Shadow of the Warmaster

by Jo Clayton

  Churri and Xalloor got together with the Omperiannas and began working out a new act; they figured that the publicity from the Return of the Disappeared and their connection with it made them a draw the bookers couldn’t ignore. Kumari figured the same thing; she was going to finance the tour if they came up with something she liked. Since they kept trying out parts of the thing on the ex’s in the hold, they kept the passengers happy and entertained. Which made me happy.

  Aslan was something of a surprise. She worked on her reports a lot, but not all the time. I hadn’t paid much attention to her back on Tairanna, too busy being irritated by this and that, I suppose, and too tired from flying all night digging out the targets; you want another excuse, I’ve got this tendency to focus on what I’m busy at so I don’t see much of what’s around me, peripheral images shoved outside my periphery, if you know what I mean. She looked a little like her mother around the eyes and mouth, but her coloring was more dramatic, her features heavier… no, that’s not the word. Stagier. More dramatic like the coloring. The bones showed and they were what a sculptor called good. She photoed better than she looked in person, well, better’s not the word either, she was prettier in the stills, but a lot of the personality got lost. I remembered Adelaar saying Shuh! she’s my daughter and I love her, but even I wouldn’t call her a beauty. She’s not all that sexy either. To be honest, Quale, she’s a boring person. Just goes to show, Mama don’t know everything she thinks she does. It was a friendly time. Pleasant waking up and feeling her warm beside me. More than pleasant when she woke up. She enjoyed sex more than anyone I can remember knowing. Laughed a lot, made me laugh with her. I was almost sorry when Slancy chimed to let me know she was ready to slip back to realspace.

  4. 354 days std. out of Telffer.

  Helvetia.

  We came up nose to nose with three destroyers and a gravity sink that nailed us; poor old Slancy couldn’t wiggle a fin.

  Before I had time to start sweating, the mainscreen lit up. Helvetian perimeter patrol logo announcing who was out there, then someone who ordinarily walked in more exclusive circles. I knew that sour smile and the face it was tacked onto, though he didn’t know me and probably didn’t want to. The only time we actually met I was sharing someone else’s body. Malurio Marchog, the Seven’s Enforcer. Cattwey of the Helvetias. I relaxed. Home free, I thought.

  “Swardheld Quale,” he said, proving me wrong about that much; he knew my face. Courtesy of ti Vnok, no doubt.

  “Marchog Cattwey,” I said, showing I have my sources too.

  “Permission to come aboard,” he said.

  Polite bastard. What he meant was open your gd lock before I gd pull the gd thing off its hinges. Well, I asked for Helvetian cover, now I pay for it. “Permission herewith granted,” I said. “Want me to send a boat over or you providing your own transport?” That was a bit of swank; with the sink out there focused on us, we couldn’t space a fart.

  He ignored it. “Helvetian rules apply out here as on the ground,” he said. “Crack your forward lock, portside.”

  “I hear you, Marchog Cattwey.” It sounded like he was coming over himself, which was a bit of a surprise. Apparently that pair of rescuees down in the hold were mote important than we’d thought. Old ti Vnok, he slipped up this time; on the good side maybe, but definitely a miscalc. He’s going to have to work to live that down. I cracked the lock, sent Kumari to make sure N’Ceegh didn’t have some hold-outs tucked away; I wasn’t sure how much he knew about Helvetian rules and how seriously the Seven took them. I left Pels at the com and went down to the portlock to remind the Helvetians as tactfully as I could that this was my ship and we were outside the Limit, in so-called freespace. They’d probably be polite enough to listen without snickering. Even Marchog.

  5

  The inner hatch opened and I dumped the speech fast. Six pretors trotted through, shoved me against the wall, no malice, just getting me out of the way. They split, three on each side, dark, massive, huge, as intimidating as two-leggers in battle armor ever get when they’re not actually coming at you. I sucked in my gut and waited.

  A mirror-sphere about two meters across floated from the lock, moving along half a meter off the floor at a pace about that of a man out for an afterdinner stroll. It stopped in front of me; I thought it was inspecting me though it’s hard to tell what’s going on inside something when you’re staring at a funhouse version of yourself smeared across the outside. “The people, where are they?” It had a deep bass voice that oozed with authority.

  “The hold, despois,” I said, being as polite as I knew how. Great god, I was thinking, one of the Seven? Hooo-eee, talk about your heavy support.

  “Lead,” it said.

  Very careful to keep my hands in view, I moved past the pretors and started for the dropshaft. I heard the guard clumping into position behind me, the sound echoed by a second sextet coming out of the lock; somewhere back there Marchog was moving up to the Bridge with his own pretors; he wouldn’t leave Slancy in our hands, not with one of the Seven aboard her. I didn’t like it, but I certainly wasn’t going to kick up a fuss. All I could do was hope this was a temporary dispossession.

