by Timothy Zahn
He watched Omnathi, holding his breath, but the mention of Mangus didn't spark any reaction he could see. "You didn't tell Mayor Capparis about your change in plans. For that matter, we were rather surprised to find you here, since you'd told him you were moving elsewhere."
Daulo shrugged. "I thought that Mangus might have a listening ear in Mayor Capparis's office," he said, adopting Jin's theory for lack of anything better to say. "I thought if they were watching for two people instead of one, I might have a better chance of getting in."
Omnathi's forehead creased slightly. "You sound like you're preparing to assault an armed camp. What do you want with Mangus, anyway?"
Daulo hesitated. "I don't believe the place is what it seems," he said.
Omnathi flicked a glance to one of his aides. "Tarri?"
"Mangus is a private manufacturing center about fifty kilometers east of here," the other said promptly. "High-quality electronics, both research and manufacture. Run by the Obolo Nardin family; I believe the last full check by the Shahni was carried out approximately two years ago. No hints then of any unusual activity."
Omnathi nodded and turned back to Daulo. "You have recent evidence to dispute that last?"
Daulo drew himself up a bit. "They refuse to allow villagers in," he said stiffly. "For me, that's adequate reason to be suspicious."
Omnathi's lip twisted. "Hard though it may be for you to understand, city-bred prejudices are often as ridiculous as those of villagers," he growled. "At any rate, you'd do better to save your pride for more important matters—the safety and protection of your world, for example. Tell us what you know about the woman."
"She told me her name was Jasmine Alventin," Daulo said, again wishing he knew what they'd learned from his father. "We found her on the road, injured, and brought her into our house."
"And . . ."
"And she told us she was from Sollas and that she'd been in an accident. That's all."
"Didn't you think it advisable to press for further details?" Omnathi persisted. "Or even to check up on her story?"
"Of course we did," Daulo said, trying to sound offended. "We sent men out to search the roads for her car and companions."
"Did you find them?"
"No." Daulo glanced at the other two men, looked back at Omnathi. "What is this all about, anyway? Is she an escaped criminal or something?"
"She's an offworld invader," Omnathi said bluntly.
Daulo had expected him to ignore or evade the question; the very unexpectedness of the reply startled him almost as much as if he were hearing it for the first time. "She's—what?" he breathed. "But . . . that's impossible."
"Why?" Omnathi snapped. "You said yourself the Yithtra family had found an offworld artifact. Didn't it ever occur to you that an offworld artifact might be accompanied by someone to use it?"
"Yes, but . . ." Daulo floundered, hunting desperately for something to say. Jin's words just before she'd left popped back into his mind: you have to make it a little hard for them, Daulo—everyone gets suspicious of prizes handed over on silver platters. "But it was Jasmine Alventin who told us it was an offworld artifact in the first place," he said. "Why would she do that if it were hers?"
Omnathi frowned. "What do you mean? Told you how?"
"Well, when I heard there was a truck bringing something unusual into Milika I drove off to take a look," Daulo explained, trying to keep his voice and face under control. "Jasmine Alventin was with me at the time, and at a slow section of the road she suddenly got out of the car and climbed in the back of the truck to see what it was."
Omnathi seemed taken aback. "Your father didn't mention that," he said.
Daulo took a deep breath. "Well, actually . . . I believe I told him it was I who looked into the truck,"
Omnathi's eyes were steady on him. "You believe you told him?"
Daulo licked his lips. "I . . . suppose I wanted to . . . take the credit."
For a long moment the room was silent. Omnathi and the others just looked at him, contempt showing in varying degrees in their expressions. "You told us you didn't know where the woman was," Omnathi said at last. "Why not?"
"Because she left me just after sundown," Daulo said. "She said she was anxious to get back home and asked me where she could pick up a bus heading north. I took her to the waiting area at the city center and left her there."
"Did you, now." Slowly, Omnathi ran the tip of his tongue along his upper lip, gazing hard at Daulo. Daulo stared back, listening to his heart thudding in his chest. "Tell me," Omnathi said abruptly, "did you actually see her get on any of the buses?"
