“Why are we bound for Tambouret?” Jeb asked suddenly.
“You’ve met Chandre, yes?”
“Your mistress, the spy-master, that elfin-faced waif with all the inner strength of a saint and a warrior’s spirit?”
I smiled at the image he sketched of her. “I’m meant to rescue her, if she needs that service. I hope it’s all a silly mistake, in which case we can relax and have the time of our lives at EI’s expense.”
He frowned. “And if it’s not a mistake?”
“Then I save my boss-lady’s skin, preferably with a roll of drums and a full light-show into the bargain, not to mention snatching the universe from the jaws of death and preserving civilisation-as-we-know-it, of course—and that’s quite enough talk about work tonight. Pour me some more wine!”
We took unequal shares from the bottle, splitting it thirty-seventy in Jeb’s favour and saving the final glass as a libation, spilling it over the henge’s keystone. As I upended the cup over the menhir’s head, spark number four crackled around the circle, and the jolt of surprise in Jeb’s aura was almost as bright. “Nice pyrotechnics! Illusion?”
“No—magic.” I crossed into the henge, passing to the left of the keystone and once again the blue arc snapped around the ring. “I’d meant to show you my party trick. I’ve no idea why it happens.”
“Static, I suppose.” Jeb moved to join me in the centre of the circle, but nothing happened as he stepped over the invisible line, much to his chagrin. “Have to get you some cotton undies so you aren’t so highly charged.”
“Bloody cheek!” I tumbled him down onto the grass and roughed him up playfully, until both of us were giggling. “Anyhow, wouldn’t black silk be more appropriate?”
Jeb grinned rakishly. “Leather and chains?”
“Sweet Goddess, I’ve married a pervert!”
“Hey, wasn’t that my line?”
I looked at him sprawled on the turf, cupped in the palm of Merryweather’s Dance, its stones like curling fingers caging us between earth and sky, dark against the eerie backdrop of mist over the lake. I saw—what? A man part-drunk, flushed with joy and wine, a friend and lover, now a husband, yet still a stranger for all that he wore a known face. My laughter turned cold in my throat.
“Anna?” Jeb’s own smile faltered. “Is there something wrong?”
“I know so little about you. Great chunks of your personal history are a closed book to me.” I shook my head. “It didn’t seem to matter before.”
“Your past is as much a mystery to me.” He took my hand, frowning at the cool, clammy feel of it. “That’s all part of the adventure, exploring each other’s secrets.”
“I don’t even know how you got that scar.”
“This?” He touched his cheek. “Broken beer bottle. I got into an argument with a man in a bar on Dharios—he became most unreasonable when I told him that his world wasn’t flat.”
“Is that true?”
“No.” He studied the blades of grass with pretended interest. “You don’t want to know the truth.”
I prodded him on the breastbone. “You don’t want to tell me.”
Jeb sighed. “When I was a brash, young lad I had a date with the most popular girl in my class, a real looker. Seems that she liked me, but not that much, and I read the signs all wrong and pushed it much too far. She fought me off with a smashed perfume bottle—cut lead-crystal, no less—and you wouldn’t believe how much neat eau de cologne hurts in an open wound! She did me a favour really—for the cost of a tube of skin-glue and a few days of pain, I learned a valuable lesson and became the better, more caring and considerate soul you see before you now.”
“That’s not true either.”
“Perhaps not.” His grey eyes were unreadable and, quite unconsciously, his mind put up storm-shutters to keep me at bay. “But if we’re playing Show and Tell, you’ve never told me the whole story of how you paired with Zenni.”
I saw how I’d been out-psyched. “Another time for both confessions, huh? Shall we settle on a truce for tonight?”
“Suits me.” Jeb sealed our pact with a kiss, then, by unspoken agreement, we shed our clothes and made love inside the dance of stones, and although our hearts and minds were in rapport, my body was at odds with the whole affair.
“What’s this, pre-mission nerves?” Jeb traced the line of my smile with a fingertip, then placed another kiss at its corner. “You’re wound up tighter than a crushed spring. Want to leave the consummation until later?”
