The Bloodline Feud (Merchant Princes Omnibus 1) (72 page)

The main entrance to the room was guarded by soldiers in black helmets and body armor, armed with automatic rifles. They stood impassively by as Miriam entered, Kara trailing her. ‘Ooh,
look! It’s your uncle!’ Kara whispered.

‘Tell me something new. Like, where do I sit?’ Angbard occupied one of the three raised chairs at the middle of the table, a black robe drawn over his suit. His expression was as
grim as a hanging judge’s. The room was already beginning to fill, men and women in business attire seeking out their benches and quietly conversing. The only anomalous touch was their
attendants, decked out in archaic finery.

‘Excuse me, where should milady sit?’ Kara asked a uniformed functionary who, now that Miriam was getting her bearings, seemed to be one of many who were unobtrusively directing
delegates and partners to one side or another.

‘Thorold-Hjorth – that would be there. Left bench, second row if she is to be called.’

Miriam drifted toward the indicated position.
Like a company’s annual general meeting,
she noted. It was oddly familiar, but in no way comforting. She looked up at the front table
and saw that three of the high seats had already been filled – one of them by Oliver Hjorth, who caught her watching and glared at her. The other two held dusty nonentities, elderly men who
looked half-asleep already as they leaned heads together to talk.
I wish Roland were here,
she thought.
Or – no, I just wish I wasn’t facing this alone. Roland would be
supportive, but he wouldn’t be much use, would he?

‘May I join you?’ someone asked. Miriam glanced up.

‘Olga? Yeah, sure! Did you have a good night?’

Olga sat down next to her. ‘No intruders,’ she said smugly. ‘A pity. I was rather hoping.’

‘Hoping?’

‘To test my new M4 Super 90. Ah well. Oh, look, it’s Baron Gruinard.’ She indicated one of the dried sticks at the board table.

‘Is that good or bad?’

‘Depends if he’s sitting for the Royal Assizes and you’re brought up in front of him. At most other times he’s rather harmless, but one hears the most frightful things
when his court is in session.’

‘Um.’ Miriam noticed another familiar figure, an elderly dowager in a blue twinset and pearls. Her stomach twisted. ‘I spy a grandmother.’

‘Don’t make a habit of it.’ Olga beamed in the direction of the elderly duchess, who spotted Miriam and frowned, horribly. ‘Isn’t she impressive?’

‘Is that meant to be a compliment?’

The duchess cast Olga a hideous glare and then diverted her attention elsewhere, to a balding middle-aged man in a suit who fawned and led her toward the far side of the room.

‘Where’s – ’

‘Hush,’ said Olga. Angbard had produced a gavel from somewhere. He rapped it on the edge of the table peremptorily.

‘We are gathered today for an extraordinary meeting,’ Angbard announced conversationally. He frowned and tapped the elderly looking microphone. ‘We are gathered . . . state of
emergency.’ The sound system cut in properly and Miriam found that she no longer had to make an effort to hear him. ‘Thirty-two years ago, Patricia Thorold-Hjorth and Alfredo Wu were
attacked on their way to this court. The bodies of Alfredo and his guards were found, but that of Patricia remained lost. Until very recently it was believed that she and her infant daughter had
perished.’

A quiet ripple of conversation swept the hall. Angbard continued after a brief pause. ‘Four months ago an unknown woman appeared in the wilds of Nether Paarland. She was apprehended, and a
variety of evidence – backed up by genetic fingerprinting, which my advisors tell me is infallible for this purpose – indicated that she was the long-lost infant, Helge Thorold-Hjorth,
grown to majority in the United States.’

The conversational ripple became a cascade. Angbard brought his gavel down again and again. ‘Silence, I say silence! I will have silence.’

Finally the room was quiet enough for him to continue. ‘A decision was taken to bring Helge into the Clan. I personally took responsibility for this. Her, ah, induction, was not an
immediate success. Upon her arrival here a number of unexpected events transpired. In particular, it appears that someone wanted her dead – someone who couldn’t tell the difference
between a thirty-two-year-old countess and a twenty-three-year-old chatelaine, traveling together. In the interests of clarity I must add that
nobody
in this room is presently under
suspicion.’

Miriam’s scalp prickled. Glancing aside she realized that half the eyes in the room were pointed at her. She sat up and looked back at Angbard.

