Shadow of the Swan (Book Two of the Phoenix Legacy) (36 page)

“You may keep it for a while, Elda,” Hawkwood reassured her. “I want you to get used to the feel of silk. Lazet, I’ll need to talk to you later, so keep yourself available.”

“Yes, of course, sirra. Ah . . . my lords, good day.”

When at length he and the girl had concluded their nervous bowings and shuffled out of the room, and the doors finally closed on them, Selasis loosed a long sigh.

“Oh, Bruno, a Sanseret silk?” Karlis waited with some anticipation for the dressing down Hawkwood so thoroughly deserved for the desecration of a rare work of art, but he was due for another shock. His father looked up at Hawkwood and actually laughed.

“But an effective demonstration. A signpost to a True Path, wouldn’t you say, finding a girl like that—one with the physical characteristics Lazet found so inspiring, and enough intelligence and imagination to show promise as an actress.”

Hawkwood returned to his chair, sober, contained; himself again.

“It may be a signpost, my lord. At any rate, the metamorphosis, as you termed it, is entirely feasible. She’ll need training, of course. Mistra Radin, I think. She can also be trusted. She has two daughters of whom she’s inordinately fond, both dancers in the Concordia Cor d’Ballet.”

Selasis grunted. “And dancers are so vulnerable to injuries. Well, the outward aspects of the metamorphosis will be simple enough, but all the surgery, cosmetics, costuming, and training won’t make that girl convincing in close contacts with friends or family. You will, of course, make available all the information you can garner on Lady Adrien’s personal life, but that won’t—”

“Father!” Karlis rose, staring at the two of them, the full import of this charade having at last come home to him. “You’re going to let that girl act as a—a stand-in for . . . Adrien?”

“Of course, Karlis. What did you think this was all about?”

“But she’s—she’s a
Bond
!”

“What would you suggest? That I use a Fesh? Or should I delve into the Outside and dredge up one of your—” He stopped, venting a weary sigh. “Never mind. It will only be temporary, but it’s imperative that no one suspect your new bride has fled her groom. That must be obvious to you.”

Karlis sagged back into his chair. “Yes, I suppose—but it seems like a hell of a risk . . .”

“It
is
a hell of a risk, and she can only successfully manage it at a distance, so to speak, or in very brief appearances.” Selasis turned to Hawkwood. “To reduce the number of public appearance for the ‘Lady,’ we must invent a plausible and perhaps lingering illness. Adrien laid the groundwork for that herself with those fainting spells yesterday. My greatest concern, of course, is her family.”

Hawkwood nodded, the light moving on the bronzed contours of his head.

“But an ordinary illness might induce them to come to Concordia to offer personal solicitude. Perhaps this illness should be more
mental
than physical, and she’s laid the groundwork for that, too. Her reluctance to enter this marriage, her nearly obsessive attachment to the Lord Alexand. I’m told she wore his betrothal ring yesterday; in fact, she’s worn it continuously since his death. Hardly normal behavior. A state of chronic, or even manic, depression shouldn’t seem unreasonable to her family or anyone else.”

Selasis smiled almost warmly. “Yes, very good, Bruno. I can get clinical evidence, of course. That psychologist at the University—what’s his name?”

“Lassily,” Hawkwood supplied. “Bern Lassily.”

“And a mental illness will serve very nicely to explain any inconsistency in her behavior.”

“Perhaps, my lord, Lady Adrien might go so far as to refuse to see or talk to her family, especially her father. Dr. Lassily could insist that they refrain from forcing their attentions on her until—well; for as long as necessary .”

Selasis nodded decisively. “Excellent, Bruno. Well, I have no choice but to attempt the subterfuge. Karlis and his new bride will leave for the Lima retreat in a few hours. A nuptial trip, for public consumption. Dr. Lazet and Mistra Radin will accompany them, of course, although that
won’t
be made public, and I’m depending on you to make sure it doesn’t become public. I’ll let it be known within a week that Lady Adrien isn’t well, and their stay in Lima will be prolonged to give her more opportunity for rest, etc. And Lassily—before you leave Concordia, Bruno, you must make the necessary arrangements with Lassily, and the less he knows, the better.”

“He’ll only know that
you
say Lady Adrien is suffering a mental disorder. He’s too . . . indebted to you, my lord, to question your judgment publicly or privately. He’ll lend his name to the ‘treatment’ in any way you wish.”