“Of course not!” I linked my hands behind his neck, drawing him down so that I could drown in the soft flood of his hair, tapping into his desire and trying to make it mine. When he entered me, at the third attempt, I winced at the hurt of it. After that, there was no pleasure for me in our act of love and even Jeb’s orgasm didn’t carry me to one of my own.
He found some breath and propped himself up on his elbows, searching my face for a clue to tell him what had gone amiss. “Are you okay, Anna-honey?”
“Yes.”
“Really, truly, honestly?”
“I don’t know what’s wrong.” My intuition was a flat line, as smooth as the lake, but something else itched in my hindbrain, a tiny niggle of non-verbal doubt. “It’s not you, sweetheart, nor your technique—that was as good as ever. It’s my fault, and I’m damned if I can explain why.”
“Serves me right for getting hitched to some weird esper chick, I suppose!” He fired a grin past the edges of his concern, then eased away from me, gaining his knees. “Sweet Goddess, Anna, you should have told me that I’d hurt you! You’ve bled like a stuck pig—are you sure you’re all right?”
I sat up slowly, on grass that was sticky and wet. Both of us were bloodstained and Jeb held up one red-streaked palm in horror. “I am okay, believe me. There’s no pain now and I don’t feel sick. Blood goes a long way. It was probably only a teaspoonful.”
“Don’t joke about this, love. Perhaps you ought to see a medic before we leave?”
“There no need for that.” Zenni had been allowing us some privacy, so I sent a summons along the link. Cast a scan over my vital signs, partner, and tell me if there’s anything out of true.
There was a second’s pause. I detect no deviation from your habitual state of excellent health. Why the anxiety?
No reason. I spoke aloud, to Jeb. “My pet physician gives me a clean bill of health.”
“And what do Zeniths know about medicine?”
“Enough to keep their human-halves alive through a fair bit of trauma, without the resources of a hospital.”
And the girl keeps me in practice! Zenni complained, to himself.
Jeb frowned, only partly reassured. “Let’s go and wash up, but if you feel faint or ill, even if it’s only for a moment, you’re to tell me and we’ll get you some immediate treatment, okay?”
“That’s fine by me.”
There was no electric sizzle as I stepped out of the circle and my eyes must have been playing tricks, as the menhirs seemed to be shrouded in pallid halos of light, like Kirlian fingerprints against the mist. Only when we reached the porch did I look back at Merryweather’s Dance. The wine had run down the inner side of the keystone, leaving a dark dagger-shaped stain, and in the centre of the ring of stones my blood was darker still, a patina the colour of molten lead spilled on the turf. I shuddered and let Jeb lead me inside.
Chapter Three: The Blood-thorn
The best of all alarm clocks in all the known worlds is a simple smell, the fragrance of fresh, hot coffee. I struggled out of dreamless sleep to find that a cup of it was being waved under my nose.
“Come on, sleepyhead!” Jeb chuckled. “Zenni says it’s time for you to wake up.”
I seized the cup, squinting up at his face. “You look rough. Been up all night?”
He nodded wearily. “Thought I’d make a start on the reprogramming—you’re such riveting company when you’re asleep and snoring! I did all the stuff that required Zenni bei
ng off-line, so now I can complete the rest in bite-sized sections without disrupting your mission. This sure is one hell of a way to spend a honeymoon, Anna!”
“You could have stuck to your guns and said no.”
“I know—I volunteered.” There was a king-sized double bed in Brimstone’s master cabin, complete with a fluid-filled mattress, such a hedonistic luxury. That and the soft amber decor of the place was so unlike my father’s usual taste that I’d begun to have undaughterly thoughts about what he’d got up to in here. Lewis had travelled on Brimstone once, maybe twice a month and, to my knowledge, had never taken Caitlin with him. Jeb tumbled in beside me and I had to shove the hot coffee back into the cup as it struggled to spill. “Who in their right mind would pass up the chance of catching a goddess?”
