The man wore a white toga and a black cape with a red border. The toga barely concealed his fleshy gut. Whatever his age, he wore it well, though he looked like a man in his mid-fifties. He did not seem overawed by his surroundings or by his host. He glanced around at the furnishings and the other guests with unashamed curiosity.
The servant stepped to one side and announced in a chitinous voice, “The Arbiter of the Regency on Thoska-Roole, Justice Harry Mertz.”
Mertz did not wait for the Lady to speak. He stepped forward and asked, “Do you require my services in an official capacity, Lady Zillabar? Or have you invited me to your quarters to share the quality of your table?”
What an impudent little man! The Lady allowed herself an edge of annoyance. How dare he! But instead of demonstrating what she felt, she merely smiled, “I apologize for this late summons, I know you have many concerns elsewhere, but the business I wish to discuss with you has no place in the official arena. You honor my house by your acceptance.”
Mertz allowed himself an expansive bow. “You flatter me, Lady Zillabar. You and I both know that my credential has only a ceremonial function. I have honor without weight, glory without responsibility. The need for Arbiters28 has long since passed into history. The job has disappeared with the need. Only the title remains.”
The Lady smiled graciously. She descended from her dais and approached the Justice with easy familiarity, even though she knew that the man felt a profound repugnance at the nearness of her approach—his repugnance probably equaled hers. He concealed it well, but she could still smell the stink of fear in his sweat. She held out her hands to him. He took a precautionary step back and opened his palms in a gesture of caution. “My Lady. I know you dislike touching. I would not have you uncomfortable.”
Zillabar lowered her outstretched fingers. “People speak of your wisdom, Justice Mertz. You impress me now with your insight as well.”
“Please, Lady—may we skip the flatteries. You wish something of me? Counsel perhaps?”
“Walk with me,” the Lady invited. She gestured silently, and Lord Drydel moved up to flank the Justice on his other side.
Harry Mertz glanced from one to the other. “I cannot easily refuse this invitation, my Lady, can I?” he remarked wryly. If either of the two Vampires caught his inner meaning, neither of them showed it in their reaction.
They proceeded for a while through a shadowy arcade. After a bit, the Lady spoke. “I think you will appreciate this invitation, Harry—may I call you Harry?—Lord Drydel and I want to invite you to participate in a grand adventure with us. You see, now that we have restored the authority of the aristocracy here on Thoska-Roole, we intend to expand our vision to include the dynamic of the entire cluster. The aristocracy wants to reinvigorate the Regency with a strong new purpose. All of us will benefit from an expansion of our influence in the Regency. We foresee a new age of enlightenment.”
“In all honesty, Lady Zillabar, Prince Drydel, I have paid so little attention to matters that do not concern me that a street urchin would probably have more wisdom on these matters; I wouldn’t presume to give you advice—”
Zillabar exchanged the quickest of glances with Drydel. This stupid human believed that they wanted his counsel! She returned her focus to the Justice. “We need a man of your wisdom and reputation to address another area of our concern.” She stopped and faced Harry directly. “As you must know, most humans have a deep irrational fear of the highest level of the aristocracy, the Phaestor—”
“Yes. Some humans call you Vampires.”
“We take pride in the title. We drained the life out of the predators.”
“To humans, however,” Harry said, “the name carries another, much darker, meaning. In some quarters, the word stinks like an epithet. No offense intended, of course.” Smiling, Harry bowed politely to both of his hosts.
“None taken.” Lady Zillabar smiled graciously and refocused on the task at hand. It took her a moment; this bastard had no intention of letting her proceed easily! He insisted on using that all-too-human thing they called humor. She didn’t understand humor. It always looked like naked hostility to her. “However,” she continued, “the existence of that fear, irrational or not, gives us great pause. We wish to work as partners with all of the species here on Thoska-Roole.”
“I see,” said Harry.
“We need someone to speak for us, someone who has respect and authority.”
“I have neither, my Lady. Surely, you know that—” Harry grinned at her and her Prince-Consort.
