Dragon and Judge

by Timothy Zahn

  Alison froze. Straining her ears, she could just make out a faint sound that might possibly be distant human speech. Someone coming down the hallway toward their room?

  And then suddenly she understood. Mouthing a silent curse at her own stupidity, she jammed the receiver back into her ear.

  It was indeed where the voice was coming from. To her dismay, though, while the sound became louder it didn't become any more understandable. Only random and disconnected syllables seemed to be getting through the soft but persistent hiss of background noise.

  There wasn't even enough for her to identify the voice, though she was pretty sure it wasn't Frost or Neverlin. She turned her head back and forth, trying to adjust the receiver's position for better reception. But nothing seemed to help.

  "It's Uncle Virge," Taneem said abruptly.

  Alison frowned, straining her ears even harder. The K'da was right, she realized abruptly.

  Which meant the Essenay was somewhere nearby, probably just outside the Chookoock family grounds. "Can you understand him?" she whispered.

  "No," Taneem whispered back. "It's too faint. Too . . -."

  "Too broken," Alison finished for her. Throwing off the blankets, she grabbed for her clothes. "Come on."

  "Where are we going?" Taneem asked anxiously.

  "We're two floors underground," Alison reminded her, pulling on her jeans and shirt. "We should get better reception outside."

  "But are you allowed to leave the house?"

  Alison stuffed her feet into her low-topped boots. "Let's find out."

  * * *

  Chapter 19

  The hallway was deserted, as was the stairway leading up toward the foyer. Somewhere along the way the faint voice sputtering in her ear fell silent. She continued on anyway, crossing toward the archway leading into the grand entry foyer.

  And stopped short as two armed Brummgas stepped into her path. "Stand," one of them ordered quietly.

  "I'm not one of the slaves," Alison told him, trying to sound like she actually belonged here. "I'm Alison Kayna, working with the Patri Chookoock and Colonel Frost and Mr. Arthur. I just want to go outside for a few minutes to get some fresh air."

  "Slaves are not allowed outside the slave quarters," the first Brummga insisted.

  "I'm not a slave," Alison repeated. "I came with Colonel Frost. You can check with him if you don't believe me."

  The two guards exchanged stares, their typically molasses Brummgan minds apparently working overtime on this one. "Not here," the first said at last, pointing to Alison's left. "Through the kitchen—door that way."

  The kitchen was large and well stocked, though not as impressive as some Alison had seen. Threading her way between work stations, she made her way to the door at the far end.

  It opened easily enough from the inside, but a quick check showed the outside handle was locked. Digging under the left cuff of her shirt sleeve, she pulled out one of the strips of tape hidden there. She pulled off its backing and carefully flattened the tape over the door latch to hold it open.

  A moment later she was outside in the crisp night air, the door closed behind her. "Can you call him?" Taneem murmured as Alison headed toward one of the formal garden areas she'd spotted on the drive in.

  "No, this is only a receiver," Alison murmured back. "I was hoping he might repeat whatever it was he was saying. I guess

  he's given up."

  "But how would Jack know to come here to look for us?"

  Taneem asked.

  "No idea," Alison said, looking around. "Let's try getting a little closer to the wall. No more talking—there might be patrols around."

  The estate was deathly quiet at this hour of the night. The only sounds Alison could hear as she walked were the rustling of the wind through the bushes and her own softly crunching footsteps. She passed through the near edge of the garden area, its vibrant colors muted beneath the dim starlight, and continued on across a stretch of aromatic grass. Ahead and to the right she could see what seemed to be some kind of sports area.

  "Freeze," a voice said quietly from her left.

  Alison stopped in midstep. "I'm not a slave," she said. "My name's Alison—"

  "I know who you are, little girl," the voice said.

  With a soft rustling, a muscular man with wide shoulders stepped out from concealment between a pair of sculpted bushes fifteen feet away. In the moonlight Alison could see his short, military-style hair and a hint of deep lines in his face.

  She had no trouble at all seeing the snub-nosed laser rifle pointed at her stomach.