‘I believe we now have evidence enough to confirm the identity of the parties behind the attacks on Patricia and Alfredo,
and
on Patricia’s daughter, Helge. These same
parties are accused of fomenting the civil war that split this Clan into opposing factions fifty-seven years ago – ’ Uproar. Angbard sat back and waited for almost a minute, then
brought his gavel down again – ‘Silence, please! I intend to present the witnesses that Clan Security has uncovered before you in due course. The floor will then be opened for motions
bearing on the matter at hand.’ He turned to his neighbor, an elderly gentleman who until this point appeared to have been half asleep on his throne. ‘Julius, if you please . .
.’

‘Aha!’ The old scarecrow bolted upright, raised a wobbling hand, and declaimed: ‘Calling the first witness – ’ he peered at a paper that Angbard slid before him,
and muttered: ‘Can’t call her, she’s dead, dammit!’

‘No, she isn’t,’ retorted Angbard.

‘Oh, all right then. Think I’m senile, do you?’ Julius stood up. ‘Calling Patricia Thorold-Hjorth.’

Half the room were on their feet shouting as the side door behind the table opened. Miriam had to stand, too, to see over heads to where Brilliana was entering the room, pushing a wheelchair
containing her mother. Who looked bemused and rather nervous at being the focus of such uproarious attention.

‘Did they take her motorized chair away to stop her running?’ Miriam asked Olga.

‘Order! Order or I shall have the guards – order I say!’

Slowly order was restored. ‘That’s odd,’ quavered Julius, ‘I was sure she was dead.’ A ripple of laughter spread.

‘So was I,’ Iris – Patricia – called from her chair. Brill steered her over to one side of the table.

‘Why did you run away?’ asked Oliver Hjorth, leaning sideways so he could see her, an unpleasant expression of impatience on his face.

‘
What
,
uns gefen mine mudder en geleg ’hat Gelegenheit, mish’su ’em annudern frau-clapper weg tu heiraten?
’
Iris asked dryly. There was a
shocked titter from somewhere in the audience. ‘Obviously not. And if you have to ask that question I also doubt very much that you’ve ever had a gang of assassins trying to murder you.
A pity, that. You could benefit from the experience.’

‘What’s she saying?’ Miriam nudged Olga.
I really must try to learn the language,
she thought despairingly.

‘Your mother is convincingly rude,’ Olga replied,
sotto voce.

‘This is an imposter!’ someone called from the floor. Miriam craned her neck; it might be the dowager duchess, but she couldn’t be certain. ‘I demand to see –
’

‘Order!’ Angbard whacked his hammer down again. ‘You will be polite, madam, or I will have you escorted out of this room.’

‘I apologize to the chair,’ Iris responded. ‘However, I assure you I’m no imposter. Mother dearest, by way of proof of my identity, would you like me to repeat what I
overheard you telling Erich Wu in the maze at the summer palace gardens at Kvaern when I was six?’

‘You – you!’ The old dowager stumbled to her feet, shaking with rage.

‘I believe I can prove my case adequately, with or without blood tests,’ Iris said dryly, addressing the gallery. ‘As any of you who have consulted the register of proxies must
be aware, my mother has a strong motive for refusing to acknowledge me. Unfortunately, as in so many other circumstances, I must disobey her wishes.’

‘Nonsense!’ blurted the duchess, an expression of profound horror settling on her face. She sat down quickly.

‘As her half-brother I can attest that she is no imposter,’ said Angbard. ‘If anyone requests independent verification, that can be arranged. Does any party to this meeting so
desire?’ He glanced around the room, but no hands went up. ‘Very well.’ He rapped on the table again with his gavel. ‘I intend to bring up the issue of Lady
Thorold-Hjorth’s absence again, but not at this session. Suffice to say,
I
am convinced of her authenticity. As you have just seen, her mother appears to be convinced, too.’
Spluttering from the vicinity of the dowager failed to break his poise. ‘Now, we have more urgent matters to consider. My reason for reintroducing Lady Patricia to this body was to, ah, make
it clear where the next matter is coming from.’

‘Clear as mud,’ the elderly Julius remarked to nobody in particular.

‘I’d like to call the next witness before the committee,’ Angbard continued, unperturbed. ‘Lady Olga Thorold has been the subject of outrageous attempts upon her person,
and has had her lady-in-waiting murdered, very recently – while traveling in the company of Lady Helge. All of this has occurred in the past six months. Please approach the table.’

Olga rose and walked to the front of the table. The room was silent.

