The Elysium Commission (7 page)

I ignored all incoming vids and kept looking.

I did discover that Dyorr was giving a presentation to the Devantan Humanitas Foundation on the coming Miercen. The presentation was restricted to board members and their guests.

I used the vidlink code provided by Seldara Tozzi. I got a green screen and her voice.

“Please leave a message.”

“This is Blaine Donne. I'd like to be present at Dr. Dyorr's presentation to the Humanitas Foundation on Miercen. I'm assuming that you could obtain a pass for me as a guest or an observer. Thank you.”

Then I went back to look up some technical background on Lemmy's problem.

I was refreshing my very basic knowledge of jumpship generators and their commercial impact when Max sent an alert.

Incoming from Seldara Tozzi.

Accept.

The principessa wore deep maroon trousers and a matching vest, with a pleated white blouse. “Seignior Donne, I presume you have some reason for your request?”

“My reason is simple. I need to see Dr. Dyorr, and I also may need an entrée that seems rational. Seeing him give the presentation offers both.”

“What rationale do you suggest I offer?”

With her wealth, I doubted she needed to provide any reason whatsoever. “You're known as a woman who is cautious with credits. That's one reason. The second, to be provided to your great-granddaughter, if necessary, is that, given her closeness to Dr. Dyorr, you wanted an independent assessment of his proposal.”

A faint smile crossed her lips. “You will provide such?”

“I'll send you a short assessment, both onsystem and in hard copy.”

“I am most certain I will find it interesting.”

That meant it had better be good.

Seigniora Tozzi's smile vanished. “I will arrange your inclusion as a consultant observer.”

“Thank you.”

She didn't say more. The holo just collapsed.

I still didn't get all that much done for the rest of the day, except some technical briefing on Lemmy's problem, and that was hard enough given my burning eyes and pain-stabbed skull. It was almost afternoon five hour before the headache subsided, and I could see normally.

Lemmy's detector arrived by secure courier at that point. It wasn't much bigger than a stylus and looked like one. I tested it.

Interrogative test?
I pulse-linked.

No emissions within two klicks
, it replied.

Max…interrogative any other freqs or snoops?

That's negative, sir.

I left the device in a comm-blocked box that looked like a book on the library shelves in my study. I also gave Max instructions to monitor it.

I took my time getting ready for the evening with Odilia. I wore my version of an ancient dinner jacket and trousers—both were black and tailored more snugly than had once been the case. My cummerbund was dark brilliant silver, as was the bow tie, and the pleated shirt was pale silver. I wouldn't stoop to the ruffled shirts affected by some of the younger flashes. Or whatever was in vogue now. Ruffles were doubtless out. I hadn't been to a high social occasion in several months. Regardless, I'd certainly be out of style. That wouldn't disappoint Odilia. She expected my conservatism of appearance.

Then I made my way to the study, where I checked messages while I waited for my transportation. There were only a few recent messages—one from Krij asking to confirm that I had indeed filed an emended registry, one from Tony diVeau asking me to reconsider, and one from a Donacyr D'Azouza, requesting I return the vid at my convenience to discuss whether my services would be useful in resolving a particular problem.

The first I answered, to Krij's talking head, in the affirmative. The second I ignored, and the third I deferred. I'd get to it the next morning.

I left the study and headed across the entry foyer and down to the waiting limousine. I had originally arranged for a small special limousine to take me from the villa to Odilia's palacio, but after the day's events, I upgraded it to full-sized, both outbound and on the return. Even given what had happened so far, I'd be relatively safe at the opera—especially with Odilia. Afterward was another matter.

When I arrived at the palacio, the virtie servitor escorted me past the Angkorian temple and to the small formal dining room. This time, Odilia was waiting for me.

I entered and bowed. “Princesse.”