  "Oh, yes, I know who you are," the man repeated. "My name's Gazen."

  Alison tensed, Jack's stories about Gazen flooding over her like a wave of arctic water. Gazen was the Chookoock family's slavemaster, a vicious, brutal man who had made Jack's brief time here a living hell. "I've heard of you," she managed.

  "From Jack Morgan?"

  "Who? No, from some of the other slaves," Alison said, feeling a cold sweat break out on her forehead. Too late, she realized she should instead have denied all knowledge of the man. If he bothered to check with the slaves, he could expose her lie within half an hour. "But I see you came out here for some solitude," she went on, taking a careful sideways step back toward the house. "Sorry to have bothered you."

  "I didn't come here for solitude," Gazen corrected mildly. "I came here to kill people."

  Alison's mouth felt dry. "Anyone in particular?"

  "Yes." Gazen lifted the laser to his shoulder. "You."

  For an eternity Alison just stood there, her knees locked, her feet rooted to the ground, her mind sorting desperately through her options.

  But there weren't any. She was in the middle of open ground, with no access to weapons or cover or escape. Gazen's weapon was already up and aimed, and he was too far away for her to try jumping him.

  Her luck had finally run out. She was going to die.

  Or was she?

  She frowned. There was something odd about Gazen as he stood there. Something in his eyes or stance that she couldn't quite put her finger on.

  And then, against her skin, she felt Taneem preparing to leap.

  "No," she muttered urgently, putting a hand on her shoulder. The gap was too wide even for a K'da to cover. Gazen would shoot Taneem, then he would shoot Alison—

  And then, abruptly, Alison's conscious mind caught up to what her subconscious had already noticed.

  Gazen wasn't looking at her. He was still facing her, and his laser was still pointed at her chest. But his eyes were darting around, probing the starlit yard and the darker shadows of bushes and trees and flower beds around them.

  He was waiting for something to happen. In fact, from the expression on his face, he was hoping for something to happen.

  But nothing did. Alison stood as still as she could, holding her hand against Taneem's head and praying that the K'da would stay put.

  And then, finally, Gazen lowered the muzzle of his weapon. "So he really isn't here," he muttered, looking around openly now.

  "Who isn't here?" Alison asked.

  Reluctantly, it seemed, Gazen dragged his attention back to her. "Jack Morgan, of course," he said, his voice going even darker. "He's coming back to free the rest of the slaves. Didn't you know?"

  Alison felt her lip twitch. Jack had never mentioned that part of his plan. "He is?"

  Gazen nodded toward the north end of the grounds. "That's what they say out there," he told her. "They say Morgan's coming back someday. Him and that—" His voice cracked, and even in the faint light Alison could see the sudden intensity in his eyes. "Crampatch and the Patri Chookoock don't believe it," he said, dragging his voice back under control. "But I know better. Morgan is coming back. And when he does—" He hefted the laser. "Some of us, at least, will be ready."

  Alison swallowed. "I'm sure you will," she said. "Well, then. If you don't mind—"

  "Go back to the house, little girl," Gazen said. Backing up a step, he settle
d himself again on a low bench between the two bushes, laying his laser across his knees. "Go back to sleep."

  "Yes, sir," Alison said. Keeping an eye on him as long as she could, she made her escape.

  Neither she nor Taneem spoke again until they were safely back in bed. "Draycos told me stories about this Gazen human," Taneem said softly.

  "So did Jack," Alison said, shivering. In some ways, she knew, Gazen was no more evil or vicious than men like Frost and Neverlin. Neverlin, after all, had ordered the destruction of Draycos's advance team. Gazen, as far as she knew, hadn't even been present during that attack.

  But Frost and Neverlin were also smart and calculating. They were in this for profit and power. Men like that Alison could understand, and could deal with.

  Gazen, in contrast, was just plain crazy. She could see it in his eyes, and hear it in his voice. And she wasn't used to dealing with men like that. They scared her, right down to her core.

  Distantly, she wished Draycos were here.

  "Is there anything I can do?" Taneem asked anxiously, lifting her head a little from Alison's shoulder.

