The Kinsmen Universe Page 18

  For a moment absolute silence claimed the hall. And then chaos broke.

  The situation made absolutely no sense.

  Deirdre dipped her fingers into the interface. The liquid metal coated her hand, climbing from her fingertips all the way to her wrist. It slid between her fingers, slightly cold, dry but slippery with silky smoothness, the way very fine sand might feel if individual sand granules were perfectly round. As the synaptic implants under her skin made connections with free floating nanoclusters, she felt her hand—skin, muscle, ligament, and bone—stretch impossibly far. She thought of the archive. The four petals of the unit ignited with pale green, and the huge collection of files, the sum total of her research and archival documents, flared into existence, projected into space above the petals.

  Ten feet away Robert slumped in the chair. In the corner Nina rubbed her face with her hands. The room was dim, the huge communication screens on the wall silent and dark, all except the one on the right side, showing the map of the sector. In the center of the map hung the Colchida Cluster, three stars, eleven habitable worlds total, four warp points, thirty million colonists. It used to belong to the Monrovian Republic. Situated too far from Monrovian industrial centers, it was all but worthless to the Republic. But to the Empire, the Cluster was a diamond in rough. Had the Empire been given a chance to develop the Cluster, it would’ve become the biggest industrial and commercial base of the sector.

  Unfortunately the Vunta Caliphate very much enjoyed raiding the Cluster while it was in the Monrovian possession. The numerous stars of the Caliphate, tinted with pale blue to show the territory boundaries, hung in the corner of the map like a storm cloud. It would take the Empire at least two decades to build up the defenses of the Cluster to a survivable level. Until then, the only guard against the Vunta were the Reigh, a thin ribbon of worlds tinted with green.

  The Vunta wanted to make a last run at the Cluster, stripping it of all valuables. Hundreds of lives would be lost. The Empire would threaten war and the Caliphate would back off with apologies, but the budding economy of the Cluster would be wrecked. It would take decades and billions to recover.

  The Empire needed to protect the Cluster. The Reigh needed the money. But the Reigh doctrine forbade trading payment for military service. And so the staff of the Embassy had to figure out how to skirt the Reigh doctrine. To find an underhanded way to exchange money for protection with the people, who were forbidden to become mercenaries. Now it would never happen.

  They were responsible for the safety of 30 million colonists and they blew it. The thought made her stomach lurch.

  Deirdre sank deeper into the interface, both arms up to the elbow, speed-reading through the flurry of documents and her notes. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but she was sure if she just figured out what it was her subconscious was trying to tell her, the situation would become logical.

  Fatima moved on quiet feet to stand at Robert’s side. “Would you like some tea?”

  “What I would like is to travel back in time twenty-four hours and strangle the sushi chef. How could we not know Nagrad was allergic to redfish caviar?”

  Deirdre heard the question. It sank in slowly, fighting its way through her focus.

  “Numerous reasons,” she said, still reading. “Nagrad could have not known he was allergic. He could have deliberately hidden the allergy so it wouldn’t be used against him. He could’ve been distracted by Nina and not realized what he was eating. The Vunta could’ve poisoned him. Your theory is as good as mine—all of them are total rubbish.”

  Robert startled. “Why?”

  The tone of his voice snapped her out of her search. “Because the Reigh are suspicious paranoiacs, who also happen to be very poor actors.”

  She tossed the recording of the banquet to one of the side screens, fast-forwarding to the right frame. “Look at him. Yes, he’s taking pains to listen to Nina, but he’s hardly absorbed. He can’t even pretend to be interested enough to fool a casual observer. He’s definitely not distracted enough to ignore poisonous food. Look at the line of faces behind him. They are about as relaxed as stone idols on New Barbar and they are watching him so hard, they don’t even blink. Do you really think they would let him put something bad in his mouth? Not really. Nor would they let the Vunta mysteriously sprinkle something on his food. This whole thing makes no sense at all.”

