‘Listen to me. You promised me that you wouldn’t harm this girl. Remember?’
‘Of course I do. Let me go!’
‘We need the heirs.’ Karlo tightened his grip. ‘We need heirs from one of the big families on planet. Remember that?’
‘Yes, Karlo.’ She was stammering slightly. ‘I promised you, damn it. Now let me go.’
‘Promises have a way of getting forgotten on this God-forsaken world. If Vida dies in some strange accident, I’m coming straight to you.’
She hesitated, words dying on her lips. He let her go, then took her chin in one hand and kissed her.
‘Bastard.’ She slapped him across the face so hard his eyes stung, but when he wiped them clear he could see that she was fighting hack a smile. The adrenaline of rage had worked its temporary magic once again.
The cardinal dabbed his face with the perfumed handkerchief and sighed. For a moment the three of them stood watching each other, Vanna rubbing her forearms as if they ached, the cardinal tucking the handkerchief away, Karlo merely watching. They needed each other, if they were going to realize their dream, their grand dream of a human-dominated empire controlling the entire Pinch. If Karlo could make Palace his and elevate the office of First Citizen above the petty politics of the moment by making it hereditary, Palace was rich enough to maintain the Fleet he needed to conquer the rest. But to establish a dynasty he’d need heirs fit to rule.
To the sound of laughter and the ringing of boots on crystalline floor, Wan and Pero strode in, dressed in blood-streaked hunting clothes, all camouflage cloth and pockets. Both of them stank of swamp mud. Pero, the elder by a good ten years, stood tall and slender, though his broad hands showed his strength and long muscles. As homely as swamp mud, too, my Pero, Karlo thought. His lack of looks would matter for the vidscreens, those all-important public screens that functioned as entertainment, education, and governmental regulators all in one not that Palace would ever allow Pero, an Unauthorized birth in their eyes, a chance at any public office.
Wan had the looks and the birth papers that the populace would accept; tall, broad-shouldered, he stood like a leader and smiled like one too, a tight-lipped grin of command. In his dark face his green eyes glittered, so bright and wide that they seemed more like gems than natural flesh. Behind them came Damo, slipping in silently, regaining his corner out of everyone’s way.
‘Welcome home, Se Wan,’ the cardinal murmured with one of his perennial bows. ‘I trust the hunting was good?’
‘Very, Your Eminence.’ Wan glanced round and nodded briskly. ‘Father, Second Citizen.’
Pero was watching the cardinal with a tight set of his mouth. He hated being ignored, hated being unimportant. Although Karlo admired him for it, he knew it was past time to move his eldest son out of Government House. Out of temptation’s path, he thought, off planet would be best.
‘Where have you been?’ snapped Vanna.
‘Dressing our kills, lawmother.’ Wan turned to her, all smiles and charm. ‘Just like you taught us. The man who kills it, cleans it and then eats it. Your advice.’
Vanna snorted in pretend disgust and started to speak, but Karlo got in before her.
‘There’s no time now for your little jokes. Wan, what did they tell you over the transmit?’
‘To come straight home.’ The smile widened. ‘They said you had a marriage contract for me. Where’s Anja?’
‘I have a partner for you, yes, but it’s not le-Yonestilla. This girl’s a L’Var, the last of them. She’s at Government House now, and I expect she’ll be here any minute. There’s going to be a formal reception tonight to announce the marriage agreement.’
Wan went dead-still, then blushed, started to speak, thrust his hands into his trouser pockets and glared at Karlo for a long, long moment, while the room turned cold and still around them.
‘Yeah?’ Wan said at last. ‘What if I say no?’
The cardinal gasped; Karlo heard a rustle and smelled the scent of that damned handkerchief being brought into use, but he refused to look away from his son’s face. The green eyes glared back at him.
‘You can’t say no.’
‘Is that right?’ Wan’s handsome features tangled with rage.
‘I take it back. You can say no. Of course, if you do, I’ll kick your ass out of Government House right now. Myself. Think you’ll live long on the streets, unguilded and without one goddamn credit in your access?’
Wan took a step toward his father, fists clenched. Karlo merely stared back, waiting, smiling a little. Wan let his breath out in a long sigh and turned away. The cardinal stepped forward and mopped his sweaty face.
‘My dear Wan,’ the cardinal said. ‘We must all make sacrifices, mustn’t we? If the Peronidas are to rule as a dynasty, then marriage contracts must become weapons.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean, old man?’ Wan snapped.
