The Sardonyx Net (66 page)

“Narcosis Enterprises?” he said.
 

“That's the trust Christina set up for the money which will be paid to The Pharmacy.”
 

He nodded. He did not care, not really. All that had become unimportant, though it would always matter to him because it mattered to her. Rhani was watching him. He said, “It's a tremendous achievement, Rhani-ka. Worthy of Isobel.”
 

She smiled. “Loras U-Ellen will be coming here tomorrow for a celebratory drink.”
 

“Do you want me?”
 

She said, “You won't like him, Zed-ka. He's a fop. But you're welcome to stay, if you like.” She took the contract from his hand. “Have you met my staff yet?” she asked. “The tall man is my new secretary. His name is Cole Arajian. Our steward is Denya I-Chanu—housekeeper's the word she prefers—and Merril Lune is the cook. She makes excellent egg tarts.”
 

He had to turn away from her. The darkness threatened to overtake him. He fought it off. “No pilot?” he managed to say.
 

“No,” she said. She rubbed her chin. “I wonder if Dana managed to get offplanet before the ships were grounded.”
 

Zed did not want to think about Dana Ikoro. Dana was part of the darkness. “Rhani-ka,” he said, “is there a room in this house that I can equip as a gym?”
 

“A gym?” She frowned. “You can have this room, Zed-ka. I'm putting a com-unit at the front of the house. Why a gym?”
 

“For my arms and hands,” he said.
 

“Oh.”
 

“By the way,” he said, “I hope you haven't been disturbed by the people sneaking through the shrubbery.”
 

“No.” She smiled. “I think it's rather sweet of them to be there at all. They seem to believe that Michel A-Rae is out there, plotting terrible things. Myself, I think Michel A-Rae is plotting how to get offplanet and save his own worthless skin.”
 

I want him, Zed thought. His fingers, within gel and gloves, began to curve. Every nerve in his body seemed to rouse and twitch. “I want him,” he whispered, and was ashamed, because he had meant not to speak that need aloud in Rhani's presence.
 

She pointed to the paper he still held in his right hand. “Look at it, Zed-ka,” she said quietly. “Read clause seven.”
 

Zed read clause seven. It was two paragraphs of tightly plotted legal reasoning explaining precisely why, when Michel A-Rae and his cohorts were caught, they should be tried, not by a Federation court, but by the courts of Chabad.
 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Twenty-Three

 

 

Loras U-Ellen was ecstatic. He patted the pocket of his gown, into which he had put the agreement which said that Family Yago and Pharmaceuticals, Inc., would both pay Narcosis Enterprises the sum of fifteen million credits. “Domna, I am delighted that we have concluded our business so fruitfully,” he said.
 

Rhani smiled. She had smiled so often in the last hour that she felt as if her cheeks were about to crack.
 

“Within a month, I'm sure, we should receive the first packet of information from The Pharmacy. And within three months—” he chortled, exhibiting perfect teeth—"we can be well on our way to the erection of a functioning dorazine plant.”
 

“I commend your enthusiasm,” Rhani said. She, too, was pleased with the agreement they had signed. Pharmaceuticals, Inc., would build the plant, but Family Yago would staff it, and ultimately would be able to buy Pharmaceuticals, Inc., out of its share of the profits. She wondered how much Pharmaceuticals, Inc., would seek to pad their accounts. It did not worry her unduly. She had great faith in Tak Rafael's accountants. She gazed at the litter of food and drink around them. She had spent three hours with U-Ellen, listening to him tell her about Enchanter, and then about Chabad and how different it was.
 

“All that remains to make my joy complete,” U-Ellen said, “is for the Abanat Police to locate and arrest my stupid relative.”
 

“We all hope that,” Rhani said.
 

“I'm so glad,” U-Ellen said, “that I let you coax me here today. I'm sorry that the commander is occupied. I had hoped to meet him.” He gazed at her with limpid eyes. What he really wanted, Rhani knew, was to question Zed about what had happened on the Net. Perhaps, she thought, I
should
ask Zed to join us for a few minutes. U-Ellen would say something unforgivable, and Zed would strangle him. I wish I could do it myself.
 