"Ah . . ." Daulo considered. "No, not really. She was walking toward the one for Sollas when I drove away, though."
One of the other men cleared his throat. "Shall I have the bus intercepted?" he asked.
"No," Omnathi said slowly. "No, I think that would be a waste of time. She didn't take that bus. Or any of the others."
Daulo blinked. "I don't understand—"
"Tell me, Daulo Sammon," Omnathi interrupted him. "Where is your car?"
"Uh . . . just outside the building, in the parking area."
Omnathi shook his head. "No. In fact, it's nowhere for six streets around you. We looked for it."
Daulo's heart skipped a beat. He and Jin had left the vehicle parked in plain sight only two blocks away . . . "That's impossible," he managed. "I left it right outsi—"
"Do you have the keys?" Omnathi asked.
No; he'd given them to Jin in case she had some need of the vehicle while she was out. "Of course," he said. "They're on the table over there."
One of the men moved over to look. "No, they're not," he reported, sifting through the personal items Daulo had piled there.
"Find them," Omnathi ordered. "Have you been gone from this apartment since she left, Daulo Sammon?"
"No." Daulo watched as the two men began searching the room, feeling the sweat begin to gather on his forehead again. It was all very well to ease them toward the conclusion that Jin had stolen his car, but they weren't going to believe it unless he came up with a plausible mechanism for that theft. "I was asleep when you arrived, though—"
"What's this?" one of the searchers interrupted him, holding up a small black cylinder.
The signaller Jin had given him.
"I . . . don't know," he said through stiff lips. "It's not mine."
"Be careful with it," Omnathi said sharply, stepping over to the other's side and taking the signaller from him. He studied it for a moment, then carefully lifted the top cap. Push the button if you're in trouble, and I'll be there, Jin had said . . .
But Omnathi made no move to do that. "Interesting," he murmured. "Looks like a radio transceiver of some kind—here's the antenna." He looked back at Daulo. "Did you tell her how to work the lock combination on the apartment door?" he asked.
"Uh . . . not directly, no. Though she might have seen me key it."
Omnathi nodded grimly. "I'm sure she did." He hefted the signaller in the palm of his hand. "Do you snore when you sleep, Daulo Sammon?"
The question took Daulo by surprise. "Ah . . . I really don't know. Perhaps a bit."
Omnathi grunted. "Doesn't really matter, I suppose. The sound of a sleeper's breathing is fairly distinctive to someone who knows what to listen for."
"Sir . . . I—"
Omnathi impaled him with a glare. "She planted this on you," he grated. "All she had to do was pretend to get on that bus, then follow you back and wait for you to fall asleep. Then she slipped in, took your keys, and left. Any idea how long you were asleep?"
Daulo shrugged, feeling a little dazed. They were practically writing his alibi for him. "An hour, perhaps. Maybe longer."
Omnathi muttered something under his breath. "An hour. God in heaven."
Daulo licked his lips. "Sir . . . I don't understand any of this. What is Jasmine Alventin's interest in my family?"
"I don't think she has any interest in you whatsoeve
r," the older man sighed. "She's simply been using you: first to help her recover from her spacecraft's crash, and after that to create a diversion."
"A diversion?"
"Yes." Omnathi waved toward the northwest. "Once she realized her discovery was inevitable, she simply took charge of the timetable, letting your father know about the supply pod in Yithtra family hands and perhaps encouraging him to notify the Shahni before they did. Then, while the focus of our attention was on her spacecraft and your village, she persuaded you to bring her here, distracted you further with a feint toward the bus, and proceeded to steal your car." He paused, eying Daulo thoughtfully . . . and when he spoke again his voice had taken on a hard edge. "But innocent victims or not, the Sammon family nevertheless has aided an enemy of Qasama. It's possible that you may yet be punished for that."
Daulo swallowed hard. "Yet we did inform the Shahni about the offworld artifact as soon as we knew about it," he reminded the other.