‘Hush!’ Vanna grabbed his arm. ‘Don’t speak that way to a Lifegiver.’
‘My apologies, Your Eminence. I forgot myself.’ The cardinal bowed, Wan bowed. Pero watched with a curled lip.
‘Wan?’ Karlo said. ‘You’re going to marry this woman.’ Wan hesitated, but briefly.
‘As the First Citizen commands, then.’ Again the hesitation. ‘Since I have no choice.’
Karlo’s retort was interrupted by the door. A pair of saccule servants bustled in, carrying food and drink, followed by a group of some twenty human officials - among them Karlo’s appointment secretary, the head butler of Government House, some Council members - and two young women. Karlo recognized Samante Dinisa immediately: she’d done some translating for him at a meeting with Hirrel leaders. Walking beside her came a much taller girl, slender and lovely, with red hair tumbling down her back -the L’Var colouring, all right, and Karlo noticed Vanna grimace at the sight of it. She was wearing a dark green slithergown with soft sleeves that fluttered halfway down her arms. Karlo found himself thinking that Wan would have to be crazy to complain about marrying a woman this lovely.
Everyone stared: the cardinal with his little fixed smile, Vanna in undisguised rage, Pero with a sly grin of assessment, and Wan with eyes that showed nothing at all. The servants and officials parted, fluttering like birds to either side of the chamber. Samante stepped back, leaving Vida standing alone, looking at her future husband with eyes whose colour matched his. ‘What?’ Wan snapped. ‘She’s just a child. I can’t marry this.’
The silence broke - servants gasping, officials murmuring, drawing back, stepping forward again in a rustle of cloth and shim-mercloaks. Karlo restrained himself from stepping forward and slapping Wan across the face. Gossip like this would be all over Government House in an hour and all over the city in a day to undermine the official story. Samante stepped forward and laid a protective hand on the girl’s shoulder. Apologize, goddamn you, Karlo thought to Wan - never had he wished for a touch of mindspeak more. Wan merely crossed his arms over his chest and looked out at nothing. The cardinal stepped forward in a wave of scent.
‘Youth brings a fortunate bounty of innocence, my dear Wan.’ The cardinal caught the girl’s hand and bowed over it. ‘Welcome to Centre, Vida.’
‘Thank you.’ Vida had a pleasant voice, low for someone her age. ‘Your Eminence is too kind.’
‘Allow me to introduce you to our First Citizen,’ Roha went on, unruffled, ‘and his family.’
‘Thank you, Your Eminence.’
‘Yes,’ Vanna drawled. ‘Let’s get a good look at her. Here, child. I imagine Centre’s very different from the kind of places you’re used to.’
Vida turned to Vanna and smiled.
‘Why no, Second Citizen. I’d say they have a lot in common.’
Everyone laughed in a burst and gabble, hastily stifled. Vanna’s face went rigid except for the tic on her temple, twitching in time to some unheard music pounding in her adulterated blood. The adrenaline was wearing off, Karlo supposed.
‘I think,’ Karlo said slowly, ‘that I’m going to like my new law-daughter. Vida, welcome to Government House.’
‘And welcome from me, too.’ Pero stepped forward, grinning, bowing. ‘May I call you sister?’
‘Me, too.’ Damo hurried forward. ‘Hello.’
Pero flung an arm round the younger boy’s shoulders.
‘Good kid,’ he said. ‘You know, Vida, the Lifegivers say that without family, the stars are only light without a soul. Isn’t that true, Your Eminence?’
‘Indeed,’ said Roha. ‘Very well put, too.’
Vida smiled, Pero smiled, Damo stood awkwardly, glancing round the crowded chamber. Bowing, the butler strode forward to serve drinks; the officials gathered round Vanna and began talking of official things. Samante made some pleasantry to the cardinal, and the noise picked up - at last - into some semblance of a normal reception. Karlo crossed his arms across his chest and glared at Wan, who glared right back. Karlo tried to remind himself that this temporary trouble would pass, that it was only a small sour note in the vast symphony of his plans. The girl would give him heirs with the L’Var name, and thereby a legitimate seat on the Centre Council, along with the near majority he controlled through proxies and alliances. Then he and the cardinal would turn the office of First Citizen into something hereditary, into, one fine day, the over-lordship of the entire Pinch. And as for you, Wan, Karlo thought, we will have a little talk over this, and I’ll bet you don’t like it much. Wan suddenly looked away, a fearful expression on his face, as if indeed his father’s thoughts had reached him.