She rose from her chair. “Citizen,” she said, “it has been wonderful to visit with you, but surely it's time for you to prepare for your departure? I recall you said The Pharmacy was providing transport for you this evening. I regret that the ship traffic has not been released, so that you could make the trip in comfort, on Family Yago's private shuttle.”
 

“Oh, the day is young yet,” U-Ellen said. But he, too, stood. He was wearing a fantastic orange kaftan, all folds, with an extraordinary tasseled hood. “Oh, I wish you could see Enchanter, Domna. You would really appreciate the beauty of it after spending your life on this bleak world. You could visit the labs—” But I don't want to visit the labs, Rhani thought. The Enchanter labs produced Darien Riis. She paced to the door; U-Ellen followed her, still talking. Rhani opened the door; outside stood Sid Arioca, one of the larger members of their volunteer guard. He grinned at Rhani.
 

“Citizen, should you return to Chabad, make certain you visit me again,” Rhani said, wishing that before U-Ellen could visit Chabad again, ever, he and all his progeny would drop dead.
 

“I certainly will, Domna,” U-Ellen promised. He wafted onto the street. Sid stalked at his back. Rhani walked into the house, sighing with relief, to find Denya sweeping plates onto a tray.
 

“Is he gone?” the dark woman demanded. The tight curls around her head quivered indignation.
 

“All gone.”
 

“Is he coming back?”
 

“Sweet mother,” Rhani said, “I hope not!” Nevertheless, as she walked to the com-unit, on which she had put her copies of their mutual agreement, she smiled. She had done it—she had purchased the formula for dorazine from The Pharmacy!
 

Lightly she whirled around the room in a private dance of joy, and stopped as Zed came through the doorway.
 

“Is he gone?” Zed said.
 

Denya, her arms laden with plates and bowls, chuckled.
 

Rhani said, “Yes, Zed-ka, he's gone.” Sunlight sifting through the leaves patterned his bare chest with light and dark. She watched his muscles lift and fall with his breathing. His hands gleamed; to cover them he had devised tipless silver gloves made of flexible apton mesh. “You can stop hiding.”
 

“I'll shower,” he said, “and join you.” He left. Rhani walked across the room to her new acquisition, a rocking chair. Ferris had ordered it for her. He had wanted to pay for it, too, and call it a Founders' Day gift, but Rhani had refused to permit that, knowing how easy it would be for him to grow unhealthily attached to her.
 

Sitting, she pressed the button on the chair arm which signaled Cole Arajian. He came from his own room, which was toward the north side of the house.
 

“You called me, Domna?”
 

“Yes, Cole, thank you. I wanted to see those PINsheet handouts. Do you have them finished?”
 

“Not quite, Domna. I'll show you what I have.” He went to the com-unit and tapped the keyboard; the printer whirred. “Here.” He handed her the printouts. She leafed through them. They were a marvelous tissue of historical reference and non-fact, designed to explain to the Chabadese public how an Enchanter corporation, Pharmaceuticals, Inc., had “discovered” the dorazine formula after years of patient research, and how Family Yago and Pharmaceuticals, Inc., were going to build a plant so that, for the first time ever since the founding of Chabad, dorazine could be manufactured intra-sector.
 

“They're wonderful,” she said. “Let my brother see them, finish them, and send them out.”
 

“Certainly, Domna.” Cole went away. He preferred to work in his room, and she had placed a small com-unit there for his use. Neither Cole, Denya, nor Merril ever called her anything but “Domna.” Following the lead of the Net crew, they called Zed “Commander.”
 

She rocked in the chair, pleased and peaceful with herself. The agreement with Pharmaceuticals, Inc., meant that for the first time in Chabad's history, the planet would not have to depend on criminals, drug runners, for the substance it needed so badly. There would be no more smuggling on Chabad. The Hype cops would go to other sectors, looking for smugglers carrying other drugs, drugs she did not know the names for, and the Federation laws against traffic in dorazine would lie unused, unapplied—except in cases where people tried to smuggle dorazine out of Sardonyx Sector to some other sector.
 

