"Green, Sharon - Mists of the Ages" - читать интересную книгу автора (Green Sharon)

Chapter 1

I stood in the middle of the very posh office, looking

around by the light of the faint glow coming from the

eight-foot desk, trying to feel where the hidey-hole

was. With the building shut down for the night most

of the maintenance systems were on low-power

standby, leaving only the security checks fully active

and alert. If you stop to listen you can hear mainte-

nance systems, but security nets can only be detected

by instruments or nerve endings. I'd used both to get

through the net, and now stood in low-power silence

trying to detect where the safe spot had been put.

Even the heavy shadows couldn't hide the position

of the wall vault from me. and I had to turn my back

on the comer before it would stop jumping up and

down in my face, waving its arms trying to get my

attention. Sometimes the talent of finding things like

that makes itself more of a handicap than a help, get-

ting in your way when it's the really obscure location

you're trying to pinpoint. The wall vault would have

illegal documents and negotiable securities and a good

chunk of cash and possibly even jewelry and drugs that

were exchangeable for cash, but I had no use for fri-

volities and no time to waste picking them up. I was

after something a lot more delicate in nature and val-

uable in potential, a special prize that would not be

kept with everything else.

Turning away from the wall vault faced me toward

one of the rows of windows, me one that had been on

my left when I'd entered the office. The second row

had faced me when I'd come in and now decorated

most of the wall to the right. Corner offices had been

high status just about forever, but wouldn't have been

quite as popular if the occupants had to wash all those

windows they were so proud of. The thought made me

grin into me near dark I stood in, a little female humor

injected into an otherwise dull time, and then I began

laughing softly instead of grinning. What I had thought

of as a joke was my subconscious noticing something

the rest of me hadn't, and I was forced to admire the

skill that had almost gotten it past me. The safe spot

in that office was very well situated, but "almost"

doesn't make me mark.

I moved carefully around the desk and approached

the second window-section from the left, every sense

I had extended and alert. It seemed possible that some

part of the floor would be pressure sensitive, and I

found out rather quickly that ft certainly was. Once I

discovered that, it was back to the desk to check for

the controls that would not be part of the general sys-

tems, but once found the switches weren't difficult to

neutralize. They couldn't be turned off without acti-

vating a different set of alarms, of course, something

a large number of my contemporaries had learned the

hard way, but setting them to neutral didn't produce

the same results.

Neutral was off enough to suit my purposes, and let

me turn away from the desk to examine what I'd found.

The window-section that had caught my attention was

no window-section, and with the system deactivated I

was able to get a good look at the four-foot by four-

foot safe spot. The repeater screen that covered it most

of the time was excellently made. but that very excel-

lence had been its greatest flaw. The other windows in

the office were filthy with the usual city grime that

settles on everything no matter how often washing is

done, but that section of window was measurably

cleaner. The system designer hadn't been stupid

enough to leave it spotless, but had erred on the short

side when it came to "dirty enough." Most people

would never have noticed something like that, but

that's what makes me more valuable than most people.

There was a fairly complex maze lock on the safe

spot entry, but maze locks, as they say, are only good

for keeping out the honest. Opening it took no more

than a few minutes, and then I was able to slide the

entry down out of my way so that I might look at what

it normally hid. Only four of the dozen or so com-

partments were filled, two with off-planet bank notes

that might well have been counterfeit, a third with a

large, tightly-stoppered vial filled with something

bright yellow that glowed very faintly, and a fourtE

with a narrow envelope which was clearly from an

expensive set of stationery. I took the envelope and

folded it, stuffed it inside a pocket of my belt, then

put the safe spot entry back where it belonged.

Returning everything to normal took almost as long

as deactivating it had, but under those circumstances

it wasn't a waste of time. Once I'd rechecked the last

set of circuits I'd worked, I connected the final lead

that meshed everything back into place, then was able

to disconnect my diddle box, allowing the next intru-

sion signal generated to go to the security force board

instead of a dead-end panel in the box. I'd been taught

to cover the possibility that I wasn't as good as I

thought I was and would therefore set off some kind

of alarm during the prowl, and found it wise to never

forget the lesson. Seero had taught me that, just as

he'd taught me all the rest, but I'd learned on my own

that there were times when all the caution in the Em-

pire just wasn't enough to make a difference.

I left the building through a maintenance duct that

led to the parking level of the building next door,

stayed out of range of the scanners until I was back in

a normal, street-type bodysuit, then ambled to my

jump-around with all the nonconcem of any woman

who knows she's parked in a total visibility area. Not

only are there no blind spots in a t.v. area, anyone

stepping or driving into the section activates real-time

monitoring by the duty guards. If an emergency hap-

pens they can get there fast, and they usually make the

effort to move. There are cash bonuses and public rec-

ognition each month for the fastest response to any

activated emergency, and any team logging twelve

wins gets put on a roster of perpetual commendation.

Gryphon was a world that knew the benefits in paying

for what it wanted, and what it wanted was maximum

effort from the people whose job it was to protect oth-

ers. Substantial annual salaries attracted the best, bo-

nuses and public commendations kept them; with those

who couldn't afford to have the notoriety, stroking was

arranged on a somewhat more discreet level.

My jump-around unlocked itself at my approach, and

I unobtrusively checked the back before getting in and

starting it up. I didn't really expect to find anyone

hiding in the back seat, but when you know how to

get around t.v. areas and approach locks, you tend to

remember that others can do the same. No one should

have known where I was and what I was doing, but

that didn't mean no one did; the faster you learned

should-haves can turn quickly into dids, the better your

chances became of surviving.

I had casually thrown my shoulder bag to the front

seat beside me, but once I was out of the parking level

and skimming along a concourse, my main priority

became getting the contents of the bag property seen

to. I wasn't due to deliver the envelope I'd taken for

another two and a half hours; simply carrying it with

me would have been possible but not terribly bright. I

was scheduled to visit some old friends during me time

I had free, but not everyone around them would also

be friends. If you make a habit of wiggling your back-

side at the Pates, you can't really complain when they

arrange a suitable response to the gesture.

Not being the sort to make gestures for no reason,

by the time I reached the nightclub district I had my

prowling suit, tools, and belt all neatly tucked away

in the safe spot in my Jump-around. No hiding place

is really safe if its location can change as soon as you

turn your back on it, but many tiroes half measures are

better than none at all. Even if someone managed to

steal the Jump-around, they would only be close to the

rest, not have it.

And having the Jump-around stolen wasn't that far

out of the question, not in thai neighborhood. Once

off the concourse I drove more slowly, paying atten-

tion to the darkened, dirty streets and watching those

who roamed about on them. OH the outer fringes of

the district were most of the nightclubs the city

boasted, and the foot traffic moved easily under bright

lights with easy companionship and enjoyment. About

three blocks beyond that thedistrict changed, and al-

though there were still clubs they weren't the sort to

announce their whereabouts with lights and laughter.

Those who patronized this sub-district usually had

money and the urge for anonymity, a combination

which encouraged the presence of those who mot lOBcd

to take things whose absence would not bettported to

the proper authorities. If you're only gofflg to Heal

what's safe. I don't understand why you'd boAer, but

that's a personal prejudice. Others don't took at it the

same, which is really too bad.

The parking lot of the Dark of the Moon Club sat

beneath the delicate blue glow of its name sign, at

least three-quarters of it neatly and quietly fifled. I

pulled into a spot between a limo and a new-model

sports job, which was the best I could do in me way

of protective prevention. In company like that, my lit-

tle jump-around was hardly worth looking at, and that,

hopefully, meant it would still be there when I came

out.

Getting out of my transportation brought me the stale

but familiar smell of the air in that district, air that

seemed to be holding itself as still as possible to avoid

being noticed. It was an attitude that seemed to be

shared by a lot of the denizens of the area, and one

that had never failed to annoy me. I could understand

not wanting to be noticed at certain times, but to spend

your lire slipping from shadow to shadow, afraid to be

touched by the light of day, afraid to be seen by any-

one who might take note and remember—I had grown

up in that area and learned a lot of things there, but

that particular attitude wasn't one of them. I enjoyed

standing tall no matter who was watching, and if the

day ever came that I couldn't, I would know my lire

was coming to an end.

Walking through the dark to the modest front en-

trance of the club didn't take long, and I smiled when

I remembered the days there had been scanners which

checked out all new arrivals. What the club had of-

fered then was blatantly illegal rather than just mildly

so, and they*d had to be careful not to be surprised by

unexpected visits. When the club had changed hands

its policies had also changed, and it had become a

place where people could meet friends and sit and talk

in relative comfort, or indulge in certain vices mat

affected no one but themselves. Those of us who be-

came old time regulars after the change preferred it

that way, and with the amounts of money the club was

now making legally, it wasn't likely to change back

again. When I reached the front entrance I pushed in-

side to the outer foyer, and the maitre d' on duty

glanced up from his station, then suddenly grinned.

"Well, will you look at that." he drawled in greet-

ing, nothing left of his usual professional aloofness of

manner. "We must be starting that age of miracles the

preachers keep telling us is on me way. Inky has fi-

nally decided to come home."

"You may be a dear, Mal, but home isn't necessar-

ily where the heart is," I answered, not letting the

familiarity of the noisy dining room behind him reach

all the way through to me. "All I'm back for is a visit,

and to ask myself what I ever saw in this dump. I don't

expect to do it a second time."

"You'll change your mind," he said, the grin soft-

ening to a smile, which also softened his handsome

features. "Home is where your friends arc, where you

can be yourself with others like you. We all knew why

you left, doll. and we all understood. Now that you're

back again, everything will be the way it used to be."

"Not quite everything," I corrected, almost losing

it so far that I told him not to call me doll. That was

what Seero had most often called me, and Seero was

dead.

"No, not quite everything," he agreed, losing his

smile as he remembered. "But things do change, and

the rest of us are still here. Tris, Riccom and Sharp

said to send you back as soon as you showed up."

"I'm willing to bet they said if I show up," I coun-

tered. deliberately pushing away the air of gloom that

was trying to descend like a falling building. "I didn't

know if I'd be able to make it. so-I didn't commit to

anything definite. All I promised to do was try."

"Which is why they said when. not if," he coun-

tered back, the grin beginning to return. "We know

the people we can trust from those we can*t. I'd be

there with them myself if I didn't have to work. so I'll

have to catch you next time. They're waiting in the

quiet comer."

As expected. I nodded my thanks to Mal and headed

into the room his station guarded, paying no attention

to the people at the curtain tables which crowded al-

most every inch of floor. About a fifth of the tables

had nothing of a distortion field around them, double

that number had shadow curtains to tease passersby,

and all the rest were completely hidden by fields that

let no one see who was at them, what those people

were watching, or what the watchers were doing. How

you set your table depended on what you had come to

the club to see and do, and very few of the table pa-

trons were there for wholesome entertainment. The

club had a full spectrum licence, though, which meant

even opera and ballet were available, and some of the

tables were automatically set to those frequencies. Do-

ing it that way meant no one could prove what anyone

had chosen to view unless they were right there beside

a particular individual, an anonymity which meant

quite a lot to some of the regulars.

I was almost across the floor to the booths when Tris

spotted me, and then Riccom and Sharp were turning

around, adding their grins to Tris'. Most of the booths

in me quiet comer were taken, which was usually the

way it went. Our kind of people preferred keeping their

conversations private even if they were only discuss-

ing the weather, a topic that wasn't often at the head

of the list.

"Inky!" Sharp exclaimed as soon as I was inside

the silencing field and could hear her. the delight in

her voice all too obvious. "I knew you would make

it, and I told these doubters so. Have you any idea

how long it's been?"

"For me, it's been almost a year." I answered, sit-

ting down in the place Tris had moved from to make

for me. "How long has it been for you, Sharp?"

"You're not amusing," she stated while Tris and

Riccom chuckled, her pale, delicate face flushing faintly

with embarrassment. "I wasn't referring to the amount

of calendar time, and you know it. What I was trying

to say was that we missed you."

"And I missed you three," I admitted without hes-

itation, telling them nothing but the truth. "If all

you're after now is rekindling old friendships, I'm all

for it. If there happens to be an irresistible business

deal you're dying to include me in on, I think I'm late

for another appointment."

"Why do you have to be such a stinker?" Sharp

demanded in annoyance while the chuckling around us

changed to outright laughter. "Most people in the trade

would give up their vices for the chance to work with

us. Did you hear us asking you to give up even a small

vice?"

"I don't think she has any vices to give up," Tris

remarked, his green eyes studying me where I sat. Tris

was good looking in a smooth-featured way, and his

physical grace had been the cause of some problems

for him. When it came to enjoying himself he pre-

ferred doing it with females, but some people had dif-

ficulty accepting that. When Tris was propositioned

politely by the wrong gender, his refusal was just as

polite; if the suggestion then turned to insistence, Tris

reached for a knife.

"She certainly doesn't look like she has any vices,"

Ricco agreed with Tris, his blue eyes even more

amused than the other man's green ones. "Have you

ever seen such an innocent, open face, hair that black

in such a plain, unassuming style, black eyes so large

and guileless that you could trip and fall right into

them? I'll bet most places she still has to prove she's

old enough to drink."

I offered Riccom a wordless gesture that made all

three of them laugh, but it wasn't anything they hadn't

been expecting. They'd never let me forget the time

Ricco and I had gone together to make an assessment

of the possibility of approaching a target Seero had

been interested in. The point of entry to the target

would have been through the posh bar next door, and

Ricco and I had dressed to the eyebrows so they'd let

us in. We'd made our entrance in a grand way. letting

our attitudes say we didn't own the place only because

we didn't go in for petty-cash investments, and the

maitre d' guarding the entrance was very impressed.

He inspected Ricco from light brown hair to broad

shoulders to zilf-hide shoes, smiled faintly in total ap-

proval, men began to apologize. It took a minute for

us to understand that the man was apologizing for the

regrettable fact that they couldn't serve children in

their establishment, and then Ricco had broken up.

He'd laughed so hard we'd had to leave before we

were thrown out, and I hadn't had to ask what was so

funny. Since I was five months older than Ricco I knew

what he found so funny, but I'd never been quite up

to sharing the joke.

"I love talking about old times, don't you?" Sharp

asked me with a wide grin still in place, one hand

brushing at her reddish brown hair. She was a small

woman but very rounded for her size. and looked even

smaller sitting beside Ricco. "We used to have such

fun together. Inky, but the fun doesn't have to stay in

the past. If you come back to us, we can have the same

all over again.'*

"We might have fan, but it would never be what

we once had," I disagreed, deciding it was time we

got the matter settled out loud. "You three worked

with Seero for a couple of years, but I was raised by

him. If he hadn't kept his word to my mother to look

after me, I would have ended up in one of those or-

phan shelters after she died. He forced me to go to

school, bribed me into learning something there by

refusing to teach me anything he knew unless I got

good grades, and always had the time to listen if there

was something I needed to talk about. He was always

there for me. Sharp, but when he needed me, all I

could do was stand by and watch him die."

"You were there?'* she asked, sharing her distur-

bance with the glances she sent Tris and Ricco, getting

the same back from them. "We thought Seero was out

alone that night. But Inky—his getting killed was an

accident, something no one could have prevented. His

line slipped, and even if you'd been right next to it

you couldn't have . . ."

"His line didn't slip," I corrected flatly, watching

her pale as her eyes flinched away from my gaze. I

knew what I looked like when I thought or spoke about

that night, and innocent was about as far from it as

it's possible to get. I was about to go on when a buzz

sounded, letting us know someone was entering our

field, and then a harried waiter was beside the booth,

putting a cup ofjavi on the table in front of me. If I'd

wanted something to eat I would have used the booth

menu to order it directly from the kitchen, but javi,

unless refused when you first come in, is brought au-

tomatically to everyone. Our part of the crowd of reg-

ulars had developed that custom for the club, and it

had slowly spread until everyone was doing the same.

We all waited until the waiter was gone out of the field

again, and then Ricco leaned forward.

"What do you mean, Seero's line didn't slip?" he

demanded, his big hands on the table's edge, his ex-

pression harsh with confusion. "It was all over the

news. the next day, and the thuds read a statement about

it. 'Death by misadventure during an attempted fel-

ony' was the way it was put, and that was after they'd

investigated. Are you trying to say it was a cover-

up?"

"I'm trying to say they weren't there," I answered,

reaching for my cup ofjavi. Black was the way I drank

it, as black as my hair, and preferably as strong as my

resolve for revenge. "Ricco, you and Sharp and Tris

have a decision to make. I can tell you the whole story,

or we can simply drink javi and reminisce about old

times. If you decide on the story, I can't guarantee the

safety of any of you."

That time even Sharp didn't have anything imme-

diate to say, and their three expressions were almost

identical. In the life-niche we and others like us oc-

cupied, there was a great deal of truth to the proverb,

"Ignorance is bliss." Too often just knowing about

something put you in line for erasure, and it made no

difference whether or not you intended using, selling

or even giving away the information. Knowing it meant

you might pass it on, and that was more of a chance

than the people involved were willing to take. It wasn't

considered polite to tell people things without first

warning them you were going to do it, so I'd given

the warning. What happened after that was entirely up

to them, and Tris was the first one to acknowledge it.

"I think I'd like to stay and hear about this," he

said after a minute, stirring where he sat to my left.

"Seero once did something for me I*H never forget,

and if there's a question on how he died. I want to

know about it. I can meet you two later, somewhere

else."

