The Bloodline Feud (Merchant Princes Omnibus 1) (16 page)

‘“Breakfast,”’ she said, ‘“first.”’

*

There was a kitchen on the ground floor, and there was nothing medieval about it. With its stainless-steel surfaces, huge chest freezer, microwave ovens, and gas range, it could
have been the back of a restaurant. The dining room attached to it didn’t look anything like Angbard’s private apartment, either. It reminded Miriam more of a staff room at an upmarket
consultant’s office. A couple of guys in dark suits nodded at Roland from a table, but they were finishing up cups of coffee and they cleared out as soon as he offered her a seat.

‘Tell me, what did you think of, uh, Olga?’

While she tried to puzzle out what he meant by that question, a waitress appeared, notepad poised. ‘What’s on the menu this morning?’ Miriam asked.

‘Oh, anything you’d like.’ She smiled breezily. ‘Coffee, we have a whole range of different types at present. Eggs, bacon, sausages, granola, breakfast cereal, juice
– whatever.’

‘Double espresso for me,’ said Roland. ‘Rye sourdough toast, extra-mature thick-peel marmalade, unsalted butter. Two fried eggs, sunny-side up.’

‘Hmm. A large cappuccino for me, I think,’ said Miriam. ‘Can you manage a Spanish omelet?’

‘Sure!’ Miss Breezy grinned at her. ‘With you in five minutes.’

Miriam blinked at her receding back. ‘Now that is what I call service.’

‘We take it seriously around here,’ Roland said dryly.

‘You run this household like a company.’ Miriam frowned. ‘In fact, this is a family business, isn’t it? That’s what you’re in.’ She paused.
‘Interuniversal import/export. Right?’

‘Right.’ He nodded.

‘And you’ve been doing it for hundreds of years.’

‘Right you are,’ he said encouragingly. ‘You’re figuring it out for yourself.’

‘It’s not that hard.’ The distinctive noise of a coffee percolator made her raise her head. ‘How do you think last night went?’

‘I think – ’ he watched her examining him. ‘Do you know you’ve got a very disquieting stare?’

‘Yes.’ She grinned at him. ‘I practice in the mirror before I go in to an interview. Sometimes it makes my victims give away more than they intended to. And sometimes it just
gives them bad dreams afterward.’

‘Eeh. I can see you’d be a bad enemy, Miss Beckstein.’

‘Miz, to you.’ She paused. The waitress was back, bearing a tray laden with coffee, milk, and a sugar bowl.

‘Call if you need anything more,’ she reassured them, then disappeared again.

Roland’s eyes narrowed as he looked at her. ‘You remind me of when I was at college,’ he said.

‘You were at college?’ she asked. ‘Over here, I mean?’

‘Oh, yes.’ He picked up his espresso and spooned a small quantity of brown sugar crystals into it.

‘The girls don’t seem to get that treatment,’ she pointed out sharply.

‘Oh, but some of them do,’ he replied, blowing on his coffee. ‘At least, these days, this generation. Olga is a throwback – or, rather, her father is. I’m not sure
quite what the duke was trying to prove, inviting you to dine with us, but he said something about culture shock earlier. He’s a perceptive old coot, gets hold of some very unexpected ideas
and refuses to let them go. He was testing you. Seeing how you comport yourself in a formal setting. Also seeing if you’d break under stress or how you’d hold up in public by using an
audience he could silence if the need arose.’

‘A-ha.’ She took a first sip of her coffee. ‘So what did you study?’

‘As an undergrad, economics and history. Before Harvard, my parents sent me to Dartmouth,’ he said quietly. ‘I think I went a bit crazy in my first couple of years there.
It’s very different over here. Most of the older generation don’t trust the way everything has changed since 1910 or so. Before then, they could kid themselves that the other side, this
America, was just different, not better. Like the way things were when our first ancestor accidentally stumbled upon a way to visit a town in New England in 1720 or so. But now they’re afraid
that if we grew up here or spent too much time we’d never want to come home.’

‘Sort of like defecting diplomats and athletes from the old Communist Bloc,’ Miriam prodded.

‘Exactly.’ He nodded. ‘The Clan’s strength is based on manpower. When we go back, you and me, we’ll have to carry some bags. Every time we cross over, we carry
stuff to and fro. It’s the law, and you need a good reason to flout it. There’s a post room: You’re welcome to come and go at will as long as you visit it each time to carry post
bags back and forth.’

‘A post room,’ she echoed.

‘Yes, it’s in the basement. I’ll show you it after – ah, food.’

