Endgame (30 page)

The painting
is
exquisite. It’s perfectly centered in the midst of gentle lights that reveal its beauty without damaging the aged masterpiece. It is a young man, alone in a wood. The trees around him are dark and threatening, yet, from the foliage, it seems to be springtime. There’s no reason for the sense of foreboding the artist has managed to convey in subtle shadows. The subject is handsome, certainly, but he also radiates a slightly helpless air. A blanket is spread on the ground before him, with the rudiments of a meal arrayed; there is enough for two. His hand is out, extended to some person beyond the edge of the canvas. From his expression, I assume he’s meeting his lover, but those gathering shadows make me think something terrible is about to happen. That’s the genius of
Man, Waiting
.

“It’s worth whatever you paid for it,” I say softly.

Leviter chuckles. “That presumes a great deal.”

“Did you steal it?” That would be a hell of a heist. A piece like this would have been in a museum, certainly, or a private collector’s vault.

But the silver fox won’t be drawn. “If you learn only one thing from me, let it be this. Admit nothing.”

“I’ll get a message to you if I hear from Loras again,” Tarn puts in. “He feels it’s best if I serve as intermediary. Less risk.”

He’s right. A meeting with Tarn and Leviter can be written off as mutual art appreciation. There’s no stigma. But if anyone catches us with the head of the resistance, it’s over. And despite Nicuan antipathy to technology, they still monitor the wireless bounce. Better not to take the chance.

I never thought I’d be reliant on Tarn in this fashion.

Vel and I head out, becoming Mishani and Flavius as soon as the lift touches the ground. His private car—with driver—returns us home. I don’t speak, turning over the meeting in my head. Reluctance plucks at me with nervous fingers; Leviter’s plan for Gaius is further than I intended to go.

He surprises me with a kiss, but I roll with it. Surprising how real his lips feel against mine, how natural the hair between my fingers. He is a good mimic; his mouth presses with authority. It’s not a deep kiss, but convincing enough for our purposes. The driver is watching through the small gap in the security panel. When the vehicle stops, we break apart.

Vel guides me out of the aircar. “Come, my sweet.”

Right.
The chauffeur will tell the rest of the household that we couldn’t keep our hands off each other on the way back. The staff has to think he’s insatiable since we’re in his bedroom
all
the time. But there’s nowhere else to talk, here.

“Is the kissing weird for you?” I ask, once the door closes and locks behind us.

“In what regard?”

“Does it feel abnormal?”

“It is not natural to my people, so in that respect, yes.”

“On Gehenna, you said when you kissed Adele, you felt nothing but pressure.”

He nods. “There are no nerve endings in the faux-skin.”

This isn’t relevant, so I shut down my curiosity and move on. “What did you want to talk about?”

“What Leviter proposed…can you do it?”

“I think he was into Mishani at the party. It’s not a question of whether I can.”

“But you don’t want to.”

“It just…it seems wrong to make him fall in love with
me, then beg him to save me from you. The kid’s here because he fell for the wrong person once already.”

“For Leviter’s plan to work, he must believe joining the resistance is the only way to keep you safe,” Vel says. “And he must be willing to do anything for you.”

“Yeah, that’s the part that bothers me.”

Vel may be able to get access to the information on his own. In time. But using Gaius as my cat’s-paw will get the job done more efficiently. Leviter is known for such strategies. He isn’t overly burdened with human empathy though his relationship with Tarn attests to the fact that he’s not without emotion entirely.

Vel studies me. “Your call.”

He won’t make me do this. If I ruin this kid’s life and break his heart, it’s on me. Then I recall the La’hengrin starving in the provinces, “protected” by those who haven’t lifted a finger for their welfare in fifty turns. My resolve firms. Yes, I’ll sacrifice one for many.

This is war.

It’s easy to fall into a routine.

To forget the people you haven’t seen for a while.

A month after my transformation, I realize I have no idea what the squad is doing, if they’re safe, or if the mission—whatever it is—has been successful. That makes me feel like a traitor to the cause. I’m here in this fine house, plenty to eat, while they suffer. I’ve forgotten that Timmon is dead. Eller is gone as well, and the memory hits me like a punch to the gut. Surely it’s not normal to adapt as fast as I do. But frag, when did I ever claim to be? Whatever, I have a job to do. If there’s guilt to be dealt with, I’ll ball it up and look at it later.

