Young Rissa (20 page)

Rissa waited until the boys left; she saw that Liesel was talking over their heads, but unsure of the lines here between open and secret information, felt she had best not try to do the same. Then she said, “You will want me to accept information but not give it. Correct?” Liesel nodded. “And shall I ask questions, or is it too likely I would ask the wrong things?”
 

“Eat up,” said Liesel, “and let me think, while
I'm
eating.” After a time she opened a drawer and brought out a writing tablet and stylus. “You — only — will be on the screen. The wall behind you is featureless; it won't tell him anything. Give no sign that you're not alone. If I shake my head, you're on the wrong track — stop right there. And I can coach you some with written questions and answers — the cue words, I mean — I'm sure you improvise well on short notice.”
 

“‘Play it by ear,' is how my mother said it. Or, think on your feet — though I shall be sitting.”
 

Sparline laughed. “She'll do, Liesel. And — leave her as free to respond, as you can. Don't try to keep too tight a rein.”
 

Liesel, mouth full, waved a hand. After a moment; “
I
know that. Now, for the love of peace, let's eat!”
 

Conversation lagged. The boy Carlin brought the viewscreen and, at Liesel's direction, set it before Rissa and slightly to one side, partially covering Hawkman's unused place. When they were down to coffee and liqueurs, Liesel said, “All right, Rissa — it's time. Do you remember the number?”
 

“Yes, but it is for his office.”
 

“That'll do; the call will relay to his residence. If that doesn't work we can try some contingent numbers.”
 

“All right.” Rissa punched for Bleeker's office. The screen stayed dark; a voice said, “Automatic, speaking. This terminal is not occupied. Relay will connect you to an alternate terminal. Please wait.” Perhaps ten seconds passed; the screen flickered, went dark, then lit. A plump face appeared, that of a man or woman wearing a tight hood that covered the scalp, ears, and most of the forehead. The voice sounded like a woman's.
 

“Who is calling, and who do you want here?”
 

Liesel shook her head; Rissa guessed her meaning. “I am calling at Alsen Bleeker's request. Is he available?”
 

“I must know who is calling.”
 

“I would like
your
name, please.”
 

“Lennis Betorin. And yours?”
 

“When I eventually reach Alsen Bleeker, I will tell him that Lennis Betorin prevented my reaching him earlier — unless you would like to forget your protocol and connect us immediately.”
 

“I — yes, of course.” The face moved away; Rissa saw part of a room, the focus too poor to make out details. Liesel grinned broadly and reached to pat Rissa's hand.
 

They waited until Bleeker's gaunt face showed on the screen. “Ms. Obrigo! Well, it took you long enough. I — ”
 

“I called as soon as you reached the top of my priority list. Now, then — what is it you wish to tell me?”
 

“Tell you? No, I — ”
 

“I assumed you had important information for me. If not, I must get on with other matters. I am sure you understand.”
 

“Wait! Can't you talk a minute? I'll make it worth your while.”
 

“How much?”
 

Bleeker's thin lips stretched over long yellow teeth. “Well, now — how much are you asking?”
 

“It depends — do you mean Weltmarks or deaths?”
 

“
Deaths!
What are you talking about?”
 

Rissa shrugged. “Money is one currency, death another. Those who wield power usually deal in both. I am merely curious as to your rate of exchange.”
 

“Don't talk such foolishness — not on a public circuit.”
 

“This end is not public — nor, I think, is yours.” She waited.
 

His breath, drawn between clenched teeth, made a whistling sound. “Dal Nardo?” He shook his head; sparse wisps of hair moved on his scalp. “You can't know enough to make
that
job worth it.”
 

“Nor do I ask it. What made you think I do?”
 

“But everybody knows — I mean, surely it's obvious — ”
 

“Not in my case, Bleeker.” She deliberately omitted the honorific and saw Liesel's approving nod. “But we waste time. You said you want to talk. I am waiting.”
 

He leaned closer; she saw blue veins pulse at his temples. “Obrigo — from where you are, can you speak safely?” “I am quite safe. And you?” “I mean the Hulzeins — I know you're connected. And I have to
 

ask you some things about them — in strictest confidence. Do I have your word?”
 

“I shall not repeat anything you say to me about them.” Sparline put hands to mouth, muffling laughter. Liesel smiled briefly, then frowned at Sparline and shook her head.
 

Bleeker's knuckle rubbed his nose. “It's about Tregare — I swear
I
didn't know he was Hulzein until you and Moray announced it on open frequencies — or I'd have kept to groundside ways, dealing with him. As it was — well, the ships run rich; we have to take what we can. You understand?” He coughed. “Ah — a younger like you — what
can
you understand?”
 

“I understand you made agreement and then changed price — and that Tregare would not be gouged. An unfortunate dispute, that one.” “Yes, yes — that's what I mean. Ms. Obrigo — Tari, isn't it? — are you in touch with the Hulzeins? I can't reach them — they won't talk to me. Do you know if they plan . . . retaliation?” Then; “Just tell me anything you can — I'll pay you well.”
 

Rissa did not look to Liesel. She paused, then said, “I can give you no evaluation, overall. I will share a few facts — put them together for yourself, however they may fit. And I agree — you
will
pay me well, if only for my silence. Well, then —
 

“One: I came to this planet on
Inconnu.
I have some acquaintance with Tregare, and I am not his enemy.
 

“Two: From what you overheard, you know something of Tregare's relations with the Hulzeins. Rightly or not, you may have deduced more.
 

“Three: I would not have you think that Hawkman Moray is pleased with your role in
Inconnu
's early departure. But if he plans to make his displeasure tangible, he did not tell me.
 