“Good. But be sure of him, Bruno. And keep in mind that this subterfuge can’t be maintained indefinitely. I want Adrien found, and found
soon
.”

“She’ll be found as soon as possible, as soon as is Written. My lord, have you any idea where she might go for refuge?”

“How in the God’s name should
I
know?”

“And you, Lord Karlis? Anything she might have said—some passing remark, perhaps?”

“Well . . . no. I didn’t really know Adrien too well. But she has this private retreat somewhere on Castor. Her father built it for her a few years ago.”

“Yes, to solace her after Lord Alexand’s death. She won’t be there.”

“What makes you so damn sure?” Why did Hawkwood have to keep harping on Alexand Woolf and Adrien?

“It’s too obvious, and it would be much too easy to find her there.” Hawkwood rose, turning to Selasis. “There aren’t many places a Lord’s daughter can hide. Unless she does have help from her father or someone in a similar position, her choices will be limited.”

“My time is also limited,” Selasis noted coldly.

“Yes, of course. I think her source of information in the Outside is a logical line to follow; that source might also provide her a refuge. Then there’s the obvious alternative of the cloisters. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a great deal to do before I lift off for Helen.”

Selasis nodded, then let him take five steps toward the door before he stopped him with a quiet, “Oh, by the way, Bruno . . .”

Karlis took some satisfaction in the tense set of Hawkwood’s shoulders as he turned.

“Yes, my lord?”

“Give my regards to your lovely wife, Margreta, and my apologies for sending you off on another assignment without even a day’s respite.”

Hawkwood said coolly, “I’ll convey your message, my lord.”

“I understand she’s been quite ill.”

“Yes, she has.”

“Rather a rare disease; a malignant brain tumor affecting the optic nerve, isn’t it? I’ve been told the doctors you’ve seen haven’t had much success treating it.”

Hawkwood didn’t move a muscle. “That’s true, my lord.”

“Most unfortunate. Margreta’s a charming young woman. But perhaps . . . that is, if all goes well in the next few weeks, I could put in a word for you at the University Research Hospital. They always have such a long waiting list.”

Hawkwood’s cold gaze bordered on hatred. But only bordered. A self-contained man, Karlis was thinking; probably part of his religious training. Gamaliel. Fanatics, no doubt. Cultists.

Hawkwood lifted his chin a scant centimeter. “A word from you, my lord, would be helpful, of course.”

“At any rate, you needn’t worry about Margreta during your absence. I’ll make it a point to keep a close eye on her. You can count on that, Bruno.” Then he waved a hand in dismissal, and Hawkwood bent in a mockery of a bow, first to Selasis, then to Karlis.

“My lords . . . good day.”

When the doors closed behind him, Karlis pulled in a deep breath, then rose and went to the windowall.

“I don’t trust him.”

“Nor do I, Karlis, but you shouldn’t expect to trust anyone. I suppose you find him a little too independent.”

“Independent! I’d say he could use a lesson or two in respect at Master Garo’s hands.”

“That would be futile and only succeed in killing him, and I find Bruno very useful. No, Karlis, you must learn to suit the tool to the victim.”

“So you use his wife as a tool?”

Selasis smiled approvingly. “Exactly.”

“Still, he’s short on respect. What’s this religious Order he belongs to, this Gamaliel business?”

“A rather limited cult; limited mainly. I’m sure, by their pessimistic view of life. They’re fatalists; every event, past, present, and future, is recorded in the Writ of Destiny, every man’s fate predetermined, and nothing can change it. Something like that. Suits them for this type of work. It relieves them of the sting of conscience without making sadists of them. And, above all, Karlis, never trust a sadist; they’re too self-concerned.” He paused for a short, mocking laugh. “But, of course, it’s difficult for any human being to be a
true
fatalist. Bruno made the error some years ago of falling in love, and we must be grateful for that. Without that leash on Bruno, his fatalism would be a double-edged blade; he’d shift allegiance or accept death without a second thought, regarding either as simply one more event written indelibly by Fate.”

“Strange. What about his wife? What’s she like?”

That called up a laugh and a slanted glance.