For a few minutes they were both too busy to talk. Miriam had to admit that the omelet she’d ordered was exceptionally good. As she was draining her coffee, Roland took up the conversation
again. ‘I’m over here to run some business errands for the Boss today. I hope you don’t mind if I take a few minutes out while you’re doing whatever it is you were planning
to do?’

‘No, I mean, be my guest – ’ Miriam was nonplussed. ‘I’m not sure,’ she added after a moment. ‘There are a few things I needed to do, starting with,
well, just seeing that I’m allowed out and about, know what I mean?’

‘Did you have any concrete plans?’ Roland looked interested.

‘Well,’ she leaned back and thought. ‘I have – had, before all this landed on me – a commission to write a feature for a magazine. Nothing hard, but I’ll need
my iMac to write it on. And I must write it, if I don’t want to vanish off the face of the earth, career wise.’ She tried a smile. ‘Got to keep my options open. I’m a
working girl.’

Roland nodded. ‘I understand. And after that?’

‘Well. I was thinking about going home. Check my answering machine, make sure everything’s okay, reassure the neighbors that I’m all right, that kind of thing.’
Make
sure they haven’t found Paulie’s CD-ROM. Try to get a message to her to keep her head down.
‘I don’t have to stay for long,’ she added hastily. ‘I’m
not thinking about running away, if that’s what you’re worried about.’

Roland frowned thoughtfully. ‘Is it just your mail and phone that you need? Because if so, it would be a lot safer just to divert everything. We’ve got a telephone switch in the
subbasement and we can slam your domestic subscriber lines right over. But it would be a good thing if you avoided your home for the next few days. I can send someone around if there’s
anything you need, but – ’ he shrugged.

‘Why?’ she asked.

‘Because.’ He put his butter knife down. ‘We, uh, when there’s a succession crisis or a war within the Clan, things can get very messy, very fast.’ He paused for a
moment, then rushed on: ‘I wouldn’t want to risk anyone getting a clean shot at you.’

Miriam sat very still, blood pounding in her ears. ‘Does that mean what I think it means?’ she asked.

‘Yes – your house is a target. We have it under surveillance, but accidents can always happen, someone can miss something, and you might be walking into a booby trap. Tripwires
inside the front door. It won’t be secure until we’ve doppelgängered it, which might take some time because it’s way out in the sticks on this side, and we’d need to
fortify the area to stop anyone crossing over inside your living room. It took days for us to find you, even with the office chair in the forest as a marker. But you might not be so lucky next
time.’

‘Oh.’ Miriam nodded to herself, absorbing this new and unwelcome fact. So you found me by the chair? ‘What about my mother?’

Roland looked puzzled. ‘But your mother’s – ’

‘No, I mean my adoptive mother.’ Miriam gritted her teeth. ‘You know, the woman who raised me from a baby as her own?Who is now all alone and wheelchair-bound? Is she at risk?
Because if so – ’ she realized that her voice was rising.

‘I’ll see to it at once,’ Roland said decisively and pulled out his cell phone. It obviously hadn’t occurred to him that Iris was of any importance.

‘Do so,’ Miriam said tersely. ‘Or I’ll never speak to you again.’

‘That’s uncalled for.’ Roland looked disapproving. ‘Is there anyone else I should know about?’ he asked after a moment.

Miriam took a deep breath. Here goes, she thought. ‘My ex-husband is remarried and has a wife and child,’ she said. ‘Is he at risk?’

Roland mulled it over for a minute. ‘He’s a commoner,’ he said finally. ‘There were no children and you’re divorced. So I guess he’s out of the
frame.’

No children
. Miriam shook her head. ‘You’ll have to tell me about your inheritance laws,’ she said carefully.
Oh, what complications!
Somewhere out there in
America was a twelve-year-old girl – Miriam didn’t know where, she only knew general details about her adoptive family – who might have inherited Miriam’s current problem.
She’s too young,
Miriam thought instinctively.
And she has no locket. But the adoption records were sealed, and nobody but Ben and Iris knew about the pregnancy. If the family
hadn’t found her, then –

‘Oh, they’re simple enough,’ said Roland, a slightly bitter note in his voice. ‘The, um, family talent? It only breeds true among the pure-blooded line. They found that
out pretty early. It’s what the biologists call a recessive trait. On the other side, um, marriage customs are different – cousin marriages are allowed, for one thing – and for
another, children who don’t have the talent aren’t part of the Clan. But they’re kept in the families. They form the outer, nonshareholding part of the Clan, but if two of them
marry some of their children may inherit the talent.’