“Four: If you wish me to act as your go-between with the Hulzeins, I will do so — for a price, of course.”
 

Bleeker made a face as though tasting something foul. “You? What can you do? You're good with words, Obrigo, but dal Nardo — he'll have you dead before you could be of real use to me. Well — I suppose it was worth the try.”
 

He moved a hand and started to turn away. “One moment, Bleeker!” The hand stopped; again he looked at her. “You spoke of payment; we are not done with that. For what I have told you, and for my silence — “ She smiled, “ — a half million, I would say. Is tomorrow convenient — or the next day, perhaps?”
 

Rage bulged the old man's eyes and colored his sallow cheeks, but reluctantly he nodded. “Come to my office — I'll pay you there.”
 

“I will come. Since I do not know its location, I am sure Hawkman Moray will assign me a suitable escort.”
So you need not bother to set up any cheap dal Nardo ambushes . . .
 

Bleeker swallowed. “I'll expect you. Now, if that's all — ”
 

Laughter escaped her, a brief burst that caught her off guard. “No — one more thing. You seem convinced dal Nardo will kill me. Is your conviction worth five million to you?”
 

The man frowned. “You'd bet on your own death?”
 

“On my life, rather — five million, even money. Will you risk it — money — where I risk my life?”
 

“You have that much?”
 

“And more. I — “ Liesel waved a sheet of paper. Rissa scanned it and said, “And of course the Hulzeins stand behind any wager I make.” Liesel spread the fingers of both hands. Ten? All right. Including her own five, or added to it? Assume the latter. “And with that in mind, perhaps you would like to make it fifteen?”
 

The man's eyes narrowed. “Gambling isn't my habit — ”
 

“Of course, if you have not the courage . . .”
 

“I'll take ten! If the bet's bonded.”
 

“Surely.” She moved a switch. “My terminal is set to record — set yours also, and we will repeat the terms.”
 

Bleeker's nod was hesitant, but moments later the wager was duly recorded, and Rissa said, “That is all now, I think. Good night.” She cut the circuit and looked to Liesel.
 

The older woman touched Rissa's hand with one finger. “A few times you ignored my cues, but overall I couldn't have done it better myself. Ten million, old tight-gut Bleeker bet! You took me right on that one; I hoped you could get him to fifteen. Now he's got a fresh worry to distract him. Yes, Rissa — you did well.”
 

Sparline said, “The best is that he's left hanging from his own kite, needing to learn if we're out to gut him. He'll be in touch again, Rissa. And then — ”
 

Liesel's palm slapped the table. “He'll call Maison Renalle!” She turned the communicator to her and punched buttons. “There. Now his call gets relayed here, but he won't know it. Rissa, you'd better have this terminal in your room, and facing a blank wall.”
 

“Yes,” said Rissa. “A moment.” She adjusted switches and, as she had done in the city, recorded an answer for incoming calls. “I will leave it set to record from now on.” Then she said, “I wonder what is keeping Hawkman. He must be very hungry.”
 

“He'll have eaten,” Liesel said. “Some snack or other. I doubt he'd join us here this late, unless he looks elsewhere when he comes in, and can't find us.”
 

Sparline said, “Liesel — what's next for Bleeker? When he calls again?”
 

“Hadn't thought much, yet — give him more string, first, and see if lack of wind brings him down by itself, before we need to act. But I
will
think on it — possibly, here's our chance to catch him between more worries than he can manage and absorb his holdings, or at least get voting control.”
 

“Then your bet on my life is merely to harass Bleeker?”
 

“Rissa — “ Liesel shook her head. “Didn't Erika teach you?
Every
move serves as many uses as possible. And by the way — I assume we're splitting the bet down the middle, you and I?”
 

“If you like — I do not care. If you prefer, I will take it all.”
 

Liesel stood, moved to Rissa, and held the girl's head against her bosom. “There, now — I've chilled you, haven't I? — mixing cold business with the hot risk of your very blood. Didn't mean to — but that's how we are, looking for every advantage, always. But believe me — we do value your life.”
 

Before Rissa could answer, Liesel moved away. “I'm tired; good night.” She left, and Sparline smiled at Rissa, then followed. Rissa drained her wine and went to her own bed.
 

 

Next morning she woke early and rose at once. Dressed and briefly groomed, downstairs she found no one in the dining room or the room where she and Sparline had breakfasted. She followed the sound of voices to the kitchen. Inside were two cooks and several young servitors and other retainers. At her entrance, the talk ceased.
 

She smiled. “Please — you must not allow me to interrupt you.” The buzz of conversation resumed. She turned to the older cook — a fattish woman, gray-haired and red-cheeked. “Out there — “ She motioned with her head. “I found no one to breakfast with. I wonder if I might have a snack here.”
 

“Sure, Ms. Obrigo — sit where you please.”
 

In a corner, without his habitual hood and glasses, Castel sipped coffee. Her guess had been right; he was albino. She went to his small table. “Castel, would you mind if I sit with you?”
 

He did not rise, but nodded. “Sit, and welcome.” She took the chair facing him and the wall behind him. Castel said, “What would you like to talk about? Or do you want silence?”
 

She shook her head. “Not silence — and any subject will do. No — first, I have a question. Who of you is most skilled in unarmed combat?”
 

He paused, and a girl served Rissa her breakfast. It was much as usual — meat, eggs, toasted buns, coffee, juice — except that here the dishes and cutlery were plain. She looked around and saw that others now eating were served equally well. A thought came; she said to Castel, “But should not this be yours? You have been waiting longer.”
 

He laughed. “I've eaten. Don't worry — in this kitchen it's first come, first served. Of course the dining rooms have priority.”