FURTHER THAT ON THE TWO HUNDREDTH AND FORTY-SIXTH DAY OF THIS STANDARD YEAR OUR BROTHER AND MY SISTER HIS LIFEMATE FELL INTO THE HANDS OF CLAN JUNTAVAS OF THE LINE WHICH LOOKS TO ELDER JUSTIN HOSTRO IN WHICH MISFORTUNE OUR BROTHER TOOK INJURY FROM THE KIN OF ELDER HOSTRO

Dear gods, Shan thought. He damped his output, so that Anthora would not be pummeled with his dread. He sipped wine and touched the advance key.

NEGOTIATION WITH ELDER HOSTRO PROVED SATISFACTORY TO THE POINT THAT OUR BROTHER'S INJURY WAS HEALED. IT WAS FURTHER NEGOTIATED THAT OUR KIN BE RETURNED THEIR KNIVES AND GIVEN A SHIP ON WHICH TO CONTINUE THEIR JOURNEY, THE SHIP OF THE CLAN HAVING RESUMED ITS LABOR DURING THE TIME THEY WERE HELD BY CLAN JUNTAVAS. EVIDENCE INDICATING THAT THESE THINGS WERE DONE PROVIDED BY JUSTIN HOSTRO AND FORTHCOMING TO YOURSELF VIA HASTIEST COURIER AVAILABLE.

IT HAS COME TO MY ATTENTION THAT JUSTIN HOSTRO IS THE MOST MINOR OF ELDERS WITHIN CLAN JUNTAVAS AND CANNOT GUARANTEE THE ACTIONS OF THE REMAINDER OF HIS CLAN. IN THIS CIRCUMSTANCE, I GO TO NEGOTIATE WITH THE ELDEST ELDER OF THE JUNTAVAS ON THIS, THE TWO HUNDREDTH AND FIFTY-FIFTH DAY OF STANDARD YEAR 1392. I UNDERTAKE THIS NEGOTIATION AS MIRI ROBERTSON'S BROTHER AND T'CARAIS AND AS THE BROTHER OF OUR SHARED BROTHER WHO TRAVELS AT HER SIDE.

KNOW AT LAST THAT OUR BROTHER'S STATED DESTINATION WAS VOLMER DESIGNATION V-8735-927-3 AND THAT HE HAS NOT YET ARRIVED AT THAT PORT THOUGH A SHIP OF THE CLANS OF MEN MUST HAVE TAKEN HIM THERE BY THIS DAY. NOR HAS HE CONTACTED ME AS I FEEL HE WOULD HAVE DONE WERE ALL WELL.

THAT JUSTIN HOSTRO MAY NOT HAVE BARGAINED IN GOOD FAITH IS A MATTER I SHALL DISCUSS WITH THE MOST ELDER OF THE JUNTAVAS. THAT OUR BROTHER AND SISTER HAVE ATTAINED THAT STATE KNOW TO MEN AS "MISSING" IS INFORMATION I FELT THEIR REMAINING KIN MUST HAVE WITH UTMOST ALACRITY SO THAT A SEARCH MAY BE UNDERTAKEN WITH ALL HUMAN SPEEDINESS.

IN SHARED KINSHIP AND DUTY I SALUTE YOU. MAY SUCCESS MEET OUR MOST STRINGENT EFFORTS.

BEAMED THIS DAY 255 STANDARD YEAR 1392 BY:

TWELFTH SHELL FIFTH HATCHED KNIFE CLAN OF MIDDLE RIVER'S SPRING SPAWN OF FARMER GREENTREES OF THE SPEARMAKER'S DEN, THE EDGER.

tCOMMUNICATION ENDSt

Shan leaned back and closed his eyes, thoughts tumbling. The first was that the message came from the old boy himself, Val Con's very brother Edger, in whom Shan had never quite believed, no matter how well told the tale. The second was that, of course, it would have to be checked, fraud being however dimly possible.

The third thought bestirred him to open his eyes and lean to the comm, touching keys, banishing Edger's message to memory as he opened a line to the
Passage.

"Shan-" Nova began, her worry apparent.

He finished his query, hit SEND, and picked up his glass. "Annie, my own."

"Shan-brother?"

"Is Val Con alive, denubia? Progress report, please, as of this very moment, if possible."

"Alive?" She blinked at him. "Of course."

"Good. Wonderful, in fact." He stared at her over the rim of his glass. "Where?"

He sensed confusion; frustration quickly sublimated into thought. Anthora closed her eyes, casting this way and that, for all the worlds like a dog hunting a scent. Nova stirred and began to speak, but Shan held up a hand, his eyes on the youngest of them all.

"There!" she cried suddenly, finger pointing roofward and beyond, to what might be the Second Quadrant. She opened her eyes. "But a long way away, Shannie. I don't-when
you're
on Volmer you don't feel nearly so far away . . ."

"How far beyond Volmer?" He caught the edge of her frustration again and leaned forward. "Have I ever felt that distant? If you remember an approximate time, we can check the log on the
Passage-"

But Anthora was shaking her head. "None of us has ever been that far-no. When Father-when Father was dying, at the very end-the day before he-he was that distant then . . .Oh, no!" Nova's pain broke over them, and Anthora flew forward to hug her and shake her. "He's
alive,
sister!
Physical
distance, not spiritual! I can't tell you how I know the difference-but there is one! And another difference-" She paused, looking to Shan, who nodded.

"There's a-an-echo-around Val Con. It's like-it's like how I sense Priscilla-not directly, you see-but through Shan . . ."

