Dragon and Judge

by Timothy Zahn

Jack shook his head. "A UniLink's designed to send to only one specific location, which means it's got the target receiver preloaded," he explained. "They're also typically loaded to the gills with encryption and ping-testers. No, we'll have to grab Langston and head back to the spaceport InterWorld building and call Uncle Virge the old-fashioned way."

  As a passenger, Jack had already seen that flying into the canyon took a great deal of concentration and skill. As a pilot, he quickly found out that it took all that and then some. Twice the shifting winds nearly blew the aircar sideways into one of the stone columns, and once he came within inches of ramming a guy wire he hadn't noticed.

  But after what seemed like twice the time all his earlier trips had taken, he made it through and set the aircar down onto the landing pit.

  A small crowd was waiting there, standing in a nervous-looking cluster at the northern end of the pit. A pace or two in front of the others were Thonsifi and the One.

  "Good morning, One Among Many," Jack greeted the latter as he walked toward the group. "My apologies for the delay. I'm now ready to begin the day's judging."

  "Where is he?" the One demanded, his eyes flicking past Jack's shoulder to the aircar's empty passenger seat.

  "You mean Bolo?" Jack asked pointedly. "The man who wrecked your other Assembly Hall and murdered two Judge-Paladins?"

  The One twitched violently, his face turning into a solid mass of wrinkles. "Disaster and death," he whispered. "I was right. You have brought disaster and death upon us."

  "Relax—I'm not blaming you," Jack said. "Neither will the Judge-Paladins' Office when they—"

  "No!" the One cut him off, his voice edging into panic. "You cannot tell them! You must not tell them!" He jabbed his right arm straight up into the air.

  And suddenly, the entire front of the waiting crowd sprouted bows and arrows.

  All of the arrows pointed straight at Jack.

  * * *

  Chapter 22

  For a long moment no one moved or spoke. Jack? Draycos asked urgently into the taut silence.

  Jack measured the distance with his eyes. Way too far, especially against multiple armed opponents. Stay put, he told the K'da. "You don't want to do this, One Among Many," he said quietly. "And there's also no need. You and your people were Bolo's victims in his crimes, not his accomplices. You have nothing to fear from me."

  "Do you think it is you we fear, Jupa Jack?" the One demanded, his voice a mixture of bluster and anguish. "It is his people we fear. His people who will now unleash vengeance against us."

  Jack felt his stomach tighten. He should have seen that one coming. "Not if I can get the Judge-Paladins' Office on this quickly enough," he said. "Let me go to the spaceport and get a message off to them."

  The One's face wrinkled. "We cannot take the risk," he said, his voice regretful but firm.

  A chill ran up Jack's skin. "You planned this from the beginning, didn't you?" he said quietly. "Once I was here, you never intended to let me go."

  "I am sorry, Jupa Jack," the One said. "I should have sent you away when you first arrived. Now, it is too late." He slowly lowered his arm, and the arrows pointed at Jack dipped slightly to aim instead at the ground in front of him. "You will return now to your apartment."

  "As you wish," Jack said, starting to breathe a little easier. He and Draycos were still in big trouble, but at least it didn't look like they were going to be shot. Yet. "But understand this. I said before that you weren't in trouble with the Judge-Paladins' Office. You still aren't. But if you continue to hold me a prisoner you will be."

  "Your meals will be brought to you as usual," the One said, as if he hadn't heard a single word of the warning. "Your duties are ... for the moment. . . suspended." He gestured, and two of the armed Golvins stepped over to Jack's pillar and took up positions on either side of the bridge. "You will go now," he said.

  Jack looked at Thonsifi, but her eyes were avoiding his. Clearly, she was upset by all of this. Just as clearly, she wasn't going to interfere. "Very well," Jack said. With as much dignity as he could pull together, he strode between the two waiting Golvins and climbed the bridge into his apartment.

  For a moment he paused just inside the doorway, peeking between the colorful streamers as he watched the crowd drift away. Thonsifi was the last to go, her eyes and expressionless face turned up toward his apartment. But finally she, too, lowered her head and walked away. The two Golvins at the foot of his bridge slung their bows over their shoulders within easy reach, and settled themselves as if for a long stay.

