House of Shards
Page 27
Goodbye, he thought, cruel world.
———
Advert stood on the customs dock. Her feet were unshod, and there were rings on her toes as well as her fingers. The idea had come to her only a few days ago: she’d used some of the Pearl’s money to purchase the rings from Singh’s.
Pearl Woman, having finished her interview with Kyoko Asperson, waved at her from across the room. Advert turned to the Marchioness Kotani, made her conge, and advanced toward the Pearl.
Pearl Woman grinned at her. “Have you said your farewells?”
Advert nodded.
“Good. Shall we take our leave? I don’t feel like waiting for the Cheng and the Boston to leave first.”
“As you like. It’s not your style to wait, after all.”
Pearl Woman took Advert’s arm and began walking with her to the private dock nearby. She gave Advert a careful look.
“You know,” she said, “there’s something different about you, these last few days.”
Advert smiled. “Is there?”
“Yes. You seem to carry yourself differently. I can’t put my finger on it.”
Advert put her hand in her pocket and felt the credit chip there, the one with Pearl Woman’s money. “I can’t think what it could be,” she said.
“Still. It suits you, Advert. There’s something much more… intriguing about you.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
“ An air of mystery, almost.” Pearl Woman gave a laugh. “You know, I’m considering skipping our next planned stop and heading straight for Kapodistrias. The plans for the pirate project are advancing, and I know I could line up some backing there.”
“I’ve never been to Kapodistrias. Is there anything to see?”
“Not much besides a big ocean. I was amazed to discover that Earth pirates didn’t have flight—they actually sailed from place to place on boats, powered by wind. But I expect you’ll be too busy for sightseeing. I have plans for you, Advert. There’s a part in the pirate project that’s perfect for you, if you’ll take it. An ingenue role.” Pearl Woman grinned. “Perhaps I’ll rescue you from a fate worse than death.”
Advert looked at Pearl Woman and considered for a long moment. “I’d like a clearer idea of the nature of the part before I give a definite answer.”
Pearl Woman laughed. She squeezed Advert’s arm. “There has been a change, Advert. A very interesting one.”
Advert’s ears perked forward in a gesture meant to be modest. Pleasure welled into her. “I hope so,” she said.
———
“It’s been an interesting few days,” said the Duchess of Benn. “I hope the rest of my journey will offer something to equal it.”
“Personally,” said Drake Maijstral, “I could do with a rest.” He paused. “I thank you both again, your grace, Mr. Kuusinen, for your assistance here. I might not have survived without you.”
“You’re very welcome, Drake. I’ve had fun.” Her violet eyes sparkled. “Perhaps I’ll see you later. I’m taking the grand tour, after all, and we may encounter one another.”
Maijstral inclined his head. “I desire nothing else, your grace.” Fun, he thought.
Roberta turned to Roman. “I also hope I see you again, Roman. Take care of Maijstral, will you?”
Roman stifled his surprise. “I’ll do my best, your grace.” More surprise was stifled as she stood on tiptoe to sniff his ears. She turned to sniff Maijstral, giving him three fingers to his cautious two, and then headed for her berth on the Count Boston.
Paavo Kuusinen clasped Maijstral’s hand—one finger each—and they sniffed farewell. Maijstral looked at him, his shuttered green eyes betraying a gleam of interest. “Mr. Kuusinen,” he said. “You’ve rendered me considerable assistance on two separate occasions, and I regret that I know so little of you. For instance, I have no idea of your occupation.”
“I am an attorney, sir. I work for her grace.”
“Ah. Very interesting.”
Kuusinen gave an offhand flick of his ears. “Not very, sir. I find the practice of law too predictable. The labyrinths of sentient nature are more of interest to me.”
Maijstral paused a moment while wondering, precisely, how to reply to this strange remark. “As they are to us all,” he said finally.
“Your servant.”
“Your obedient.”
Maijstral suppressed a minor tremor as he watched Paavo Kuusinen follow the Duchess across the concourse to the Boston’s dock. Despite the man’s assistance, Maijstral was happy to be rid of him.
“Sir?” A diffident voice intruded upon Maijstral’s meditations. He turned to see a tidy human in a nondescript brown jacket.
“Ah. Mr. Mencken.”
“I am pleased you remember my name, sir. Your Very Private Letter.”
Maijstral took the envelope and looked at the VPL seal. “Thank you.”
“Your servant.”
Mencken disappeared into the crowd. Maijstral glanced at the seal again, then broke it. The scented paper told him of its source before he unfolded the note. The message was curt, the calligraphy hastily-formed but recognizable. Maijstral had an image of her bent over a desk, Mencken or someone like him standing behind her, waiting for the letter.
