Robert Charrette - Find your own truth

Sam thought about that for a while. "The Dance was transformation magic, wasn't it?"

"In part."

"Then he wouldn't have to know about everything. Just how to channel the power to make the change. He could know that, couldn't he?"

Hart mulled it over. "I don't know. I think you're grasping at straws."

Sam did, too, but what other choice was there? If he wasted time tracking down lesser shamans who couldn't do the job, he might not have enough time to get to Howling Coyote. It was a gamble, but he didn't see an alternative. "IVe got to grab on to something. Otherwise Janice wfll slip away."

"You may not be able to stop that," Hart warned.

Sam didn't want to hear it. He could not believe his sister was irreversibly set on a course to becoming a monster in mind and soul as well as body.

Hart still seemed set on dissuading him. "Why not start with some resources more to hand? Didn't you say that Professor Laverty once offered to help you with Janice? Just because Estios works for Laverty doesn't mean that the professor agrees with that bastard's field decisions. Talk to Laverty. Find out where he stands."

"I don't think that would be advisable at this time," Dodger said. "Why not?" Hart asked. "I'd rather not say."

"It isn't because he's involved with this Australian elf who's looking for Sam, is it?"

' 'I said I'd rather not say.'' Sam's stomach flip-flopped. "Dodger, are you holding out on me again?"

Dodger turned and fixed Sam with bleak eyes. "Sam, I am asking you not to press. Were I to speak of how I learned of the one who hunts you, others beyond our circle might learn as well. That could have undesirable consequences for someone I would rather not see hurt."

Sam suspected he knew to whom Dodger referred, and a surreptitious glance at Hart told him that she suspected the same. "Well if I can't go to Laverty, who else is there to ask?"

"Lofwyr?" The bleakness in Dodger's voice betrayed him as more barren of reasonable ideas than Sam.

"I don't think I could pay the price," Sam said. "Or survive the deal. That dragon nearly got us all killed the last time."

"Sam, Father Rinaldi would know who to ask." Sam shook his head sadly. "We could hardly go to him now."

Hart sighed. "I'm a hermetic magician, Sam. I don't know many shamans, and those I do know probably couldn't pump the power you seem to think is necessary. I'm trapped. I don't see an answer."

Dodger nodded solemnly. "Naught to do now but face the inevitable."

"It's settled then," Sam said firmly. "We'll get Howling Coyote."

"But no one knows where he is," Hart protested. "If he is alive at all," Dodger added. Sam shrugged, dismissing their objections. If only his own fears could be dealt with so easily. "I'll find him," he said.

Neko Noguchi stretched contentedly. The surroundings were eminently satisfactory: subdued lighting, soft music with just enough beat to be stimulating, condiments and liquid refreshments made from real foodstuffs, soft furniture, and an even softer bed waiting. Though Neko had not yet lain down on it, he was sure of the last; he had checked earlier in the evening. The woman was attentive and skilled. Monique, she had said her name was, a name as exotic to him as her sleek, dark good looks. Oh yes, he was content. This was how the best shadowrunners lived between runs, a lifestyle he was going to enjoy getting used to.

He reached for the decanter to top off his glass. Monique nudged him gently in the ribs and nuzzled closer, holding out her glass. He grinned, more for his own amusement than in response to her smile. It was her third refill all on the tab, of course. She had guzzled twice as much as he had, and he knew from the buzz in his own head that the booze was good quality. Though her voice had started to slur, she was not really drunk or uncoordinated. Her drinks came from the same source as his, so she must have some kind of augmentation that shunted the liquor from her system or neutralized the alcohol. He wondered how many of these overpriced drinks it took to pay for her enhancement.

She nestled in his arm and pulled at her drink. He settled back and sipped at his, ready to continue his tale.

"Deckers are so proud of their ability to lift data from the systems of arrogant corporations, overbearing governments, and wealthy individuals. But they are fools to risk their brains against Intrusion Coun-termeasures, daring the black ice with only meat reflexes and the thin shield of their cyberdecks to protect them.

"Data-theft, like most fine arts, can be accomplished in a variety of manners. Some are safer than others, of course."

Monique's eyes were wide, shining with admiration. "What you did was not without danger. A decker might risk his brain, but you risked your body and life."

"True. Life and limb were at peril." He sipped. "But my body is a well-honed machine, and like any machine, it can be rebuilt if necessary. You know the old saying, 'We have the technology.' As to the risk to my life? Breathing is a risk and walking down the street a danger. Death comes to all, and when it does, our worries and concerns leave us. No good karma comes from running away from what cannot be avoided. The real, true, and horrible fate worse than death is the loss of your mind. To remain breathing while the mind is absent or locked in a fugue is a nullity, existence without purpose. You cannot deal with this life nor go onward in the cycle. The brain death is what deckers risk. I would rather face a dragon in single combat."

Monique shivered delicately. "Yet you stole the data. How did you do it?"

Neko shrugged, dismissing the difficulty of his feat with deliberate casualness. "Cats are shadowy, silent creatures, unnoticed when they wish it so. I wished it so. Goroji-san will learn of his loss when his tame deckers begin tomorrow night's work.''

"Aren't you afraid he will find out who stole from him? Goroji's kobun are notorious for their brutality."

Chuckling, Neko put down his glass and traced the fine line of her chin. "However brutal they are, the f Goroji's clan cannot hurt what they cannot find."

"You are marvelous." She kissed his finger. "Are you sure they can't trace you?"

"Very." Neko kissed her. His lips tingled, a sensation brought about by her lipstick, he realized, because it was strongest where the liquor had not washed away much of the ruby tint. He pulled away to stare into her eyes. She lowered her lids, a feigned shyness that hinted at the pleasure to come. He smiled. Biz before pleasure; it was time to end the pretense. "You may assure Cog that what I have is no isotope. He will not be burned by simple association, although some of the offering will have a half-life of usefulness."

"Cog? Who or what is Cog? What are you talking about?"

Her eyes were wide and her tone a masterful blend of hurt and confusion. Her body language expressed innocence tinged with timidity and a hint of growing trepidation. He was impressed. The act would have been convincing. If he hadn't known better.

"Excellent performance." He used his free hand to clap softly on the arm of the sofa. "But I do know that you belong to Cog. Do you think I would have spoken so freely if I hadn't known you were screening for the fixer?"

Her deception remained in play while those dark eyes evaluated him, measuring his conviction and weighing the cost of dropping her pretense. He let the seconds drag. Finally her eyes shifted focus, checking the room around them. Looking for the hidden ready lights of the even better-hidden trideo cameras. She needn't have worried; he had already made sure the monitors were dysfunctional, though he saw no need to tell her that.

"You are very astute for one so young," she said. He preened under the compliment. "A necessary attribute for anyone in the biz who wishes to get any older."