Jo Clayton - Shadow of the Warmaster

Pels wriggled loose, jumped into the car as the doors were sliding shut; his growl when I grinned at him was more heartfelt than usual; I think it’s time he had a vacation, probably back on Mevvyaurrang making triads with Arras and Maungs; he comes back from those visits with his not-fur shivering and his eyes glazed and not talking to anyone but his plants for a month or more. I signed a question to Kumari (we assumed everything public was on-line to the mainBrain)-had she seen any unusual interest in us? She had a smile for Pels, but shook her head. Pels grunted. One, maybe two, he signed. In the next module over on this car. I didn’t like it, but I expected it. I swung my chair round to face the back of our module in case they’d figured a way to get through it and I waited for the trip to end. We’d be on truceground when we came out, so we could hang around and see who emerged with us. Stupid planning, maybe. I exercised a few brain cells running that one round, but in a breath or two it was obvious I was counting angels and pinheads so I let it drop. Maybe Pels was wrong, but I didn’t think that was any too probable; like I said before, Aurrangers are predators and good at it and not all that long ago semi-cannibals, by which I mean one of the ways they kept the population stable was to hunt down and eat any excess Raus when they were young and tender and about to hit puberty. A few millennia of this and the descendants of those Raus who escaped the pot were very very hard to track.

Half a dozen came out of that module, more from the third, say around thirty bodies altogether, but the two we wanted weren’t hard to spot, idiots, they were so careful not to look at us. Not pros, no way. Like the two going after Adelaar back on Telffer, the ones Shadow dropped, local computer jocks trying to earn points with the head office. Making sure we went where we told the world we were going. They scuttled out of the lobby like startled mice. Wonder what they’d do if I sneaked after them and yelled boo in their bitty ears. Mmh.

Kumari’d got a sealed four body unit for us which she charged to the client’s diCarx when we got inside. Adelaar didn’t comment, just marched her gear into her cubby and did her best to slam the door on us. It’s not that easy to work off a snit in an ottotel, the doors ooze shut at the same speed whenever they’re pushed or left alone, there’s nothing much you can break or throw and the walls are padded so beating your head on them doesn’t make much sense. She wasn’t annoyed about having to pay expenses, that was part of the deal. It was being shut into a tincan for three solid months with the same people that got to her, especially Kinok. Arguing with a Sikkul Paem was an exercise in frustration; when ve decided ve didn’t want to talk any longer, ve shooed Kahat away from the translator board and dug ves roots in one of ves earthbeds; after that you might as well try arguing with a dill plant which is more or less what ve smelled like. Slancy ’s workshop was down in ves region and ve insisted on knowing everything that went on in that part of the ship. Adelaar was furious at ves interference and loathed having ves snooper cells everywhere she went; her methods were part of her business assets, she said; they were emphatically not part of the deal and if I thought they were, I was soft in the head. Kinok wasn’t talking when I went round to see him, so I told her to set up distorters in the workshop and I stationed Pels outside the door to keep our pet Paem from barging in on her. Ve took it well enough, ves the only Paem I’ve met who has something resembling a sense of humor, which is probably the reason ves lasted so long with us. Something I didn’t tell Adelaar and I’d really rather she didn’t find out, ve budded off a Kahat-clone and sneaked the little creature into the shop; it pretended it was one of the plants that kept the air fresh. I found it a couple of days before we flipped back to realspace and got it out of there. Kinok just rubbed two of ves coils together to make that squeaky sound ve thinks is laughter and ate the clone. Which, if I understand anything about Paem physiology, transferred all the clone knew into Kinok’s own nerve cells.

After a bath, a change of clothes and a reasonably edible meal, we met in the parley to decide how we were going to work this situation. Sealed units are supposed to be free of snoopears, but anyone who trusts official noises about such things doesn’t last long on Helvetia or anywhere else. We swung tupple loungers around one of Adelaar’s choicer distorters and stretched out on them. For a breath or two no one said anything. Pels was digging his claws into his chin fur, Kumari had a dreamy look as if she were contemplating a favorite poem, Adelaar had lost her frown and was a lot more relaxed than she’d been in days. Prospect of action, I suppose.

“Sooner or later each of us is going to be challenged,” I said.

“No.”

Adelaar looked like she wanted to start an argument over that, but I shook my head at her and, wonder of wonders, she shut up; I knew that sound, Kri was running on a mix of hunch and logic that was almost never wrong.

“No,” she repeated. “Not all of us. You and Adelaar. Stink too much of setup if they went after all of us; there’s a limit how far a pro can go; it flexes some; I doubt that much; the Seven want to avoid any smell of ambush, not good for business. And there’s no need anyway. It’s your ship, Swar; should they get you, we’d have to go through all that business of transferring title, could take a year or more, plenty of time for Bolodo to clean up their act. And it’s Adelaar’s daughter; without her around to pay the bills, Bolodo might think we’d say hell with it and go on to something else.” She waved a hand at Pels, wriggled her fingers in a kind of digital grin. “Us you could replace in half an hour or less.” Pels growled. “Well, as far as jobs go.”

I looked at Adelaar. She lifted a hand, let it fall, but didn’t say anything. “Right,” I said. “How good are you with that sword of yours?”

“I’m still alive, one challenger’s dead, another can’t walk very well, I cut a few nerves in his left leg. One was pro, one wasn’t, the dead one. The pro was middling good, it was a business matter.”

“Hmm. Bolodo won’t be fooling around this time, they’ll buy the best there is, no more amateur talent.” I thought about that a while. “If we can’t avoid a challenge, maybe we can maneuver the ground. You up for taking a chance, aici Arash?”

“If there’s a point to it.” She tapped on the pneumatic arm beside her. “You mean bait them. Tonight?”

“Catch ’em before they’re set.”

“And if they don’t bite?”

“Then they don’t and we have some fun playing before we get serious.”

“Sounds good.” More tip-tapping on the soft resilient plastic, tiny scratching sounds; her nails were pointed and painted with a metallic film that turned them into small knives; I wouldn’t be all that surprised to learn they had poison packed behind them. She’d fixed them up that way before we left Slancy ; that was one of the reasons I started thinking it might be a good idea to force the pace. “What ground?” she said.

“Darkland. The Rabbid Babbit. You know it?”

“I’ve been there. Why that House, what about Tinzy’s Amberland, or some other place?”

“Amberland’s too establishment, too many high level execs and bankers in the crowd. I want room for some creative cheating. Those types are either a bunch of half-assed romantics with an inquisitor’s touch with heretics, or a bunch of snobs who want to keep… um… ah… the creative interpretation of rules as an executive privilege, not something available to the working slob or us common visitors. Those fingernails of yours, as an example, they’re apt to rule them illegal given a protest. I’m sure you’d rather keep them as is.”