  The main screen ignited and the face of Timur Gonzales came into the view. The Chief of Security looked slightly baffled, hooded dark eyes melancholy, long phlegmatic face relaxed, as if he just woke up from a long nap in sunshine. It made total sense that the Reigh would demand communication through him…the Branch Nagrad and the Empire were now technically in the state of war. Unfortunately he had about as much diplomatic ability as Deirdre herself.

  Timur dragged his fingers across his chin, stroking an imaginary beard. “We have contact.”

  Robert looked up. “Patch them through.”

  “They won’t talk to you,” Deirdre said, almost at the same time as Timur.

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’re technically responsible for Nagrad’s death. They would be honor-bound to kill you on sight,” Deirdre said.

  “What she said,” Timur added.

  Robert growled. “Fine, patch them through on the side screen as a closed feed.”

  “They’ve already delivered the terms.”

  The veins in Robert’s temples bulged. “For Zeus’s sake, would you stop wasting my time then and give me the bloody recording?”

  A harsh-faced Reigh filled the screen. “You’ve robbed our Branch of a great man. You must atone. The blood-tree must be replenished. You will provide a woman for Lord Nagrad so an heir can be born. And you will pay a dowry. A very large dowry, for the insult was grave. Thirty billion units.”

  Deirdre blinked. Brilliant. Lao Tzu, that was simply brilliant.

  Robert exhaled. “Out of the question! The entire Nagrad Branch can survive for a decade on that money. Tell him…”

  Deirdre cut in. “Robert, a marriage would make you related. He would be honor-bound to protect your possessions.”

  She watched the thought sink in. Robert’s face took on an intense look of a hound closing in for a kill. “Ask him if the marriage would mean Branch Nagrad would protect the Cluster in the event of a raid or invasion.”

  Timur intoned the words. Deirdre tuned him out, going back to her notes. She already knew the answer.

  “Yes,” Timur relayed.

  Robert leaned back. “So here it is. Nagrad Junior doesn’t waste time, does he? Thirty billion is a bit steep, but it’s doable.”

  “I’ll do it. It’s my responsibility.” Nina rose with dignity, her voice hoarse. “You may tell Lord Nagrad that I accept his proposal.”

  “He doesn’t want you,” Timur said. “Well, who does he want?” Robert asked.

  Chapter 3

  Deirdre finally hit on the correct recording, thirty-two years ago, one of the first contact missions to the Reigh. The ceremonial trading of the swords, and sharing of the food. She zoomed the picture, focusing on the platter before the Survey Captain and a young-looking Reigh warrior…

  Robert’s face penetrated the projection. She looked up at him.

  “Deirdre,” he said, his voice quiet and earnest. “Do you remember your oath to the Diplomatic Corps? The part where you promised to dedicate your body and mind…” “To serve to the most of my ability and to sacrifice my life should my duty demand it. Of course I remember.” Robert tried to pick up her hands but they were covered in the liquid interface. He settled on holding her shoulders instead. “How do you feel about sacrifice in a form of a marriage?”

  “Lord Nagrad desires a meeting with his bride,” the Reigh said. “He wants to determine that she is of sound body and free of mental retardation. She must be ready in one hour.”

  Robert wheeled about. “Our shuttle. Tell him our people are coming with her and we want her safely delivered
back or the deal is off.”

  After a momentary pause, the Reigh inclined his dark head. “Agreed.”

  The hallways of the Nagrad keep looked unlike anything Deirdre had imagined. She had pictured bleak dark walls; instead she found wall-long windows and a palette ranging from rust to fresh mint green. As she walked down the corridor between Timur and Johanna Bray, the red rays of the rising sun danced on the wall and slid on her gray dress, adding color to the fabric.

  It didn’t make her feel any better.

  She recalled Robert’s briefing: You’re going there to haggle. Get him down to twenty billion. Take the initiative and don’t let him control the conversation. I’m sorry I can’t be there with you, but I promise you, I won’t send you to him without backup again. This is just the first step, Deirdre. We have a long way to go before we’ll agree on the amount.

  The fact that she was being appraised like a cow at market apparently didn’t bother him at all.