  6

  The hold smelled like a roadshow zoo; I suppose Faceless in his sphere got filtered air, but I didn’t, it was enough to choke a goat. He drifted out to the middle and hovered there, reflecting the faces or whatever turned up to him. “You were slaves?” The basso burred out and bounced off the walls.

  Some of them knew what they were looking at; whoever didn’t was getting the word fast if the hissing that spread through the hold meant what I thought. The Kakeran Posa Ala was the first to answer. He set his hands on his hips, glared up at his distorted reflection. “Klaan vem!” he growled. “Bolodo man put a kujjim collar round my neck. Five kujjim years and nobody did shit till Quale there come for us.”

  Dey Chomedy and Leda Zag came elbowing through the thickening crowd about Posa Ala, the tall one opening a path for the little.

  Dey Chomedy stomped her foot and growled, then shouted up at the sphere, “Bolodo men took me off my mountain, took me from my nest; they did not ask my consent, they did not pay my price. Seven years the masters milked my sweat and drank my tears and nothing did they pay. Was I slave? Ssss. Show me Bolodo man, let me take my pay from his flesh and his sweat and his blood.”

  Leda Zag tapped the tall femme’s arm and was lifted to her shoulder. “So it was with me, despois, I traveled to a place for rest but I did not reach it. Before I reached it, a gas bomb filled my flickit; when I woke, I was in a scout on my way to Weersyll and beyond. For three years I mourned one dearer to me than the beat of my heart, for three years I suffered, until the man Quale and his companions took me from my servitude. It has not been easy coming home, not easy for me, not easy for any of us, but we suffer these small travails gladly because we are going home.”

  I kept my face very straight and serious, though I enjoyed that little speech; we spent most of a warm afternoon up by the lake dickering over her fee for her affirmation of my noble contribution to her freedom. I was kicking back half the reward, to be paid into her dainty little hands the day I got it, golden gelders, coin not credit.

  After that the rest of them yelled their anger, a confused hammering of sound. Even the mirror-sphere seemed to shudder and I was wondering if I’d get out of there with hearing intact.

  “Quiet.” The basso boomed out, hammering back at the yammer in the hold. “Enough!” He had the advantage of amplification, but it was several minutes before he broke through and my collection of ex-slaves simmered down a bit.

  “Helvetia has heard you,” he said. Big of him. “She will expedite your arrival and provide housing for you until this matter is cleared up. She will provide means of contacting your kin or other individuals concerned about you.”

  Hmm, I thought, such generosity. Looks like they’ve already got a strangle hold on Bolodo’s assets and want to keep the noose tight, they can’t let the t
hought get round that they’re playing with client’s gelt. They ought to pay Adelaar’s expenses and double for a bonus, what a lovely present she’s dropped in their little laps. I kept my face immobile and my hands clasped behind me, but I was beginning to enjoy this quite a lot.

  “Helvetia asks only,” the sphere boomed out, “that you agree to testify as to the circumstances of your abductions. Bolodo Neyuregg Ltd. is actively contesting the claims relayed to us by an agent of Swardheld Quale. Because we may invoke certain clauses in the Contract Bolodo Neyuregg Ltd. signed with us, in order to put several executives of that Company through Involuntary Verification, it may be necessary for some of you to pass through the Verifier and otherwise make identification of such individuals. If that is possible and within your knowledge. You will be compensated for the time and the harrowing of your emotions.”

  The sphere drifted toward the tube. I got out of the way before I was shifted aside by the pretors and followed the procession from the hold.

  7

  When Faceless said expedited, he meant it. Escorted by two destroyers though a lane cleared for us, we sailed at spooky speed for insystem travel straight to a mooring usually reserved for those wealthy beyond my dreams of avarice, where Slancy was put to bed in a section all her own. Shuttles drew up to her flanks and waited there like a ride in an amusement park, ready to take the ex-slaves down. Kumari had all the paperwork done, she’d taken care of that during the trip in between Xalloor’s rehearsals-name, world-of-origin, life history, work status, circumstances of abduction, fingerprints, bodyprints, retina prints and cell coding with a snippet of freeze-dried skin or flesh or chitin, whatever seemed appropriate, sealed to each statement. I didn’t expect any trouble collecting the rewards, not with ti Vnok getting his thirty percent, but Kumari was a worrier, it made her the best Mom Slancy’d ever enjoyed. So, no delays. We lined our passengers up and hustled them into the shuttles. We rode down in the last of them, Pels, Kumari and I along with Adelaar and Aslan, Churri, Xalloor and the Omperiannas, N’Ceegh and the boy.

  Now the real tedium began.

  8

  Images:

  Aslan aici Adlaar: Yes, that’s the man. He was on Tairanna when Fangulse Tra Yana interviewed us. Churri the Bard saw him also, as did Parnalee Pagang Tanmairo Proggerd, though he can’t testify since he died mad.

  Kante Xalloor: Yes, that’s the stringman who drugged me. I can’t connect him to Bolodo except by the circumstances that when I woke I was in a Bolodo scout; I knew it was Bolodo by the patches on the pilot’s shipsuit. Yes, that’s the pilot who flew the scout.

