Mercedes Lackey - The Wizard of Karres

"We have specific orders from ISS headquarters," said Fleser, equally stiffly, "to stop this ship. They are absolutely certain you have these miscreants aboard."

Pausert hoped the Imperial commodore took the sudden widening of his eyes for a reaction to the mention of the dreaded Imperial Interservice Security . . . and not to the glass of water that the captain could see slowly lofting from his desk. He shrugged. "Go right ahead and search, Commodore. But I'll be making an official complaint to Duke Abelisson, the Empress' comptroller."

The vatch was quite capable of creating trouble just for the fun of it. Likely to, in fact. Vatches regarded human space as little more than an aspect of their dreams, and they regarded people as dreamed-up pieces in their games. It hardly mattered to them what happened to the pieces, when the game got boring.

The Imperial hadn't seen the glass. He turned towards the hatch. "Humph. My men will conduct a thorough search and—"

Pausert practically pushed him through it. "Well, you must see to them, then! A good commander always leads from the front, sir. Let us take you to it."

Water trickled down Pausert's back. There had to be some way of dealing with the little menace!

Sedmon the Sixth, Daal of Uldune—sometimes called Sedmon of the Six Lives by the witches of Karres—listened silently to the communicator relaying the subradio report from his agent on Emris.

Sedmon bit his knuckle.

Sedmon patted him on the back.

Sedmon sighed in sympathy.

The fourth Sedmon flicked the screen controls to show the star maps of the route between Emris and the Regency of Haile.

The other two Sedmons continued looking out of the one-way windows of the western tower of the mighty House of Thunders, the ancient castle in the highlands south of Uldune's capital city of Zergandol. They knew what the others were doing and thinking anyway. Ruling the web of power hierarchies and fierce business interests that made up the former pirate planet of Uldune was no sinecure. In fact, it would have been too much for most humans. But the hexaperson was the best six people for the job. The telepathically linked clones spoke only because words helped formalize their shared thoughts. Also, it was a good habit. Whichever one was on public duty that day would have to speak to ordinary people.

"A Nartheby Sprite! It would help if we could contact the Wisdoms of Karres."

"Karres has done its disappearing trick again, unfortunately."

"No idea where or why?"

"None. But the rumor of the Worm World having destroyed them is almost certainly a falsehood emanating from the ISS."

"Pausert is in great danger, however. The Agandar's fleet are certainly in hot pursuit."

The Sedmon left unsaid the fact that Captain Pausert being in danger meant that a certain member of his crew was in danger also. They all knew that. They also knew that it had surprised them to discover just how upsetting that was.

"Not to mention the ISS."

"Unfortunate about the subradio beeper."

"It has been policy to have it fitted to all ships assuming new personalities here for near on a century. It is the first time it has served us so ill. The fact that the Agandar's pirates had discovered it, and that the late Jonalo had sold the information to the Imperials is unfortunate. But that is where things stand. We must make the best of it."

"We're going to have to take action ourselves."

"I suppose we are the only one we can trust."

Two of the hexaperson got up and went to the door. It was unnecessary to discuss the mission and who would go. Or to bid the others farewell. They all knew that the Nanite plague had to be stopped. The other four would have to manage without them.

* * *

The Sedmons' ship, Thunderbird , did not look like the vessel belonging to a wealthy, powerful planetary ruler. But then, it wasn't supposed to. The ship did have a number of features that were unusual even for a full-size battleship, and simply unthinkable in a scruffy-looking cargo tramp. Right now, what it had that was important was speed. And also a subradio tracker, fixed to the frequency of a certain signature transmission given out by the engines of the Venture . Even at this range, the signal and direction indicators were giving readouts. Emris, the world from which the Venture had lifted, was three dangerous weeks travel from Uldune, across the zone of space called the Chaladoor. To go around took the better part of a year. However, the Venture 's course headed her inward towards the Empire's heart at a tangent which the Sedmons' ship could intersect in little more than two months. The hexaperson could only hope that that would be soon enough.

A full platoon of Imperial Marines were busy with the search. They were being impeded at full volume by the Leewit. The Marines did not know quite how to deal with this miniature empress. In a lacy girl's party-dress, the Leewit looked to be a little blond girl of somewhere between three and four. With her stuffed fluffy stiff-legged toy puppy under one arm, she stood in the center of the cabin and berated them at the top of her voice. How dare they make such a mess of her room!

Her nursemaid was stooped over, as she had been since the Marines entered, trying to put everything in order. She was a skinny old woman with sharp features, wearing a baggy ship's suit. Her head was covered in something like a turban, even her ears and eyebrows. If any of the Marines had noticed something oddly young looking about the nursemaid's very large, grass-green eyes, the ruckus being caused by the Leewit had distracted their attention.

Commodore Fleser looked at the carnage. He turned to the saluting sergeant. "What happened here?" he demanded.

The NCO gestured helplessly. "Honest, sir, I don't know. It was like this when we came in, I swear."

"Was not!" squealed the Leewit. Her accusing finger swept across the squad of Marines. "They did it!"

"My best stateroom!" bellowed Pausert. "There is going to be trouble about this! I gave you permission to search, not to destroy the place."

"We have to find the criminal and the witch. We will take whatever steps we need to!" But even Fleser looked a bit aghast at the paint-splattered walls and the tumbled furniture.

"And I will lodge an official complaint with Duke Abelisson, be sure of it. Another one." Pausert scowled ferociously. "Miss Seltzer, take the young lady into the empty stateroom next door. You have finished with that one, Sergeant?"

"Er. Yessir."

"One moment," said the bulldog-faced Fleser. "These people . . ." He pointed to the Leewit, with her stuffed toy, and the nursemaid. Pausert just hoped he didn't put a hand on them. Goth's light-shift illusions didn't stand up to touch. "They are not listed by the officials at Green Galaine. Who are they?"

Captain Pausert looked at the sergeant and his Marines. "I will explain, Commodore. But confidentially, please. It is an Imperial matter."

The commodore drew himself up. "I am an officer of the Imperial Space Navy, sir. You can trust me."

"Good," said Pausert cheerfully. "Then I'll reserve it for your ears only. Sergeant, escort Miss Seltzer and her charge next door, please."

To his horror he began to rell vatch again. " Vatch erly there is a good explanation," he added. Goth, cloaked in no-shape, would rell the vatch also. But Hantis might not be able to. Best give her some warning that mischief was around.

All but the commodore and one rather slimy-looking individual in plain black coveralls left.

Pausert looked questioningly at the man. "And you are?"

"This is Micher," said the Commodore. "Imperial Interservice Security."