“Flatterer! No goddess ever felt like this in the mornings!” I joked, leaving the coffee to hang in the air and tickling him somewhere in the mid-section with both hands, pretending that I didn’t read the fact that he was all too serious. “I’m as human as anyone else and, just at the moment, even more so.”
“Suit yourself, Anna-hon.” He jack-knifed out of his bodysuit and stretched out, lacing his hands behind his head. “I’m glad I don’t know too many humans who can flip a craft the size of Brimstone plus a hundred kilos of computer and two people almost a hundred light-years across the galaxy, and land it with centimetre accuracy, undetected in a crowded system. I’d be worried if there were any more of you, because they might not be on my side!” The levity drained from his face. “Seriously, if you hadn’t needed twelve solid hours of near-coma after pulling a stunt like that, I’d be scared to stay in the same room as you. Without that little admission of human frailty, you’d be over the line with the rest of them immortals!”
“You’re exhausted and your imagination is running riot.” I scolded. “Get some sleep, before you convince me that I’ve really got a halo.”
“You have, but it’s on the murky side of off-white.” He winked. “When do you go down to the surface?”
“A tourist liner arrives in less than an hour.” Zenni supplied. “Nothing else is due for three days.”
“There’s your answer.” I slid out of the bed and dug through the lockers for an appropriate outfit, my mind already halfway on the mission. At the working end of my wardrobe were sets of clothes to match variant hair colours and skin tones, the props for the alternative personas I could assume. Today the greens spoke to me, fresh, young and innocent. I hauled out my luggage and packed that section for the trip.
Jeb watched me lazily. “Be sure to take care of that pretty skin of yours, girl. As much as I’d like a say in the running of Delany Corp, I don’t want to inherit it now. Had you considered that if Transyst have a contract out on you, they might splash out on one for me as well?”
“That was why I brought you to Tambouret.” I pulled on an emerald leotard and a flounced skirt in a bold but toning print. “It’s unlikely that Transyst’s assassins could trace you here and, even if they did, the odds are stacked against them. With Brimstone’s armaments, Zenni’s battle strategy, and your own combat skills and stubborn will to survive, I’d put money on our side every time. Before they make a move on you they’ve got to take care of me, and I’ve proved just how difficult that can be.”
“I have total confidence in your abilities, Anna, but even a goddess can have an off-day.”
“Zenni knows my limits and is very careful to remind me of them. Between the both of you, I think that my chances of achieving old age are fairly high.” I brushed the tangles from my hair and swiftly put curls in it, by winding each lock around a finger and sliding the molecules to keep the shape. “How do I look?”
“That colour doesn’t suit you.” Jeb observed.
“Wait a moment, I’m not finished yet.” I altered my hair to a rich red and my eyes to olive green. “Voila! Meet Caron McVeigh.”
“Hi, Caron-baby.” He waved at me. “You forgot the skin though—you’ve still got a blonde’s complexion, and I think that some freckles would look real cute.”
“Perfectionist!” I stuck my tongue out at him, but followed his suggestions. “Now, get some sleep. I’m going to do my homework on Tambouret, then I’ve got a liner to catch.”
“Take care.”
“I promise.” I bobbed for a quick parting peck on the cheek and stayed in place for a slow, lingering farewell kiss.
“Married less than twenty-four hours and already I get another woman.” He grinned up at me as we separated. “Lucas, you’re one lucky bastard!”
As I walked onto the flight deck, the lights came up and the screens flared into life with a panoramic view of the green jewel of a planet. I perched on the edge of the couch, drinking in my first sight of this new world. “This one looks a beauty, Zenni. Give me the standard data on the place, if you please.”
The Zenith cleared his non-throat and adopted a lecturing tone. “Tambouret was taken under Earth’s wing two centuries ago and embraced terraforming on a vast scale, with all of its native species, plant and animal alike, replaced with down-home varieties. The tour companies sell the place as an unspoilt old-time Earth and its entire surface is a gigantic, managed wildlife reserve. The Tambou are very protective of their world and go to great lengths to keep it virgin and clear of pollution. All industry is confined to their two moons and sixteen orbital stations, while their agriculture is tailored to augment the natural beauty of the place rather than to detract from it. Even their cities are hidden beneath the ground to preserve the rural aspect of the planet.”