Good news mixed with bad news. On the one hand, her daughter – who she hadn’t seen since two days after her birth – was safe from the attentions of the family, safe to lead a
normal life unless Miriam drew attention to her. As long as the family dug no deeper than they had so far. On the other hand – ‘You’re telling me that my parents were
cousins.’

‘Second cousins once removed, I think,’ Roland replied. ‘Yes. By family law and custom marrying out is forbidden. You might want to bear that in mind, by the way, it’s
the one big taboo.’ He glanced aside nervously. ‘But you’re probably safe because you did it over here and divorced him before anyone knew.’ He was staring at the wall, she
realized, staring at something that wasn’t there in an attempt to avoid her gaze. Unpleasant memories? ‘Otherwise there would be repercussions. Bad ones.’

‘You’re telling me.’ She noticed her fingers turning white around the rim of her coffee cup. ‘So presumably Uncle Angbard will make life hard for me if I try to take off
and he wants me to marry someone who’s a not-too-close family member.’

‘That’s an understatement.’ Roland’s cheek twitched. ‘It’s not as if the council would give him any other options.’

‘What else?’ Miriam asked as the silence grew uncomfortable.

‘Well!’ Roland shook himself and sat up. He began ticking off points on his fingers, his movements precise and economical and tense. ‘We are expected to abide by the rules.
First, when you come over here, you stop by the post room in each direction and carry whatever’s waiting there. You got a free pass this time, but not in the future. Second, you check with
Security before you go anywhere. They’ll probably want you to carry a cell phone or a pager, or a bodyguard if the security condition is anything but blue – blue for cold. Oh, and third
– ’ he reached into an inner pocket – ‘the duke anticipated that you might want to go shopping, so he asked me to give you this.’ He passed her an envelope, the hint
of a smile tugging at his lips.

‘Hmm.’ Miriam opened it. There was an unsigned silvery-coloured Visa card inside with her name on it. ‘Hey, what’s this?’

‘Sign it.’ He offered her a pen, looking pleased with himself, then watched while she scribbled on the back. ‘Your estate is in escrow for now, but you should consider this an
advance against your assets, which are reasonably large.’ His smile widened. ‘There may be problems with the family, but spending money isn’t one of them.’

‘Oh.’ She slid it into her purse. ‘Any other messages from the duke?’

‘Yes. He said, “Tell her she’s got a two-million-dollar credit limit and to try not to spend it all at once.”’

Miriam swore in a distinctly unladylike manner.

He laughed briefly. ‘It’s your money, Miriam – Countess Helge. The import/export trade your ancestors pioneered is lucrative, and you can certainly earn your keep through it.
Now, shall we visit the post room so I can attend to business, and then maybe you can do whatever it is that you need to do?’

*

The post room was a concrete-lined subbasement, with pigeonholes sized to accommodate the big wheeled aluminum suitcases that the family used for ‘mail’.

Roland picked a clipboard from the wall and read through it. ‘Hmm. Just two cases to FedEx today and that’s it.’

‘Suitcases.’ She looked at them dubiously, imagining all sorts of illegal contraband.

‘Yes. Help me. Take that one. Yes, the handle locks into place as the wheels come out.’

Struggling slightly, Miriam tugged the big suitcase out of the post room and into the stark cargo elevator next to it. Roland hit the button for the basement, and they lurched downward.

‘What’s in these things?’ she asked. Then, after a moment: ‘Tell me if it’s none of my business.’
I’m not sure I want to know
, she thought,
unable to avoid a flashback to the meeting in Joe’s office, the threats on her phone.

‘Oh, it’s perfectly legal,’ Roland assured her. ‘No drugs, if that’s what you were worrying about. This is all stuff that is cheap enough in Gruinmarkt and
Soffmarkt or the other kingdoms of the coast and wants shipping to the Outer Kingdom – that would be California and Oregon – on this side. On the other side, there are no railroads or
airports and cargo has to go by mule train across the Great Plains and the Rocky Mountains. Which are full of nomad tribes, so it takes months and is pretty risky. We bring our goods across to this
side, heavily padded, and ship them by FedEx. The most valuable items in here are the sealed letters sent by the family post – we charge several times their weight in gold in return for a
postal service that crosses the continent in a week. We also move intelligence. Our western Clan members – the Wu family, formerly known as Arnesen, and braided with the eastern families
– exchange information with us. By coordinating our efforts, we can protect our traditional shipping on the other side from large bandit tribes. It also helps us exert political leverage
beyond our numbers. For example, if the Emperor of the West dies and there is a succession struggle, we can loan the Wu family funds with which to ensure a favorable outcome and do so long before
news would otherwise reach us across the continental divide.’