"The hell you can," Ricco said in a flat-voiced way,

leaning back in his seat opposite me as he looked at

Tris. "You aren't the only one Seero did things for,

which means I'm not in the mood for a walk. But it

also doesn't mean we all have to stay."

He and Tris turned to Sharp with that, telling her

they had no intentions of making any decisions for her,

and for an instant she didn't seem to know what Ricco

meant. Then she understood they were saying she

could leave, and she was suddenly made of indigna-

tion rather than flesh.

"Ricco, is your head as muscle-bound as your

body?" she demanded, bristling up like an inside-out

pincushion. "If you two think you owed Seero, you

ought to hear my story. I happen to know he didn't

even tell Inky, which means I owe him for that, too.

If anyone misses what she has to say, it isn't going to

be me."

"That's it, then," Ricco said with a shrug, moving

his eyes back to my vicinity. "We're all in and we*re

all ears. Let's get a pot of javi ordered, and then we

can start."

"Let's start by not ordering a pot ofjavi," I said,

reaching over to catch his arm before he activated the

menu. "Seero once told me that most people know

they're opening a circuit through the silencing field

when they order, but think the circuit is dead once the

menu-acknowledge light goes out. All it really means

is that the light is out, not that the circuit is closed.

Let's let that waiter bring us refills when he manages

to get around to it."

"You think the thuds could have this place tapped?"

Tris asked with a frown, exchanging glances with

Ricco. "Even if they were covering something up

when they called Seero's death accidental, how could

they get in here? And after all this time, why would

they bother?"

"It isn't the police we have to worry about," I an-

swered. speaking to all of them. "It's the Twilight

Houses that arc involved, and they can get in any-

where. Arc you still sure you want to hear about it?"

"More than ever," Sharp said as she rested her

forearms on the table, nothing left of the empty-headed

high-lifer she enjoyed pretending to be. "If the thuds

put Seero out of the way, I could understand it even

while hating it. The Twi Houses are another matter

entirely."

Ricco nodded his agreement while Tris simply sat

and waited, so I shrugged and shifted sideways on the

seat.

"As we've already noticed, this was almost a year

ago," I began, toying with my cup as my mind went

back to that soul-tearing night. "Seero had intended

going out alone, but when I showed up with nothing

of my own scheduled, he invited me along. The stroke

was set up as a solo and that's the way he intended

keeping it, but he didn't mind the idea of having com-

pany on the ride back. He also intended having some-

thing to show off, and you know how he enjoyed

showing off."

They all smiled faintly at the reminder, also remem-

bering how we used to tease him about it, but no one

interrupted.

' 'The location of the stroke was in one of those open

high-rise enclaves that pretend to be closed, the kind

that keeps out no one but the innocent people who live

there," I continued. "For anyone with a little skill

there are a dozen private ways in, and Seero took one

of them. He intended using the top of the north tower

to reach one of the penthouses in the south, so as soon

as he left I found a way into the west tower. I wanted

to watch him without being in the way, you under-

stand, which I might have been if I'd gone up with

him to the north.

"By the time I reached the roof of the west tower,

he'd already set his line onto the balcony wall of his

target apartment," I said, raising my cup to sip from

it. "A minute later he was moving up the line by shift-

ing his coasters an armspan at a time, making it look

as easy as he always did. Going back it would be

downhill, of course, and he'd simply hold on and let

gravity do all the work. He reached the balcony,

dropped down to it after locking the coasters in place

on the line, then went to half-kneel in front of the

balcony doors. He already knew what sort of a lock

was on them, and even Mal could have gotten it open

without a key."

That time they chuckled, knowing how badly Mal

did with anything that had a lock- If anyone was ever

born to be honest Mal was it, a point finally brought

home to him the time he'd lost his key ring. After

finding it impossible to get into his jump-around he'd

had to walk home, and then had discovered that we,

who were his neighbors and who kept a spare set of

his keys. were out. He'd decided then and there that

he'd be damned if he'd simply sit down and wait until

we got back, so he began trying to pick the lock on

his door.

By the time Tris and I got back there he'd apparently

been at it for hours, and had reached the point where

he wouldn't have used a key even if he'd had to spend

the rest of his life out in that hall. It was do or die

with no other acceptable options, and Tris and I were

trying to decide whether or not to mention something

rather important to him when Ricco showed up. Ricco,

having no idea about what was going on immediately

congratulated Mal, and when Mal looked up at him

blankly, Ricco reached over and opened the door with

a simple turn of the knob. At some point or other Mal

had managed to pick the lock, but the tragedy of it

was Mal hadn't noticed. It took quite a while before

we were able to get Mal to stop crying, but once he

was back to normal his mind had been made up. He

still considered himself one of us, but he never tried

breaking into anything again.

"I watched Seero fade through the balcony doors,

and automatically checked the time," I went on with

a sigh, wondering if Mal knew how really fortunate

he was. "Seero's maximum time on a stroke never

went beyond nine minutes, no matter what he had to

leave behind. Better to get out and come back some

other time, he always said, rather than stay that extra

minute or two and maybe lose all your some-other-

times together. At any rate I knew it wouldn't be long

before he was out again, but it turned out to be a lot

less than not very long. It couldn't even have been a

minute before he reappeared, and he immediately tried

jumping for the coasters."

"Without stopping to relock the balcony doors?"

Sharp asked with shock in her voice. "I can't believe

Seero would overlook anything that important."

"He didn't overlook it," I said, answering the ques-

tion for all of them. "He didn't stop because they were

right behind him, too close, as it turned out, for him

to get the coasters moving before they were on top of

him. They had hand weapons out and ready, so all he

could do was drop back down to the terrace."

"But he wasn't supposed to have been killed with a

hand weapon," Ricco pointed out, his expression

strange. "Did the thuds cover up that part of it?"

"They didn't use the weapons, they just covered

him with them." I said with a headshake. "At first it

was only the two heavies who stopped him, and I was

sure they were private security, which would have

meant Seero was caught. Then three men and a woman

stepped out on the balcony, four races I recognized

instantly in the light coming from inside, and I began

to think everything would be all right. I knew for a

fact that Seero had done strokes for at least two of

them, and they would therefore understand he could

be counted on to keep quiet about whatever he'd seen

or heard. One of the men spoke to Seero with an

amused smile on his face, turned and said something

to the others, then gestured away the two heavies with

the hand weapons. From where I stood, it looked like

Seero had been told he was free to go."

When I paused to swallow at my javi, none of them

Jumped in with prompts or questions or comments.

They knew what was coming, and although they had

already decided to listen, they were in no hurry to hear

it.

"I watched Seero go back to his line with what

seemed to be reluctance, and couldn't understand why

he wasn't acting as relieved as I felt." I continued

beyond the pause. "After thinking about it I've de-

cided he knew what was coming, which is another

thing those four will regret. Seero jumped for the

coasters, had them unlocked in a moment, then slid

away from the balcony. He was about halfway across

when one of the heavies reached up to the line anchor

with something too small for me to see, but which

must have been made of plastic. It broke the holding

field that kept the anchor firmly attached to the wall,

and suddenly Seero wasn't sliding down the line, he

and the line were falling toward the inner face of the

north tower. He tried absolving most of the shock of

contact with his legs, but the angle of descent was too

Btecp and he was moving too fast. He slammed into

the building between two terraces, the impact so hard

I could hear it, and then he was gone from the line

and falling toward the ground so many stories below.

When I looked back to the terrace, the four and their

heavies had already disappeared."

By then I was staring down into my javi cup, wish-

ing it held something a lot stronger than javi, feeling

the new silence that surrounded me. All the expecta-

tion from eariier had disappeared, leaving behind a

limping, wordless plea for some sort of explanation.

"I don't understand," Tris said after the gap had

grown almost awkward, his voice filled with confu-

sion. "If they knew Seero and didn't even have a com-

pleted stroke to complain about, why did they wipe

him? And how did he end up in a Twi House meeting

place to begin with? He was always so careful about

checking a layout before going in."

"They must have been discussing something they

considered more important than Seero's life.'* I an-

swered, looking up to see the way all three of them

stared at me. "They could have decided to depend on

his silence the way they had in the past, but chose

instead not to bother. As for how Seero ended up in

the middle of a meeting between the heads of four

Houses who never in the past got together on any-

thing, that one is easy. He was set up.

"Is that a guess, or do you know it for certain?*'

Sharp asked, her voice very soft in contrast to the look

in her eyes. "If it's confirmed, give us a name."

"I didn't have to guess." I said. running a finger

around the rim of my cup without looking down. "On

the way to the stroke Seero told me who had put him

onto the target, and the idea made him chuckle. The

man who considered himself Seero's greatest rival had

worked for months digging out the location of this

shady political bigshot's city address, had confirmed

what artwork and other valuables the apartment held

by visiting it as a repairman or some such, and had

only been waiting for the bigshot to be out of town.

As soon as that happened he started getting ready to

go—and while he was moving around managed to slip

and fall because of a small pool of salad oil that had

been spilled by his roommate on their kitchen floor.

He ended up with a very painful sprained ankle, which

meant he needed someone he could trust to take over

for him. He'd hated the idea of calling Seero, but Seero

was the only one he knew who could be relied on to

play it straight."

"And the reason he didn't simply wait until he was

healed, and then go ahead without a reluctantly-taken

partner?" Tris asked, filling in the line as he and the

others knew it must have gone. They weren't wrong,

and my nod acknowledged that fact.

"The bigshot had sold the apartment, and would be

moving his things to an in-city estate as soon as he got

back," I supplied. "If the stroke didn't come off right

then, all those months of work would be worse than

wasted. Better half the rake than losing it all."

"And Seero believed him," Sharp stated, her dark

eyes furious. "Just as we all would have. because of

the one bit of truth he used: Seero was the only one

among us who could be counted on to play it straight.

There was no way anyone would have thought it was

a trap."

"The slig must have found out about the Twi meet-

ing while he was sniffing around," Tris said, coming

to the same conclusion I had. "There's never been

even a whisper about a connection between that polit-

ico and the Houses, so the slig must have counted on

their wiping Seero to keep that quiet, if for nothing

else. They must be into him below his underwear if

they used his apartment for their high-level hush-hush.

Seero never had a chance, not with the kind of heavies

they use to keep those meetings private. Give us the

name of that slig. Inky. We want to pay him a visit

and tell him how much we admire his planning abil-

ity."

"I don't think we can pay him a visit," Ricco said.

the first words he'd spoken in a while, his light eyes

directly on me, "It was Tardin who did that to Seero,

wasn't it, Inky? Tardin the slime, who could never

forgive Seero for being better than him. Am I wrong?"

"No, you aren't wrong, Ricco," I allowed, feeling

myself smile for the first time since that conversation

had started. "Tardin was the one who set Seero up,

but I don't think he'll ever be doing something like

that again, do you?"

"Tardin was convicted of those murders!" Sharp

said with a hiss of shock, her stare now on the wide-

eyed side. "It made all the news progs, and more than

half the editorial slots! Everyone wanted the courts to

forget the law and sentence him to a lifetime of torture

instead of simple execution. The evidence against him

was so overwhelming, not even his court-appointed

lawyer believed him when he screamed he was inno-

cent."

"That was because of how sickening the crime

was," Tris said, giving me the same sort of thoughtful

look Ricco had been maintaining for the last couple of

minutes. "When the victims are children it's bad

enough, but when they're also physically handicapped

children who have managed to win outstanding awards

despite their handicap— And when they aren't simply

killed, but put through what the autopsies showed— It

was all they could do to find thuds to guard him. Most

of them wanted to join everyone else and tear him apart."

"And all those of us who knew him wondered was

how he'd kept that much twisting from showing

sooner," Ricco said, closing the circle he'd opened.

"I don't think it would bother any of us to find out he

was framed. Inky, but what about the one who really

is guilty? With Tardin tagged for the thing, they

stopped looking for anyone else."

"Why look for a dead man?" I asked, letting my

smile broaden. "One of the earlier victims had a rel-

ative none of the news progs found out about, a half-

brother who had loved the little girl very much. The

half-brother had a lot of friends and acquaintances,

I don't think I have to tell you what it's possible

to pick up when almost everyone on the street is

watching and listening for you. Seero had introduced

me to him a few years ago, so when it was time to

take a good look around a certain apartment, I was the

one he asked to do it. Finding those grisly trophies the

slime had kept wasn't hard, but once they'd served

the purpose of telling us we'd located the right sicko.

no one had any more use for them. My acquaintance

took charge of the sicko, and when I explained why I

wanted the trophies, he thought my taking them was a

good idea. It even turned out that one of his friends

was the woman who cleaned Tardin's apartment, the

very woman who accidentally found all that horror and

immediately called the police."

"Finding Tardin's name on the membership list of

that group of fanatics who want all handicapped new-

borns put to sleep really sealed the lid on it," Ricco

said, a grin finally breaking through on his face. "Was

he really a member, or did your acquaintance have

another friend?"

"That time it was a friend of mine," I answered,

watching Tris and Sharp stir where they sat, as though

waking from a daydream. "She owed Seero a lot more

than one, and computer files will whistle the latest hit

if she asks them to. Getting them to accept Tardin's

name as a long-time member of that group took about

ten minutes."

"No wonder you kept refusing to work with us,"

Sharp said, satisfied acceptance in her voice. "You

were too busy doing things that really needed doing.

But now that it's just about over, you shouldn't be

busy any longer. Tardin's appeal was denied last week.

which means his execution is set for the forty day min-

imum. Why don't we all celebrate by pulling off a

really spectacular stroke?"

"That would be a good idea except for one thing,"

I said, quickly interrupting the agreement coming from

Tris and Ricco. "I won't be ready to celebrate until

there isn't even a foundation left of four certain

Houses. Tardin may have been the one who set Seero

up for wiping, but he wasn't the one who actually did

the job. Until that happens, I expect to have quite a

lot to do that's best done alone."

"You don't mean you're taking on four of the Twi-

light Houses!" Tris said in almost the same hiss Sharp

had used earlier, his expression full of outrage. "Inky.

that's crazy! I can understand refusing to take com-

missions from them, or maybe even cheering on the

thuds, but actively working against them? They'll wipe

you the same way they did Seero, and you won't ever

be able to say you didn't ask for it! If Seero was still

around, he'd be the first to tell you to forget it."

"If Seero was still around, there'd be nothing to

forget," I pointed out, raising my cup to finish the last

of the javi. "I only told you three about this so you'd

know why it isn't smart associating with me. I haven't

been sitting around with my feet up for the past few

months, and although I've been careful not to be

sloppy, it's only a matter of time before they find out

who's been stroking them. When that happens, you

don't want to confuse them by standing next to their

target. They usually settle confusions like that by

taking out everyone in sight."

"They seem to have a thing about playing it on the

safe side," Sharp agreed with familiar dryness, but

there was more frustration behind the words than

amusement. "Damn it. Inky, all you'll do is get your-

self killed, and no one will be able to help you! Do

you expect us to just sit back and let it happen?"

"The only way you can stop me is by tipping the

Houses," I said, taking a deep breath before making

the effort to shake off the gloom that had grabbed me

again. "If you decide to do that, hold out for as much

as you think the information should be worth, but stay

out of reach both before and after you collect. They're

already feeling the pinch, and I'm told they're not in

a very good mood."

"Told by who?" Ricco asked, as annoyed as Sharp

and Tris by the suggestion I'd made. "I can believe

you've been stroking them. and I believe they don't

know who's doing it. Seero always said you were the

best he ever taught, and if you ask me you're even

better than that. You're also not suicidal, so I'm

willing to bet you're not doing this alone. Who do you

have who's telling you about their mood, and what are

they doing with the rake from your strokes?"

"I don't think you really need to know that," I said

as I looked around at the three with a friendly smile.

Sharp and Tris were startled by the guess Ricco had

made, but he always had been the swiftest on the up-

take. "Let's just say I've found the perfect place to

drop what I come across, and it's possible I may even

be around to some day celebrate cracked foundations.

I'm not counting on the possibility very heavily, but

it could happen. And now I really do have another

appointment."

"Was this your way of saying good-bye to us?"

Tris demanded as I began getting ready to leave the

booth, his tone almost harsh. "You don't want us get-

ting killed along with you, so you took some time out

to cut the ties? That was really thoughtful of you. Inky,

but what if one or two of us don't want to say good-

bye? What if we're willing to take our own chances

with getting killed?"

"I'm sorry, Tris, but this is my way of getting

killed," I said with a glance around, trying not to

laugh. "If you or Ricco or Sharp decide you're inter-

ested, you'll have to find your own way. You know

how I've always hated sharing things."

I put my left hand on his arm to keep him from

saying any more, then reached my right hand toward

Sharp and Ricco. Both of them took it. Sharp with

tears in her eyes, Ricco almost as broken up as Tris,

but I refused to let any of their sadness touch me.

"I'll say this as plainly as I can, so I won't ever

have to repeat it: stay out of the argument!" I told

them, looking at each of them in turn, starting with

Tris and ending with Ricco. "I've got me covered

to a certain extent, but the coverage isn't enough for

four. I'd hate to make it through all this, only to find

that one or more of you three didn't. And don't forget,

if one of you trips, you might take me down right

along with you. If for no other reason, will you let

that make you back off and forget all about it?"

Once again I let my eyes touch each of them, and

despite their reluctance they didn't refuse me the nods

of agreement I'd asked for. They'd given me their

words to stay out of it, but Tris felt it necessary to add

one last comment as I freed my hands and stood.