“Conservation turned into an obsession?”
“You’d better believe it. The lengths they go to are extraordinary; very little technology is permitted on the surface, transport being by foot, horse or sail, although the larger centres of habitation are linked by deep underground railways for use in emergencies. They have no broadcasting or communication systems in everyday use on the surface, but again the facilities exist for use in the hour of need. All of the visible facets of high-tech civilisation have been religiously blotted out of surface culture, existing only on the orbital stations.”
“So you can have your cake and eat it as well?” I mused. “Sounds like a deadly boring place.”
“From its stunning success as a resort, I doubt that. Thousands of tourists from every arc of the galaxy are lured to Tambouret by the prospect of escaping from the stresses of modern life. If you want a vacation walking in endless forests, riding in flawless hills or sailing on a crystal-clear ocean, this is the place for you. According to the tour guides, the best time to visit is now, in Renaisson, the first month of their spring, when the natives have just come out of hibernation.”
“The Tambou hibernate?” I demanded, in disbelief. “I thought that they were human?”
“They are, to within three percent, which allows for a hefty variation on the Earth norm. The planet has an orbital eccentricity which causes its winters to be sharp and cold, and the early colonists found that the best means of weathering them was to stay indoors and sleep. The adaptation stuck, with the aid of a little metabolic tampering no doubt, and a surface-born Tambou will hibernate naturally, although the inhabitants on the orbital stations have lost the knack. When Tambouret shakes off the last scattering of her snow, the surface-dwellers awaken, full of the joys of spring, and they’re at their most congenial to visitors then.”
“What an odd little world! How do I get down to the surface?”
“You’ve supposedly come in on the Carthage Queen, a liner out of the Akaron system. She docks at Pentak Station in twenty minutes and from there you take a shuttle to the surface.” Zenni detailed. “There is only one field on planet, at the surface capital of Krystallya. You’ll find that it’s small by Earth standards, yet it’s the largest city on Tambouret. It’s meant to be very spectacular—it’s carved out of a mountain.”
“Is that where Chandre will have gone?”
“Initially, yes, because all inwar
d traffic goes to Krystallya. Given the low-tech forms of transport, in the few days she’s been there she can’t have moved very far from the capital. When you get to Pentak Station try to get Chandre’s whereabouts from the computer. It’ll be impossible to even find a terminal when you’re down in the city.”
“Will do. Where will you hide Brimstone while I’m on planet?”
“In plain sight, standing off the station in parking orbit. I’ll give them a false name and registry number of course, just to err on the side of safety.”
“Doesn’t it ever bother you, telling lies to other computers?”
“No.” Satisfaction glittered in his voice. “It’s so easy to do. They automatically assume that, as another machine, I’m incapable of twisting the truth.”
The briefing over, I hit the galley in search of breakfast and then sneaked a look in on Jeb, but he was dead to the world, flat on his back with his mouth agape. Unwilling to disturb him, I floated my hand-luggage out of the room and pushed the door to without a sound.
Take care of him, I ordered silently.
He’ll be safe. Anna. There was a smile on the edge of my partner’s voice. Now, go quickly. The Queen has just docked.
I materialised at the given co-ordinates in an empty alcove on the orbital station, then mingled with the happy chaos of disembarking holidaymakers. The shuttle to the surface wasn’t due to leave for a half-hour, so I found an unoccupied terminal and bought twenty minutes of its time. After a smokescreen of dumb tourist questions which were answered promptly and accurately, I expressed a desire to find a friend by the name of Chandroutie Marteen, and the beast froze up on me.
“Insufficient data, my ass!” I muttered, through clenched teeth. The bloody thing’s holding out on me! Have we hit a confidentiality code?
Very probably, since all the accommodation records are held in the orbitals’ banks and it should have no problem gaining access. Zenni decided. Put your fingers on the console there, under the centre of the screen, and I’ll take care of the security codes.
The Beauty of Our Weapons Page 5
