Glen Cook - The Dragon Never Sleeps

— 15 —

Valerena glimpsed motion down the corridor. "He decided to come."

Blessed said, "This is pointless. You can't suborn Lupo. You can't even make Grandfather think you suborned him. Lupo is the one man he trusts. And with good reason."

"What do you know? You're still a child."

"I know you can't reach Simon Tregesser without going through Lupo Provik. Lupo can't be bought. If you can't bribe Lupo, you have to kill him. And he won't let you."

Valerena sneered. She was sure every man had his weakness or price. "What course would you suggest, beloved child?"

"Patience."

"Patience? What kind of suggestion is that?"

"Simon Tregesser is old. He has physical problems. Let time do the dirty work."

"He speaks more wisely than I expected." Lupo Provik skewered Valerena with the ice of his devil eyes. "You wanted to see me?"

Valerena shivered. That look. It haunted her. It seemed she had faced it before. "What is your price, Lupo?"

"I'm priceless, Valerena."

Blessed giggled.

Valerena stifled her anger. "There's no hope you'd help me take control?"

"None."

"And you'd resist me if I tried?"

"Of course. But you have no need. Your father isn't immortal."

"What will you do when he dies?"

"Go on. My second loyalty is to the House."

"Would that be true if my father didn't die of natural causes?"

"When the man is dead, he's dead. I'll defend him but not his ghost. I'm no avenger. I'm a tactician and strategist." What might have been a smile tugged at his mouth.

"I see. Maybe you're right. Maybe I should curb my impatience. I do have all but the final power now, don't I?"

"Indeed. Your father has indulged your every whim. Occasionally he's regretted that."

"And will you support me as devoutly, Lupo?" Blessed asked.

Valerena shot him a venomous look.

"Of course."

"That will be all, Lupo," Valerena snapped. "I just wanted to make sure of what I already knew."

Provik responded with a slight bow. As he departed, he reiterated, "Be patient, Valerena. It's the safer course."

He was gone. She spun on Blessed. "You'd better watch that sarcastic mouth."

"Yes, Mother. What now? I can't picture you taking advice just because it's good."

Valerena glared. "Contrary to what you and they believe, there are pathways to my father that don't lead through Lupo Provik."

Blessed smiled at her taut back as she stamped away.

— 16 —

The first refugees reached the ruins soon after the uprising began. The Immunes accepted them though that meant a drain on resources. After the retreat to the bunker occasioned by that furious starburst, though, Turtle announced, "We accept no more fugitives."

Lady Midnight, who could find charity toward a viper, asked, "Why not?"

"Because we're going to get hit by a flood. And some will be Concordians. We don't want them around when the Guardship soldiers come. They assume guilt by association. They shoot if there's a doubt. The point of coming out here was to survive."

Midnight argued against turning anyone away. "These are the people who terrorized you! Amber Soul. Come with me."

The fugitives came. Amber Soul drove them away. But before they arrived, the sky opened and rained sparks on Merod Schene.

The brightest object in the nighttime sky, after the moon, had been the station, stationary above the equator south of Merod Schene. But now there was a brighter object. "The Guardship," Turtle said.

It must be huge .

"It's bigger than anything you can imagine humans building."

A few hairs of fire reached for the rain of sparks. A pathetic few. Most of the garrison's arsenal had been destroyed in the city's collapse.

"Can you sense the city?" Turtle asked.

Only as a great fester of fear and pain .

Explosions limned the horizon and illuminated the bellies of scattered small clouds. "The last gasp of the Concord," Turtle guessed. "A booby trap no doubt sprung prematurely. This race never learns."

The Guardships learn. Do they not?

"The Guardships are immortal. They do not have to re-learn lessons every generation."

But they grow more nearly mad .

"Some have gone strange," Turtle admitted. "Some have grown impatient and terrible, like vengeful old gods. But mostly they just do what they were created to do—with an efficiency that must keep the ghosts of their designers in a turmoil. Those old pirates didn't figure they would have to toe the mark, too."

"You know a lot about them, don't you?" Midnight had come out. Lonesome Mike anchored her against the wind.

"Knowing them is my life's work."

"You respect them. But you would put an end to them if you could. Wouldn't you?"

"They have kept the peace and expanded its frontiers for four thousand years, but at the expense of most of humanity and all of everyone else. The wellsprings of power have become frozen. End some things, yes, I would. But I would not alter the inability of the Houses, or anyone else, to rampage across the Web."

Lonesome Mike grunted. "I can think of ways to play conquerer without going head-on with the Guardships."

"If you can, someone else has and it's been done. Everything has been thought of and tried. What works without being crushed by the Guardships or Canon forces is too difficult and expensive for most Houses."

"And you would end the peace," Midnight accused.

"No. I would end the misery, the rigidity, the stasis."

"By bringing on the chaos?"

Amber Soul kept them invisible for a while. They sat in the rusty sunlight and watched scout flits run game through the barrens. They watched glimmering assault craft hasten off to secure the rest of the world.

"Concord didn't put up much of a fight," Lonesome Mike said.

"One regiment to conquer a world," Turtle muttered. "I wonder which Guardship it is? Guess we'll find out."

The soldiers, when they came, were as invisible to Turtle as he was to them. Amber Soul alerted him. They are close. But I cannot fix them .

Turtle studied the terrain toward the city. Soon he discerned the unnatural twitchings of brush and stirrings of dust that marked the advance.

"Careful buggers," Lonesome Mike grumped.

"It's not efficient to expose yourself to needless risk. Amber Soul. Tell everyone to sit still, hands in their laps. Then let the mask fall."

He had hoped the soldiers would not come but had not expected to be overlooked.

A massive battle suit flicked into existence a few meters away. Turtle stared into the mouth of a weapon for a moment, then looked for the soldier's tutelary emblem.

"What's funny?" Lonesome Mike demanded.

"It's VII Gemina ."

"Is that good?" Midnight asked.

"It could be a lot worse. You'll be all right. They'll be fair."

But his heart sank on his own behalf.

— 17 —

"Station is secure," the air told WarAvocat. Strate had moved to WarCentral, brain and heart of VII Gemina in combat. It made no difference where he was physically, but his presence there had symbolic value.

"Loyal personnel have been liberated. Little damage was done the physical plant."

"The data banks?"

"Sound and secure, sir."

"Very good. Prisoners?"

"Five percent per SOP. Random sample."

"Very good." WarAvocat preened. "Prep station for return to service. Send the captives over. What's your casualty status?"

"Zero for Medical. They weren't set for a real fight."

"Excellent." WarAvocat turned his attention to the world below, where operations were going as smoothly. Rabble never put up a fight against professionals.

That could take care of itself. He needed rest. He went to the space reserved, said, "Access, WarCentral furnishings. Close the WarAvocat's night room." Fantasy walls snapped into existence. "Give me a bed."