Today, I have my fifth meeting with Gaius. I ran into him by “coincidence” at a restaurant a few weeks back, after extensive research on his habits. I was careful not to offer too much or commit to anything. He has to believe that I’m being systematically abused…and that I’m too downtrodden to orchestrate my own rescue. If the boy has any chivalrous instincts, they’ll go crazy this afternoon.

I close my eyes, so I don’t accidentally dodge the blow. But it doesn’t come. “Go on, hit me.”

“I don’t think I can.”

“It’s part of the job description. Believe me, I can tell the difference. It’s the legate, hitting Mishani.”

When the blow lands, I’m glad I’ve never pissed Vel off. Not that he ever punched me…not even when he was
hunting
me. Still, my ears ring, and I see stars. I taste blood. My lip is already swelling, broken against my teeth. He had to do it right before the meeting, or my nanites will obviate the damage. Gaius needs to see that my situation is getting worse—that the legate’s violence has escalated.

“Thanks,” I say with a distinct lisp. “I’m on my way, then.”

This time, I “sneak” out of the town house, avoiding the legate’s aircar. Public transport carries me to the plaza, where I meet Gaius. En route, another young man watches me with a furrow of concern. He wears a uniform, which makes him a centurion, but he doesn’t look old enough to have served ten turns on Nicu Tertius. That means he’s a legacy, somebody’s child born on La’heng, and his father is sufficiently well connected to get him hired on without any test of skill.

There’s not a lot he can do without my permission, so he sits back. I disembark a short time later, and by the time I reach the rendezvous point, the blow looks a day old; my lip has scabbed over, and the soreness dissipates somewhat. Shit, if he’s late, I’ll miss my—

“Mishani.” There he is, right on time. He’s taken care with his appearance; freshly shaved, dark hair waving down to his collar, he looks every inch the important young nobleman. When I turn, his breath catches. He takes my hands with an impetuosity he’s restrained to this point.

After a moment of silent observation, he asks, “Are you all right?”

“Yes, fine.” I don’t meet his gaze.

“What happened?”

I offer an uncertain smile. “Things are not going as well as he wishes.”

“What does that have to do with you?” he demands.

“When he’s in a bad mood, I annoy him. It’s not his fault.”

“No man worth the name should ever treat a woman thus.” He’s quietly furious. With gentle hands, he touches my swollen mouth.

I can see in his boyish features that he’s totally enamored
of the beautiful victim Mishani appears to be. She’s everything a nascent hero needs to feel worthwhile.

“I can’t leave,” I whisper miserably.

“This is wrong. He’s supposed to
protect
you.”

Yeah,
I think.
Welcome to the La’hengrin reality, Gaius.

“He’s not so bad. Let’s speak of something else.”

“Each time I watch you walk away, it gets harder. Knowing you’re going home to someone who hurts you…I can’t bear it.” He speaks with the fierce, heedless passion of the very young.

Makes me feel ancient.

“There’s nothing you can do. Can’t we just enjoy—”

“If something happened to him…and I saved your life, then your bond would default to me, wouldn’t it?”

I nod.
It would, if I were La’hengrin.

That’s where Gaius is supposed to be, emotionally. He had to come to that conclusion by himself, and it took him four weeks to get there. Vel is making progress independently, but he hasn’t been appointed to the war council yet. He doesn’t have the clearance he needs to get this information. I’ll guide the kid, subtly.

“Come.” He takes my arm, guiding me out of the plaza to the café.

We don’t eat on the street, as that would offer too many opportunities for discovery. Instead, Gaius takes a private dining room, where nobody can see him romancing Legate Flavius’s pet. There are no humanoid workers here, just servo-bots, which facilitates secrecy. Forbidden things offer a unique enticement.

I sit down and let him order for me, playing skittish. “I can’t stay long…”

“Don’t go,” he pleads. “I’ll find a way, I promise. You should be with someone who cherishes you.”