"If you ever change your mind about wanting com-

pany, you know where you can find us," he said, then

gave me a smile that was trying very hard to become

a grin. "Don't forget how bad I am at thinking of my

own ways to get killed."

There was nothing to do but laugh at that, and then

wave once before turning and walking away. Tris was

most probably feeling the short time we'd lived to-

gether, but he'd get over it and then he'd be fine. I'd

made sure they would all be fine, but that was some-

thing else they didn't need to know about. When the

Houses finally found out I was the one stroking them,

not knowing where I was would be no protection at all

for people who were named as friends of mine. What

I'd arranged would be protection, but they definitely

would not have enjoyed hearing about it.

On the way out I said good-bye to Mal without giv-

ing him the chance to press me as to when I'd be back,

then left to keep an appointment which centered about

the delivery of an envelope.

Chapter 2

My new associates had very little imagination, which

meant they insisted on my meeting them in their own

offices. It might have been true that none of their

people could have betrayed them even if they'd wanted

to, but that didn't make me any happier about becoming

a familiar figure to the workers on all four of their

shifts. I was used to having no one or almost no one

know what I was into; Stellar Intelligence didn't

believe in running it the same. As far as they're

concerned, if everyone around you doesn't know what

you're doing, you probably shouldn't be doing it.

Needless to say, the difference of opinion made our

association even more pleasant than it would normally

have been.

I left my jump-around parked in a street-level square

a couple of blocks from my destination, preferring to

lose it among the various vehicles of neighborhood

night-shift workers over setting it down all alone in

plain sight in front of the building where the offices

were. It wasn't exactly common knowledge that the

Empire offices building also housed Stellar Intelligence,

but among those who did know, very few cared.

S.I. was a branch of the Empire administration that

supposedly concerned itself with nothing less than

things like treason on a planetary scale, and that, of

course, made it nothing to worry about to anyone who

wasn't plotting the overthrow of the Empire. I'd found

out differently one night, and the revelation had

modified my plans in an interesting way—if you consider

that sort of thing interesting.

The Empire building was as brightly lit and as full

of people going in and out as it always was, which

means I accessed their underground parking area

through a service conduit that bypassed their security

system, then made my way to the upper floors from

there. My getting into the building like that was more

of a game than a necessity, especially since S.I. hadn't

yet gotten around to finding the route. The other end

of the conduit was supposed to be completely

inaccessible, and they still believed that; for people who

shouldn't have believed anything they hadn't checked

personally, it was sad to see how trusting they were.

It was also one of the reasons I wasn't precisely thrilled

to be working with them, but they were definitely the

lesser choice between evils.

The lift took me up to the fifty-fourth floor, and

when the doors opened I stepped out to see the trans-

parent wall on my left that told me I'd found the

offices of the Empire Messenger Corps. Beyond the wall

was a rather unplush reception area which contained a

brittle-pretty girl behind a desk polishing her nails,

and a bored-looking man in the blinding-red uniform

of the Messenger Corps leaning against the wall not

far from her. When the lift doors closed behind me the

girl stopped polishing and the man stopped looking

bored, but neither one tried to say anything until I'd

pushed through the entrance panel in the transparent

wall. At that point, the girl grinned wide.

"Raksall's expecting you, so you can go right in."

she said, sounding nothing like what her looks would

lead someone to expect. "And by the way, thanks for

earning me a little extra cash. Again."

She made no real effort to look at the man in the red

uniform, but she didn't have to. Her final word had

let him know he was being laughed at, and his

expression said he wasn't enjoying the experience.

"It's not a joke," he said in a near growl, his dark

eyes sending accusation in my direction rather than

toward his partner in disguise. "If she's getting into

the building in a way we don't know about, there can

be others doing the same thing. Betting on whether

or not she makes it through without getting caught

isn't as good an idea as trying to find out how she does

it."

"Our current assignment doesn't call for finding

things out," the woman said, her grin still in place as

she swiveled her chair to turn her in the man's

direction. "And if you think betting is such a bad idea,

why wasn't I the only one doing it?"

The man looked down at her without answering the

question, but also without visible enjoyment of the

ankle-length, veed-to-the-waist work dress the woman

was wearing. She had no trouble at all filling out the

standard red and white dress, but men seem to lose

interest in such things when their pride—or wallets

have been brutalized.

"Is Raksall in her office?" I asked, more to change

the subject than because I wasn't sure. "I'm still a

little early."

"She expected you to be late instead, but she came

in on time," the woman told me, and then her

expression went solemn. "It may be the next thing to

immorality to mention it. but I think she earned some

extra cash, too."

The man came away from the wall with his fists to

his hips at that, and even though I was no longer the

target for his killing stare, I still headed on back to the

offices beyond the corridor leading out of the reception

area. S.I. people seemed to be much freer souls than

I'd expected them to be, but I wasn't involved with

them to make friends. We had a joint business venture

going, they and I, and in that area things weren't doing

badly.

There were as many people hurrying around the

inner S.I. office as the rest of the building suffered from,

all because of the need of the place to be fully staffed

at all times. When you have to deal with information

and requests coming in from hundreds of planets and

going out to the same number, you run every minute

of the local day and night or you don't run at all. I

usually preferred night hours because of how much

more peaceful they were than the daytime, but in that

place it was like middle of the morning any time you

got there. I ignored the bustle as best I could, made

my way across the floor to the office I wanted, and

simply walked in.

Raksall looked up at the sound of the door opening,

her transparent desk showing all of the stylish orange

and brown business suit she wore. The legs of the

pants were so full they even looked like a full-length

skirt while she was sitting down, and the tight-waisted

jacket was more frilly-lace-concealing than straight-

line form-revealing. Using lace instead of body lines

was the very newest rage in fashion, and it surprised

me not at all that Raksall was already wearing it.

"Well, well, early instead of late," my S.I. contact

said with an amused look, leaning back in her chair

while I closed the door behind me. "With everything

you had on your schedule tonight, I thought it would

be the other way around."

"I have a feeling you thought it would be the other

way around because of the number of guards stationed

all over the building," I came back, walking forward

to my usual chair and then sitting in it. "They were

trying to spot me coming in, but somehow they missed."

"I've learned there's nothing of the 'somehow

about it when people miss seeing you," she said, her

stronger amusement now showing in a grin. "If we

hadn't had Fieran's luck, we wouldn't have stumbled

over you the first time. I hope it went just as

successfully earlier tonight."

"They're not quite as clever as they think they are,"

I said with a smile of my own, reaching down to the

wide black shimmer-belt I wore above my semi-skirt.

"If you don't have a pair of gloves, I recommend

leaving the thing in the belt until you can get a lab to

check it for you. They had it in a safe spot, but I have

the distinct feeling they decided to play it double safe.

If unprotected skin touches that envelope, I'd rather

not be around to see what the results are."

"That means they're beginning to try doing some-

thing about you," she said, her grin gone as she

reached across the desk to take the belt. "What you've

gotten from them over the last few months hasn't been

used against them yet, so they must think that ridding

themselves of you will make sure it never is. I'd say

it's time you let up on them for a while."

"And I say if I let up on them, what I've done so

far will be wasted effort," I countered, watching how

carefully she handled the belt. "You're the one who

told me how straight-line all this evidence has to be,

how an Empire court will accept it if there aren't any

carefully timed gaps in the gathering of it. You said if

we can prove these Houses are constantly and

consistently involved in large-scale illegalities rather than

occasionally dabbling over the line of the law, the

Empire court will accept jurisdiction as the only

certifiably unbiased source of justice for the people. We both

know their bought bodies on this world won't even let

them be accused here let alone convicted, and the

chance of throwing them to an Empire court was the

only reason I agreed to work with you people. If you

try backing out now . . ."

"I'm not trying to back out of the deal," she interrupted

in annoyance, the look in her brown eyes half

impatient and half concerned. "I promised we'd break

those Houses for you if you helped us get the evidence

we need, and that promise stands. I'd just like to know

how well you'll uphold your end of the bargain if you

get yourself killed. None of our own people ever man-

aged a fraction of what you have in locating the sort

of damaging proof we can't go ahead without. If the

enemy succeeds in stopping you, where does that leave

our effort?"

"Before the question becomes relevant, they have

to succeed in stopping me," I answered, working hard

to control the furious anger that had suddenly risen

inside me. "You told me stolen evidence is just as

good in an Empire court as whatever is gotten on a

warrant, as long as it's documented as true and isn't

unreasonably out of date. If I back off now, you know

we'll have a gap, and that gap could get them off. If

this is how dedicated you law-and-order types are, I

would have been better off going with my original

idea."

"Your original idea was to use the other Twilight

Houses to destroy the four you're after," she said with

a brusque gesture of dismissal, still annoyed. "You

may or may not have succeeded in that, but when you

came to this building to see if the Empire had any file

information you could take for the other Houses to

use, you walked into one of our security areas. We

had to use a Question Beam to find out what you were

after, but once we did, didn't we agree to drop all

charges against you? Didn't we decide together it

would be better to eradicate those Houses completely,

rather than simply helping the other Houses to absorb

them?"

"Is that what we 'decided together'?" I asked,

making a rude face as I leaned back in my chair. "I

thought what we decided was that I'd be better off

getting evidence for your group, instead of vegetating

in a heavy detention center while those four Houses

went blithely on the way they had been going. If I'd

known you scared this easy, I would have opted for

the heavy detention."

"Since I'm not the one whose life is on the line,

scared doesn't enter into it much, does it?" she

countered, ignoring what I'd said about how I'd been

coerced into the partnership. "And I'm not trying to tell

you to back off for good. I want these people as badly

as you do. but throwing away the life of the only one

able to get me my evidence doesn't make much sense.

What you picked up for us four days ago from the

Larcher House was a coded list of scheduled ventures

involving drugs, prostitution, soul-selling, air smuggling,

puppet-stringing—at least a third of everything

they're into. Since we've got to take the time to document

that stellium-mine of a list, there won't be anything

of a gap showing in our evidence trail. And don't

forget what you got for us tonight. If that works out

the way I expect it to, what's in that envelope will

give the Empire court no choice but to step in. When

politicians that big are owned by a House, trying to

find an unbiased planetary court is an exercise in futility."

"All of which is a reason for you people to sit back

a while, but doesn't in any way apply to me," I said,

refusing to buy the wiggler oil she was so good at

selling. "That list you're so hot about involves only

one of the Houses, which leaves three more for me to

go after while you're playing with the first. In case

you've forgotten, it's all four I want, not just a token

one or two."

"But you can't get all four if one of them gets you

first," she said through her teeth, her fist clenched and

her short blond hair almost bristling. "If you leave

them alone for a while they'll have to dismantle their

traps, or take the chance of losing one of their own.

with legitimate business, to something meant to get

you. Can't you under—"

Her little speech of useless repetition probably would

have gone on until she ran out of breath, but she was

interrupted by something other than my impatience. A

single knock came at the door, and I turned in time to

see a man walking in. He was of average height and

build, wearing the tight trousers, tight-waisted jacket,

and severely cut shirt that was the masculine equivalent

of Raksall's outfit, but his was a conservative yellow

and tan. He had brown hair and eyes and a narrow,

humorless face, was carrying a file of some sort, and

I'd seen him once or twice during my previous visits

to those offices.

"I'm sorry, Filster. but we're in the middle of an

important discussion here," Raksall said to the man,

making an obvious effort not to be too short with him.

"I'll let you know as soon as I'm through, and . . ."

"This can't wait until you're through," the man

Filster said, coming forward after having closed the

door behind himself. "When you're through, the girl

will disappear the way she always does, and I need

her here for this."

"For what?" Raksall demanded, letting the river of

annoyance inside her wash over the man who was

pulling up a chair to her side of the desk. "She isn't an

operative who shifts from one department to the next

and therefore needs to know everything going on

everywhere. She has a limited association with my

department, so what could you possibly have that

concerns her?"

"I have a Situation," the man answered, the word

so clearly capitalized that his glance at Raksall was

unnecessary. "I queried the main files in search of

someone to suit my needs, but rather than offering me

a choice of our own operatives, I was given the suggestion

of that girl. After considering the matter, I was

forced to agree with the decision."

His narrow-faced sourness showed how unhappy he

was over being forced into whatever it was he was

talking about, but I wasn't in the least curious as to

what that could be. I'd already done what I'd come to

that place to do, and wasting any more time there

would have been—a waste of time.

"I think I'll be going now," I said to Raksall as I

got out of my chair. "From what you said I'm assuming

you and your people will be too busy for a while

to come up with any target assignments, so I'll take

care of finding my own. If I happen across anything

interesting, I'll be sure to let you know."

"Just a moment, young woman!" the man Filster

said in a very stern way as I turned toward the door,

interrupting whatever Raksall had been about to come

up with. "You and I have a matter to discuss, which

means you're to sit back down and listen to me. I

didn't come in here just to watch you walk away."

"I don't much give a damn what you came in here

to do," I told the disapproving frown I was getting,

liking the man as much as he obviously liked me.

"You and I don't have anything to discuss on any

subject I can think of, and I really would prefer

keeping it that way. Have a nice evening."

"How about your four friends?" he countered at

once as I began turning away from him again, his tone

unpleasantly triumphant. "My department is the one

responsible for assigning operatives to make sure the

Twilight Houses don't try to use them in an effort to

locate you. I've had no trouble finding enough people

to assign up until now, but with a Situation demanding

all the attention and manpower I can give it . . ."

He let the sentence trail off without finishing it, and

when I looked at him his smug expression was all but

pure enjoyment. They really did enjoy threatening

without using the words, those people, and I was be-

ginning to dislike the habit more than I'd thought was

possible.

"Part of my agreement with your group covers the

protection of the four people my efforts put in the most

danger," I said, speaking primarily to a Raksall who

was mostly mad but partly upset. "If that aspect of

the deal falls through, so does the rest of it. You may

need me to get the Twi Houses, but I can do my own

getting with people who don't have your problems.

Would you like to tell me which way you want it?"

"We want it our way," Filster said with narrow-

faced aggressiveness before Raksall could answer me,

a gleam of satisfaction still inexplicably in his eyes.

"If you don't do your getting with us, you won't do

it at all, especially not from the cell of a heavy detention

center. You are a thief, young miss, and we have

enough evidence against you in your dossier to keep

you in a cell until long past the time the designation

'young' is no longer appropriate. What will happen

to your friends during that time, I have no idea.

If you aren't identified as the one who robbed the

Houses, they may well survive without any sort of

difficulty."

Or they may not, his tone suggested, the man ignoring

the way I straightened where I stood. He

seemed to know as well as I that if the Houses found

out I was the one who had been stroking them, also

learning where I was would not keep my closest friends

safe. There was still what I'd taken to sustain interest

in my background, and until they had that back no one

I'd known would be safe.

"Inky, a department with a Situation has priority

over all other departments until the Situation is being

handled," Raksall got out with difficulty, her intention

probably to smooth things over despite her own raging

anger. "If you discuss the matter with Filster and can

prove to him you can't be of any help, he'll just have

to look elsewhere. Let's listen to what he has to say,

and afterward you and I can talk for a minute or two."

And get things back to where they were, she didn't

bother adding, at least not aloud. At that point I had

lost my appetite for dealing with any of them, and if

it hadn't been for Tris, Sharp, Ricco and Mal, I would

have walked out of there and let them try to catch me.

But I did have my friends to consider, so I went back

to the chair and sat.

"Your wisdom is exceeded only by your graciousness,

young miss," Filster said when I crossed my

legs, his tone as dry as abrasive powder. "Despite

your obvious opinions to the contrary, I'm not enjoying

this any more than you are. With that glowering

expression you're now wearing, you look more than

ever like the innocent child you most certainly are not."

"If all you came in here to do was insult her, Filster,

you can just get out again," Raksall said with a

hard look in her eyes, her voice thick with the anger

she was feeling. "And however this turns out, don't

think for a minute that I won't be reporting you. Even

having a Situation is no excuse for ruining another

department's dealings with essential associates."

"For all the control you have over her, even 'associate'

is too binding a descriptive word," the man

came back with complete unconcern, paying more

attention to his papers than to his co-worker. "You can

report me as much as you like, as long as you're ready

to tell the same board why so essential an 'associate'

of yours does as she damned well pleases. And would

either of you mind if we got on with this now?"

He finally raised his dark eyes to look at each of us

in turn, but not even Raksall had anything else to say.

She made herself more comfortable in her chair with

her fingers laced together in front of her, and the look

in her eyes that promised the man more argument to

come at a later, better time didn't bother him in the least.

"About five standard years ago, the planet Joelare

announced the opening of its new vacation continent,

and within a year it was on the 'must' list of three-

quarters of the people in the Empire," Filster said,

keeping his eyes on me even as he lectured. "The

planet has an anomaly area that covers just about

an entire continent, an area of perpetual fog, and the

section was considered a waste of good world-space

until someone came up with the idea of turning it into

a tourist attraction. They had a hell of a time doing

the necessary building and developing, but when it was

finally completed they had the Mists of the Ages."

He paused then, as though expecting Raksall or me

to comment, and when we didn't he smiled faintly.