  Their escort, a Reigh woman in black leather, led them to a wooden door and stepped inside, closing it behind her.

  “Why me?” Deirdre murmured.

  “Because you’re hot,” Timur said. “Because he hates blondes. Because a bug bit him this morning when he got out of bed.”

  “He had it on the first one,” Johanna said. “You’re pretty hot. Don’t worry, we’ll get you back up to the Orbital in one piece.”

  The door opened and their escort invited them into the room with a sweep of her hand.

  Deirdre stepped through. Despite the large window, gloom pooled in the corners and snuck across soft rugs. A single table stood in the middle of the room, lit by the soft yellow light of a cluster lamp. Two chairs flanked the table. In a far chair sat a Reigh. Lean. Dressed in black like all of them. Black hair, cut short. He sat just outside the circle of light, and shadows masked his face. What a cheap trick.

  The escort moved forward, silent like a shadow, and held the second chair out for her. Here we go. Her knees trembled. This is so stupid. Why am I scared?

  She forced herself to walk across the carpet. Timur followed. The Reigh gave him a flat stare and the chief of security halted a few feet away. Deirdre sat.

  “Lord Nagrad, I presume.” Her voice sounded almost normal.

  The Reigh inclined his head. She could see him now. He had a hard face, not handsome but not unpleasant. Square jaw, strong nose. The same sharp intelligence she saw in his father’s eyes showed full force in his. How old is he? Thirty?

  “I am…”

  “Deirdre Lebed. I know.”

  The sound of his voice almost made her jump. She looked past him, trying to collect herself, and saw four shadows in the depth of the room. Bodyguards.

  Take away the initiative. Right. “Would you mind if I asked you a question?”

  “Please, feel free.”

  “Why choose a foreign wife? One who is unfamiliar with the traditions and culture? Why not just take the monetary restitution?”

  He braided the fingers of his hands into a single fist. “To accept a bribe for the loss of life is forbidden by the doctrine. Besides, a woman from outside the Reigh has several advantages. The man is the trunk of a family, but the woman is its root. In our society, men own the children and the means of war. Everything else is owned by the woman. And too often a woman’s first loyalty is to her mother instead of her husband. It tends to make matters…complicated. A woman of the foreign blood has no one to turn to. She would exist solely at the mercy of her husband.”

  Fantastic. This conversation was going a long way to allay her concerns about becoming a bride.

  “And,” the Reigh Lord permitted himself a small smile. “Our traditions are rather binding. There are certain things a man could ask of foreign woman that would be considered unclean by the women of the Reigh.”

  “What kind of things?”

  “Things of sexual nature. Do you consider yourself open-minded in those matters, Lady Deirdre? Would you do all those things at my request?”

  If he was willing to walk down the road, it was perfectly fine with her. With Reigh being as rigid as they were, it was likely he’d bail first. Deirdre arched her eyebrows. “Very few women within the Empire do all things, Lord Nagrad. I cannot confirm what I may or may not do without knowing what you have in mind. Would you be more specific?”

  She smiled and waited for him to back off. “Would you suck my cock?” he asked.

  She stared at him for a long moment, trying to make sure she didn’t mishear. Behind her someone made a strangled noise.

  The Reigh Lord waited for her answer. His face was perfectly solemn.

  “Well.” She cleared her throat, desperately hoping she didn’t blush. “I suppose that could be…hrhm arranged under certain circumstances. Is there any…other requests you would like to make?”

  He raised his hand. One of the shadows detached itself from the gloom and brought a platter with a thin pseudo-paper magazine. She hadn’t seen pseudo-paper since her days at Altair museums during her graduate on the Colonial Journalism.

  Nagrad took the magazine off the platter and put it on the table. The digital photograph on the cover left no doubt as to what kind of a publication it was. He flipped the pages and pushed the magazine toward her. “Would you do this?”

  “Yes.”

  He flipped another page. “This one?”

  “Possibly.”

  “This one?”

  She felt the blush creeping onto her cheeks. “Yes.”

  “What about this one?”

  She squinted, trying to make sense of the naked shapes. “Is that even possible? Wouldn’t you have to have low G for this?”

