Young Rissa (14 page)

All right, she thought; she could sulk with the best of them. She kept silence and soon was engrossed in her own thoughts, unheeding of the talk that so pointedly ignored her.
I do not have to stay here
, she thought.
I can play docile for a time, and then
. . . After all, she still had Cele Metrokin as a hole card — and Laura Konig. At the time for drug-sticks, she smoked automatically and lightly.
 

Liesel's voice cut through her preoccupation. “I
said
, ‘Rissa — we're not boring you, are we?'”
 

She shook her head, not in negation but to clear her mind. She said, “It is futile to lie to a Hulzein, and I prefer the truth anyway. You are boring the hell out of me, and you all very well know it.”
 

Hawkman Moray grunted, touched a napkin to his lips, and rose. “In that case we will desist. Come, Sparline.”
 

The woman stood also. “Good night, Liesel.” Arm in arm, the two left the room.
 

Alarmed, Rissa looked at her hostess. “Should I follow and apologize?”
 

“No, they found out what they wanted to know. So did I.”
 

“Have I made myself unwelcome here?”
 

Liesel shook her head. “You've missed the point. Rissa, did you understand anything of what was said here?”
 

Rissa started to say no, then realized that the gist had stuck in her mind. “It is a power play. Fenner — whatever his name is — is trying to undermine your influence in the Windy Lakes area. So you will use — oh, I forget the names — to give him trouble elsewhere, to occupy him while you sew the Lakes up solidly. And — ”
 

“That's close enough. You see, you
did
understand. Then why were you bored?”
 

“Because no one ever
spoke
to me, or explained who anybody is. I — ”
 

“In some ways, you're a spoiled child. Capable, yes — but untrained.”
 

“
Erika
trained me!”
 

“In some skills. Not, apparently, in patience or subtlety.” She waved a hand. “No, no — don't confuse individual guile with the ability to work subtly in group actions. However, I have hope for you — if you're willing to learn. And if you survive, once you're ready for work outside this place.”
 

“Survive? Why should I not?”
 

“Dal Nardo. I called him — he wants your life, all right. He hates anything to do with the Hulzeins, and you humiliated him. He as much as told me I can't hide you forever — and when you come out, you'll be challenged by hired duelists.”
 

Rissa's eyes narrowed. “Yes — at the last, he mentioned dueling.” She smiled. “But why should I wait for him to try to hire me dead? Do you think — is he person enough to face me himself, or would he apologize to satisfy the customs and skulk behind paid killers?”
 

Liesel shook her head. “Dal Nardo never apologizes.”
 

“Then would it disturb you if he dies?”
 

“You're crazy, girl! He's expert with blade and gun — and without them he'd break your neck between two fingers.”
 

“Perhaps, perhaps not. I think not. Why not give me the chance?”
 

“Because — all right, Erika taught you and she's one of the best —
I
wouldn't want to fight you and believe me, I'm very good, for my age. But — you're so goddamned
young.
Why not wait — and hope to avoid trouble?”
 

“Liesel —
you
have no real faith in that possibility?”
 

For a moment the woman put her hands to her face. “No. No, I haven't.” She reached for the wine bottle and poured them each a glass. “All right. When you — when
we're
ready, I'll arrange, if you still wish it, for you to challenge Stagon dal Nardo.”
 

“Good.” Rissa lifted her glass. “Let us toast that meeting.”
 

Each drank. A silent pause lengthened; then Liesel said, “You have to know how things work here. We can't start to teach you any sooner.”
 

“You mean, like your government? How
does
it work?”
 

If Liesel intended a smile, she failed. “In a word, badly. Not for most of the people; it treats them well enough. But it — I suppose you'd call it a benevolent oligarchy — is hamstrung by power struggles. We waste more time fighting each other than working for the benefit of the planet — let alone the other Hidden Worlds or the Escaped Ships.”
 

One word stuck in Rissa's mind. “
We
, you said?”
 

“Certainly; I'm one of them. Thirty-seven families own everything of importance on Number One — land, maritime rights, business interests, what-have-you. There were nearly twice as many to start with, but the infighting got rid of the rest — as competitors, and sometimes literally. The dal Nardos, for instance, got their start in the assassination business.”
 

Rissa thought. “No different from Earth, then — not really.”
 

“I'm afraid you're right — we talk freedom and fight for power. I come by it honestly, by genetics and indoctrination both — I don't know what excuses the others make to themselves.”
 

“About the same, I would expect,” said Rissa. “But is there no cooperation among you?”
 

“Surely — when interests coincide. I try to work that way, when I can. But then along comes — well, Fennerabilis, say, and — ”
 

“Yes. I remember the name now.”
 

“I'm not having the man killed, mind you — he's doing a good job in his own sector, under tough circumstances. That's the tricky part, actually — stopping his power grab
and
keeping him alive.”
 

“It's true,” said Rissa, “that some are more worthy than others, to be kept living.”
 

The older woman laughed, a harsh sound. “I like the way you put that.” Then her expression sobered. “One thing I haven't asked yet. Number One's like a chessboard and most people are pawns, if that. I need to know your rank on the board.”
 

Rissa nodded. “By wealth, you mean?”
 

“Of course. While you can hold it.”
 

Rissa told her — how much on Earth and how invested, how much with Osallin on Far Corner, and the sums she had brought with her. The other's lips moved silently.
 

Then Liesel said, “Twenty-seven years' appreciation of Earth assets, fifteen at Far Corner. With what you brought — well, if you live, Rissa Kerguelen, Number One has another oligarch.”
 

