Shadow of the Swan (Book Two of the Phoenix Legacy) (24 page)

Alex nodded, unaware of the tense fisting of his hands.

“Yes, and I’m talking about maintaining the LR-MT research program, because, whatever happens in Fina, we can’t bargain with the Concord without that. I’m talking about making sure we have the means to free Andreas when Ben finds him. Jael, I’m talking about the survival of the Phoenix. I
will
have my HQ, and I
will
free Andreas. If I do nothing else for the Phoenix, I’ll bring Andreas back to Fina. I’ll bring him back if it costs my life.”

“Brother, don’t ask fate like that.”

His anxious, solemn tone surprised Alex and called up a short laugh.

“Don’t worry, Jael, I intend to live.” An image flashed out of memory. Adrien. Only hours ago. “I intend to live.”

“That’s good news. I don’t like laying my stakes on a low card. All right, you’ll have your HQ. I’m not playing quiv on you, but even if you can pay the old Ser’s tax, you’re asking him to come over with a hell of a lot all at once.”

“Who would be more likely to come over with it? And who else can I ask? I doubt the equipment will be much of a problem, or the Falcons; he has a larger fleet than the Phoenix. But what about the space?”

Jael considered the question with narrowed eyes. “You’ll need a lot of space—
safe
space—in one parcel, especially if you expect to hangar any lifters. You don’t find that under any rock you kick.”

“I know you don’t. So, where does the Brotherhood hangar
its
fleet?”

“Oh . . . here and there. The Poles never find more than three lifters in any one hide. Mostly we use natural caves or abandoned mine shafts. Anything out of sight or scan. On Terra and Pollux we had underwater hides long before the Phoenix came on to it. Wait—” His eyes went to intent slits. “I think I know a place . . .” Then, after what seemed to Alex a long silence, he nodded. “Yes, it’ll pass. A natural cave—or caves, I guess. It’s a series of old volcanic tubes. The old Ser called it the Cave of Springs. There are some hot springs in the lower levels. It’s about eight hundred kilometers south of Helen on the edge of the Midhar. No sign of life anywhere near, human or otherwise.”

Alex felt his pulse quickening. “What about access? Eight hundred kilometers surface travel makes for a high security risk. I don’t know about delivery of the equipment, but you and I will have to do a certain amount of commuting unless you expect us to camp in the Midhar until the habitat sytems are functional.”

“You said you want to live, friend, and so do I. But you won’t have to worry about that much surface travel. You’re sitting in the middle of a true-weight historical site, you know.”

Alex went back to his chair, finding his patience tried by this apparent diversion.

“Historical in what sense?”

“The oldest part of Helen. Old mine shafts and underground warehouses. Rare earths and metals. That’s what made this spot so nice in the beginning. The mines moved out into the Barrens when the lodes gave out here, but the shafts were left where they lay, and by now nobody upside remembers they were ever here. There’s one shaft that takes south and comes up not more than two hundred kilometers north of the Cave of Springs.”

“Two hundred kilometers?” Alex found himself smiling. “That lowers the security risk.”

“That’s one reason the old Ser liked it. He was going to put a hangar there, but he eyed in on another hide he liked better. One thing, Poler patrols are skimp over the Midhar. They don’t think anything they should worry about could survive there, so they just give it a quick scan now and then. Of course, you have the Obsats up there to hold in mind, but they’re tied to a steady schedule.”

“Ben can get the information we’ll need on the satellites as well as the patrol schedules.” His fingers began drumming silently against the cushioned arms of his chair. “We can set up infrared and VF screens to protect the surface access from observation, and once we get an MT installed, we won’t have to worry about surface movement at all except for the ships. You said there are springs there? Is the water drinkable?”

“I think so. Maybe a little heavy on minerals. They’re hot springs.”

“That might solve some of the power problems. How do the temperatures run inside the caves? Will we need heating or cooling equipment?”

“I’ve never been there, but my guess is it’d be more livable than the surface.”

“That isn’t saying much. Jael, I want to see the Cave of Springs.”

“Now?”

“Yes.”

Jael sighed and came to his feet. “I guess any time’s right. Come on, we’ll pick up some surface suits on the way. Don’t forget your face-screen.”