"That may weigh in your favor," Omnathi nodded. "Whether it does or not will depend on how quickly we capture this Jasmine Alventin. And what we learn from her."
He signaled his men, and they headed for the door. There, Omnathi paused and looked back. "Tell me, Daulo Sammon; your father said the woman asked many questions. Did she ask about anything specifically about our culture or technology?"
The question caught Daulo by surprise. "Uh . . . no, not that I can remember. Why?"
"It occurs to me that this penetration of Mangus might originally have been her idea."
"It wasn't," Daulo shook his head. "Getting into Mangus has been something I've wanted to do for a long time."
"Perhaps. Then again, perhaps the idea was yours and the timing hers." For a moment Omnathi gazed thoughtfully at him. "Very well, then. Satisfy your pride as you will, Daulo Sammon. But remember while you do so that your real enemies aren't in Mangus or anywhere else on Qasama."
Daulo bowed and made the sign of respect. "I will, Moffren Omnathi."
They left. Daulo stood where he was for a handful of heartbeats; then, moving carefully on weak knees, he wobbled to the window and peered out at the car's taillights pulling away down the street. An emissary of the Shahni themselves . . . and Daulo had lied through his teeth to him.
For an enemy of Qasama.
He spat an oath into the empty room. Curse you, Jasmine Moreau, he thought viciously. For God's sake, be careful. Please.
Chapter 31
The tough gasped as the ammonia fumes rose into his nostrils and he returned abruptly to consciousness. "I'd suggest you keep quiet," Jin advised him, making her voice as deep and manly as she comfortably could.
He obeyed . . . but his eyes suddenly came wide open as he got his first clear look around him. Jin couldn't really blame him; sitting on the edge of a high roof, with nothing between him and a long fall but two thin ropes belaying his trussed wrists and ankles to a stubby chimney five meters away, he had a perfect right to be scared. In fact, she rather admired his self-control in not screaming his head off. "Let's start with your name, shall we?" she said, squatting down beside him.
"Hebros Sibbio," he managed, eyes focused on his lifelines.
"Look at me when I speak to you," Jin ordered. He did so, eyes almost unwillingly shifting up to her masked face. "That's better. Now tell me who told you to break into the apartment you hit tonight."
"I . . . no one," he said, his voice cracking slightly.
Jin sighed theatrically. "Perhaps you don't fully understand the situation here, Hebros Sibbio," she said coldly. "Your hairy butt is hanging well past the edge there. All I have to do is cut these two ropes and you'll be off to explain all this to God instead of to me. You think He'll be more lenient with you?" He shuddered and shook his head. "Neither do I," she agreed. "So tell me who put you up to this job."
"I don't know!" he gasped. "As God is my witness, I don't know. A man—he didn't give his name—called me up this morning and told me he wanted us to beat up a village man who would be at an apartment at Three-forty-six Kutzko Street."
"And kill him?"
"No! We don't kill—not even villagers. I wouldn't have agreed if that had been the bargain."
"Keep your voice down. What was the bargain, then? What payment did he promise you?"
Sibbio shivered again. "There was to be no payment. He promised only not to reveal some of our other . . . activities to the rulers of Azras."
"Illegal activities?"
"Yes. And he named some of them . . ." He trailed off, staring pleadingly at her. "It's the truth—I swear by God's presence it is."
Blackmail, then . . . which unfortunately eliminated the chance of backtracking a payment drop. "Did he tell you the villager's name, or say why he wanted him beaten up?"
"No."
For a moment the rooftop was silent as Jin considered. If Sibbio was telling the truth, it meant his mystery caller had at least a passing familiarity with Azras's underworld and its activities. At the same time, paradoxically, that knowledge must be fairly limited for him to have picked such an obviously small-time group as Sibbio's to handle his dirty work.
Unless this was as well organized as Azras's criminal underworld got. She made a mental note to check with Daulo on that one.
Either way, Sibbio was clearly a dead end. "There's a small knife by the chimney over there," she pointed, getting to her feet. "You can roll or otherwise work your way over to it and cut yourself free. Your friends are still at the apartment you broke into; collect them and all of you get out of Azras."