"What are the Mists of the Ages, you ask?" he said

in the lightest tone he'd used yet. "I thought everyone

already knew about them, but since you don't. I'll

explain. Towns, villages, and even cities were built in

the fog, each area depicting a different historical

period from the past of dozens of the worlds of the

Empire. No one really knows yet why so many human

and humanoid-populated worlds arose independently

to eventually reach the stars, but that doesn't mean people

aren't interested in what other people lived through

before they reached contact capabilities. Joelare hasn't

been settled long enough to have picturesque historical

eras of its own, so it used everyone else's. With tours

ranging from basic to aristocratic, everyone chooses

what he or she can afford, and everyone has a fabulous time.

"Or so claim the press releases," Filster went on,

impatient disapproval suddenly back in his voice.

"Approximately six standard months ago, odd reports

began being filed. People who were supposed to have

been on the tours were reported missing by friends or

relatives, but a couple of days later the reports were

canceled. The missing people weren't really missing,

they'd only been enjoying themselves so much they'd

extended their tours beyond their original intentions.

Some of the reports, however, weren't canceled; the

missing people really were missing, and eventually

turned up dead. They'd wandered off on their own

into areas which were restricted because of dangerous

conditions and had had accidents that turned out

fatal. What was left of each body was returned to its

home world, and then those reports were officially

closed."

"I'm not seeing what you consider so odd," Raksall

said to the man, interest rather than criticism narrowing

her eyes. "People do enjoy themselves so much

they extend their vacations, and people do die when

they wander into places they shouldn't be. All natural-

habitat resorts have restricted areas; that's why you

sign a release when you vacation in spots like that. If

you're properly warned and the restricted areas are

clearly marked, your getting killed doesn't entitle your

estate to sue."

"Everything you say is absolutely correct, but you

haven't seen the reports," Filster answered with a

shake of his head. "The computers considered them

all together, did a little records checking, then kicked

the matter out with gongs clanging and blazing red

Situation flags flying. Thirty of the canceled missing

persons reports stated that the people involved couldn't

possibly have simply stayed past their intended time;

they had previous, very important commitments, and

weren't the sort to forget those commitments. When it

turned out they had only stayed a little longer, the ones

who had filed the reports were bewildered. The objects

of their concern had laughed off the entire matter, and

none of the thirty showed even the faintest regret for

what they'd done. That was the point the computers

checked the cash and credit accounts of those thirty

and the other 'missing' vacationers for the additional

payments they should have had to make to Joelare

for their extended stays, and then the alarms went off."

"The payments hadn't been made?" Raksall

guessed, her brows higher than they had been. "That

would make even an adding machine suspicious."

"Which is probably why most of the additional payments

had been made," Filster said, grudging respect

only very faintly coloring his continuing disapproval.

"Where there were no funds or available credit to meet

the payments, suits had been filed against the defaulting

parties. All nice and proper and legal, except for

two things: the suits were in perpetual continuance

despite the fact that not even token payments had been

made, and most of those who had paid hadn't really

been in a position to take those extra days. They'd

strapped themselves badly by doing it, and were right

then working their backsides off trying to make up the

losses."

"I'd hate to be the computer who had to specify a

Situation like that," Raksall said, one finger to her lips

as her mind raced behind distracted eyes. "Is there

something in the Mists on Joelare that causes reliable

people to become uncaring spendthrifts, and if so, do

the friendly natives running the show know about it?

If they don't know about it, why aren't they pressing

for payment from everyone? If they do know about it,

are they taking advantage of an existing situation, or

causing the situation to begin with? If the reaction is

a natural phenomenon, why aren't more people suffering

from it? And as a temporary last, how, if in any

way at all, do the dead bodies fit in?"

"That's the summation as to why we have a Situation,"

Faster said to her, his attitude indicating anyone in

Raksall's position would have been expected to do the

same. "There are people being hurt and taken advantage

of somehow, but we don't yet know who is innocent

and who isn't. It's also been pointed out that

the number of people actually reported as missing is

guaranteed to be a lot less than the grand total in that

category. Some planetary authorities operate under the

absurd conviction that people who never deviate from

schedule even once in their lives, can't be considered

missing until a prechosen amount of time has passed.

Places like that would have nothing in the way of

reports filed."

"So the questions asked need immediate answers,

and then we'll know what we're dealing with," Raksall

said with a slow nod. "If it turns out the people

of Joelare decided to help hurry the return on their

investment by convincing certain people to stay longer

and therefore spend more money, our branch of the

Service won't be involved any longer. What we need

to do is get those answers."

"Which is the reason I'm in your office now instead

of my own," Filster said, back to looking at me rather

than Raksall. "We need someone to go in there who

will not only not arouse any suspicion, but who also

has the ability to check records and files that are out

of easy reach. Mists of the Ages is run from a central

location situated itself in the mist, which means the

very finding of it won't be a matter of checking the

address and then walking in. Our computer tells us

your—associate—over there has a definite talent for

finding things, so she's the one I want."

By that time Raksall was sharing in the stare directed

at me, and I didn't need to hear her saying anything

to remember the "we" she'd used with Filster.

After hearing his problem, she was no longer blaming

him for barging in on us and was also no longer inviting

him to look elsewhere for help. I'd somehow had

the feeling things would work out like that, but they

and the computer who had suggested me all had

equally randomized circuits.

"Anyone with a little intelligence can be expected

to find things," I said after a decent pause, making it

seem as though I'd considered his request. "What isn't

quite as reasonable is hauling someone off the streets

and expecting them to be able to do the sort of job you

people are trained for. Not only wouldn't I know where

to begin, I wouldn't even know when to look unsuspicious.

They'd have me spotted five minutes after I

got there, and that would be the end of my playing

snoop. My talent is in extracting things from places

people have them hidden, not inserting myself in

places people don't want me to be."

"Your talent is in stealing," Filster contradicted

with no change of expression, his dark eyes still directly

on me. "You specialize in preying on those who

have managed to acquire possessions of worth, and

haven't enough social conscience to feel shame over

such a thing no matter how badly your victims are hurt

by it. I despise parasites like you and your sort, who

live well themselves by causing misery for others. If

I had any choice in the matter I'd see you all in heavy

detention, but instead of that I'm forced to work with

you. I need information stolen from a place others can't

get near, and for that you are exactly right. If you

refuse to do it. the trash you call friends will be entirely

on their own, just as they really deserve to be.

Make your decision now, and make it fast."

If I'd been in the habit of showing enemies how I

felt, I probably would have shivered from the pure

hate and disgust coming at me. The man's eyes were

all but glowing with it, and I couldn't ever remember

feeling so sick. People won't understand, Seero had

always told me, sometimes not even if you explain.

Don't waste your time, little Inky, just let them go on

believing as they like. It won't change what we're doing,

it will just make it a little harder. Filster made it

harder, all right, but not just a little.

"Actually if you think about it, you'll find this is all

probably for the best," Raksall said, the pitying

embarrassment so thick in her voice that I hated her.

"you need to take some time off from our own project

anyway, so why don't you see what you can do with

Filster's? We know you're not a professional, but that

might be just the thing to get you past any safeguards

they may have erected. We'll give you what information

and help we can, and your friends—you have my

word that they'll be perfectly all right. You can look

at it as a paid vacation, and by the time you get back

we can probably get on with our work again. —What

do you say?"

In actual fact I didn't say anything, primarily because

I couldn't. I also couldn't quite meet Filster's

eyes or look Raksall directly in the face, not the way

Seero would have been able to. He had always been

so serenely sure that what he did was right, so gently

willing to forgive anyone and everyone the awful

things they might say about him. I didn't have the

same inner strength, but at least I was able to refuse

the urge to make excuses for myself. Making excuses

only means you think you're doing wrong, Seero always

used to say, and if you think what you're doing

is wrong, you shouldn't be doing it. The only wrong

I saw was in what I was about to do, but I couldn't

betray four people whose safety was my responsibility.

I nodded my head stiffly, agreeing to the demand

they'd made on me, then stood up and got out of there

as fast as I could.

The lobby of the Empire building had dozens of

public call squares, every one of them undoubtedly

monitored. I chose one at random and made the call I

had to, setting in motion a sequence of events all the

monitoring in the Empire couldn't have followed. Then

I walked out one of the lobby doors, and went to the

place I was then calling home.

Chapter 3

The S.I. didn't believe in wasting time. I'd intended

dangling my feet for a while, at least until the

completion of the events I'd started the night before with

a view call, but Filster began taking immediate advantage.

I don't know if he realized I'd let myself be

followed back to the place where I was sleeping those

days, but the very next morning one of his people was

pounding on my door. The racket woke me to see it

wasn't even noon yet, which gave me second thoughts

about how wise I'd been in using myself as a diversion.

I pulled on a bodysuit without bothering to add

shorts or a skirt, yanked the door open, and glared at

the large blond-haired, blue-eyed man standing right outside.

"Don't you people have any sense at all?" I demanded

in a hiss, working to keep my voice down.

"Are you trying to let everyone in the Empire know

we have a deal going?"

"How did you know I was sent by a mutual friend?"

the man asked mildly, his squarish face openly

surprised. "Since you're staying in this over-night for

working girls, you—and everyone else—were

supposed to think I was an early customer looking for

some fun."

"Don't you think they know I'm not wiggling for

the trade?" I asked in turn with a lot of the weariness

I was feeling, wondering again how people of their

supposed caliber could be so innocent. "The ones who

run this place make it their business to know what's

going on; if they slip, they could be out of business."

"Then we'll just have to say I'm your boyfriend."

he decided with a grin, totally unbothered by anything

I'd told him. "Just because you don't get paid for it,

doesn't mean you have to pretend you never do it.

Aren't you going to invite me in?"

I gave it up with a shake of my head and simply

stepped back out of the way, and he walked in while

looking around in curiosity. He was the sort of really

big man I usually find attractive when I'm not three-

quarters asleep, and he was dressed like a long-haul

jockey whose usual run takes him through the wilds:

leather jacket, leather boots, hugging zilf-skin pants

and bright svalk singlet. Wilds jockies nuke large

amounts of money and aren't shy about spending it,

which some people think is what puts the swagger in

their walk. What really does it is a knowledge of just

how good they are, undoubtedly the same thing that

did it for my visitor.

"You know, this isn't bad," he decided by the time

I got the door closed, his all-around inspection of the

predominantly pink room finally turning his back in

my direction. "The carpeting and walls are clean, the

mirrors are shiny and clear, the bed is big enough for

three, and the leather is out of sight while it isn't being

used. What more can you ask from a temporary layover?"

"Watch your language," I said with a yawn, heading

for the counter with the javi spout and cups. "Females

not doing the trade aren't usually allowed to

stay in places like this, but I have friends who owe me

favors. Its greatest benefit is that I'm not the only one

coming and going at all hours of the day and night."

"Now you watch your language," he said with a

small laugh, following me over to the counter. "If

you're in the mood to pour two cups of that, we can

sit down with them while I tell you what I came to tell

you. After that you can get dressed and start getting

on with it."

"What's the hurry?" I asked, turning to hand him

the first cup of javi I'd filled. "According to our mutual

friend, the game-playing has been going on for at

least six months. Since whoever they tick will eventually

be paid back, what difference can another couple of days make?"

"They'll get paid back if we can prove the Joelare

natives are game-playing," he corrected, his blue eyes

serious as he took the javi. "If we can't prove it, all

we'll be able to do is make the Mists people check

cash and credit before anyone is allowed on future

tours. Those who can't afford extra time on the planet

will then either be separated from their tours at the

proper time, or Mists won't be permitted to bill them.

That will still leave their previous victims in the hole,

and that might not even be the worst of it. We still

have those dead bodies to think about."

With my own cup filled with javi I was able to try

frowning at him, but he was already heading for the

comfortably stuffed chair only a few feet away. He sat

down, began settling himself, then moved his head

quickly from side to side, a sure sign that he'd just

noticed he was in the only chair in the room. When

he was certain of that, he looked up at me.

"It seems these rooms weren't furnished with

conversation in mind," he observed, his grin faint but

definitely there. "We'll either have to move to the bed

where there's room for both of us, or you'll have to

sit in my lap."

"That's the benefit in having carpeted floors," I

countered, folding into a cross-legged position

opposite his chair. "They give you all the extra options

you need. Now, what's all this about dead bodies?"

"Some of those who were reported missing on Joelare

turned up dead instead of late," he said with a

supposedly disappointed sigh, forcing himself to get

back to business. "Any place like the Mists of the

Ages is bound to have areas of high danger, and

tourists are notorious for going past flashing lights and

screaming sirens without ever seeing or hearing them.

Going on vacation seems to turn normal people into

instant idiots, so just having bodies isn't what bothers

us. The disturbing part centers around the fact that

there isn't much left of most of the bodies they send

back to the home worlds, only enough to make a positive

I.D. A certain percentage of those bodies are going

to be true accidental deaths, but what about the rest?"

"You mean you think they might have been deliberately

killed?" I asked, putting both hands around my

cup to fight off the sudden chill I was feeling. "Possibly

because they found out what was going on?"

"Possibly, but somehow it doesn't feel right." he

grumbled, raising his cup to sip from it while distraction

showed in his eyes. "It isn't unheard of for people

to kill to protect the secret of what they're doing, but

this Mists whiz isn't all that big and profitable, and it

isn't being run by professionals. In most instances

amateurs try to buy silence rather than resort to killing,

and most people offered bribes will accept them. It's

a piece that doesn't fit in the puzzle we're trying to

work, and even though it's colored the same it ought

fit in another puzzle entirely. You'll just have to keep

your eyes open when you get there."

"Assuming I don't end up in that second puzzle,

and have my eyes closed for me in some permanent

way," I said, looking up at him with very little

enthusiasm. "I keep telling you types I wasn't trained

for this, but none of you want to hear me."

"We hear you," he disagreed with a shadow of

amusement behind his expression. "We're just having

trouble believing what we're hearing. You claim to be

afraid to get involved in this, afraid of getting killed.

For someone who refuses to let up the pressure on four

Twilight Houses, any of which would be more than

happy to arrange a messy, permanent send-off for her,

you're unexpectedly worried about checking into the

doings of a whiz run by nervous, almost-innocent

amateurs. You consider us unreasonable for feeling the

least bit skeptical?"

"If nothing else, the way you dismiss amateurs

makes me nervous," I came back, disliking his entire

attitude. "I'd hate to tell you how many competent

pros are killed or almost killed because of them. And

this thing between me and the Twilight Houses is

entirely different. With them it's a personal matter, and

I really don't care if they end up getting me, as long

as I get them at the same time."

"With us, everything is a personal matter," he said,

the amusement gone as he leaned forward just a little.

"We hate seeing people being taken advantage of in

any way at all, and we've sworn to stop it every time

we can. But letting them get us when we get them

doesn't make much sense, not if we want to go on

getting them. That's why we're as cautious as it's possible

to be, and glad to be giving you a vacation from

your personal vendetta. We don't like the idea of losing

you, and this should keep it from happening. While

you're gone we'll be looking after your friends, so you

don't have to spend even a minute worrying about

them. All you need to do is use that talent of yours,

and get us the evidence we need against whoever is

doing things to innocent, unsuspecting people."

"My talent for stealing," I said as I looked away

from him, remembering the way Filster had said it.

After thinking about it I'd decided Filster was actually

the most honest of all of them, saying aloud what the

others had probably only been feeling. None of them

understood or even particularly wanted to, which was

the reason I'd made the call that began setting up

escape routes for Mal, Sharp, Tris, and Ricco. When

everything was set the four would be slid into the routes,

and then they would be gone from the planet with no

possible way of tracing them. I'd set up the routine as

an emergency exit before the first time I'd stroked any

of the Houses, before I'd gotten involved with the S.I.

I'd thought the S.I. could be counted on to keep those

closest to me safe, but S.I. worried most about

victims, not about those who created victims. It would

take a few days, but then my friends would be really

safe, and after that I could do as I pleased.

"Your talent for stealing," my visitor mused in a

calm, even voice as I sipped my javi, making no

comment on the fact that I still wasn't looking at him.

"That's the way Filster put it, along with everything

else he said. The man is really good at the job he does,

but he has no true understanding of people. To him,

if you aren't prey you have to be a predator, and he

can't forget what predators did to his family. He

doesn't see himself as a predator, only as prey fighting

back, so he's incapable of understanding any other

mode of existence. You'll find it easier forgiving him

for what he said if you tell yourself the rest of us don't

see it the same."

"I don't tell myself much of anything," I said,

finally bringing my eyes back to him. "Talking to your-

self is a bad habit to get into, especially in my line of

work. Was there anything else, or arc you ready to

leave so I can go back to bed?"

"Sorry, but you don't have time to go back to bed."

he informed me, the grin accompanying the words the

least little bit forced. "I still have to tell you about the

special ring I have for you, and about the people who

will be showing up to help you. After that you have

to get your things together in time to catch a shuttle.

Your liner to Joelare will be ready to load passengers

about three hours from now."

"You people really don't waste any time," I

muttered, not terribly pleased with the way things were

going. If I could have put them off for the couple of

days necessary until my friends were gone from the

planet, I would then have been free to refuse to go at

all. The four should no longer be where they had been,

not since a very short time after I'd made the call, but

they were still on Gryphon and would be for another

day or two. If S.I. really tried, they could keep them

from leaving, which meant I would have to work S.I.'s

job before I'd be free to melt into shadow.

"We try not to waste any time, but it doesn't always

work," the man in the chair above me said, still trying

for a grin. "If it did, you and I would be exchanging

more than information, and from a lot closer than three

feet. I usually don't have quite this much trouble

making friendly suggestions, but Filster has a knack for

ruining things for everybody. What say we put off the

briefing for an hour or so, and use the intervening time

to—re-cement good relations?"