  With a smile, Alison reached up to stroke her companion's smooth gray scales. No, Taneem was no poet-warrior of the K'da. But she was loyal, and she was willing, and she was doing the best she could. "No, that's all right," Alison assured her. "I'm fine."

  She took a deep breath and tried to push Gazen from her mind. "Better get some sleep," she said, pulling the blankets a little tighter around her chin. "Tomorrow's going to be a busy day."

  * * *

  Chapter 20

  Two days after his trip to the mine, Jack emerged from his apartment for the morning's schedule to find that Bolo had returned.

  "Good morning, Judge-Paladin," the other said politely from the foot of the stone bridge. "I see you're an early riser."

  "Comes with the job," Jack told him, looking over Bolo's shoulder to where Thonsifi and the two escorts were waiting. None of them looked very happy. "Speaking of jobs, how's yours going?"

  "Almost finished," Bolo said. "A few more hours of actual surveying, and I'll be ready to start working up my report." He waved a hand, the gesture taking in the entire canyon. "So I thought I'd drop by and see if that dinner invitation was still open."

  "I'm sure something can be arranged," Jack said as he reached the ground. "Is any of this last bit of work going to be in the area?"

  "Actually, all of it is," Bolo said. "In fact—and you might find this interesting—the first thing I'm going to do is take a look in that abandoned mine out there."

  Jack suppressed a grimace. Why, he wondered, wasn't he surprised?

  Be careful, Jack, Draycos's warning whispered through his mind.

  Bet on it, symby, Jack assured him. "You think there might still be something worthwhile in there?" he asked.

  "No idea," Bolo said. "But according to the records, Triost still owns the rights to it."

  "Really," Jack said. "I understood the ownership was still in dispute."

  A flicker of something crossed Bolo's face, gone again almost too fast to see.

  But Jack saw it. More to the point, he recognized it.

  Jack had already known that Bolo wasn't who he pretended to be. Now, Bolo knew that Jack wasn't, either.

  "Interesting," Bolo said, his voice under easy control. Definitely a professional. "Could be my information's out-of-date. Still, as long as I'm here anyway I might as well check it out."

  He cocked an eyebrow. "I don't suppose you'd like to come with me? Just in case the rights aren't completely ours?"

  "You mean to make sure you don't stuff your pockets with rocks on the way out?"

  Bolo smiled faintly. "Something like that." He looked at Thonsifi. "You think you can spare your Judge-Paladin for a couple of hours?"

  "Yes, they can spare me," Jack said before Thonsifi could answer. "Let me go back and change and I'll be right with you."

  Bolo was sitting in his aircar when Jack emerged from the apartment again, this time in shirt and jeans. "I hope you know what you're doing," Draycos murmured from his shoulder.

  "I don't like it, either," Jack conceded. Getting in a vehicle with a known enemy was not usually considered a smart thing to do. "But we need answers, and he's probably the best source we're going to find anywhere around here."

  "And overconfident people tend to talk too much?"

  "Exactly," Jack said as he headed toward the aircar.

  A few minutes later they were rising through the chilly early-morning air. "This place is a real obstacle course, isn't it?" Bolo commented as he maneuvered them through the arches and guy wires. "No wonder most Judge-Paladins who come to Semaline never make it down there."

  "No wonder," Jack agreed. "Though I understand there were two who made it in a few years back. Eleven years, to be exact."

  Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the other's sideways glance. "I wouldn't know anything about that," Bolo said casually. "All I know is that the Judge-Paladin on this circuit usually just sets up shop near the NorthCentral Spaceport and invites people to come to him."

  "Sounds rather lazy," Jack suggested. "You miss a lot if you don't look at the crime scene."

  "Crime scenes can be messy," Bolo pointed out. "Even dangerous."

  Jack shrugged. "Part of a Judge-Paladin's job."

  "Some Judge-Paladins think so," Bolo agreed. "Others are maybe a little smarter."

  Jack felt his throat tighten. Bolo was offering him one last chance to look the other way. "No one's ever accused me of being smart," he said. "So what exactly is the history of this mine?"