  Jaunniko: Yes, that’s the stringman who came on to me, then drugged me. Yes, that’s the pilot who flew the scout that took me to the Cage on Weersyll.

  N’Ceegh of Pao-teely: Yes, that’s the man who led the raid on my village. That’s the man who boasted to me my blood was ash.

  Tom’perianne: Yes, I saw that man and that one also in the Great Chamber of the Palace on Tairanna, when my sisters and I sang for the Huvved Imperator. My sisters can swear to them also. Yes, that’s the pilot who flew us to Weersyll. Yes, those are the crewmen who loaded us on the slave transport. My sisters can swear to them also.

  Adelaar aici Arash: Yes, those are the flakes I made of lists I discovered in the mainBrain in the Palace on Tairanna. I swear and will pass through the Verifier on this point, these flakes are not altered or added to in any way. I will also attest and swear this is the data I abstracted from Bolodo’s own mainBrain on Spotchals, I will pass through the Verifier on this point, these flakes are not altered or added to in any way.

  Swardheld Quale: Yes, that is the contract I made with Adelaar aici Arash. Yes, that is the statement I made concerning my activities in the Horgul system. I do swear and attest that what I have said there is truthful, I will pass through the Verifier on this point and will answer any questions while under the Verifier relating to that statement.

  9. 624 days std. since we started this thing.

  The Nest/Telffer/Home again.

  Crew and I are going to be set for at least a decade of lazing about, taking commissions we liked, not jobs we had to do. Between the rosepearls and the rewards, to say nothing of Adelaar’s fee, we will have a credit account on Helvetia so exalted I get altitude sickness contemplating it.

  The Faceless Seven kicked in a thousand gelders apiece for the extras we brought along gratis, a nice little bonus; the Seven were overflowing with the milk of… well, something as they began taking apart Bolodo’s assets, at least those they could get hold of, not a small percentage of the whole if ti Vnok was right.

  While I was waiting for the interrogations to grind to their eventual end, I passed the time doing this and that. I gave the rosepearls to ti Vnok; he wouldn’t do the selling, but he’d find an agent who’d get me the best price; I added a chunk to the credit account I set up for the Barker and his asteroid mines, dropped a fee on a cobben of NightCrawlers to take out the one pointed at me. Ah yes, and ti Vnok managed to slip Leda Zag her baksheesh without her patron knowing. He’s a good friend.

  We dropped Aslan at University. It gave me a twinge to see how eager she was to get away. She’d done all she could to help finish off Bolodo, now she was going after the Oligarchs on Kavelda Styernna. That was more important than me or any other man. Adelaar was right for once, men were recreation when her daughter wasn’t busy with something else. Since I do considerable business with University, I thought we might recreate ourselves some other time. I played the idea around and decided I liked it.

  We took Adelaar to Droom; she wanted to get Adelaris whipped into shape again before she took off to work on my house. She’d been away for over four years and was nervous about what she’d find left of her business.

  That left Crew and me alone at last on Slancy Orza. It felt good. Kinok had worked his remotes till their bearings ran hot, scrubbing out the hold and the rest of her. She felt clean and fresh. Frisky.

  It was deep winter when we got back, the month called Wolves Running; snow was piled into three-meter drifts when we dropped the lander on the pad. Up in Slancy, Kinok was rubbing his tentacles together again, scritching away like crazy, laughing at us idiots leaving a warm clean ship so we could get ourselves soaked to the bone and half-frozen.

  The housekeep was burbling over with things to tell us about the small lives that prowled about on my land; among other things, two feral and very pregnant cats had showed up; they had their kittens in the summerhouse. She said she couldn’t understand how they’d managed to get through the shield (I had my doubts about that), but they had, so she’d deloused the mogs and their kits and shot all of them full of antibiots and organized a feeding schedule to keep the mamas at their job. She was full of how well she’d coped. Ever since Kumari worked over her programming, she’s developed strong maternal urges. Sometimes I get tired of her fussing, then I see the absurdity of a neuter like our Kri coming up with such a construct; even if Kri were sexed, she belongs to a budding species where motherhood is like a bad case of acne. I think she reads too much.

  We’ll finish out the winter at the Nest; come spring we’ll go take a look at Tairanna to see how things are working out and what kind of trading we can do. It’s mostly curiosity, though it won’t hurt having a stash of rosepearls in the basement that we could dip into should Luck turn mean on us.

  On the way back we might stop off at University to see if they have any interesting commissions needing an experienced and trustworthy Crew. I might call up Aslan to see if she’s unsaddled her white horse and ready to enjoy another sort of ride. It’s a short life these bodies have, and a good one; fragile but full of heat and flavor.

  I’m sitting up in my tower. It’s a clear night. No clouds. The stars out this way are sparse but that makes them all the lovelier and the moonlight on the snow is magical.

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