He watched me as he sipped his javi, nothing

showing in the way of anxiety over the question he'd put.

As attractive as he was he had no real reason to be

anxious, but I prefer getting to know someone before

getting into bed with them. Many people consider that

narrow-minded of me but, as my choice of occupation

showed, I didn't much care what other people thought.

And I also didn't feel the need to be any closer to the

people of S.I. than I already was.

"I don't have that sort of relationship with S.I., so

there's nothing to re-cement," I told him, wondering

in passing if the idea had been his own, or if he'd been

instructed to make the suggestion. "We have a very

limited association, your group and me, and that's the

way I'd like to keep it. If I have a shuttle to catch,

you'd better tell me whatever it is you're supposed to

tell me."

"I think I'll have a long talk with Filster when I get

back to the offices," he said sourly, letting his eyes

move over me in a very deliberate way. "And if I

can't get you to change your mind once you're back

from Joelare, I'll have a second talk with him. Not all

of our people are full-time agents, you know, and after

this thing with the Houses is done, you'll probably be

made a different kind of offer. Not that I don't prefer

my own sort."

His grin came all the way out with that, showing he

was still in there selling. As hard as he was trying, he

probably was under orders to get me into bed, which

was an even better example than Filster's of what his

people thought of me. I knew well enough how

innocent I looked, but leave it to S.I. to equate innocent

with gullible, I stirred impatiently where I sat, too dis-

gusted to let myself say anything, and he finally got

the message.

"All right, all right, strictly business," he conceded,

briefly holding up his free hand. "We have

almost no information on the Mists of the Ages and

certainly no details on the headquarters building you'll

be looking for, but one thing we were able to accomplish.

We had the Division of Records send the Mists

board a supposedly new form to be used when sending

Information Request responses, but the form was

really a flat-circuit transponder. We expected it to be

filed with the rest of their records, which should have

been what was done. Unless we're a lot more unlucky

than usual, their main offices are somewhere to the

east of the major entry point to the Mists, so we've

booked you on the tour that goes that way. Once you're

down and moving in the proper direction, you'll use

this ring to guide you nearer."

He reached into his leather jacket and pulled out a

flat, dull silver band that looked well-worn and tarnished,

then handed me the thing. The circular ring

was about a quarter of an inch wide and very plain

except for three small pieces of plastic that were sup-

posed to look like jewels. When paste isn't even good

enough to make you think it's glass, you have a real

example of junk, and all I wanted to do with it was

send it back to the two-for-a-slug vending machine it

obviously came from.

"Don't just look at it, put it on," my visitor directed,

sounding somewhat amused again. "I know it

probably offends your every aesthetic sense, but that's

only because it's in disguise. It's not jewelry, it's a

homing device for the flat-circuit transponder and will

keep you from getting lost in the fog. When you want

to know which way to go, clench your fist and hold it

up in front of you. If you need to bear left the left

jewel will flash, right and the right jewel will do the

same. Once you're dead on, the central jewel will

flash, and then you just keep walking until you run

right into it."

"Walking," I echoed, hoping hard the thing

wouldn't fit as I put my cup down then reluctantly

slipped the ring on my right ring finger. "And running

right into it. Every time you open your mouth, you

make this all sound better and better."

"It'll work out beautifully," he assured me with

confidence, supported, no doubt, by the fact that the

monstrosity fit my finger perfectly. "That ring will

also identify you for the ones who will be working

with you, two of our associated part-time agents who

help us out when the need arises. They were already

on their way when the computer decided your talent

fits in exactly with theirs, so they were alerted to watch

for you. When they think it's safe, they'll come over

and introduce themselves."

"Safe," I couldn't help echoing again as I reclaimed

my javi, wondering if there ever really was

such a thing. "What sort of talents do they have that

I fit in so well with them? Arson and mayhem?"

"You intend getting a lot of mileage out of what

Filster said, don't you?" he asked with a strange

lightness, leaning back in the chair to cross his legs.

"Beating people over the head with mistakes seems to

come natural to some females, but it wasn't my

mistake in the first place, so I think my head's taken

enough. I also think we'll both be better off if we

consider that part of our discussion closed."

For a field agent he was getting awfully pushy, but

all I did was shrug at the order thinly disguised as a

suggestion. How I reacted or didn't react to things was

none of his business, especially since his being there

hadn't been my idea. If he was trying to disassociate

himself and the rest of S.I. from Filster, he'd

eventually find out he didn't do much of a job of it.

"The two people you'll be working with have never

worked together before either," he went on after a

moment, realizing that my shrug was all the answer

I'd be giving to his comment. "The woman was

chosen because it was realized the Mists headquarters

would be guarded by the most sophisticated electronic

devices available, and her specialty area is electronics.

There's nothing so advanced that she doesn't know

about it, but a number of her own gadgets can't be

matched or countered by anything. Once you reach the

building she'll be able to get you into it, especially if

you're able to spot parts of the system she might otherwise miss."

"And the other is a man?" I asked, my inner mind

suddenly very interested in the woman I'd be meeting.

There were a couple of very important places begging

to be stroked, but had proven untouchable because of

security devices that couldn't be gotten around. I

always knew where those devices were, but had never

found anyone with the knowledge of how they could

be neutralized. If the woman turned out to have that

knowledge . . .

"Yes, the other is a man," the field agent said,

again sipping at his javi. "He was included because

of the dead bodies, the ones there was so little left of

only identification was possible. All sorts of explanations

accompanied the bodies as to how the people

died, but the various home-planet medical authorities

were able to confirm the causes of only a few. The

third member of your team is a medical specialist, one

who concentrates on research but at the same time

knows more than a little about other branches of

medicine. If you happen to come across another body, he'll

be able to tell us if the death was natural, accidental,

or caused."

"As long as the body in question isn't me. I hope

he has fun," I said with a small shiver. "Far be it

from me to criticize other people's tastes in leisure-

time activities, but he must have had a very limited

social life in his youth if pathology is one of his hobbies.

Is that it, or do we have more to talk about before

I can start packing?"

"Except for handing you these papers, reservations

and fund vouchers, that's all the business I have," he

answered, reaching into his jacket again for the packet

in question before passing it over. "Now, about our

date for when you get back. I thought we'd start with

dinner and dancing, maybe visit a club or two, and

then I can show you my apartment. It took me a while

to get it fixed up the way I wanted it, and I think you'll

like it."

"Of course I will," I answered smoothly as I rose

to my feet, giving his renewed grin a very small smile.

"I always enjoy seeing apartments people have put a

lot of money into. I certainly hope you won't be off

on a run through the wilds by the time I make it back."

"I can guarantee I won't be," he answered, the direct

look he gave me as he also stood showing that he

knew what I was hinting at. "I haven't met a woman

yet I was afraid of, and you're no exception. Since I

actually do make runs through the wilds, you might as

well stop trying to scare me. Whatever happens, I don't

expect to have any trouble handling it."

I discovered that he no longer had his cup when he

put his arms around me, and then he was giving me

the sort of kiss that can't in any way be described as

shy or passing-friendly. He seemed to have taken my

threat to strip his apartment as a challenge, and if he

really did go through the wilds, he couldn't be

the sort who let challenges go unanswered. My hands

were not only trapped between us, they were also filled

with papers and a javi cup, which made it almost

impossible to push or pull away from his demanding lips.

I squirmed around trying to get loose, upset over the

way he was making me kiss him, and then, suddenly,

I no longer was.

"Now I'm really looking forward to that date," he

said softly, letting me go so that he might put a finger

on my face. "Make sure you take care of yourself

during this thing. I don't like being stood up."

He grinned and kissed me lightly one last time, and

then he was striding toward the door. I watched him

until he was gone and I was alone again, and then I

angrily shook my head, answering him even though he

was no longer there. No, I would not be going on a

date with him when I got back, not for anything he

would find it possible to name. I had just found out

how attractive I really considered him, and even if I

intended continuing my association with S.I.—which

I didn't—he would not be any part of it. I'd have

enough interest brought into my life by the efforts of

the Twi Houses; letting him add to that would be worse

than suicidal.

I went back to the counter with my javi cup, thought

about packing, then said to hell with it and refilled the

cup. I didn't have all that much to pack, and I needed

the javi to help me get my reactions down from biological

and back up to intellectual. I had almost forgotten

that he had most likely been assigned to get me

interested in him, which went to show how thoroughly

S.I. had investigated me. They knew I liked big men

so they had provided one for me to become interested

in, an interest that would keep me with S.I. for as long

as they needed me. Associate, free-lance worker,

whatever they wanted to call it. I'd be theirs to use

any time they needed my abilities.

I left the packet of papers on the counter and took

my cup to the chair my visitor had used, still enough

bothered by what he'd done that the thought of revenge

was very satisfying. He'd tried romancing me to get what

his bosses wanted, but no matter how positive

a report he wrote, subsequent happenings would

not prove a match to it. We'd see how wide a grin he

wore when I not only didn't continue with S.I., but

used whatever I could get from their electronics expert

for myself. I didn't really care who was ultimately

responsible for the destruction of the four Houses that

had killed Seero as long as I was the one who made it

possible, and as soon as I returned to Gryphon that's

what I would be getting on with. The destruction of

four Houses. Without the help of the mighty S.I.

I sipped my javi as I felt the pleasure in thinking

about what I would do, then ran into something a little

less satisfying. I liked knowing the identity of the per-

son I decided to teach a lesson to, and the bastard who

had been here hadn't even told me his name.

Chapter 4

Being a member of the bodysuit generation is a benefit

to more than your cash account. Considering how light

bodysuits and their accessories are, you can

pack a month's worth of changes in a single, medium-

sized grip, and still have room left over for odds and

ends. I'd moved into the over-night with the single grip

and that's the way I moved out again, only not to go

back to my apartment. I took a public glide directly to

the shuttle port, surrendered the grip when the man

confirming my presence at the port demanded it, then

went to the appointed place where the shuttle was

expected to land at any minute. I had no doubt that the

shuttle was ready to land, but it's less hassle traveling

from planet to planet than it is taking off from or

landing on one. We who waited in the all-weather shelter

waited fifteen minutes longer than they'd told us we

would have to, were finally rewarded with the sight of

our transportation arriving, then were allowed to

board. Another fifteen minutes after we were settled

the shuttle began taxiing up the runway, and that meant

the worst of it was behind us. It took no time at all

before we were high enough to switch from thin-air

flying to no-air power assist, and then we were

matching with the liner.

If it wasn't such a pain getting off the ground, I

would enjoy everything about traveling. Liners move

so fast it isn't possible to even come close to imagining

their speed, but no one on board ever feels the

slightest hint of motion. Multiple light speed and

artificial gravity all come from the same math the big

brains say, but as far as my understanding of it goes,

they might as well say it's done with magic. Before

they found the math everyone was told it wasn't

possible to travel at light speed or beyond, but now we

can do almost anything we please. Except, of course,

get off the ground on time.

Once aboard the liner I was shown to the cabin that

had my grip in it, was handed a five-dimensional fold-

up that showed liner layout and scheduled mealtimes,

and then was left alone. If I'd needed help with the

fold-up I would have had it for the asking from the

steward who showed me to my cabin, but services like

that are added to the cost of your trip, something the

inexperienced traveler doesn't realize. I wasn't in any

way short of funds, but I do have this thing about

paying tribute when it isn't absolutely necessary. I took

time out to sneer at S.I. for having missed finding that

little whiz, at the same time trying to fold the fold-up

with the meal schedule out and, by pretending I had

six-foot-long arms, finally managed to do it. I hadn't

had the chance to eat before it was time to head for

the port, so when I saw we were just about right on

top of a scheduled meal, I tossed the fold-up onto my

bed and headed out.

Cabins on liners tend to be somewhat on the small

side, but with the extra amount of fun space that gives

you, no one really minds. There are game rooms and

lounges and bars and soda fountains and sensor rooms

and libraries and exercise halls and just about anything

you can name, all there for the use of passengers. Only

a very few, very exclusive entertainments aren't

included in the price of your ticket and if you've

developed a taste for those things you can usually afford to

pay extra for them. If you can't afford them but want

to do them anyway, you're best off trying to get some

help. Those who don't too often wind up in my field,

which doesn't really crowd the rest of us. Stealing,

like anything else, takes training and ability; if you try

to do without those requirements, you soon find your-

self doing without your freedom.

The wide yellow ship's corridors weren't really

crowded, not even with the number of people heading

for the dining area. I ambled along with everyone else,

looking forward to the meal, noticing how many other

people were wearing bodysuits like mine. The body-

suit covers you from shoulders to feet bottoms and

down to the wrists, stretches to fit easily no matter

what sort of contours you have, comes in every color

there is, and is so light you hardly know you're

wearing one. Most of the people I walked among wore

contrasting shorts as an accessory just as I did, but

some wore skirts, or vests with their shorts or skirts,

or fancy collars and cuffs along with everything else,

or maybe just jewelry. One woman with a spun svalk

suit of orange-red, had blue-white ice gems decorating

it, her hair dyed to match the gems and her walk

inplying the gems were real. There were quite a few

men around the woman, all trying to capture her

attention, all working very hard to pretend they weren't

having trouble deciding which to watch, the jewels or

her body.

I, myself, had no trouble deciding which I wanted

to look at, and not being into women was only a part

of it. I was curious as to whether those gems were the

genuine article, but not because I had any designs on

them. It happened that ice gems were something of a

hobby with me, and I enjoy comparing the ones I own

with what other people put their money out for. A

glance ahead showed me we were almost to the dining

hall. but if I maneuvered myself into the proper

position, I ought to have at least a minute or two to check

on their authenticity. Phony ice gems are easy to spot,

even without a loupe.

By increasing my pace I was able to begin moving

through the crowd, half an eye on where I was going,

the other eye and a half on the jewels. To avoid trouble

I was also trying to pretend I wasn't looking at the

gems at all, and all that watching-not-watching activity

took too much of my attention. The clumsy clod

was right on top of me before I caught the first glimpse

of him, and by then it was too late. I couldn't keep

from moving toward him just as he moved toward me,

his attention obviously elsewhere, and then we collided

the way jump-arounds sometimes do, glancingly

but hard enough to notice. I "oofed" as I bounced off

him, staying on my feet only because of my trained

balance, but his problem wasn't keeping erect. He'd

been holding his fold-up liner guide when we came

together, and the crash sent it flying out of his hand.

Now, reflexes are supposed to be the things that keep

us alive in hostile environments, but in civilized

surroundings you're expected to learn to control them.

The clod who ran into me had apparently never learned

that; without stopping to think about it, he jumped

to catch the fold-up before it hit the deck. Why he

bothered, I have no idea; the thing isn't really five-

dimensional, it only feels that way when you have to

refold it. Whatever his reasons he did move fast

enough to accomplish his aim, but when his oversized

foot came down on my normal one I screeched,

immediately losing interest in admiring his agility. He

hobbled the fold-up at the sound, but finally he had it

and then was kind enough to take his monstrous weight

off the extremity he had just crushed.

"Sorry about that, but maybe next time you'll learn

to watch where you're going," a deep voice came as

I balanced on one foot, trying to clutch at the mangled

other. "If you hadn't been trying to plow through the

crowd, you wouldn't have run into me."

"I ran into you?" I demanded in outrage, finally

looking up at the mindless fool. "You were the one

too busy ogling the scenery to watch where you were

going, and you were also the genius who thought the

fold-up would break if it hit the floor. I thought they

knew better than to let your sort out without a handler."

His jaw tightened at the insult and his big hand

closed harder around the fold-up he held, but there

wasn't much he could say. He was really big with

longish red hair and a mustache down to his chin to

match, hard gray eyes in a square-jawed, masculine

face, and a wide-muscled body that his tunic and

leggings didn't do anything to hide. Adding soft ankle-

boots to that let you see at a glance that he was from

Rober Tay, the arena world, the place that specialized

in breeding and training fighters for their sand arenas.

Every world in the Empire followed the top-named

fighters in their tries for the golden circlets, then bet

on their favorites in the multi-circlet challenges. Many

fighters died before they won anything at all, others

were crippled and permanently disqualified, but only

rarely did any of them retire for good without one of

those reasons forcing them to it. The most commonly

attributed reason for that was supposed to be total lack

of human intelligence, and the fact that most fighters

traveled with attendants started people calling the

attendants animal-handlers instead. It wasn't the sort of

comment you usually made to the fighter himself, not

if you had any interest in finding out what your natural

life span would turn out to be, but he had gotten me

mad in more ways than one, and I didn't really mind

returning the favor.

"If my—'sort'—needed handlers, you'd be regretting

that question right about now," he said at last, a

growl in his voice to match the coldness in his

eyes. "And if I was ogling anything, that's only

because I'm used to going after the best in sight. It's

also the reason I didn't happen to see you. But try

coming back when you're all grown up, maybe I'll

change my mind. Until then, though, I'd appreciate it

if you'd keep your suicide attempts at least twenty feet

away from wherever I happen to be."

His gray eyes swept over me in a quick, dismissive

way, and then he was striding toward the dining hall,

leaving me to stare furiously after him. Our argument

had collected a small crowd, and half of them were

chuckling while the other half looked after the departing

fighter as though he were crazy. For my own part

I knew he was crazy, especially for thinking I didn't

know what I looked like. Most men had no trouble at

all finding me attractive, so his considering me substandard

was hardly a crushing blow to my ego. What

was getting me so mad was his crack about my not

being fully grown, a point I was justifiably touchy

about. As I watched the fool disappear into the dining

hall, I promised myself he would end up regretting

having said that.