“You do look daringly conservative, Seignior.” Odilia inclined her head, her lips parted ever so slightly. The blue of her long-sleeved and full velvet gown accentuated the seemingly virginal impression of her impressively narrow waist and small but definite bosom. Definitely a woman figure without fault.

“The better to set off your delicate beauty.” I hadn't noticed how large and childlike her eyes were, nor how they showed a shade that could only have been called “innocent blue.” Such subtle and effective enhancements were anything but inexpensive.

She half turned, a clear invitation for me to seat her at the table. It was set just for two, but with DiNormand china and Iskling crystal.

As I seated her, all my comms and links went blank. We were surrounded by the kind of privacy screen that usually only showed up in SpecOps high command. My screens at the villa were good, but not that good. Only the city sisters and the very rich could afford screens such as Odilia's.

I said nothing as I slipped into the chair across from her.

“Here are the ground rules, Blaine.” The smile was virginal. The eyes above it were not. “While we eat, I'll tell you what I know. You tell me what you know and what you'd like to find out. I'll tell you how far I'll go. After we leave the table, no business, no contracts. I've asked for the pleasure of your company for the evening, and I'd like to enjoy it.”

“Agreed.” I wasn't surprised. Behind the facade she had the same cupridium-hard mind as her mother Eleyna had had. But there was more than that to Odilia.

“That's one of the things I like about you the most. You're a realist, even if you have a core that's too idealistic for long-term survival in Thurene.” She lifted her goblet. “To the evening ahead.”

“To the evening ahead.”

We sipped. That first wine was so white it was colorless, so smooth that it cut my throat like a razor, leaving the barest hint of lavender and mint-basil behind.

“Do you know why Legaar Eloi is so defensive about his operations?” I began.

“I would imagine that is because his success is based on so many little things. Everyone knows the basics of what he does. Anyone could copy those. Many have, and they all have failed, and not because Legaar has used force against them.” Odilia smiled politely. “You are a danger to him. You, of all those who might investigate and research him, have the understanding and wit to discern what those small aspects underlying his success might be.”

That might be true, but my understanding of such aspects didn't mean that my clients could ever replicate them. “Do you think that might be why he's agreed to back Judeon Maraniss?”

Odilia took another sip of wine before replying, then waited as an androgynous server placed a small plate before her, a similar one before me, and stepped back outside the privacy screen. “Legaar is successful because he will ally himself with anyone at the most advantageous moment, then leave or dispose of them as soon as practicable.”

“What does Maraniss have that Legaar wants?”

“I don't know, except that it must be valuable.” She picked up the delicate two-pronged silver fork. “Exceedingly valuable or something that will make Legaar more powerful.”

On the small platter was a tiny bird's nest, except it had been infused with Berrigan Brothers honey, and within the nest were three leaves of Constantine Basil. No one had ever been able to describe why that honey, produced by special bees allowed access only to particular flowers, made all others seem either hypocritically sweet or suffused with a bitter aftertaste. When it came to natural organics, even after millennia, the synthesists and nanoformulators still couldn't replicate food well enough that a trained palate could not tell the difference.

I ate slowly, carefully, enjoying the tastes, before finally speaking again. “Maraniss must have some system that Legaar can exploit.”

“If it were just a system, he'd merely steal it. Maraniss has something unique. No, I don't know what it is.”

I misquoted one of the old standards:

Watching Odilia, I could catch no trace of a reaction to the word “Elysium,” not a single one, and my enhancements were still among the best.

“You should have been a bard, Blaine.”

“I'm adequate with words, and very inadequate with music. What do you know about Maraniss that you haven't told me?”

“I did invite him to a ball here last winter. He's good-looking, but his eyes are too blue. He dances well, but he doesn't converse well, except when he's talking about how cities and societies are structured. Aurelia didn't care for him. She said he just wanted to use women.” Odilia laughed.

I didn't know Aurelia. “As if both men and women don't want to use each other?” I asked gently.

“You're a realist, Blaine. Behind their hard facades, most men are romantics. Those who aren't are usually hidden psychopaths.”