Lady Zillabar found the sight of all those flattened teeth disconcerting and actually glanced away before she let her distaste show on her outer face. Turning back again, she said, “We need someone who can reassure the human constituency that the Vampire aristocracy mean them no harm. You would enjoy the privileges of the aristocracy, and as your people begin to see your partnership with us, then they will also begin to understand that they too can work with us without the enmity and rancor that has so colored so many of our relationships in the past.”
“A noble sentiment. I hope you will find someone of suitable authority and wisdom. Of course, I will do whatever I can to aid you in your search.”
“We believe that the Arbiter of Justice should perform this service,” said Lord Drydel, deliberately placing his hand firmly on Harry’s shoulder.
Harry glanced at the hand, glanced up into Drydel’s eyes, then looked to Lady Zillabar. Her eyes carried the same deadly message.
“The office no longer carries any weight, my Lord—” Harry offered, but Drydel interrupted him.
“We know that the office has devolved into a shell of its former glory, a mere honorary position; but that state of affairs needn’t continue. We wish to restore the authority of the Arbiter to a much more meaningful level. You would enjoy a great deal of power, Justice.” As he spoke, he continually looked to Lady Zillabar for signals—a nod, a frown, a subtle gesture.
Harry looked again from one to the other. Despite the fact that the words had come from Drydel’s throat, he knew who had really spoken them. To Zillabar, he said, “With all due respect, my Lady—I have never enjoyed power. I have always found it a most troublesome burden. Fortunately, any power I have had has also attracted a great many people who happily want to relieve me of that burden. So I have cheerfully given it up to others whenever and wherever I could. My shoulders have become too fragile and stooped to carry much weight of any kind anymore, so I would do the same in this case too.”
“I think you misunderstand,” said Lord Drydel. “As the Arbiter of Thoska-Roole, people look to you as the soul of justice. You cannot pass away the power that you carry—you carry the trust of the people.”
Zillabar caught Drydel’s eye; the two of them steered Mertz gently to a nearby alcove, paneled with ornately engraved screens. On the table therein, lay a document and a golden stylus.
“We have a Regency Order for you to sign,” said Drydel. “With your signature, it will validate the Regency’s custody over entities which do not presently hold full Regency citizenship: all robots, bioforms, androids, and uplifted-intelligence animals. As you know, the local charter leaves non-signatory species in a legal limbo. This will help to resolve that gray area of the law. After you sign, you may keep the stylus.”
Harry did not reach for the document. Instead, he fumbled in his toga for a moment—until he found what he searched for. He pulled out a pair of ancient eyeglasses and fitted them carefully on his nose while both of the Vampires watched in obvious distaste.29
At last, Harry picked up the document and read it through carefully. As he read, he made small clucking noises in his mouth.
At last, satisfied that he understood the nature of the document, he laid it down again. He folded up his spectacles and returned them to whatever place they rested inside his garment.
In a tone of deceptive calm and courtesy, Harry said, “I can’t sign this. The Regency doesn’t have the right to assume this custody.
And even if I did sign this order, it wouldn’t make it right. And Lord Khallanin would never accept it anyway. He knows better. This will trigger riots.”
Lady Zillabar’s expression remained unchanged, as did Lord Drydel’s—and yet, even without apparent outward sign of either Vampires’ displeasure, the tension in the small alcove increased appreciably.
Zillabar touched the parchment with a jewelled fingernail, sliding it carefully away from Harry’s easy reach. Lord Drydel spoke first. “Perhaps you haven’t heard yet. This afternoon, Lord Khallanin retired from his position as the Prefect of Thoska-Roole.”
“Lord Khallanin retired?”
“Permanently,” added the Lady.
Harry selected his reaction carefully. “I see.”
“He’ll have a beautiful funeral,” said Drydel, “as only befits one of his exalted station.”