 

They finished the wine; Rissa declined another round of drugsticks. Despite her training, her feet were less than steady as they left the dining room.
 

“I'll show you upstairs,” Liesel said. “No point in rousing one of the help so late.” Companionably they walked up to Rissa's room.
 

At the door, Rissa turned and said, “They make a handsome couple, the Morays.”
 

Liesel Hulzein stared at her, then laughed. “
Couple?
Sparline's my daughter. And having seen Erika's Frieda and the failures before her, I didn't follow her example of letting the unassisted Hulzein genes go fuzzy around the edges. Hawkman Moray is Sparline's father.”
 

Before Rissa could find answer, Liesel closed the door.
 

A youngish girl, perhaps fourteen, came to wake Rissa next morning. But daylight had roused her earlier — she lay, eyes open, thinking less of what she had learned than of what she had yet to learn. The girl said, “Pardon. Ms. Moray asks you to join her at breakfast.”
 

“Thank you. Tell her I will be down shortly.” Throwing back the covers she swung her legs over, to stand in one fluid motion. The girl stared at her nudity, then turned and quickly left the room.
 

Rissa washed, brushed her hair and dressed. A few minutes later she found the same girl outside her door, waiting to lead her downstairs. Rissa followed, to a cheerful room that faced morning sun. At a small table Sparline Moray sat alone; before her were a glass of pale liquid and a steaming cup. Her hair was down, lying in loose waves against her vermilion robe.
 

She looked up. “I'm having some of our local fruit juice and Number One's version of coffee. Would you like some, before food's served?” She gestured toward two pitchers.
 

“Yes, please.” She sat facing the other woman and filled the glass and cup at her place. “It is kind of you to invite me to join you.”
 

“I wanted to talk to you.” Sparline smiled. “More precisely, I still do.”
 

“If it concerns last night,” Rissa said, “ — my rudeness — ”
 

“Provoked by our own — to see how much string we could let out before you pulled it tight. No, no — nothing shaken.”
 

“I am glad. Then what do you wish to talk about?”
 

“Tell me of yourself.”
 

As she thought, Rissa sipped — the pale juice was both sweet and tart, the coffee much like Earth's. “What is it you would like to know?”
 

“Whatever you choose to tell. Your choices will tell me a lot, also.”
 

“Very well — from the beginning. If I bore you, say so — and I will shorten the story.” So — briefly, her birthplace, her parents and their deaths. A quick sketch — impersonal, as though she had been an observer — of life in Total Welfare. The lottery prize — Camilla Altworth, the year at Erika's — Far Corner and Osallin. “. . . then he found me passage here, to Number One. The first thing I did here was to find trouble with an egomaniac named dal Nardo. The second was to come to this place.” Brows lifted, she waited.
 

Sparline nodded. “A little skimpy in spots, but quick and to the point. Well, enough for now — our meal's arriving.”
 

Rissa sampled eggs, smaller than those she knew, a toasted bun and then another, and slices of grilled meats. She found she had good appetite. Neither spoke during the meal; then Sparline said, “More coffee?” Rissa nodded. “And I imagine you have some questions yourself. Ask away; if I'm not free to answer, I'll say so.”
 

“That is fair. Well — this is only personal curiosity, Ms. Moray, but — you were born on Earth?” “First names are correct between us, Rissa. To one of your status,
 

I'm Sparline and my mother is Liesel.”
 

Rissa laughted, not long. “I am not sure what my status is.”
 

“Probational, of course, but tentatively one of
us
. If you don't prove out, you're free to make your own way — on Number One or elsewhere. In that case, I'd be Ms. Moray.”
 

Rissa had no comment. Sparline said, “Now, your question — yes, I was born on Earth. Don't imagine that Erika approved — or my grandmother Renalle — when Liesel departed from Hulzein doctrine. But after two bad tries at parthenogenesis, she consulted a geneticist. Erika and Renalle both rejected his findings, so my mother went to manage family holdings on another continent — and there she chose Hawkman Moray, my father.”
 

“She fell in love with him?”
 

“I don't think so — not then. But he stood with her against Erika's forces and helped bring her here — and now she values him above all other men.”
 

Rissa thought. “And they had you. Why no others?”
 

“Have some more coffee.” Sparline stared down at her cup, then said, “After me it wasn't possible — complications. But a year before me they also had a son.”
 

“And is he here also?”
 

Sparline's tone was bitter. “Do you think the Hulzeins — Renalle and Erika — would accept male inheritance even partially? Liesel and Hawkman had to hide him — hide his very existence — or he'd have been killed. But I knew him until he was thirteen. He was good to me — I wouldn't begrudge him his half of what I have — or will have.” “But what happened? Do you know where he is?” “Sometimes — but he won't have anything to do with us, in person. Just business sometimes, through others.” “I do not understand.”
 

“It was a bad thing. To protect him, Liesel faked all his records; he was registered under his middle name, with fictitious parentage. Then when the showdown came with Erika, my parents had to move fast — they bought his way into UET's space academy. It's a nightmare, that place, but it was safe from Erika. Then we had to leave Earth — and there was no time or way to rescue him!”
 

Rissa saw Sparline shudder. “Horrible life, that — for a young boy with no protective influence backing him. We didn't know how bad by half until it was too late. It made him hard. His ship Escaped not long after he joined it — thank peace for that! But now he's called pirate and outlaw and mutineer by people who don't even know him!
 

“Poor Tregare!”
 

 

Rissa's mind began and rejected one sentence after another. Finally; “He — he did not mutiny against his own people. UET had retaken the ship. He told me.”