At the door, Alex stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Jael, you understand you’re my second-in-command now.”

He hesitated, then laughed, an ironic cast in it.

“That sounds like it should rate me at least a couple of solid gold stars.”

“There aren’t any stars in exile. Jael. I mean it. Second-in-command and heir apparent. If anything happens to me before we find Andreas . . .

Jael pressed the doorcon. “Brother, you’re asking fate again. I’ll play out the gim somehow. Hold that in faith. Now, come on. It’s a long jaunt to the Cave of Springs.”

This morning the newscasts had been full of last night’s banquet at the Eliseer Estate. That the Lady Adrien, after mourning her first Promised so long, was at last to be married seemed a source of oddly personal satisfaction to the society casters, inspiring them to bubbling flights of speculation about the wedding, which would take place in two and a half months, on 3 Avril. By entrenched tradition, it would be in Helen, the bride’s home.

Strange that he could think of that now.

No, not so strange; it was difficult to think of anything else. Alex turned, forcing his thoughts into focus on Amik.

They were alone in the Lord of Thieves’ sanctum, Alex wandering the room, vaguely noting the sculptures and other art objects, while Amik, ensconced in his deep-cushioned hair, pored over a sheet of vellum, his frown becoming more marked with every passing second.

At length, he pursed his lips and gave Alex a long scrutiny.

“My dear Alex, you’re quite mad. You realize that, I hope? This list—” He tapped the sheet with one hand, then tossed it on the table beside him. “If I didn’t know you, my friend, We’d say foolishness, but I give you the benefit of the doubt, Madness!”

Alex picked up a small figure of black wood carved in a primitive style he couldn’t identify.

“Madness? Have I overestimated the Brotherhood to that degree? Is it madness to assume the items on that list are available to you by one means or another? I should think that would be the only question. An input into your computer system presents no problems, nor does a temporary work force of thirty or forty men, and I’m willing to accept the security risks involved in using the Brothers. The Cave of Springs? You aren’t using it. Why shouldn’t you let it turn a profit for you?”

“And the Falcons?” Amik put in, eyebrows arching up. “
Three
Falcons, with maintenance equipment? Madness!”

“Conpol estimates your fleet at four hundred Falcons. I can’t believe renting out three of them for a while would put a noticeable strain on your striking power.”

Amik paused to place a cigar in the jeweled holder and puffed it alight.

“Renting out? Am I to understand you don’t wish to buy the Falcons outright?”

Alex turned his attention to a jade statuette. “If I have use of your ships, I can acquire more on my own from Confleet. But on the other items—except for the construction equipment—I’m talking about outright purchase.”

“And the Cave of Springs? Are you talking rent or purchase there?”

“Purchase.” He looked around at Amik. “Of course, I
could
question your right to sell
or
rent that piece of property, but being a practical man, I’ll grant that.”

Amik’s golden teeth flashed in a brief smile, then he reached for the vellum and again studied the list, occasionally sending out a puff of smoke to hang like a halo around his head before it dissipated.

“Well, perhaps it isn’t entirely madness, Alex, although it borders on it, you’ll have to admit that.”

“Amik, my entire life borders on madness. At the moment, my only concern is whether you can supply my needs.”

“I should think you’d be a little concerned about whether you can
afford
to have me supply these needs. The price of madness of this sort is generally rather high.”

“Especially when I’m in a seller’s market? Well, I realize it’s unlikely I can offer anything in exchange that you need, but I do have something in mind you may want; something I doubt even the most audacious of the Brothers could acquire for you.”

Amik’s black eyes gleamed behind the studied skepticism. “What could you offer me that the Brothers are incapable of acquiring?”

Alex seemed to hesitate over his answer, then choosing the only uncushioned chair available, sat down and looked directly at Amik.

“First, can you fulfill your part of the bargain?”

Amik smiled faintly at that. “Yes, I can fulfill my part. But—” He pointed the cigar holder in emphasis. “—you said you’d take full responsibility for your security with the Brothers provided for your work force. That I leave to you. I’ll lay edict, but I can’t guarantee their silence.”

“I have means of insuring that. Now, do I understand you—you can supply the equipment and a work crew of forty men?”