“The Regency Military Authority has already stepped in to ensure that order maintains here. We’ll have no chaotic rebellions breaking out again. But, obviously, you do recognize the problem confronting us. Under the provisions of the restored authority, the recommendations of the Advisory Council no longer carry the authority of law, so they cannot select a replacement, thus leaving us in something of a constitutional crisis; under the terms of the security agreement, we must have a representative of the Regency to coordinate all the various constituencies of Thoska-Roole’s diverse population. Because of my rank in the Phaestor aristocracy, the Dragon-Lord has asked me to step in—temporarily, of course—to ensure continuity, stability and order. As soon as we can find an individual qualified to assume the reins of permanent conservatorship, I will gladly pass the baton of authority.” She said this last without once looking toward Prince Drydel. “I have responsibilities elsewhere that I must attend to as well.”
“Ah, I see. Of course.” Harry smiled weakly. “Shall I assume then that without Lord Khallanin’s further opposition, the Zashti clan will proceed with its plans to convert the StarPort into a staging base for Marauder Squadrons so that you can expand your influence even deeper into this region?”
Zillabar’s expression remained unreadable. After an uncomfortable silence, Drydel answered for her. He sidestepped the arbiter’s embarrassing question, staying focused instead on the more immediate purpose of the conversation. “Justice, please. We must ensure that the civilian population remains calm. You can help us. Your visible support will steer the conscience of the people.”
“May I speak candidly?”
The Lady kept her voice calm. “I would consider it an insult if you did not.”
“I have heard stories—many of us have heard these rumors. Whether they have basis in fact or not, the stories still circulate. Perhaps you know the stories I mean—? If so, you can spare me the necessity of referring to them further—?”
“On the contrary,” prompted Drydel. “We have no way of knowing unless people like you tell us.”
Harry looked uncomfortable. “We have heard stories about how the Vampires have dealt with other civilian populations, rumors of atrocities and . . .” He trailed off unhappily.
Neither of the Vampires demonstrated a reaction. They simply exchanged a dark glance. After a moment, Prince Drydel replied. His expression remained cold. “Malcontents and traitors have created these falsehoods. I assure you that when we find these troublemakers, we will deal with them harshly.”
Unseen by Harry Mertz, Zillabar frowned quickly and shook her head at Drydel. Drydel decided abruptly to study the ornate engraving of the ceiling ornaments. Zillabar faced Harry directly. “You need not concern yourself with that. I’ll ask you only one more time. I will give you a choice. You will sign this document—or your successor will.”
“Yes,” said Harry. “I see.” He nodded his understanding. “You allow me no choice at all. You know, Lady, I must share this with you. In the days of my youth, in my studies of the Zyne,30 I found an old saying that has guided me all of my life. It goes like this: You will find it easiest to ride the avalanche in the direction it already travels.”
Lady Zillabar allowed the slightest of smiles to appear on her face. Again, she glanced at Drydel—a look of satisfaction. We’ve won.
Harry shortened her burst of triumph with his next words. “Yes. My successor will have to sign the document.”
His calm defiance caught Zillabar off balance. Her face flushed with terrible anger. Even Drydel blanched as he saw the rising of her rage.
“You fool!” she spat. “Don’t you realize that you stand before one who could kill you without blinking an eye?”
Harry met her gaze without flinching. He straightened himself and replied with equal strength, “More the fool you! Don’t you realize that you stand before one who can die without blinking an eye?”
Zillabar stood speechless. Stunned. She had no suitable response for this. The blood-rage continued to suffuse her skin, until even Drydel worried what she might do.
But she did nothing. Instead, she stiffened, caught her breath, and swept angrily out of the alcove, leaving both the Vampire and the human wondering what would happen next—
An Offer of Employment
Among Thoska-Roole’s various fames, the imagination of the architects who designed its jails, prisons, dungeons, and other places of confinement, remains unacknowledged; yet the skills demonstrated in these constructions certainly rank among the best in the Palethetic Cluster.