  Draycos leaped out of the back of Jack's shirt and eased an eye between two of the streamers. "What do you think?" Jack asked.

  For a moment the K'da was silent. Then, with a twitch of his tail, he stepped back from the doorway. "They have the look of determination," he said.

  "Yeah, so did the One," Jack agreed grimly. "I don't think we're getting out of here anytime soon. Not without a fight, anyway."

  Draycos twitched his tail again. "I don't wish to fight these people."

  "You think I do?" Jack retorted. "I wasn't just spinning soap dust when I said they were victims. But we can't help them—or ourselves—if we're stuck in here."

  "Agreed," Draycos said. "Still, despite their weapons, these are not a warrior people. A few uneventful days, I think, and their vigilance will fade into routine and boredom."

  Jack glanced out the doorway at the landing pit. "Though they'll probably stash Bolo's aircar out of sight before then," he warned.

  "We'll find it," Draycos assured him. "In a few days we should be able to make our move."

  And while they sat here doing nothing, the K'da and Shontine refugees were moving ever closer to their destruction. "I'm sorry, Draycos," he said, dropping wearily onto the couch. "I should have gone straight to Langston's cave, picked him up, and headed straight out again."

  "In hindsight, perhaps you should have," Draycos agreed. "But any blame must be shared between us. I also didn't expect such a strong reaction from the One."

  "The real irony is that he's probably jumping at shadows," Jack said. "He thinks there's a whole army out there ready to come charging in to avenge Bolo's death."

  "You don't believe that will happen?"

  "I'm sure of it," Jack said. "You don't share a secret like a double Judge-Paladin murder with any more people than you absolutely have to. I'm guessing that with Bolo gone, the only one who knows anything about this is whoever it was who hired him in the first place."

  "Who you believe may have been Cornelius Braxton?"

  Jack made a face. "I thought you couldn't read my mind long distance."

  "I can't," Draycos confirmed. "But your reaction in the tunnel when Bolo named Braxton Universis wasn't difficult to interpret. And I know that you've never fully trusted the man."

  "Do you trust him?" Jack countered.

  "I have no reason to distrust him," Draycos said. Which wasn't exactly the same thing, Jack noted privately. "I also see this as more likely the work of Neverlin. It certainly would close the last puzzling links in the chain."

  "Which chain is that?"

  "How Neverlin knew where our advance team would be arriving," Draycos said. "Our contact group had talked to the Chitac Nomads about buying Iota Klestis for our peoples. The Nomads apparently consulted with Triost, which Uncle Virge said still owned the planet. If Neverlin was in close contact with someone in Triost—"

  "Like, say, someone he'd pulled off a double murder with?"

  "Exactly," Draycos said. "It would then be reasonable for this person to pass the news about us on to him."

  "I suppose," Jack conceded. "That still doesn't let Braxton entirely off the hook, though. In fact, maybe he and Neverlin planned this genocide thing together."

  "Neverlin tried to kill him."

  "Maybe they had a falling out."

  For a moment Draycos didn't respond. "I don't believe Braxton is involved," he said at last. "But you're right, I have no proof. And as you sugg
est, until we have such proof, it would be prudent to assume all around us are enemies. Or at least potential enemies."

  "Yeah," Jack said. "What still gets me is why they were murdered in the first place. If someone was worried Triost was going to lose control of the mine—"

  He broke off as the truth suddenly slapped him across the face. "No," he breathed, sitting bolt upright. "They weren't worried about Triost losing the mine. They were worried about them getting it."

  Draycos cocked his head in a frown. "I don't understand."

  "That's because you're an honorable poet-warrior and not a sleazy-minded corporate thief," Jack said bitterly. "Look. Braxton Universis wants to buy Triost Mining. But they don't want to spend any more money on the deal than they absolutely have to."

  He waved a hand upward in the direction of the mine. "But in the middle of their negotiations they find out there's this little mine out in the middle of nowhere that's tied up in a dispute with the locals. They also find out that a pair of Judge-Paladins have been called in to settle the issue."