“The list reads
thirty
to forty men.”

“Of course. And the input to your compsystem? A security-shielded input?”

“As long as my techs oversee the installation of the interconn.”

Alex frowned, then, “Agreed—
if
I retain the right to subject them to conditioning
after
they report to you, and you’re satisfied the shields are reciprocal.”

“Mm . . . oh, very well. I’ll agree to that.”

“And that leaves the Cave of Springs and the Falcons, which are obviously available. Not madness at all, is it? In fact, it seems entirely feasible.”

“Oh, indeed,
my
part of the bargain is feasible enough. What about
your
part?”

Alex shrugged. “That depends on the value you set on it. Give me a price.”

Amik sent out a languid stream of smoke from his cigar.

“One and a half million ’cords. And that doesn’t include the rent on the Falcons. We’ll work that out later.”

Alex raised an eyebrow. He had some idea of the market value of the items on the list, and Amik was allowing himself, conservatively, a fifty percent profit margin. But Alex was only relieved it wasn’t a hundred percent.

“Well, that gives us a starting point,” he conceded.

“Then will you test my patience further? What is it you intend to offer in return?”

Alex rose and reached into his shirt pocket. “Do you have a holojector here?”

Amik regarded him suspiciously, then pulled himself to his feet. “Yes, of course.” He crossed to the wall on his right and reached behind the drapes; they opened with a soft hum to reveal an impressive comconsole complete with monitoring screens and compconsole.

Alex inserted a spool into the holojector, taking his time about adjusting the image before he finally moved aside. “This is what I’m offering, Amik.”

The object in the ’jector chamber called forth a gasp from the Lord of Thieves, and that in turn a smile from Alex.

It was half sculpture, half jewel; a golden egg twenty centimeters in height, mounted on a tripod of gold and platinum, the whole structure accented with jewels set in gold-petaled blossoms. As Amik watched in frank amazement, the egg broke into vertical segments, opening like a flower to reveal a lining of
pavé
aquamarines and diamonds, and out of the egg, a swan, exquisitely modeled in gold of many shades, emerged, spread its perfectly detailed wings and arched its smoothly segmented neck, then curved its head under the folding wings and sank back into the shell as the segments closed around it, leaving no trace of a seam in the surface.

Amik stared, a childlike enchantment beguiling his dark features into a smile, and Alex said casually, “The piece has a musical mechanism, but we were unable to record it. Sao Kuno’s
Reflections
: the theme from the andante.”

Amik didn’t seem to hear him. With a long sigh, he said, “The Zarist Egg of the Ivanoi.” Then he frowned, looking up at Alex sharply. “At least an excellent copy.”

Alex only laughed at that. “Amik, you don’t bother with copies; nothing in this room is an imitation or copy. And that isn’t a copy. It
is
the Zarist Egg of the Ivanoi. It was created three hundred years ago by Polenic in the style of the Zarist eggs made in the nineteenth century by Fabergé. None of those survived the Disasters, of course. Polenic designed three of these eggs for the fifth Lord Ivanoi, and of them, only this one survived the Mankeen Revolt. It was given by the Ivanoi to the Lord Galinin on his marriage to Lady Camma Nordreth; Galinin in turn gave it to his eldest daughter, Elise, on her marriage to Lord Woolf.”

Amik looked around at him, a subtle glint in his eyes only briefly taking shape as a smile.

“Am I to understand that you’re in possession of this object?”

“I have access to it.”

“If the Ivanoi Egg were indeed missing, I’m sure it wouldn’t be kept secret. I’ve heard nothing to suggest it isn’t still safe in the Woolf Estate museum.”

“At the moment, it
is
still safe. Amik, the Phoenix doesn’t often resort to larceny, but we have the means to do a very good job of it. If you and I strike a bargain, the Egg will be in your hands within a few days, and you have my word—it
will
be the original. Now, I assume you have an idea of the worth of this little ornament?”

Amik grinned wryly. “Some.”

“It’s valued in the Archives at two million ’cords. Its beauty and rarity can’t actually be calculated, of course. At any rate, this is what I’m offering as my part of the bargain, but only if your part includes free use of the Falcons for an indefinite period of time.”