Consider, for example, the accommodations in which Sawyer and Finn Markham presently found themselves. Murdock, having relinquished all custody over them, their new patron—still unidentified—had generously arranged accommodations for the trackers in Thoska-Roole’s most prestigious Incarceratorium.
Imagine a cylinder twelve times the height of a man. Imagine its cross section, a disk only two man-lengths in diameter. Imagine this cylinder set on end in a totally dark chamber. Imagine Sawyer and Finn sitting alone on top of this cylinder—waiting in a cell without walls.
“What do you think?” Sawyer asked his brother. “Do you like this place any better?”
Finn shrugged. “At least, the view has improved.”
“Immensely,” Sawyer agreed.
They sat in silence for a while. Several centuries passed.
After a longer while, they heard a faint scraping noise.
“Did you hear that?”
“Shh.”
They listened harder.
The noise came again. It sounded like metal-heeled boots on a stone floor.
Abruptly, the lights came on. A bright beam of blue-white radiance struck down from somewhere high above. It pinned them where they sat. Finn and Sawyer both had to shield their eyes against the glare. They could not see very far into the darkness beyond the edge of the disk.
“Stand up,” a soft voice commanded. It sounded very close. Bones creaking, muscles aching, they both pulled themselves to their feet. They could not determine from which direction the voice had come, so they simply faced outward.
Another light came on then, this one at a distance. It highlighted the bleak form of their new custodian. The Vampire stood alone on a matching platform opposite their own, illuminated in stark relief. It wore an attitude of bemused superiority and a black travelling cloak. The blue glow gave the figure an aura of lingering death.
“Uh-oh . . .” said Sawyer.
“Ah, yep,” agreed Finn. Vampires did not have a reputation for kindness.
“Do you recognize me?” the Vampire asked.
Sawyer scratched his neck, considering his responses. His usual flippant reply would probably not gain him any advantage here. Fortunately, Finn spoke first. “No, your excellency. We don’t recognize you.”
“Good. For the moment, that works to your advantage. I have a job for you.”
“Ahh,” Sawyer ventured carefully, “We already have employment.”
“I see that,” replied the Vampire. “Your present office speaks volumes about the quality of your success.”
Sa
wyer started to answer, but Finn nudged his brother to silence. He whispered, “Shh. I think we need to hear what this fellow has to say.”
The Vampire inclined its head in a polite nod. “Your brother gives you very good advice, Sawyer Markham. Follow it.” The dark figure added, “I wish to have a man located. A human. A very important human. So you shouldn’t have too much trouble ascertaining his whereabouts. But I want him immediately, and for that I need two good trackers.”
Sawyer and Finn exchanged a glance, each trying to gauge the other’s feelings. Neither looked happy. Finally, Sawyer spoke up. “We don’t work for governments.”
The Vampire hesitated. “Why do you say that?”
“This installation.”
“What do you mean?”
“The Miller-Hayes corporation built this detainment four hundred years ago for the Regency’s most dangerous prisoners. Despite the government’s strategic campaign to convince the public that the facility no longer exists or operates, despite the fact that the location remains unknown, our presence here demonstrates that the government still finds the facility useful. Only those at the highest level of the Regency would have access to this secret restraint. Therefore, the job you offer must benefit someone high in the Regency, perhaps even yourself—especially if the job requires some secrecy. Whoever you represent, clearly you stand here in some official capacity.”
“The Prefect of Thoska-Roole has died,” said the Vampire. “I have the responsibility of managing certain affairs pertaining to that death. You don’t need to know anything more.”
“We still don’t work for governments.”
“Then you choose the alternative . . . ?” The Vampire’s tone had a dangerous sheen.
“Uh—”
“Wait a minute, Soy.” Finn touched his brother’s arm. Speaking carefully across the wide intervening space between themselves and the Vampire, he asked, “If we might impose upon your good nature, would you, um—explain the alternative option?”
“Death.”
“Ah, I see. I thought so. Well, yes—that explains everything, doesn’t it?”
Under the Eye of God Page 12