  Draycos's neck arched. "And if the Judge-Paladins ruled for Triost, the company's value would have gone up."

  "And so would its price," Jack said, his stomach churning with anger and disgust. Was this all his parents had died for? "So someone decided to make sure there wouldn't be any ruling until after the deal had gone through."

  Draycos lashed his tail. "But to commit murder? Weren't they afraid there would be an investigation?"

  "Maybe they thought they could cover it up," Jack said. "Besides, even if there was, who would the investigators look at? Not Triost. You heard Bolo—the ruling eventually rolled over in their favor."

  "I assumed he was lying about that."

  "I assumed so, too, but maybe not," Jack said. "Triost got the mine, Braxton got Triost, and everyone's happy."

  "Except your parents," Draycos said quietly. "And you."

  Jack stared past the K'da at the colorful streamers rustling in the breeze. His whole body felt like it was on fire, his mind churning back and forth between the urge to scream and the urge to hammer his fists on the stone walls.

  And the urge to kill.

  "Jack?"

  With an effort, Jack pulled his eyes and mind back to his companion. "Tell me, Draycos," he said. "What's the official K'da poet-warrior ethic on the subject of hatred?"

  For a moment Draycos didn't answer. "Hatred is an emotion," he said at last. "An honest expression of your feelings of the moment, and therefore nothing to be ashamed of."

  "But if I actually did what I want to do right now? I suppose you'd say that was wrong?"

  "You cannot find satisfaction in revenge, Jack," Draycos said. "Revenge is a trap which promises something it cannot deliver."

  Jack hissed a sigh. "Only justice works, huh?"

  "That has been my experience." Draycos's tail twitched. "However, the end result of justice is often the same as the end desired by revenge."

  Jack frowned. "Meaning?"

  The K'da's tail arched slightly. "If you can prove Cornelius Braxton ordered your parents murdered, and if you wish me to do so, I will kill him."

  A shiver ran up Jack's spine. To think it in the dark corners of his mind was one thing. To hear it stated aloud was somehow something else entirely. "I'll keep that in mind," he managed.

  For a long moment they gazed at each other in silence. Then, with another twitch of his tail, Draycos turned toward the galley. "In the meantime, we can probably both use some extra healing time. Are you hungry?"

  "No, thanks," Jack said. "But go ahead."

  "Thank you," Draycos said, popping open the refrigerator and pulling out a plate of meat and fruit. "You said earlier you were convinced of Langston's innocence?"

  "Well, his story fits the facts, anyway," Jack said, getting up and sitting down at the table. "We know now why those four Golvins he creamed with his Djinn-90 were poking around topside in the first place. Bolo had warned them not to go into the mine. But like an idiot, he'd also told them the lower parts were flooded."

  Draycos's neck arched in sudden understanding. "They were attempting to dig a new tunnel to the water?"

  "You got it," Jack said, vaguely pleased that he'd figured it out before the K'da. "I'll give you four to one odds that their families' land is all the way on that side of the canyon, probably as far away from the river as you can get without running into the trees. If they could tap into this supposed new water supply, they could pipe it over to the edge and voila—instant rainfall."

  "They were near the mine," Draycos murmured, his tail lashing restlessly. "The One was afraid that if he let Langston leave, Bolo would find out."

  "Exactly," Jack said, nodding. "He couldn't take the chance that they'd been close enough to the mine to make Bolo mad."

  Draycos's tail tip was making the slow circles of deep thought. "Only it didn't," he said. "We know that because Bolo's informant Foeinatw would surely have sent a message to him about the incident."

  "Which Bolo apparently ignored," Jack said grimly. "Which means that Langston's been rotting away out here for five years for nothing."

  Draycos flicked his tongue out. "He will not be happy when he finds that out."

  "I'm pretty sure I'm not planning to be the one to tell him," Jack said candidly. "Let's at least get him back to civilization before we mention that part."

  "Agreed," Draycos said. "Now all we have to do is decide how best to do that."

  Jack looked back at the doorway. "Like you said, we've got some time. We'll think of something."