  “Or a very strong woman.”

  “I’m not sure I’m that strong.”

  “I suppose we could arrange a shuttle trip then,” he offered.

  “No, thank you. Thirty billion is an outrageously large sum.”

  “You think so? Considering the scale of the injury, I believe it’s just right.” He flipped the page. “How about this one?”

  Robert’s face was incredulous. “You didn’t drop him at all? Not even by half a bil? Oh Hermes, a child could’ve done better.”

  Deirdre threw the recorder onto the table. Nagrad’s face, frozen on the screen, mocked her with grey eyes. “What do you want from me, Robert? Every time I tried to bring up the money, he would show me more porn. The man asked me if I would suck his cock! How do you counter that?”

  A soft voice interrupted, “By saying, ‘That would depend on the size of your instrument, my lord. Would you care to take off your pants so I can determine if it would be a good fit?’”

  Robert bent in a half, “My lord.”

  She turned to see an older man in a soft green tunic. He gave her a light smile, as if he was too polite to laugh at his own off-color joke.

  “Holy crap, the Duke of Rodkil.” Fatima’s heels clicked together.

  Deirdre bowed. The living legend placed his hand onto her shoulder. Imposing on the portraits, in person he appeared rather slight, short with a narrow, bird-boned frame. “No need to bend your back, my dear. I understand Robert called me as soon as he knew, but despite all of our progress, there are times when the interstellar travel isn’t quite fast enough.” He nodded at Nagrad on the screen. “A very shrewd man. Let’s see if we can cut him down a bit, shall we? I’ll need all of the background you have.”

  Deirdre shrugged the interface off her hands and leaned back against the seat. Her head throbbed. The ancient diplomat was still speed-reading, submerged in the interface up to his elbow.

  “What’s the significance of kneeling? Submission?”

  She rubbed her temples. “Not exactly, Your Grace.”

  “Jason,” he corrected.

  “Jason,” she repeated, trying to ignore the absurdity of referring to a recipient of the Diamond Sword by his first name. “The Reigh don’t submit. Not even in battle—when they surrender, they raise their hands to the sides, daring a thrust
to the stomach. The kneeling… It’s more a gesture of ultimate respect. A Reigh kneels only before his Lord and only once, at the acceptance into service. A Reigh Lord kneels before no one.”

  “A quaint culture. So many references to the vegetative symbolism.”

  “Yes.”

  The Duke…Jason glanced at her. “You should sleep, my dear. You look exhausted. He’s likely to call for another meeting tomorrow.”

  She sighed. “Why? I couldn’t haggle him down. He’d be smart to avoid us so he can hold on to the original sum.”

  “But he knows you don’t control the proverbial purse strings. He’s perfectly aware the real fight is ahead and he doesn’t want to give us enough time to regroup.”

  She sighed. “He caught me off-guard. I expected coldness, some sort of brutal physical test, perhaps a ritual where I’d have to untangle tree branches without breaking the leaves or untie an impossible knot. I didn’t expect dirty pictures. It goes against everything I know about them. It makes me question my assumptions.”

  Jason shook his head. “What I’ve seen so far is both thorough and well documented. Your conclusions are logical and, I wager, quite accurate. Robert is very lucky to have you, and he knows it, otherwise he wouldn’t have called me.” The Duke chuckled. “Quite a hit to his pride, to have to call your former mentor out of retirement. But back to the Reigh, don’t doubt the entire body of your research on the basis of Lord Nagrad. In diplomacy, like in great many other things, the rules of engagement survive only until one remarkable person decides to break them. It’s just our luck we stumbled across such a person.”

  “That, and the fact that I’m a lousy diplomat.”

  “To each his own. You’re an excellent analyst. Not everyone is born with the gift of snappy comeback. But you should rest. And don’t worry, we may yet get you out of this mess.”

  This time the meeting fell onto afternoon, and the sunlight filled the room. Nagrad waited in precisely the same position Deirdre had seen him the first time. “Greetings, Lady Deirdre. And Your Grace.”