Drake,
Troubled in spirit, alas. Navarre has blossomed, been offered Diadem membership. Myself have rediscovered the stage, find the whole D. business distracting. I’d like to go on, but a meeting would be better. Is possible?
Sorry about this, Drake. Honest. N.
Maijstral read the message twice, first hastily, then not. He put it back in its envelope and handed both to Roman.
“Destroy, please.”
“Yes, sir. I hope she is well.”
Maijstral frowned. “Entering a depressed phase, I think.”
“She recovers quickly, sir. I wouldn’t be overly concerned.”
“Still. I wish she had someone around her she could trust.”
“So do I, sir.”
“Someone like you, Roman.”
Roman bowed. “Thank you, sir.” Carrying the envelope, he headed toward the nearest disposal. Maijstral looked after him and considered how much better a place the universe would be if everyone had someone like Roman to look after them.
“Drake.” Vanessa Runciter’s voice, hovering just over one shoulder.
He turned toward her, brushing her gently with his arm. He stepped back, putting distance between them. A translucent veil, Maijstral was pleased to note, was drawn across her face to hide the damage.
“Hello, Vanessa.”
“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry I shot at you. I thought you’d just done in Fu George, you see.”
“It’s forgotten, Vanessa.” Politely.
She cocked her head and looked at him. “You’re going to do very well out of this last few days, you know.”
“That seems likely.”
Her voice was harsh. “Fu George is thinking about retirement. It all sounds pretty ghastly.”
“He has earned his retirement, to be sure.”
“I never said he hadn’t. Just that it wasn’t for me.” She paused for a long moment, staring at him, then finally spoke. “Perhaps we ought to meet, Drake.”
Maijstral was surprised at the cool firmness of his reply. “I think not, Vanessa.”
She took a few seconds to absorb this, still looking at him, then nodded briskly. “If that’s how you want it.”
“I’m afraid it is.” Even more firmly.
She turned abruptly and was gone. Maijstral let out a slow, relieved breath. A few years ago, he reflected, he might well have given a different answer.
He was suddenly aware of Roman’s presence. He glanced at Roman, then back at Vanessa. “You know, Roman,” he said, as he handed Roman her gun and bracelet—not being foolish, he’d taken the gun first. “I hadn’t perceived until now the resemblance in character between Vanessa Runciter and my mother.”
“Really,
sir? It was the first thing I noted about her.”
Maijstral looked at him in surprise as the gun and bracelet vanished. Roman’s expression was carefully opaque. Maijstral sighed and turned away.
“We should escort our baggage to the Cheng,” he said. “I think we’ve said all our necessary goodbyes to anyone leaving on the Boston.” He turned and began to walk back to the residential quarters, where Dolfuss, with his pistol, was still standing over the baggage like Marshall Wild Bill Hickock guarding a gold shipment.
“Maijstral! A moment!”
Kyoko Asperson, dressed in yellow and violet motley, was leaping up and down, waving her arms, media globes dancing over her head. Maijstral patiently awaited her arrival. She gave him a wide grin and, while sniffing him, bussed him on both cheeks.
Maijstral’s hand dipped into her pocket, returned with something small.
“Gregor told me how nice you were about his leaving,” she said. “I’d like to thank you.”
“We’ll be sorry to lose him, but—” He dropped the stolen object in a pocket and threw up his hands. “I’d hate to stand in his way. Or in the way of true love, for that matter.”
Kyoko colored prettily. One of her media globes moved closer to him. “Any final comments for the record, Mr. Maijstral?” she asked. “Any last thoughts on the subject of Silverside Station and what happened here?”
Maijstral considered this for a long moment. His lazy eyes glittered.
“I’d say that events came perilously close to farce,” he said, “but that fortunately farce was averted.”
Kyoko was surprised. “Thank you,” she said.
“Your servant.”
Maijstral stepped toward his room, Roman moving silently behind. He reached into his pocket and came up with the object he’d removed from Kyoko’s pocket: a pearl dangling from a broken chain. He’d seen Kyoko’s altered media globe, with its force cutters and grapplers, hovering near Pearl Woman’s ear during the last interview, and guessed the rest. He handed the pearl to Roman. Roman cleared his throat.
“Yes, Roman?”
Roman’s voice was carefully articulated. “Farce, sir?” he said.
A memory of terror gusted through Maijstral’s mind, followed by that of an argumentative closet door, a dark, glowing gem, a vanishing diamond, a playing card glowing with brilliants…
“For example, Roman,” he said. “Had I said yes to Vanessa just now, that would have turned this comedy to farce. As I said no, farce was avoided.”
Roman digested this for a moment. “I understand, sir,” he said. “Quite perfectly.”