  "Triost started work on it about fifteen years ago," Bolo said, his voice subtly changed. He'd offered Jack a chance and been refused. Now it was on to business. "They were making good progress when some lawyer got his claws into the Golvins and started making a fuss about it."

  "It's on their land, isn't it?"

  "That was one of the questions," Bolo said. They were free of the canyon now, and he turned the aircar toward the mine. "The other was whether the Golvins owned the mineral rights even if they did own the land."

  "So the Golvins appealed to the Judge-Paladins?"

  "Apparently," Bolo said as he set them down smoothly on the sand near the mine entrance. "I looked it up while you were getting changed, and you were right—some Judge-Paladin did look into it. But there's no record of him rendering any decision, either for or against us."

  "Possibly because the Judge-Paladin died during the investigation."

  "Really?" Bolo asked, sounding dutifully surprised. "There wasn't anything about that. Anyway, the case apparently was dropped, and after the standard seven years without activity the clearance court reverted the rights back to us. Hmm—looks pretty dark in there. I've got a couple of flashlights in the back."

  He got them out, gave one to Jack, and they headed inside.

  Stray wind currents around the opening had mostly erased the footsteps Jack and the two Golvins had made in the sand two days previously. Still, Jack could see the subtle furrows where those footsteps had been.

  And only their footsteps. If Bolo had entered the mine recently, he hadn't gone in very far. That, Jack decided, could work to his advantage.

  "Walls and ceiling look to be in good shape," Bolo commented as they headed down the entry tunnel. "Hasn't picked up much fill, either."

  "Doesn't smell as musty as I'd expect, either," Jack added.

  "Musty?"

  "From all the water," Jack explained. "Triost claimed the lower levels were flooded."

  They had reached the large assembly area before Bolo spoke again. "So what exactly were you expecting to find in here?" he asked as Jack turned toward the left-hand tunnel he and Draycos had visited on their last trip.

  "I don't know," Jack said. "A little truth, maybe."

  "Any particular truth you had in mind?"

  Jack shrugged as he stepped into the tunnel. "Whatever the flavor of the day is, I suppose. Watch your step�
��the floor's a little rough here."

  They started down, their feet making little shuffling sounds in the dust. Occasionally there was a clunk as one of them kicked one of the many rocks scattered around. "I gather you've been here before," Bolo said.

  "What makes you say that?" Jack asked.

  "The marks in the dust," Bolo said, shining his light past Jack's shoulder at the floor ahead. "The wind cleared out most of the tracks in the entryway, but it doesn't reach down here."

  "Ah," Jack said, as if that was complete news to him. Somewhere along in here, he knew, Bolo would decide they were far enough down that Jack's body wouldn't be easily found. He'll be pulling a knife or gun soon, he thought toward Draycos. Let me know when you hear him doing that, but stay hidden.

  Are you sure? Draycos's thought came back.

  Not really, Jack admitted. But making him think he's holding all the cards is the only way we'll get him to talk.

  They were within sight of the first branch point, where the tunnel split to right and left, when Jack felt the warning touch of K'da claws against his side. "Here's the really interesting part," Jack said. He dropped into a crouch as if trying to give Bolo a better look and pointed his flashlight down the right-hand branch.

  And as he did so, he scooped up a handful of dust from one of the depressions in the tunnel floor and threw it over his shoulder into Bolo's face.

  The other bellowed, his shout almost covering up the soft crack as a shot whistled past Jack's ear and shattered bits of rock from the tunnel floor. Jack was already on the move, sprinting forward and ducking down the left-hand tunnel, the one he and Draycos had taken on their last visit. Another shot smashed into the wall at the intersection as he passed, dusting him with rock powder.

  Clenching his teeth, Jack kept going. The next intersection turn was only fifty feet away, and he got into the left-hand tunnel and out of Bolo's line of fire before any more shots came. Now what? Draycos's words came in his mind.

  "We try to find a defensible spot where we can talk to him," Jack muttered back, his mind too busy with thoughts of tactics and survival to focus on this new telepathy thing. "Suggestions welcome."