  * * *

  Chapter 23

  "Three days," Frost growled as he led Alison up the wide stairway. "Three days."

  Alison didn't answer. Frost and Neverlin had been getting more and more this way over the past two days, annoyed and impatient and positively twitchy.

  But then, Alison was starting to feel a little annoyed herself.

  Because despite their veiled accusations, she hadn't been idle all this time. In fact, she'd probably worked harder, and thought and sweated harder, than she ever had in her entire life.

  None of it had done any good. She was stuck. Had been stuck, in fact, for the past day and a half.

  "Well?" Frost prodded as they reached the heavily guarded corridor leading to the Patri's private suite. "Say something."

  "Like what?" Alison retorted. "It's tricky. You all knew it was tricky. That's why you hired me."

  "Which so far doesn't seem to be doing much good," Frost countered. Apparently, he was in the mood for an argument this morning.

  "Relax, will you?" Alison said as soothingly as she could manage through her irritation. "When I blow the thing up, then you can complain about it."

  Without warning, Frost came to a halt, his hand snaking out to grab Alison's upper arm and yank her around to face him. "Who told you about that?" he demanded.

  "Told me about what?" Alison asked, shrinking back as his fingers dug into the skin beneath her thin shirt. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the Brummgan corridor guards reaching warily for their weapons.

  For a long, tense moment they stood there, Frost staring hard into Alison's face. Then, slowly, his hand relaxed its grip. "The first two guys Mr. Arthur brought in blew up the safes they were supposed to open," he said at last. "Well, blew up the contents, anyway."

  Alison swallowed hard. So that was what was in the mysterious packet Taneem had seen fastened to the safe's inside ceiling. Like Neverlin had done with his own vault aboard the Advocatus Diaboli, the K'da and Shontine advance team leaders had thoughtfully added a self-destruct mechanism to their safes. "What did— I mean—did it kill them?"

  "In a way," Frost said. "The Patri had them both shot."

  "I see," Alison said, forcing herself back on track. "And none of you were planning to mention this bit of recent history?"

  "I think Mr. Arthur would probably have said something when you got ready to actually open it," Frost said. "Only so far, you haven'
t gotten that far, have you?"

  Reaching up, Alison pushed at the hand still holding on to her arm. For a moment Frost resisted, probably just to show her that he could. Then, he let her push the hand away. "You just let me work my own way," she told him. "I'll get it open."

  "You'd better." Turning, Frost started down the corridor again.

  Neverlin and the Patri were seated in their usual armchairs, well back from the safe resting on a transfer platform in the middle of the room. "Good morning, Alison," Neverlin greeted her, his voice neutral. He wasn't any happier about the delay than Frost, Alison knew. But at least he hid his impatience better. "Is this going to be the day?"

  "I don't know," Alison said. "We'll see."

  Neverlin inclined his head to her. "Then let's begin."

  Alison nodded back, then nodded politely at the Patri. The old Brummga made no response, but remained slumped in his chair, his eyes half-closed as if he were about to fall asleep.

  It was all an act, of course. Brummgas were hardly the most intelligent or insightful beings in the Orion Arm, and it was easy to dismiss them as mobile stacks of brainless muscle. But their personal survival instinct was as good as anyone else's. The Patri had entered into this scheme with every expectation of making a huge profit out of it.

  But things were not going well. They were certainly not going the way Neverlin and Frost had originally intended. It was entirely possible that the Patri's glacier-speed thought processes were even now reexamining the whole situation.

  In fact, as Alison turned and stepped over to the safe it occurred to her that perhaps that was the real reason for Frost's nervousness. Maybe this grand alliance was starting to show cracks.

  In the meantime, Alison had a safe to open.

  She laid out her tools, studying the safe as she did so. It was a big thing, about the size of a small desk, rectangular in shape, its single door equipped with a double-twist combination lock and a break bar for pulling open the door once it was unlocked. Along the safe's left-hand wall, midway between top and bottom, was a horizontal line of twenty indentations big enough and deep enough to fit the first joint of a Brummga's finger. The whole thing was made of an incredibly hard metal that the Patri's experts had apparently been unable to identify.