"His lifemate," Nova murmured, and suddenly spun. "Lifemate! Did you know of a lifemate? Who is she?"

Shan sipped wine. "I'd say she's a person with a sense of humor: 'Miri Robertson Mercenary Soldier, Retired, Personal Bodyguard, Retired, Have Weapon Will Travel'? Also a person to treat with a bit of respect. As for who else she is, as soon as the
Passage
gets through to Terran Census-aha! Right on cue!"

He touched the glowing purple stud and the screen filled with amber letters once more, this time forming Terran words.

"Well, let's see: Planet of origin: Surebleak . . .Date of Birth: Day 28, Standard Year 1365; Tag: mutated within acceptable limits. Parents: Katalina Tayzin; Chock Robertson. Job Fee paid: Half-bit; Day 116, Standard 1375, poor child . . .Outmigrated Day 4, Standard 1379 . . .Reason for Migration: Job opportunity. And the job? Ah, here we are . . ." He hit ADVANCE and shook his head. "Apprentice soldier, Lizardi's Lunatics, Fendor. Angela Lizardi, Senior Commander. Poor, poor child."

"Mutated . . ." Nova was hanging over his shoulder, frowning at the screen.

"Within acceptable limits," Shan completed. "Now, on a backward, low-tech world like, shall we say, Surebleak, the phrase 'mutated within acceptable limits' can mean several things. But mostly it means 'half or full Liaden.'" He tapped the screen. "My guess is that Katalina Tayzin has gotten her name mangled into something more or less Terran-sounding. Chock Robertson seems rather definite."

"But who
is
she?" Nova demanded, running the advance down to blank screen.

"She's a soldier, sister!" Shan snapped. "Where have your wits gone begging? We'll run an employment check on her through the
Passage
if you like, to find where she went after being apprenticed to Lizardi's Lunatics-but you already know the most important thing about her."

Nova drew herself up and glared down at him. "Which is?"

"She's Korval's Own Lifemate," Shan said, and drank his wine.

ORBIT:
Interdicted World I-2796-893-44

Flesh against flesh was warm,
promoting drowsy comfort, though her exposed right flank was getting damn cold.

Unwilling yet to let go of the drowse, Miri nestled closer to Val Con's warmth, too comfortable even to care that a long lock of her hair was trapped under their combined weight and pulled at her temple. She smiled a little to herself.

Things had gotten pretty intense there, for a bit. It had started with her reaching to touch his right cheek-the one the Juntavas had cut-by way of saying "good night."

His eyes had opened wide; his fingers had lifted and traced the line of the scar. "It does not repel you?"

"Huh?" She blinked, then shook her head against his shoulder. "People get hurt in fights sometimes. Better a scar or two than something more fatal."

"Ah." Once more his fingers passed lightly across his own cheek; then they were at the lacings of her shirt, baring her breast and touching the faint white pucker where she had caught a near-spent pellet, way back on Contrast. Rolling with her so that he was half on top, he bent his head to kiss the scar.

Miri had had her share of scrapes-maybe more than her share of scars, what with her father . . .But Val Con, unlike one loobelli of a civilian she had slept with, did not ask where they were from, but just patiently and thoroughly sought each one out to kiss and caress until she had gotten a little intense, herself.

Now she snuggled even closer to his side, the steady beat of his heart filling her ears. He had even found the scars on her feet, from when she had kicked the grille out of the door and tried to walk away from the rehab center, her light house slippers hanging in bloody rags. She would have made it, too, except Liz had found her and made her swear to finish the therapy.

No sense, of course, she thought. Went to all that trouble to make sure Klamath didn't get me and almost let Cloud have me for nothing.

She stirred sharply, completely awake and almost breathless, as if she had suddenly found herself standing at the very edge of a sheer drop. Cloud. She had jammed so much of the stuff into her system by the time Liz had dragged her to rehab, she had barely remembered her own name.

And what if he asks you where you got them scars? she demanded of herself. You gonna tell him the truth, Robertson? Huh? Rich kid from Liad, hobnobs with the best people? Think he's gonna stand by words he said to some snip from Surebleak who was so addicted to Cloud it's a wonder she ever came away whole? Think it's gonna matter to him how long you been clean?

"Cha'trez?" His arms tightened, and he craned to see her, green eyes hazy and half asleep. "Is something wrong?"

She started, then reached up, touched his lips, and brushed her fingertips over the scar, aching at the beauty of him.

"You're on my hair," she said.

Miri woke alone, her head pillowed on Val Con's folded vest. She sighed, stretched deliberately, and was wide awake by the time the stretch was done. From the bridge she heard the radio's unceasing blather; she sighed again, rolled to her feet, and hurriedly pulled on her clothes before heading that way, his vest swinging in her hand.

Val Con stood, deep in thought. The bottle-shaped continent from the planet below had taken on three dimensions, overrunning the bridge: the neck of the bottle started in the companionway, and its bottom ran into the pilot's chair.

Miri shook her head in wonderment and leaned against the doorjamb to watch.

Duct tape from the repair box was rumpled into mountain ranges running north and south, gaps precisely cut out to allow river systems their courses. Spare instrument lamps dotted the map, some singly, others clustered. There were several pipe pieces in the map, each with a number written on the floor next to it.

Marking pens had also been used with art. The rivers had boundaries of blue, while some areas were enclosed by curly green lines and others simply outlined in brown. Three paper spaceships sat next to the three largest lamp-clusters; Val Con held another in his left hand. In his right was a ragged block of metal the Yxtrang had torn from somewhere.