It took another minute or two of flexing my foot,

and then I was able to use it to make my own way into

the dining hall without limping. I looked around the

paneled and carpeted room as I entered, hoping there

were some empty tables left, and spotted a small one

straight back and to the right, just in front of the

projection-screen wall. The screen on that side was

showing a typical Adexian rainstorm, complete with chain

lightning and three-hundred-mile-an-hour winds,

which made it a perfect match to my mood of the

moment. I headed for the table, reached it before anyone

else, and claimed it by sitting down.

I couldn't have been studying the table-top menu for

more than two minutes, when I was interrupted by the

presence of someone hovering at my left elbow. I gave

the presence about thirty seconds to see if it would go

away, and when it didn't I looked up ready to ask it

to go away. I was in no mood for company, but the

nastiness I'd been about to speak disappeared at sight

of the girl who stood there, almost wringing her hands.

She wasn't very tall but was definitely on the chubby

side, had long blond hair streaked with purple to match

her bodysuit, and had the largest, widest brown eyes

I'd ever seen. She looked to be just short of terrified,

and I couldn't imagine what was bothering her.

"Is something wrong?" I asked, glancing over my

right shoulder to check on the storm. It wasn't any

worse than it had been when I'd arrived, and surely

the girl knew it wasn't really there. The wall may have

looked like a window, but even liners aren't big

enough to carry storms for the viewing pleasure of

their passengers.

"I—know this—is an awful—imposition, but is

that—seat taken?" the girl forced herself to say, the

words coming out like a request for charity. "I'm

supposed to meet—someone here, but he hasn't—

arrived yet. and I really couldn't—take up a table

all—by myself—"

"No, the seat isn't taken," I assured her quickly,

coming close to feeling my own pain over her very

painful embarrassment. "You can sit here until your

friend comes, and then the two of you can find a table

together."

"That's really good of you," the girl said in almost

a whisper, moving to the chair opposite me with a shy

but brightly warm smile. "I'm—bad at speaking to

strangers, so I appreciate this more than you know.

I'm Lidra Kament."

"It's nice to know you, Lidra," I said, returning

her smile. "Would you like a cup of javi or something

while you're waiting? I'm about to place my order, so

I can just add whatever you want to it."

"You really are nice," the girl said in a very soft

voice, a shadow of unexpected amusement lurking

somewhere behind her words. "Most people I do this

to don't even look in my direction, let alone ask me

questions or offer me things. I'll order when our third

gets here, but just for form's sake you'd better tell me

your name."

I forced myself to pay attention to the menu I was

ordering from instead of jerking my head up to stare

at the girl, but once I'd pressed the proper boxes I did

look up. There wasn't a chance anyone had heard what

she'd said to me, and after the routine she'd gone

through when she'd first appeared, no one would

wonder why they couldn't hear her and certainly wouldn't

make the effort to listen. I know I hadn't expected to

be found by my coworkers quite that soon, and my

expression must have held a trace of my surprise.

"There are times you do get lucky with liner connections,"

the girl Lidra said with a hidden grin, her

voice still so low I was almost reading her lips. "Since

we knew you were due to come on board at Gryphon,

I synced with the frequency of your ring when the

shuttle came back and spotted you that way. Chal and

I met completely by accident too, and once we all find

we're going to the same place, we can decide to pal

around together. Now will you please share your name

out loud?"

"By the way, I'm Dalisse Imbro," I said, putting

my palms on the table as I leaned back in my chair,

trying to decide if I liked what had happened. "Most

people call me Inky, because my favorite color is

black. What's your favorite color, Lidra?"

"No matter how it looks, it really isn't red," she

answered, now appearing the least bit uncomfortable.

"I wasn't trying to embarrass you, Inky, this is just

my standard contact routine. People deliberately tune

out of conversations they find distasteful, and having

them ignore what we're saying is better than using a

damper field to make it happen. We'll find enough

need for that sort of thing later on."

"I suppose we will," I allowed, accepting the

explanation in place of an apology. I'm not very good at

apologizing myself, which may be why I don't think

much of people who start out by glibly saying the worn

'sorry.' If you're really sorry, the word isn't quite that

easy to say. And there was no denying that her way

of making contact was clever, which led me to add,

"I'm glad you decided to sit here, Lidra. My friend

was supposed to go on this vacation with me, but at

the last minute she got sick. It hasn't even been an

hour, but I'm already learning how lonely a solitary

vacation can be."

"Then I'm glad I stopped here, too," the girl said

with that not-quite-hidden grin, relief clear in her large

eyes. "Even if we don't happen to be going to the

same place, Inky, at least we can hang around together

here on the liner."

We had enough time to discover—with great

surprise—that we were both going to Joelare, and then

my food was brought. Lidra watched without comment

while the dishes were set in front of me, but once the

waiter had gone on his way she produced a strange

grimace.

"If you make a habit of eating that sort of junk

food, you won't be living very long," she said, an

odd kind of amusement behind the criticism. "That

stuff will kill you faster than an enemy. If you have

any doubts, wait until Chal gets here. He'll be glad to

tell you all about it."

"He isn't one of those." I groaned, understanding

why she'd been amused, then I determinedly took an-

other bite of my grilled meat-round on a bun. "Well.

he can be as finicky as he likes about his own food.

but if he tries changing my eating habits I'll defend

myself. Once he loses the contents of his pouch or

pockets a time or three, he'll get the message and leave

me alone."

"I haven't known him very long, but I have the

feeling he may not be that easy to discourage," she

said with a small laugh, her dark eyes dancing. "When

we first met he thought I really was as heavy as I look,

not realizing there's some of my equipment I don't

want anyone putting hands on without my being there.

He was already into a very gentle lecture before I knew

what he was doing, and I actually had to show him the

truth before he let up on me. There is a way to distract

him from nutrition, a way I discovered to be very enjoyable,

but you may not share my tastes for that sort of thing."

The expression in her eyes had turned very amused.

but as I looked at her I had the sudden impression she

was more an experienced, self-controlled woman than

a young, flighty girl. She'd been fishing around in my

direction for reactions, trying to find out as much as

she could about me without coming straight out and

asking, but was being as fair as possible in her game-

playing. Before checking my preferences and habits

she was telling me her own, and there's not much more

you can ask from a near-total stranger.

"I'm not above enjoying myself, but I don't believe

in buying freedom from pestering," I said, beginning

to share her amusement. "I was raised by someone

who never tried running my life; he only made sure I

knew what all my options were before I came to a

decision about something. The only problem with

being raised like that is it doesn't prepare you for

everyone else in the universe, three-quarters of whom know

what's best for you and are determined to see you do

things their way. I have an abysmally small amount of

patience when it comes to that sort, which they tend

to find out if they hang around very long."

"I have a feeling poor Chal is in for it," she said,

her attempt at a sigh buried beneath delighted laughter.

"Just try keeping in mind that he's basically a

very decent person—and that we're probably going to

need him, one way or the other. He's— Oh, wait a

minute. Here he comes."

Her chair had her facing the doors leading into the

dining hall, and when I turned I saw a man coming

toward us who wasn't quite what I'd been expecting.

He was fairly tall and broad-shouldered, had very light

brown hair with light-colored eyes, and sported a tan

that most sensor stars would have envied. He was

dressed in light-blue slacks and white, long-sleeved

shirt, a style favored by some of the more conservative

planets of the Empire, which meant he also had to

wear shoes. Bodysuits relieve you of that necessity

unless you intend going some place where there's

likely to be mud or snow or some such, but the length

and ease of his stride said he didn't mind wearing

them. He grinned a grin at my companion that turned

his face downright handsome, and snagged an empty

chair from a nearby table as he passed it, giving himself

something to sit in when he joined us at our table.

"Wait till you hear," he enthused in a voice he

wasn't able to hold down much, his excitement almost

enough to make him bounce where he sat. "Lidra, you

won't believe who's on board this liner!"

"Chal, I'd like you to say hello to Dalisse Imbro,

known to a certain select few as Inky," the girl said

with what was turning out to be usual amusement, her

hand making a graceful gesture in my direction. "She

and I met in the same lucky, accidental way you and

I did, and believe it or not, she's also going to Joelare."

"Well, what a surprise," the man said, turning his

head to give me a nod and a grin. "Someone else

going to the Mists of the Ages. I certainly hope you

suggested we all go together, Lidra. With three of us,

we should have a wonderful time. Now, don't you

girls want to hear the news?"

"What news is that, Chal?" Lidra asked with a

glance toward me, one that had something of a shrug

m it. "From your reaction, I'm ready to believe the

newest Miss Empire is on board with us."

"Better than that," Chal answered with a laugh,

apparently too sure of himself to be bothered by

teasing. "I just found out that Serendel is on board,

something no one was expecting. He seems to have

picked up the liner at Forge, the port of call just before

Gryphon."

"Are you serious?" Lidra asked him as she leaned

forward, the widening of her eyes destroying all traces

of the sophisticated woman she had only just started

to show. "Serendel is my absolute favorite, and I'd

kill for an hour alone with him! Chal, are you sure it's

true?"

"He's been seen by any number of people," the

man assured her with confidence, enjoying her

reaction as he leaned forward to put his arms on the table.

"Serendel has always been my favorite too, but if I

ever got an hour alone with him, I don't think he'd

enjoy it as much as he would yours. I don't believe

what they've published about his diet, and I'd give my

next year's research budget to get a piece of him under

a scans-field microscope. Under ideal conditions, the

piece would still be attached to him."

"Who are you two talking about?" I interrupted to

ask, mostly to divert Chal from what he'd been

saying. If you're a mass murderer and you chop people

up, planetary governments pull out all the stops in an

effort to get you. If you're a research scientist, though,

you can chop up just about anyone you like, and every

official in sight will smile and nod in approval.

"You can't mean you don't know who Serendel is!"

Lidra said with the next thing to outrage, she and Chal

both looking at me now. "Where could you possibly

have been hiding these last four years? Serendel is the

best of the five triple-gold winners, and most people

believe he'll take the crown this year. Do you know

how few glads have taken the crown after only a triple?"

"So he's a Rober Tay fighter," I said with no

enthusiasm at all, lifting my cup of javi before leaning

back in my chair. "I think I have heard something

about him, but I don't pay much attention to arena

doings. I usually have a pretty heavy schedule, and if

I were going to back any of them, it would probably

be Farison."

They continued to stare at me for a few seconds,

their expressions an identical sort of blankness that

declared my insanity without words, and then, an

instant later, were happily back to being caught up in

their enthusiasm

"How could he have been on the liner for three days

without anyone finding out about it?" Lidra asked

Chal, the ardent worshiper eager for the latest word

about her god. "Everyone in the Empire must know

what he looks like, even if he doesn't happen to be in

fighting leather."

"He must have stayed in his cabin after coming

aboard," Chal answered with a matching eagerness,

the two of them proving that even above-average

intelligence is often no proof against low-taste

diversions. "If he disguised himself on the shuttle up and

had his meals delivered by chute instead of waiter, no

one would have been the wiser. If I know anything at

all about fighters, three days of being locked up gave

him a case of screaming cabin fever. That has to be

why he suddenly showed himself."

"But not just ordinary cabin fever," Lidra said in

the tones of revelation, her finger and stare pointing

toward Chal. "If he came aboard in disguise, he could

have come out of his cabin in the same, anonymous

way. If he came out as himself, he must be after some-

thing he can get most easily by being himself! Oh,

Chal, if I only knew where he was!"

"Sorry, Lidra, but if you're right, he's already found

what he was looking for," the man replied, his totally

unapologetic expression reinforcing my belief about

those who started sentences with the word "sorry."

"Take a look over there, and you'll see what I mean."

Chal turned his head toward the back of the hall

rather than pointing, and when the girl followed his

gaze she made a sound of deep disappointment.

Having nothing better to do I looked in that direction as

well, and saw the pretty woman in her red-orange

bodysuit with the ice gems—sitting at a table with the

clumsy hulk who had nearly run me over and crippled me!

"You don't mean that's your magnificent Serendel?"

I asked, the sight of him annoying me all over

again. "That big fool with the red hair?"

"Yes, the big fool with the red hair who has every

woman in the room—including me—drooling over

him." Lidra turned back to say, a dangerous edge to

her voice and near-murder in her eyes. "Do you have

any final words you'd like to utter before I kill you

where you sit?"

"Not a one," I came back, returning her stare over

the run of my cup. "If my continued existence

depends on my saying something nice about that jerk,

I'd rather keep quiet and have it end."

"You sound as though you have something personal

against him," Chal remarked with obvious curiosity,

his hand patting Lidra's arm in an effort to calm her.

"Don't tell me you were silly enough to bet against

him, and now blame him for whatever money you

lost?"

"Money has nothing to do with it," I answered with

a snort, clanking my cup down on the table. "I was

on my way here for a meal, minding my own business,

when the damned fool ran right into me. He was so

busy staring at the object of his desire he almost broke

my foot, then had the nerve to insist the collision was

my fault. If he was that hot, he should have had an

escort sent to his cabin."

"I think it's against the laws of the glad guild for

any of them to pay for it." Lidra said in a breathless

sort of way, her eyes wide again. "You mean you

actually came close enough to him to get stepped on?

Why can't I ever have luck like that?"

"Lidra, remember what his fighting weight is,"

Chal put in, chuckling at the face I was making in

response to the girl's ridiculous comment. "If our new

friend here really was stepped on, she's lucky she can

still walk. Just to be on the safe side, after we eat I'll

check the foot over. And biologically speaking. Inky,

you can't blame him for being that—eager. He really

has no choice in the matter."

"I can blame him for anything I like," I came back,

uninterested in listening to excuses for the man, even

supposed medical ones. "If other men can control

themselves, so can he. The plain fact of the matter is,

fighters don't care to control themselves. They're so

used to having women throw themselves all over them,

they get to the point of thinking it's owed them."

"My dear girl, it is owed them," Chal said with a

lot of amusement, leaning back in his chair as he

looked at me. "Our species may have advanced to the

point of conquering the stars, but our genetic references

are just what they were when we huddled around

tribal fires, fearing the dark and the creatures it held.

Female codes demand that they seek out the strongest

and most successful of the males, to insure as far as

possible the strength and success of their offspring.

Male codes insist that they take the most attractive

females—the definition of attractive varying with

cultural needs and biases—and that as often as possible

before they're rendered incapable of adding to the race

through death or crippling. The drive is strongest

among those who face physical danger on a regular

basis, which means, of course, among the glads. The

rest of us know we have time, so we're not driven by

the same urgency. Serendel could die in his very next

challenge, and his body won't let him forget that. I'm

really surprised he was able to hold out for as long as

three days."

"It's too bad I wasn't around when he lost the

fight," Lidra said glumly, elbow on table and face

held in palm. "There aren't many men in this Empire

I would choose to have children by, but he's certainly

one of them. And I want to have my kids soon, while

I'm still young enough to have fun with them. I

suppose I'd better face the fact that if Inky couldn't

distract him, I'd have no chance at all unless I used one

of my gadgets. That means you're still at the top of

the list, Chal, so don't forget about applying for leave

after this thing is over. Now that we've finally met,

there's no sense in wasting time."

"I won't forget," the man said softly, looking at

the girl with a very faint smile she didn't happen to

see, and then he was back to looking at me with

another expression entirely. "And now that you've

mentioned it. I wonder why Serendel wasn't distracted by

Inky. She's attractive enough by any standards you'd

care to use, so why didn't he choose her?'

"Can't we find anything else to talk about?" I

asked, the annoyance I'd been feeling beginning to

reach for new heights. "My reservation in the Mists

calls for a three day tour, what they call a half-week.

I understand that many of the tours are for even less

than that, which doesn't make sense. Why would they

limit a tourist's stay like that?"

"Maybe it has something to do with the constant

fog," Lidra answered, allowing herself only reluctantly

to be distracted from the previous topic. "When

you leave a day-night schedule—even an artificial

one—for nothing but gray that varies only a little,

something inside you could start getting anxious.

Different people are probably able to take the sameness

for different amounts of time, but maybe most people

are quick to reach the point of screaming to be let out

and have to work up to being able to take more. Since

the Mists people would like to have you come back

again to tour a different section, they try to get you

out the first time before the screaming starts."

"I hope it's also before the, mold sets in," I muttered,

trying to keep my distaste only among the three

of us. "Wandering around in damp, constant fog isn't

my idea of a fun time, no matter what they've done to

pretty it up. I hope you two are in good enough shape

to keep up with the pace I intend setting."

"The pace you'll be setting depends on how the tour

is set up," Lidra told me, her tone of voice back to

being one step above inaudible despite the fact that

her expression hadn't changed. "They'll be sending

us through the section we're booked for, and it has to

have something besides fog. And let's not forget the

contention that it's so compelling some people have

insisted on staying longer. That's one of the points

we're supposed to be verifying."

"Well, if you hear me deciding to stay longer, you

won't have to wonder if they've gotten to me," I told

her, sure she heard the dryness no matter how softly I

was speaking. "At that point you'll know, and hope-

fully will have enough time to yell for help before you

go the same route. It's just too bad any help will be

too far away to help."