At least the kid hasn’t promised to marry me. He learned that much from his exile. I’m sure he thinks I’ll be so grateful to have a kind master that I’ll adore him until the end of our days, even after he takes a wife, gets bored with me, and treats me like an old pair of shoes.
Fragging nobles.

“This is wrong,” I say with conviction, and move as if to rise.

He stops me with a gentle hand on my arm. “I need to discredit him with an offense that merits execution. Then I’ll step forward and offer you my protection.”

Damn.
The kid has more steel than I thought.

Hesitantly, I say, “The legate doesn’t know I overheard him, but…”

“Tell me.”

“He planted the evidence that made the prince promote him. The other legate didn’t do anything wrong.”

“So Flavius falsified the data trail and killed him?” Gaius’s brows shoot up, and for a few seconds, I think I’ve overplayed my hand. “Do you have any evidence to support this?”

I shake my head sadly. “No. He’s good at hiding his true face.”

“What a monster.”

“Maybe…you could do something to him…and blame the resistance?” That’s as bold a suggestion as I dare offer.

“No, the prince wouldn’t believe—unless…”

“Have you thought of something?”

Gaius grins. “Maybe. I could do to him what he’s done to his rivals.”

Good boy.

Mishani pretends to misunderstand. “You’re going to invite him over, have your centurions kill him, and claim he invaded your home?”

“No, that’s brutish. I’ll plant sensitive information on his comm suite, then turn him in as a traitor.”

My eyes widen. “So the prince will think he’s working for the resistance?”

It’s also ironic for obvious reasons. Once we have that “sensitive information,” our mission ends, and we disappear. Gaius will be crushed.

Color touches the tops of his cheekbones. “It’s only what he deserves for what he did to the other legate. And you.”

I lift a shoulder in a graceful half shrug. “I am La’hengrin. Nobody cares about us.”

“I do,” he says. “It’s not right how you’re treated.”

Dare I hope he means more than just me? It would be a stroke of luck to find a sympathizer in Gaius. “You could get in trouble, talking like that.”

“I trust you.” He lowers his voice. “Older nobles disagree, but the resistance may be more organized, more of a threat than others believe. The cure is real…so you might be free to choose, soon.”

“Choose what?”

“How you live…and with whom.”

“I can’t even imagine.” Surely that’s how a young La’hengrin would respond.

“It won’t happen overnight, but change is coming.” All right, that
does
sound like he supports the resistance.

So I ask the question with artless candor. “Gaius, are you working with the rebels?”

“No. They wouldn’t trust me. I’m part of the problem.” The fact that he knows as much speaks well of him.

This revelation leaves me with an interesting dilemma. If I clue him in, he might help us without the need for subterfuge. It’s also possible that he’ll feel bitter and betrayed due to the emotional manipulation. Weighing both, I decide to continue with the original plan. If he steals the data, there won’t be a trail linking back to him, and when the legate and Mishani perish, Gaius won’t mention any confidential information packets on the man’s comm suite.

However, knowing his opinions might prove helpful down the line.

“I should go,” I say softly.

“But you haven’t eaten anything.”

“I’m not hungry. And it’s hard…” Let him make of that what he will.

“I know,” he whispers. “But trust me, Mishani. This will be over soon.”

Famous last words.

“How did you do?” I ask.

Vel had a meeting today, where he was supposed to reap the benefits of being a primus. To date, the privileges have been largely symbolic. But he radiates self-satisfaction, so I suspect it went well.

“I’ve been appointed to the war council. They’re forwarding information regarding their fortifications and strategies.”

I fly at him, and he catches me around the waist. Vel whirls me until the room spins. Tapping his shoulders, I make him stop. “I’m thrilled, but dizzy. Put me down.”

“Nearly there,” he says softly.

“This feels like the longest job ever.”

He nods. “Time drags when you’re wearing a false skin. How did your meeting go with Gaius?”

Quickly, I fill him in. He makes the connection quickly. “Between the two of us, Loras will have the information he needs to take the war to the next level.”

“That’s what I’m hoping. I doubt you’ll get access right away to the kind of data Gaius intends to plant on you.”

“Then I will glean what I can and ready preparations for our deaths.”

“That sounds…a little disturbing.”