“Like Legaar?”

“He makes the average darkside psychopath seem helpful and friendly.”

“Have you ever had to deal with him?”

“Only when we were both on the Medical Research Board. All he was interested in was the nature of the research and to what commercial ends it could be turned. How it impacted people didn't seem to interest or affect him at all.”

Coming from Odilia, who had been known to use a few people along the way, that was a total condemnation.

“Speaking of medicine, do you know anything about Dr. Richard Dyorr?”

“The consciousness specialist? I've met him once or twice. Why?”

“I've been asked about him. What's he like?”

“I don't know. He's friendly, in an impartial way. He's brilliant, but doesn't flaunt it. He's not obviously a flaming straight or samer.” She shrugged. “He wasn't the sort of person I'd be interested in. He seems more immersed in his work even than you.”

“What about your neighbor's great-granddaughter—Dr. Marie Annette Tozzi?”

“Didn't I mention her before?”

“Only that she was the only one worth anything.”

“I've scarcely seen more of her than of Dyorr. Marie's like her great-grandmother, I think. Charming on the surface, unyielding beyond that, and whatever her private desires are, no one will never know, even any lover she may have.”

“She's engaged—or about to be—to Dyorr.”

“From what I've seen, they'd make a good couple. Neither's excessively jealous, and they're both consumed by their profession.”

At that moment, the servitor appeared and removed the first course, replacing it with the pisces argentia, lightly poached in cyanth. Their delicate scales still radiated all the lights of the visible spectrum. Each small mouthful set off a cascade of pinlike pricks of anise and dorium across my palate.

“Can Maraniss survive dealing with Legaar?” I'd learned all I was likely to about Dyorr and Tozzi.

“They're well suited to each other. Maraniss seems to see people as mobile pieces in a puzzle, and Legaar views them as disposable tools.”

“You make them sound so charming. Do they have any redeeming qualities?”

“Their absence from any gathering is their best quality.”

“Does anyone like them?”

“I wouldn't know who. Why do you think Legaar started Classic Images? He has a few of the women conditioned to respond to him. He never tells them that before they're biosculpted. The older ones don't tell the new ones because, that way, he spends less time with them. He's probably got a full-clone operation at his Time's End estate.”

My initial impressions of Legaar Eloi weren't getting any better. “And you think Maraniss is nearly as bad?”

“He might be worse if he had the wealth and power Legaar has.”

“Neither one has a listed residence.”

“Legaar has the entire top floor of his Pier One building here in Thurene. It's well over a thousand square meters. That's in addition to Time's End. It's at the foot of the Nordmonts, and he calls it a small place, but it's ten klicks on a side. Part of it is where the restricted Classic Research lab is.”

“And Maraniss?”

“Even I don't know where he hides.” She stopped speaking and gestured for the servitor.

The next course was salad—mixed ferns from lower Tropianga, with crushed chazarian nuts and a drizzle of extra virgin olivepalm oil. I could tell that Odilia was emphasizing virginal themes even in the dinner.

After several bites, I persevered. “Have you ever been to Legaar's estate?”

“I had to go once. A benefit. He'd ushered away all the nymphs.” She smiled politely. “His security is tighter than around the IS jumpport. More than a few flitters have been downed out there. All the deaths have been attributed to pilot error.”

All that was interesting because none of it happened to be in any database I knew. I might be able to verify what she'd told me now that I knew. That's the way it often goes. “The pilots made an error in coming too close to his estate?”

“More or less.” She smiled again, this time a hard bright expression. “Who's paying you to look into Legaar? Whatever it is, dearest Blaine, it isn't enough.”

“It never is.”

“You didn't say.”

“I don't know. The client used a pseudofront and shielded ID. Made a direct credit transfer. They wanted to know the link between Maraniss and Legaar Eloi. Business has been slow. It sounded interesting.”