"But it won't be," she said, and the amusement was

back to lurking in her eyes. "It's highly unlikely that

we'll need them, but a destroyer stuffed with Empire

shock troops won't be far from the planet while we're

on it. If it turns out we do need them, all we have to

do is call. For you, that consists of covering all three

of the jewels in your ring, then pressing down on them

three times in a row in rapid succession. You do it

nine times with a ten second pause between each set

of three, and before you know it the place is being

overrun. Chal and I have different means, but the

results will be the same. Our friends don't want to lose

any of us, not if they can possibly help it."

"That certainly does make me feel loved," I commented,

experiencing a need to say something about

the awe and gratitude with which I was being filled.

The field agent who had given me the ring must have

known about its additional ability, but he hadn't

mentioned it. Either he was counting on Lidra to give me

all the data I needed—which is one hell of a way to

design a briefing—or he didn't care to see me too over-

burdened with unnecessary knowledge. When you trust

someone, you don't tend to pick over the available

information before passing it on, which said quite a

lot about how far S.I. trusted me.

"Now I know why Serendel didn't choose Inky,"

Chal said suddenly, his light eyes filled with the

satisfaction of a puzzle solved. "I've been seeing it all

along, but only just now noticed it when her

expression changed. I think the best words I can use to

describe it are innocent and wholesome."

"Watch it, Chal," Lidra warned with a laugh. "As

close as she is, if she throws that cup at you she's not

likely to miss. I can see what you mean about the way

she looks, but what does it have to do with Serendel?

Is he supposed to be turned off by innocence and

wholesomeness?"

"If all those articles are right about his sense of

decency, he is," my almost-target answered with a

grin, keeping an eye on the cup I still held without

letting it discourage his fun time. "If a man has any

standards at all, one of the firmest will be on the point

of 'mining' a 'nice' girl. If he gets serious about that

nice girl, that's another story, but if all he's looking

for is horizontal exercise, he'll choose an already

experienced female. If you look at it right, his rejection

of Inky could mean he's really quite attracted to her."

"Chal, that's disgusting," I told him while Lidra

laughed, failing to see what they both found so

amusing. "I may like my men big, but I also insist that

they have personalities and intelligence. Since the

mighty Serendel doesn't qualify on those last two

points, he can be attracted in someone else's direction.

As for me, I think I can use a nap to make up for the

sleep I lost hurrying to catch this liner. Maybe by the

time I wake up, you two will be ready to talk about

something other than your favorite fighter."

"Haven't you checked your planetary-destination

schedule yet?" Lidra asked as I started to get out of

my chair, a faint amusement still with her. "If you

shift over right now, what you just ate was dinner,

with a night's sleep ahead of you. Chal and I are

already on the schedule, and we were going to spend

some time in the game rooms after our own dinner.

Why don't you join us, and turn in for the night later?"

"Thanks anyway, but I don't think so," I said,

really in no mood to be entertained. If I'd still been on

Gryphon I could have done some work during that

night, but liner nights are good for nothing but sleep.

"If I don't get my rest I stop looking pure and whole-

some, and that would be a crime against humanity or

something. Suppose I meet you two here for breakfast?"

"Maybe a good night's sleep and a fortifying break-

fast will bring you back to your senses," Lidra said,

the gleam in her eye downright evil. "Anyone who

thinks Farison would have a chance against Serendel

needs something to bring them back to reality."

Chal laughed outright at that, but all I did was shake

my head and turn away without saying anything else.

Glad-groupies are impossible to argue with, and I

should have known better than to even think about

trying. What I wanted right then wasn't an argument,

but the privacy of my small cabin. I needed some time

alone to curse everyone who thought I was sweet or

wholesome or innocent-looking—or still hadn't grown

up—and to think about what I would do first once I

had gotten back to Gryphon. I strode out of the dining

hall, trying to decide which of the Twi Houses I would

do best allying with, and thought nothing further about

all the people I'd seen hovering around the area where

Serendel sat, happily drinking in the sight of him.

Chapter 5

The next ship's morning found me wide awake and

feeling really good, which lasted until I met Lidra and

Chal in the dining hall. They'd taken a larger table not

far from where we'd sat the night before, about fifteen

feet from the right-hand wall window which now

showed a violently spectacular vista of volcanic

eruptions. My two new acquaintances were paying more

attention to their food than to the supplied scenery,

but when I came up to the table they actually took a

second or two out to smile and nod.

"Morning, Inky," Lidra said around a mouthful of

cereal as I sat. "There isn't much time, so you'd

better order and eat as fast as you can."

"She can order fast, but you'll have to let her take

her time with the eating," Chal put in, the words more

of an order than a comment. "She won't enjoy it very

much if she has indigestion, which is what you'll get

if you don't stop swallowing without tasting. And by

the way, Inky, how's your foot feeling this morning?

I didn't get a chance to look at it last night the way I

wanted to."

"My foot is fine," I answered as I ordered juice

and javi and two slices of pro-pure. "I know you're

probably disappointed, but they won't be able to add

me to your idol's maim stats. And what am I supposed

to be hurrying-but-not-hurrying for?"

"If she takes her time eating, she'll miss the opening

warm-ups," Lidra said to Chal, ignoring the question

I'd asked. "Even more to the point, we'll miss

them. If we don't stay here until she's through and

then drag her along, do you think she'll go anywhere

near the gym?"

"Getting her sick won't help in changing her mind,"

Chal returned as he took another spoonful of his soft-

boiled eggs, obviously unimpressed with Lidra's

arguments. "And speaking about getting sick, you

really will have to add to your breakfast order, Inky.

Pro-pure isn't a food, it's a supplement—and an

artificial one at that. If you don't want to die from

malnutrition, what you need in your body is food."

"Food doesn't do well in my body while I'm working

out, Chal," I answered with a sweet, innocent

smile as I looked at him. "Throwing up isn't my idea

of fun, and the pro-pure is all protein with enough

electrolytes to get me through the session. After that

I'll be able to eat all the greasy hot-fries and grilled

meat-rounds I like. And what's supposed to be

happening in the gym?"

They immediately began choking, Lidra with laughter

and Chal with outraged indignation, the result of

trying to talk and swallow both at the same time. A

waiter came over with my order while they were still

fighting to stop coughing, so I was able to drink my

juice without being bothered. By the time I put the

emptied glass aside and reached for the first slice of

pro-pure, though, Chal had recovered enough to be

able to split his stem-stare between Lidra and me.

"You don't have to encourage her, Lidra," the girl

was told, an obvious effort to banish her continuing

amusement. "If she starts thinking what she said was

cute and clever, she might even go so far as to try it.

Inky—Dalisse—I know you're not a child, so I won't

spend time lecturing you. All I'll say is that what we're

about to do is very important, too important for any

of us not to be in peak condition. To be sure of that

I'll order all of our meals from now on, and then none

of us will have to worry."

"The hell you will," I countered as Lidra almost

choked again, the good mood I'd been in beginning to

thin in the presence of his "helpful" attitude. "You,

more than anyone else, should know, Chal, that

species survival depends most heavily on the ability to

adapt. Anyone can keep going on the best and healthiest

foods available, but it takes true survival ability

to thrive on the junk food most prevalent in our society

today. If you're interested in continuing on with the

rest of the species, my friend, you'd better hurry up

and start adapting."

Chal stared at me wordlessly with his mouth moving

just a little, but Lidra put her head back and laughed

like hell. I didn't know if she was laughing at what

I'd said or at the way Chal was taking it, but it didn't

really matter. This time I was able to finish the slice

of pro-pure and half my javi in relative peace, and then

Chal managed to pull himself together.

"That has to be one of the most ridiculous arguments

I've ever heard," he stated, annoyed with Lidra's

ongoing chuckling, but apparently determined to

ignore it. "You can't possibly believe that any more

than I do, and even beyond that . . ."

"What has belief got to do with truth?" I interrupted

to ask, still blandly innocent. "If I jump off the

top of the Empire building on Gryphon while believing

I can fly, will that stop me from splattering when I hit

the pavement? Some things can be affected by belief,

but Ultimate Truth isn't one of them. And isn't eating

right considered to be an Ultimate Truth?"

"I always thought it was just plain good sense,"

Chal came back, finally understanding that the

straighter he played it, the worse off he would be. "I

can prove it's good sense by the kind of physical shape

I'm in, which happens to be excellent. Can you and

your Ultimate Truth say the same?"

"Well, I am a little on the underdeveloped side," I

admitted with a sigh that caused Chal's eyes to briefly

flicker down from my face to the top of my bodysuit.

"That's why I work out, to see if I can't improve on

the physical shape I'm in. If you and your good sense

think you're in better condition than me and my

Ultimate Truth, why don't we test the theory by working

out together for a while? You may have noticed I

already have on my exercise bodysuit."

"Don't be silly, of course he hasn't noticed," Lidra

said with a small laugh that brought a grin to Chal.

"Why would he notice a skin-tight black suit that

seems to be promising to go transparent if it's stared

at for a while? And don't try to tell me you're wearing

anything under that. If you were, you wouldn't have

brought that large an eyeball collection to the table

with you. Or are you going to pretend you didn't

notice all the stares when you walked in?"

"As a matter of fact, I didn't," I said, feeling the

least bit uncomfortable over the way Lidra was teasing

me. "Getting stared at sometimes is just one of those

things that happen. As long as it doesn't happen at the

wrong time, there's no sense in making a fuss over it.

But I still don't have an answer to my question. Are

you up to working out with me, Chal?"

"With Lidra sitting here right next to me, I refuse

to answer that question," he came back, his grin and

words making the girl chuckle again. "Whether or not

I'll join you in the gym is another matter entirely. I

can't see any reason not to join you—except for the

fact that there probably won't be any room for us to

work out, together or individually. The crowds will be

too thick."

"That's the reason I was trying to hurry you," Lidra

said, her amusement finally withdrawn in favor of faint

wariness, possibly due to the frown I could feel myself

wearing. "Someone else will be working out in the

gym this morning, and if half the ship doesn't show

up to watch, you can bet they're nothing less than

dead. Seeing it on the specials is nothing like seeing

it when you're right there."

"Don't tell me," I said, my tone so flat it could

have been used to land a shuttle on. "Your idol is

putting on a show for the benefit of the lowly masses,

and you can't wait to ooh and ahh. I hate to tell you

this, but I left every one of my hoorays back on

Gryphon, right next to my yays and lookatthats. I think

you two had better count on going without me."

"But we won't do that," Lidra came back, a sleek

assurance edging aside the wariness she no longer

seemed to need. "We're supposed to be a team, and

teams like ours should stay together while they're

learning each other. If you end up in the sticky, it

helps to know what to expect from the people around

you. We can't get to know each other if you keep

going your own way, so this time you'll go ours. If

it'll make you feel any better, you can criticize Serendel

while we defend him—if you can find anything

about him to criticize."

"We won't be together long enough for me to list

everything there is to criticize about him," I countered,

just to let her know I was taking her up on her

offer. The girl was right about our needing to learn to

know one another, especially when our lives could

conceivably depend on that knowledge. I had experience

going out with teams, and didn't have to be told

how important it was to know beforehand which way

everyone would jump if the stroke went sour. "And

you sound as though you've worked with strangers

before," I added after a moment.

"I certainly have," she said with a grimace, reaching

for her cup of javi. "If the first time hadn't been

against intellectual types rather than heavies, it could

also have been the last time. My teammate was

supposed to be the best with computers ever born, an

opinion he managed to slip into every conversation we

had, and he did seem to have very little trouble cracking

the access code of our targets once I got him past

the electronics they had on guard. The only problem

was, when someone unexpectedly showed up in the

offices, I turned around to find him gone, leaving me

to get out or get caught on my own."

"What did you do?" Chal demanded, his frown

showing more than faint disapproval. "If I'd been

there, he would have needed specialists once I caught

up with him."

"He almost needed them when I caught up with

him," Lidra returned with a snort, sharing his feeling.

"If he'd stayed he couldn't have helped, but at least

he would have made me feel less abandoned. What I

did at the time, though, was the only thing I could do:

I turned invisible."

"Now, that's a trick I'd like to learn," I said with

a grin, pushing aside the empty pro-pure plate to lean

my forearms on the table. "Some people will swear I

already know how, but there's a difference between

talent and true invisibility. Are you into giving lessons?"

"I'm afraid lessons won't do it," she said with a

laugh, only glancing at the odd expression on Chal's

face. It was part amusement and part admiration, but

his mad against her former partner was still there as

well. "One of my gadgets caused the invisibility, but

it's really very simple to build. It's based on the

principle used by privacy curtains, but generates a 180

degree reflecting surface rather than simply distorting

a preset field of vision. Designing the function is easy

when you compare it to the time you need to spend

recircuiting, but even the recircuiting only takes about

a week."

"Oh, is that all it takes," I said in a way that made

Chal laugh as I sat back again. "If I'd known it was

that easy, I would have done it years ago."

"Well, you should have asked me," she said with

a smoothly innocent expression, taking the teasing

better than I had. "I wouldn't have minded telling you.

Are we all ready to go now? If we wait much longer,

we won't even get in the doors."

I groaned at the reminder and reluctantly finished

the last of my javi, then got to my feet under protest

and let them drag me out. There were any number of

things I'd rather have been doing instead of watching

a fighter work out, but if it was that important to my

new teammates it would hardly kill me to go along

with them. With the number of people bound to be

there it wasn't likely I was in danger of needing to

speak to the big fool, after all, and once he had left

and had taken his admirers with him, I'd be able to

use the gym for my own workout.

There was a thin stream of people moving through

the main corridor heading for the gym. so we simply

joined them and went with the flow. The over wide

double doors of the room were standing open when we

got there, and we entered to see that half the ship re-

ally had shown up. An area of about twenty feet by

twenty had been roped off to the far left of the gym,

and the buzz of the crowd surrounding the area

sounded child-level excited. There was enough room

left over for a couple of people to be involved in their

own workouts, but even as we came to a stop to the

right of the incoming flow of new arrivals, one of those

exercising gave it up to go and wait with those who

had come for a show.

"Oh, good, he hasn't gotten here yet," Lidra said

in a low voice, eying the crowd with excitement of

her own. "Remember to stay as close to me as you

can, you two, but don't go past the line of my shoulder

I'll be using a hemispherical repellent field to get

us as far front as we want to go, and you're best off

being out of it. It won't hurt you, but it's everyone

else we want to make uncomfortable enough to move,

not one of us."

"I'm glad to see you come well-enough equipped to

get the job done," I commented, having no intentions

whatsoever of asking her what a repellent field was.

"It's a good thing this isn't a real vacation, or you

might have gotten caught short."

"I make it a practice never to leave home without

the essentials," she answered with a smugness Chal

and I both found funny, waving one hand in airy

dis-missal. "I was tempted to leave some of it behind in

my cabin on the chance that Serendel might look my

way, but that sort of off-again on-again poundage is

too hard to explain. I guess I'll have to settle for me

looking at him. Are we ready to move?"

"Why don't you two go ahead, and I'll join you

once he gets here?" I suggested, having taken a minute

to look around the unoccupied part of the gym. "I

really hate standing in crowds doing nothing, and I see

a mat over there where I can get some loosening up

in. Then once the show is over, Chal and I can see

which of us follows the most profitable eating regimen."

"But if we go ahead without you, how will you

get through?" Lidra asked, turning to glance at the

waiting spectators. "People like that sometimes get

huffy if all you do is try to crowd them. An attempt

to get ahead of them is usually considered a capital

crime."

"Only for those who don't know how to move

through crowds," I said with all the assurance she

seemed to need, at the same time giving her a grin.

"The man who raised me had a lot of friends, and

they all felt they were under some kind of geas to teach

me everything they could of their various specialties,

even if I never intended using any of it. Every one of

them considered me a star pupil, so I don't think you

have to worry."

"I guess I'll just have to take your word for it,"

she grudged, but was already on the way to matching

my grin. "And if it does work out right, maybe you

could give me some lessons. That way I can think

about catching Serendel's eye next time."

She gave me a small wave and then headed off with

Chal following, which meant I was able to aim my

own steps toward the deserted mat to the right of the

doorway, not too far from the wall. This corner of the

gym looked almost bare, with nothing but mats and

climbing ropes and wall peg lifters and such between

a couple of private-looking doors. The more

sophisticated equipment was over near where the exhibition

would take place, and a lot of it had people sitting or

standing on its benches and frames to allow them a

better view. It was a pure waste of good equipment,

but happily I didn't need it just for loosening up.

I walked to the center of the mat and immediately

bent over, stretching my arms down to where my palms

were flat on the rough surface I stood on, then sending

them back between my ankles as I stretched even

lower. For some reason I was remembering how Seero

used to tease me when I said I had to loosen up,

insisting that I didn't have to, I only wanted to. I started

out with the flexibility most people had to work up to,

he'd always told me, and then went on from there to

places most, including him, couldn't reach. I could

almost hear him chuckling as he watched, telling me

my palms-to-the-floor handicap ought to be my having

to stand on two-inch-high blocks. . . .

I straightened up and then folded into sitting on the

mat, trying to drive those thoughts away from me. It

had been a long time since I'd last stopped to feel my

loss, to send out my need for the close companionship

and warm support I'd known for all those years—only

to find the usual place of it forever emptied. Seero had

always been there for me, always, and like a silly child

I'd assumed he always would be. I couldn't yet cope

with the thought of his being gone, not on an

emotional level, so I hadn't even tried. All I'd done had

been to look at those who had thrown his life away,

and swear they would feel the same loss they'd given

me, the same helplessness while knowing exactly what

was happening. I needed to get on with fulfilling that

vow even more than I needed to breathe, but there I

sat, on my way to investigating something utterly

unimportant, wasting the time I should be spending on

what was really vital . . .