Sibbio's mouth fell open. "Get out . . . but this is our home."
"Too bad," Jin said, letting her voice harden. "Because for the next few days it'll be my home, too . . . and if I see you again while I'm here, Hebros Sibbio, you'll be taking that premature trip to see God that we discussed earlier. Understood?"
He nodded up at her, a single nervous motion of his head. Jin didn't especially like threatening the boy, but she liked the thought of him talking to Mangus even less. "Good. Let's both hope I never see you again."
Moving quietly across the roof, she reached the stairwell that she'd brought Sibbio up by and opened the door. He would make it to the knife, eventually, unless he lost his balance first and fell off the roof. As far as she was concerned, it didn't much matter what happened.
Nevertheless, she waited silently at the open door until he was safely away from the roof's edge.
* * *
She was two blocks from their apartment, visions of a soft bed hovering siren-like in front of her eyes, when she spotted the two cars parked at the building.
Instantly, she shut off the lights and pulled over to the curb, keying in her optical enhancers' telescopic and light-amp capabilities as she did so. Both cars were empty, but—she flipped briefly to infrared—the tires and drive shafts were still warm. And though her angle was bad, it looked very much like the lights in their apartment were on.
A cold chill ran up her spine. From what she'd seen of both village and city life, midnight visitors weren't exactly commonplace on Qasama. Could they be messengers from Milika, perhaps, bringing news from Daulo's father?
Or had Mangus hired a back-up set of muscle?
Jin cursed under her breath and started the car forward again. The direct route through the front door was out, of course—even if it was something as innocuous as a message from home, there was no plausible excuse she could think of as to why she, a woman, would be out alone at night. And if Daulo was in trouble, she had no intention of walking straight into his attackers' arms, anyway.
But there were always more indirect routes to be had . . .
She pulled around the next corner, parking the car a block away in a handy row of similar vehicles. Keeping to the shadows, enhanced senses alert for trouble, she made her way back to the apartment building, arriving at the side opposite to theirs within a couple of minutes. The building didn't offer much in the way of handholds, but she didn't have time for a long climb, anyway.
Taking one last look around, she bent her knees and jumped.
She made it onto the roof without any sound louder than a slight scraping of shoes on roof tiles. Crossing it, she squatted down at the edge and scanned the courtyard below for signs of life. There weren't any that she could see. Not surprisingly; with no access to the courtyard from outside except through the individual apartments, there would be no reason for anyone to watch the place once they'd established she wasn't hiding there. Setting her jaw, she eased over the edge, scrabbled for handholds that weren't there, and dropped to the ground.
The downside landing wasn't nearly as quiet as the upside one had been, and for what seemed like a long time she crouched motionlessly, auditory enhancers at full power as she waited for some kind of reaction. But the inhabitants of Azras must have had the city dwellers' traditional ability to sleep through noise, and after a minute she rose and loped across the courtyard to the rear of their apartment.
Through the sliding glass door, she could see the diffuse glow of lights from either the foodprep area or living room. Unfortunately, that was all she could see—the arrangement of the rooms didn't allow a direct view into the front of the apartment. An ear pressed against the glass yielded nothing. Into the valley of death, and all that, she thought grimly; and, pointing her little finger at the door's lock, she fired a burst from her metalwork laser.
The crack and spitting of flash-vaporized metal seemed to thunder in her ears, but there was no reaction from inside. Sliding the door open a crack, Jin slipped inside, closing it behind her. From the living room ahead came the faint scraping of shoes on rug.
She held her breath and keyed her auditory enhancers to full power. The sound of breathing came to her . . . the sound of one person breathing.
So all the company's left? Apparently . . . but there was no point in taking chances. Curling her hands to rest her thumbs lightly against the triggers in her third-finger nails, she straightened her little fingers into laser firing position and stepped around the corner.
Daulo, standing at the window, spun around as if he'd been stung. "Jin!" he gasped, seeming to wilt. "God above, you startled me."