But Wan had only noticed the door opening. Another group of guests floated through on a wave of talk, among them the Papal Itinerant, Sister Romero, dressed in severe black except for her headband with its glowing jewel. Karlo turned to greet them just as his factor, Dukayn, entered, as slender and dark as an obsidian dagger, and about as deadly, too, one of only a handful of humans ever allowed to train on the Garang Japat homeworld. His dark eyes, almost all pupil, gleamed from an angular face, a sculptor’s bronze of a face with exaggerated shadows and sharp planes of jaw and cheekbone.
‘First Citizen?’
‘What is it, Factor?’ Karlo strolled over to meet him. ‘Hivel Jons, the Master of the Cyberguild, is here on your request.’
‘About time. Very well. Have a servant take him to my office. I’ll be there presently.’
Dukayn subvocalized the order into some chip or other while he glanced around the reception room. People were talking normally now, laughing and gossiping, sidling up to Vida to pay their respects to this girl who was so suddenly rich and powerful. Vida herself seemed all charm, smiling at a council member, making a gracious nod to the round little Countess of Motta, who as always had managed to wangle herself an invitation, then accepting her introduction to Sister Romero with just the right degree of awe.
‘The girl looks good,’ Dukayn said, quiedy. ‘I don’t mean her pretty face, either.’
‘Yeah, I think she’ll do.’
Dukayn hesitated, glancing around.
‘Something you want to tell me?’ Karlo lowered his voice.
In mutual unspoken agreement they drifted out into the long corridor, with its pale marble floor and blueglass walls. Dukayn turned round in a slow circle; he had implants at the base of his skull, including a couple to pick up sound or the traces of either photonic or electronic surveillance. Although he worked for Karlo, he was far more than a servant. They’d been together since Karlo’s street-fighting days on Kephalon. If Karlo had trusted any one, it would have been Dukayn.
‘It’s about Tableau,’ Dukayn said at last.
‘Shit.’
Tableau meant Susannah, Pero’s mother. Although they’d never had a binding marriage contract by Palace law, by Kephalon’s she had a very big claim on him indeed. He’d spent plenty to buy her off. She’d taken the money and bought herself a high-living style worthy of Pleasure Sect, from what Dukayn’s spies told him.
‘How important is it?’ Karlo said. ‘I’ve got that arrogant bastard of a guildsman to deal with.’
Dukayn considered.
‘The news could wait,’ he said at last. ‘I don’t know if I’d call Jons arrogant.’
‘What would you call him then?’
‘A man people never cross. There’s a big difference.’
‘You’ve got a point. Maybe it’s just his manner that gets on my nerves. Yeah yeah and tech slang and isn’t he the man of the people, the ordinary guy. Makes me sick.’
‘Ah, I see. Wan’s trying to eavesdrop, by the way.’
Although Dukayn had his back to the door into the reception room, Karlo didn’t doubt him for a minute.
‘We’ll talk later, then,’ Karlo said. ‘Keep an eye on Vida for me.’
Dukayn nodded and turned to walk into the reception room. Karlo noticed him speak to someone just inside the door; a sheepish Wan followed the factor back to the chattering guests clustered round Vida and Cardinal Roha. Karlo strode off down the hall. As chief patron of the Cyberguild, Hi visited the First Citizen’s office every now and then, but he always found it impressive. Any one entering from the public door had to walk a long way over soft beige carpet to reach the massive desk, which was made of the rare metal icelight, imported from Tableau. Blueglass mottled with ancient patterns panelled the two long walls. Behind the desk hung a holo of Palace, taken from lunar orbit. On the dark face of the planet thin lines and sprawls of artificial light glittered, tracing out, down near the equator, the coastline of Lux, the small continent where the vast majority of the population lived. The biggest clot of light marked the city of Palace itself, halfway up the west coast and some miles inland, while thin lines of gold light traced out its major highways and boundaried its Sects. Government House shone a red dot in the midst of a galaxy of white. In front of the desk stood two soft brown chairs, ready for visitors. Hi stood next to the nearer and considered it. He had no doubt that those chairs contained enough recorders and monitors to bug a normal-sized house, and that all of them fed directly back to that blade of malice, Dukayn. Since he’d come representing the guild, Hi wore his full ceremonial robes, cross-sashed in gold. Woven into the sash were various smart threads, some to record the First Citizen’s speech, others to feed data from the functioning portions of Caliostro directly to Hi’s implants.