“You’re wondering what kind of woman would marry a man like Bruno? Actually, Margreta’s quite attractive in a pale sort of way. Ethereal, you might say. I understand she was chronically ill as a child. She was allieged Concord and went into Conmed as a medtech. Her specialty was crippled and retarded children. It seems Margreta has an odd sympathy for the halt and lame.” Then, with an abrupt change of mood, he frowned at his watch and pushed himself up out of his chair. “I have work to do, and you must get ready.”

Karlis blinked. “Ready for what?”

“Weren’t you listening? You and your new bride are going to the Lima retreat for a few weeks.”

“Why the Lima retreat, for the God’s sake?” A pile of stones on a pile of a mountain, full of grim and painful memories. He didn’t bring those to his father’s attention. “It’s a thousand kilometers from anywhere.”

“That’s why I’m sending you there—you and the future Lady Adrien. And you’re not to leave the retreat until I say so. Don’t think for a second I won’t know if you try to sneak out. I’ll see that you’re well entertained and quite comfortable. Now hurry. The sooner you’re out of Concordia, the better.”

Karlis started for the door, but there he paused.

“Father, when Bruno finds Adrien, I want to . . . to see it done.”

“I sympathize, Karlis, but satisfaction must sometimes give way to expediency.” Then, with a soft laugh, “But one can always hope the True Path leads to satisfaction.”

“Ben, for the God’s sake, at least now we
know
she went into the cloisters.”

“All right, Alex, but why would she tell
Malaki
what she was going to do?”

Ben Venturi’s voice existed as a noncorporeal entity in his ear while Alex paced his room; his cell. The rock seemed a tangible weight on him. It would crush him one day.

“She didn’t tell him her plans. She went to him for information; he would be her best source. Church Bonds, Ben; they’re a very cohesive group, and they maintain close ties with the Bond Church. We know what Malaki could tell her, and that was the information she was working with, and he said she only asked about convents in the Centauri System.”

“But she could get plenty of information on any of the convents, in both Systems, out of the Library or Archives.”

Alex took another turn in his confined pacing space. “But she had to know something about the
people
she’d be dealing with, not just facts and statistics.”

“All right, but even assuming she stayed in the Centauri System, there’s—wait a second; I’m checking the memfiles—let’s see, three different female orders, and they all have a string of convents. No—the Order of Holy Writ only has one.”

“You can forget Holy Writ. It’s a contemplative Order. Malaki calls them the Sisters of Silence. They don’t talk to each other except by signs, and entry into the Order is very restricted. Adrien would have a hard time even reaching the convent. It’s on the island of Kristas; a supply ship lands there once every three months—and that’s all. I checked, and the next ship is scheduled a month from today.”

“What about the Sisters of Solace? They have two convents on Pollux and one on Castor.”

Alex closed his eyes against the rock. The panic was still waiting, just under the surface of his thoughts, a primordial thing that sapped his energies and demanded constant vigilance to keep in check.

“I doubt she’d go to the Sisters of Solace. All their convents are ruled by a triumvirate of Sister Supras. She’ll need cooperation from someone within the convent, logically the Supra, and that would mean tripling the risk. So that narrows the field to the Sisters of Faith. Their convents are ruled by a single Supra.”

“Even if you’re right, there are still seven Faith convents in the Centauri System.”

“Malaki could only give her information on four of them—the three here on Castor, and one in Leda. I think you can ignore that one; she’d have the additional problem of arranging passage to Pollux. But don’t discount it entirely.”

Ben’s long-drawn sigh was audible and expressive. “Look, I’m not scratching the gold on this, but it’ll still be next to impossible to find her if she’s in
any
of the convents. Those cloisters are no-man’s land, and then you have the habits and veils to contend with.”

“There’s one consolation in that—it will be equally difficult for Hawkwood to find her. But Lectris won’t be veiled. If you find Lectris, you’ll find Adrien.”

“Well, he might be a little easier to spot. Oh—we finally tracked down that sister he was supposed to be visiting in Cuprin. She died five years ago.”

“Lectris never went to Cuprin, Ben.”

“I just like to tie up loose ends. If he’s with Lady Adrien, though, he’ll be easier for Hawkwood to spot, too. She must’ve realized that.”

“What was she to do with Lectris and Mariet? Leave them to be abducted by Hawkwood? They’re obvious sources of information on Adrien, and if a couple of Bonds disappeared from the Eliseer Estate, who’d call out Conpol? They’d simply be put on the runaway lists, and you can be sure they’d never survive Hawkwood’s inquisition.”