Merril walked in with a dish of sourballs. Rhani had recently developed a craving for sour things, surely an effect of the pregnancy, though her belly was still flat as ever. “Thank you, Merril,” Rhani said, taking the dish on her lap. Zed strolled out of the lattice-walled hall and, bending over her shoulder, took two of the crunchy candies from the dish.
 

“When did you start eating these?” he said. “They're good.”
 

“I got sick of chobi seeds.”
 

“Hmm.” He took a third, and sat in the basket chair which swung from the ceiling. “I read Cole's article for the PINsheets. He ought to write fiction, he's got the knack. If I didn't know better, I'd believe it myself.”
 

“I'll tell him,” Rhani said. She had not understood, at first, why Zed avoided Cole. After a while, she had asked him.
 

“Because,” her brother had answered, “he's like Binkie. Physically, I mean, not in any other way.” And, looking at Cole, Rhani agreed that he was thin and tall and reticent in the way Ramas I-Occad had been reticent. But the resemblance did not bother her the way it seemed to bother Zed.
 

The com-unit beeped, telling her there was a call online. Rising, she went to answer it.
 

The caller was Aliza Kyneth. “Hello, darling,” she said. She was wearing orange, which reminded Rhani of Loras U-Ellen's gown, but while U-Ellen had looked like a butterfly, Aliza looked like a flame. “You seem happy. Are you?”
 

“Yes, Aliza, I am.”
 

“Good. You must tell me all about it sometime. I am calling to invite you to a party, you and Zed.”
 

Rhani said, cautiously, “You know we have not been going out recently, Aliza—”
 

“It's a small party,” Aliza Kyneth said ruthlessly, “in fact, it is a birthday party for Imre. He is seventy-eight.”
 

Rhani sighed. “I was supposed to help you plan that party, as I recall.”
 

“You were. But I forgive you,” Aliza said.
 

“How magnanimous of you.”
 

“Yes. There will only be forty people, and Charity Diamos has not been invited.”
 

“That doesn't mean she won't come,” Rhani warned.
 

“If she comes, she won't get in. I don't have to be nice to her, she isn't
my
relative. Now, you will come, won't you?”
 

“Of course. When is it, and what time?”
 

“I'll send you an invitation, my dear. Make sure you bring Zed. Oh, and don't tell Imre when you talk with him. It's supposed to be a surprise.” Aliza waved and terminated the call.
 

Rhani said, “Zed-ka, will you come to Imre Kyneth's seventy-eighth party with me?”
 

He looked up. There was a viewer on his lap. “Hmm?” Rhani repeated the question. She saw him begin to frown, and then shrug. “If you want me to.”
 

“I want you to.” She went back to the rocking chair. “Stop eating my sourballs, Zed-ka. What are you reading?”
 

“An old book,” he said. “It's called
Climbing Ice
. It's a classic.”
 

“Oh,” Rhani said. “Would music disturb you?” Lately, she had gotten into the habit of listening to musictapes from the computer network's music library, trying different kinds of sounds. She told herself it was for the baby. Zed shook his head. He had already gone back to the book. Rhani rose and walked to the unit. Idly she glanced through the
R
s, the
S
s—Shostakovich, who was that? and halted at a familiar name. STRATTA, VITTORIO, the entry read. MELODY FOR MELLOPHONE.
 

She was sitting in the same place, after dinner, listening to a second Stratta piece ("Concerto in D, For Ella") when the disturbance began in the garden.
 

She did not hear the words at first, only a subliminal discontinuity in the flow of the music. Then she saw Zed, in the hanging chair, look up and turn toward the front door. He gestured to her to lower the sound. She switched the auditor off. “What is it?” she asked.
 

“Listen,” he said.
 

Rhani frowned. “I don't—” she began, and then halted the sentence as she heard a thud. A woman spoke, outside the house.