I took a deep breath, spread my legs and stretched

my body down to the mat left, right and center, then

bent my legs back at the knees so that my heels were

close to my thighs. Letting all that burning impatience

get the better of me would be stupid, most especially

since there wasn't anything I could do about it just

then. For the most part I'd have to wait it out, but if

Lidra thought I'd be letting the tour people set my pace

in the Mists, she wasn't as bright as she was supposed

to be. Ours would be the fastest tour in the history of

the Mists of the Ages, and that would include finding

and breaking into their headquarters building.

Slowly, using muscle control, I began letting my

body bend backward toward the mat. Lying flat while

your legs are bent at the knees gives strength and

stretch to your thigh muscles and tone to your body,

and isn't anywhere near as painful as some people

claim. You may be able to feel some strain if you pay

attention to it, but relaxing is easier if you look at

something else while you're doing it. I looked up at

the gym ceiling hanging a full thirty feet above me,

seeing the network of narrow and wide metal beams

spanning the room about ten feet below that,

consciously relaxing my muscles once I was flat down on

the mat. I intended staying like that only a minute or

two before raising myself again just as slowly, but

suddenly something besides the ceiling appeared high

above me.

I didn't know where he'd come from, but from my

place on the mat he looked almost as tall as the net-

work of beams I'd been inspecting. He was dressed in

nothing but the heavy leather of a fighter, knee-high

boots, narrow groin-cover, wide brown chest plate,

bracers from wrist to elbow, and a brow-band. Around

his waist was a swordbelt, and at his side hung a

legendary multi-blade, the weapon allowed only to the

best of the best. Glads started out with uniswords,

worked at mastering them, then, if they lived, moved

on to trithrusters. You had to be a double-gold winner

at the very least in order to merit a multi-blade, and

Serendel was supposed to be the best of the three-

circlet winners. He put his fingertips to his swordbelt as

he looked down at me, and faint amusement filled his

cold gray eyes.

"I think I understand now why you blundered into

me yesterday," he said, his wide-legged stance an

arrogant challenge even when his words were nothing

but mild. "If you do that on any sort of a regular

basis, it's a miracle you can ever walk straight."

"Since you were the one who ran into me, I wonder

what your excuse is," I retorted, staying down just for

the hell of it. Some people claim that simply watching

others do the stretch is painful, and if Serendel was

one of those, he deserved every twitch. "Maybe you

ought to trade in your equipment for a sonic tapping cane."

"If I were blind, I wouldn't have been in so much

of a hurry that I couldn't have kept you from tripping

under my feet," he returned, that long red mustache

rising slightly with the increase of his amusement.

"And if you've come to watch the show, little girl,

remember what I said about staying back away from

me. Someone with balance as bad as yours needs all

the distance from danger she can get."

He turned and walked away then, coming up on the

crowd from a direction they obviously hadn't been

expecting him to appear, and I was so mad I sat up again

without taking it slow. Someone with balance as bad

as mine? From a man who couldn't be trusted not to

stampede in the middle of a group of innocent people?

He had a hell of a lot of nerve making cracks about

me, especially in view of the way everyone stepped

back out of his path, opening a broad aisle for him to

stomp up. That was the sort of thing he was used to,

people scrambling to get out of his way, and too bad

about anyone who didn't.

I sat there on the mat with my fists to my thighs,

fuming mad, watching as the crowd closed up behind

him before surging forward a very little bit. They

couldn't wait for the big show to start, the sort of

exhibition of skill a top fighter put on even when he

was only warming up or practicing. It was too bad

nothing was likely to interrupt that exhibition, making

him look like the stumbling incompetent he was.

"You'd better stay back away from me," I mimicked

in a mutter, hot enough to boil over. "Remember

what I said about that."

What he'd said was twenty feet, but if he'd asked

my opinion, I wouldn't have settled for less than a

hundred. Twenty feet was a good deal closer than I

ever wanted to be to him, unless it was to watch him

hang by the neck from a rope—

The thought broke off as another one came to me,

an idea that brought a sudden grin to my face. So he

wanted me to stay twenty feet away from him, did he?

I raised my head slowly to look up at the network of

metal beams above me, thought about it for at least

ten seconds, then smoothly rose to my feet.

The crowd had already started their oohing and ahhing

and applauding as I turned to look for a climbing

rope, showing that the big hero had undoubtedly begun

warming up. I knew I'd promised to join Lidra

and Chal as soon as that happened, but maybe they'd

be satisfied if all I did was spot them and wave. They

wouldn't be able to claim I hadn't watched the work-

out the way I'd said I would, because my seat was

going to be the best one in the house.

The climbing ropes were anchored into the ceiling,

so all I had to do was choose the one that fell closest

to the metal framework and unhook the bottom of it

from the wall. It was a heavy rope that looked sturdy

enough, but I still hung my full weight from it for a

minute while I was close enough to the ground that a

fall wouldn't matter. Seero had taught me to distrust

everyone's rigging but my own, and not to expect

miracles even then. Things can happen even to an

unbreakable line, and if you don't really believe that,

you'll never find it possible to be prepared.

The climbing rope seemed as solidly anchored as

possible, so I began pulling myself up it, hand over

hand. It didn't take long to reach the framework the

rope hung beside, and swinging over to it with my legs

was also no problem. The metal beam was a narrow

one, no more than a couple of inches wide, but I'd

walked smaller and with a lot less light. I stood with

the help of a ceiling-set corner brace, glad that the

framework was as steady with me on it as it looked

from below, then started moving toward the brace on

the other side. The metal was hard under my feet and

a little too smooth, but I still made it all the way

without slipping.

When I reached the second brace I took a minute to

look down, which confirmed the fact that no one had

spotted me yet. Everyone's eyes were locked to Serendel,

watching with fanatic pleasure as he swung his

multi-sword on its lowest setting, moving through a

glad drill that was meant to warm him up. The drill

demanded grace rather than strength, finesse rather

than attack, and watching him, it was almost possible

to believe he'd negated most of his own weight as well

as his sword's. Most big men weren't that quick—

which is not the same as being fast—and I thought I

could see why so many people expected so many great

things from him.

But none of that changed my own intentions. The

man wanted me at least twenty feet away from him,

so that's what he would get. Past the brace I held to

was a triple line of metal framework, three times the

width of what I'd walked and more than wide enough

for what I planned. I swung around the brace to its

other side, got both feet onto the triple beam and then,

with my arms only a small distance from my sides,

walked to the spot I'd been aiming for all along. It

was about two-thirds of the way along the beam, and

when I got there I bent carefully, then stretched myself

out along the metal.

Grandstanding on a beam that high off the ground

isn't very smart, but as I pretended to make myself

comfortable on my right side, I knew that right then I

preferred feeling satisfied to feeling intelligent. The

fighter was about ten feet ahead of my position and

twenty feet down, which, if I remembered my school

math correctly, meant I was a little better than twenty-

two feet away from him. Since I'd done just what he'd

asked me to, he couldn't very well complain, could he?

Everyone applauded when Serendel finished his

worn-ups, and then gasped in delight when the fighter

whirled his sword over his head to reset its weight.

the jewels in its finger-guard blazed with a light that

was almost life, and everyone watching undoubtedly

wondered exactly how much weight the sword was

now being allowed to manifest. During multi-blade

combats the glads themselves usually had that question,

wondering just how much it would take to stop

the strike coming at them. It wasn't unknown for a

fighter to defend against an attack that seemed to have

everything behind it, only to find that the multi-sword

striking his was set at minimum and therefore was

immediately bouncing off. What usually happened after

that was seeing his opponent ride the bounce away in

an arc that brought the sword back faster than he could

defend against, most often with maximum weight

returned to it, and that ended the bout in a bloody and

very final way. Knowing when to change the weight

of the sword, how much to change it, and performing

the changeovers smoothly were skills the fighters

worked very hard to master; those who made it survived

and prospered, while those who didn't had their

names added to the lists of the fallen.

I was leaning on my right elbow and supporting my

head with the hand, watching with supposed full

attention while I kept my balance with my left hand on

the beam, when someone finally spotted me. One of

the people on the far side of the crowd happened to

glance up, did a double take, then started nudging others

around him as he pointed. Even more eyes began

coming to me then, the nudging and pointing spreading

left and right away from its starting point, and

before very long it had migrated around the circle to

those who stood with their backs to me. When more

and more people began turning around, looking up and

gasping, it finally came to the star of the exhibition

that he was losing his audience. He finished a run-

through of a series of attacks and counters, frowned

when he saw how many people had their backs to him,

then finally looked up.

"By the five-pointed crown of Lethen Highwinner!"

the fighter blurted, letting his point fall almost

to the deck plates as he saw me. "What in hell are

you doing up there?"

"I'm watching the show," I called back, making

sure I didn't let the speaking shift me off balance.

"You did tell me to stay at least twenty feet away from

you, and this was the only way I could do it and still

get to see something. That isn't all you're going to be

doing, is it?"

"Get the hell down from there before you fall and

break your neck!" the magnificent Serendel ordered in

a growl, resheathing his sword before putting his fists

to his hips. "How in the name of sanity did you get

up there in the first place?"

"I used a climbing rope," I answered, innocently,

moving my head in the general direction of where the

rope still hung. "If heights bother you, you don't have

to look at me, you know. Just turn your back and

pretend I'm somewhere underfoot, and then you'll be able

to get on with your practice."

The man's head came up in annoyance as most of

the crowd chuckled, his appreciation of my comment

a lot less than theirs. They were interested and amused

because they thought I was challenging the fighter, the

way any number of misguided fools did with glads on

a more or less regular basis. What only the fighter

himself realized was that I was answering a challenge,

not offering one, and he didn't seem to care for it much.

"You're not interested in coming down right now?"

he asked once the laughter had quieted, his tone suddenly

as smooth as the glint in his eyes. "Well, in

that case there's something that should be taken care

of, and since you're way up there, I'll see to it for you."

I didn't understand what he was talking about any

more than the other people in the room, but they got

out of his way fast enough when he stepped over the

rope around his practice area and began striding across

the floor. I sat up on the beam, shifted my feet under

me before standing carefully, then turned to walk back

me way I'd come. I had a very strong hunch I needed

to be back to where I'd started from as fast as humanly

possible, and when I reached the end brace I saw I'd

been right but was already too late. The miserable fiend

had reached the climbing rope before I got to the brace,

and even as I watched he finished hooking it tight to

the wall in its original position. Pulled that far out of

line I couldn't reach it from the framework of beams,

something my adversary had known would happen

even before he'd done it.

"There we are, now everything's neat and tidy,"

he said as he turned from the wall, looking up to send

me the faintest of grins. "Leaving a rope just hanging

down like that can cause someone to get hurt, and I

really hate seeing people get hurt. You be sure and let

me know as soon as you're ready to come down, and

we'll see about untying that rope again."

This time the laughter was in support of him, half a

dozen people going so far as to applaud as well. The

upstart's challenge to their hero had been answered

with style, and the foolish female would be stuck up

on the beams for as long as he wanted her there. They

also seemed to be hoping he would make her ask him

nicely before he let her down, and I really did feel

sorry that their hopes would end up being dashed. The

foolish female would have stayed in the metalwork

until she died of thirst and hunger before asking their

hero for anything, but happily for her, staying and

dying weren't going to be necessary.

Serendel had already turned and started back to his

practice area when I swung around the brace, then

began walking the single beam back toward the center

of it. I couldn't afford to spare attention for anything

but what I was doing and planned to do, but I heard

the muttering and gasps of the crowd telling me they

were still watching. The highest point I'd ever

formally dismounted from was fifteen feet, but I knew

there had been an informal time or two when I'd

bettered that. I hadn't had the opportunity to measure back

then, but if twenty feet was more than I could handle,

I'd certainly find out soon enough.

By the time I reached the center of the beam, I had

driven all doubt away, setting myself firmly into the

proper confidence and concentration for dismounting.

I had all the room and time I needed, all the balance

and ability, so I turned head on in the center of the

beam, kicked off it backward, caught it with my hands

as I dropped, then sent myself swinging below and

past it into the empty, open air.

I don't think dismounting will ever stop making me

feel as though I can fly. Flipping over in the air slows

your rate of descent and gives you control of the drop,

but while you're doing it you feel as though you don't

have to land, you're simply doing it because you've

decided to. I turned twice in the air and twisted, and

then I was down on the mat I'd been stretching on,

my landing crouch a little deeper than proper form

approves of, but doing nothing to keep me from staying

erect. Once I was sure I would continue that way,

I turned my head toward my trusty opponent.

"I think I'd like to come down now," I said, working

to sound as helpless as possible. "Would you

please see about untying the rope?"

Serendel was frozen in place less than ten feet way,

everyone else silent and gawking behind him, and then

the cheering and applause erupted, making it sound

like there were a thousand people in the room. I wasn't

used to being cheered and applauded—audiences tend

to be minimal or absent entirely when I perform—and

I was so distracted by the unexpected enthusiasm that

Serendel was standing right in front of me before I

even knew he'd moved.

"I have to ask you to forgive me for the boorish

way I've been insulting you," he said, looking down

at me with an odd expression in those cold gray eyes.

"I can see now our collision couldn't have been any-

one's fault but mine, which means I must offer a

belated apology. From now on, please feel free to come

as close to me as you like."

If I'd been distracted a minute earlier by the cheering

and applause, his apologizing sent me into virtual

shock. Never in a million years had I expected him to

say something like that, which is most likely the

reason he had my hand before I so much as realized he'd

taken it. I felt the touch of shock again, only stronger,

when be actually bent over it and kissed it, and it was

all I could do to keep from staring after him like a

gaping idiot when he turned to go back to his practice

area. Never in my life had I seen anything like that,

not to mention having it done to me—and it took a

minute to realize that Lidra and Chal hadn't followed

the crowd back to where it had come from.

"So that's what it takes to get his attention," Lidra

said, her amusement still very much with her. "The

equivalent of diving off a rooftop. Okay, no problem.

Next time it'll be my turn to be kissed."

"Before or after you get out of traction?" Chal

asked with a chuckle, looking at me with very bright

eyes. "Inky here was obviously born to fly, but we

lesser mortals have to make do with being chained to

the ground. And in case you were wondering. Inky,

our competition date is off. If that's the kind of shape

eating greasy hot-fries and meat-rounds puts you in, I

don't even want to know what decent food would do.

The Empire isn't yet ready for the perfect woman."

"Why, Chal, I thought you said I was the perfect

woman," Lidra protested with pretend insult, her pout

just about as believable as her claim, her hand coming

up to take his arm. "If the Empire isn't yet ready

for me, whatever will I do with my time?"

"We'll figure something out," the man reassured

her with a grin, patting the hand that held to his arm.

"But until we do, we still have an exercise session to

watch. Are you ready. Inky? With the sort of personal

invitation you were given, you won't need Lidra's

repellent field to get you right up to the front line."

"Why don't you two go ahead without me," I suggested,

for some reason very embarrassed by what had

happened. "I don't find much interest in watching

other people exercise, and it would be rude if he caught

me yawning in boredom. He apologized for that

misunderstanding yesterday, you know."

"For the—'misunderstanding,' " Lidra said dryly,

apparently trying to hide some sort of new amusement.

"Yes, we know, we saw him do it. Don't you just

love the way fighters apologize? It makes you want to

start an argument, just to give him another chance to

do it. If you're sure you don't want to come with us,

meet us later in the dining hall for lunch. We can tell

you how it went over a nutritious meal of hot-fries and

meat-rounds."

I smiled and nodded while Chal laughed, and then

we separated to go our individual ways. I left the gym

and got back to my cabin as quickly as possible, then

sat down in a chair to look at the hand that had been

kissed. It was such an odd feeling to have been treated

like that, to have been made to feel that I'd been raised

in palaces rather than on the dusk side of respectability.

I'd never regret the way I'd been raised or what

Seero had taught me, but somehow I wished we had

lived more often among those who inhabited palaces,

so that I would have learned what to do when a man

kissed my hand. There had to be something to do besides

standing there staring like a moron, but I suppose

it takes time and experience to learn what,

I folded my legs under me and leaned back in the

chair, regretting the fact that we'd be getting to Joelare

in less than another two ship's days. If the time were

going to be longer I would have seriously considered

Serendel's offer, but with no more than a day and a

half to work with, all I could do was forget it. My

co-workers and I had things to do on Joelare, and after

that I had things of my own to occupy me on Gryphon.

That meant I would be wisest avoiding all contact with

Serendel for the rest of the trip, to keep from starting

something I might not want to see end.

I sighed as I closed my eyes, called up a picture of

the man in his fighting leathers to look at, and spent

some time wondering if I would ever see him again.

Chapter 6

The rest of our time on the liner went by as quickly

as I'd known it would, and my only major chore turned

out to be putting up with Lidra's teasing. She under-

stood well enough why I'd decided against getting

involved with Serendel; it would be more than awkward

if the fighter decided to pay my way to wherever he

was going, just to give us more time together. Fighters

did that sort of thing on a regular basis with women

they found attractive, and what kind of excuse could I

use as a reason for refusing? Previous reservations?

He'd be sure to insist on paying me back for them.

Lack of interest? Then why did I get involved with

him in the first place? No, the only option I had was

to stay away from the man, that or tell him what we'd

be up to on Joelare.