‘In your own words, would you please tell us about the series of attacks on your person, when and where they began, and why they were unsuccessful?’

Olga cleared her throat. ‘Last December I was summoned to spend time with Duke Lofstrom at his castle. I had for a year before then been petitioning him for an active role, in the hope
that he could find a use for me in the trade. He asked me to escort Helge Thorold-Hjorth, newly arrived and ignorant of our ways, both to educate her and to ensure that no harm came to her. I do
not believe he anticipated subsequent events when we arrived at this house – ’ She continued to enumerate intrusion after intrusion, outrage by outrage, pausing only when interrupted
from the floor by a burst of voices demanding further explanation.

Miriam watched in near-astonishment. ‘Is everyone here something to do with Clan Security?’ she asked Kara quietiy.

‘Not me, milady!’ Kara’s eyes were wide.

Olga finished by recounting how Miriam had brought her to a new world, and how they had been assaulted there, too, by strangers. A voice from the floor called out. ‘Wait! How do you know
it was another world? Can’t it possibly have been another region of ’Merica?’

‘No, it can’t,’ Olga said dismissively. ‘I’ve seen America, and I’ve seen this other place, and the differences are glaringly obvious. They both sprang from
the same roots, but clearly they have diverged – in America, the monarchy is not hereditary, is it?’ She frowned for a moment. ‘Did I say something wrong?’

More uproar. ‘What’s all this nonsense about?’ demanded Baron Hjorth, red-faced. ‘It’s clear as day that this can’t be true! If it was, there might be a whole
new world out there!’

‘I believe there is,’ Olga replied calmly.

The gavel rose and fell on the resulting babble. ‘Silence! I now call Helge Thorold-Hjorth, alias Miriam Beckstein. Please approach the table.’

Miriam swallowed as she stood up and walked over.

‘Please describe for the Clan how you come to be here. From the day you first learned of your heritage.’

‘We’ll be here all day – ’

‘Nevertheless, if you please.’

‘Certainly.’ Miriam took a deep breath. ‘It started the day I lost my job with a business magazine in Cambridge. I went to visit my mother – ’ a nod to Iris ‘
– who asked me to fetch down a box from her attic. The box was full of old papers . . .’

She kept going until she reached her patent filing in New Britain, the enterprise she was setting up, and Olga’s shooting. Her throat was dry and the room was silent. She shook her head.
‘Can I have a glass of water, please?’ she asked. A tumbler appeared next to her.

‘Thank you. By this time I had some ideas. The people who kept trying to murder Iris – sorry, Patricia – and who kept going after me, or getting at Olga by mistake – they
had to be relatives. But apart from the one attempt, there was never any sign of them on the other side, in America that is. I remembered being told about a long-lost brother who headed west in the
earliest days of the Clan. You know – we learned – that they, too, use a pattern to let them world-walk, however they can travel only from here to New Britain, to the place I’ve
just been telling you about.

‘What I’ve pieced together is that a very long time ago one of the brothers headed west. He fell on hard times and lost his amulet. In fact, he ended up as an indentured slave and
took nearly ten years to save the cash to buy his freedom. Once free, he had to reconstruct the knot design from memory. Either that, or his was deliberately sabotaged by a sibling. Whichever, the
knot he painted was
different
. I can’t emphasize that strongly enough; where you go when you world-walk depends on the design you use as a key. We now know of two keys, but
there’s another fact – the other one, this lost brother’s knot, doesn’t work in America. Our America. The one we go to.

‘Anyway, he crossed over repeatedly, because it had been arranged that at regular intervals he should check for his brothers. They evidently intended to send a trade caravan to meet him,
somewhere in Northern California perhaps. But he never found his business partners waiting for him, because they were elsewhere, traveling to another world where, presumably, they interpreted his
absence as a sign that he’d died. He was cut off completely, and put it down to betrayal.’

‘Preposterous!’ Someone in the front row snorted, prompting Angbard to bring down the gavel again. Miriam took the opportunity to help herself to a glass of water.

‘This brother, Lee, had a family. His family was less numerous, less able to provide for themselves, than the Clan. Just as the ability was lost to your ancestors for a generation or two,
so it was with his descendants – and it took longer before some first cousins or cousins married and had an infant with renewed ability. They prospered much as you have, but more slowly. The
New British don’t have a lot of time for Chinese merchants, and as a smaller family they had far fewer active world-walkers to rely on.