The Sardonyx Net (41 page)

For a moment he did not believe her, and then relief shuddered through him. He breathed a great gulp of air. He let his left hand rest atop hers. “Thanks.”
 

She rose. “It's been good talking to you,” she said. She strolled unceremoniously off. He watched her stop at the gaming table, speak to Juno, lay a hand on Cowan's shoulder, and angle toward the bar. When he glanced at her again, she was leaning on the bar, centimeters away from Rose. All right, Starcaptain, you can leave now, he thought, but he could not leave, not yet. All his muscles seemed to have turned to water.
 

Finally he could stand. The man at the next table watched him with saddened eyes as he went toward the door. Amber grinned tightly at him as he passed the bar. He opened the door; the bar lights flickered, and cold air eddied through it. “Close that!” someone yelled. He stepped outside, filling his lungs, and shoved his hands in his pockets. The noise from the bar seemed louder now that he was not in it.
 

The air shivered. His skin contracted. He looked up as a deep roar began to hurt his ears. Over the tops of the old, grimy houses, a shuttleship was rising from the Landingport's field. He leaned against the wall and watched it go, wondering where it was going—the moon? The Net? Not the Net, the Net was empty. His eyes pricked with tears. The city lights made it hard to see the stars, but they were there, he knew, and beyond them was the Hype. Soon, he promised himself, soon—the wind slapped coldly at him, and he shivered, chilled—soon you will be gone from here, offplanet, you need never come back again.... He closed his eyelids, seeing in the patterns behind his eyes the slow curling red dust of the Hype.
 

As he came around the corner of the street leading to the Yago house, someone called his name. “Dana, wait!” He turned. It was Binkie. He looked very pale. “Get out of the light!” he whispered, and his hand closed on Dana's arm.
 

Dana let the secretary/slave steer him into shadow. “What is it?” he said.
 

Binkie's voice was grim. “Brother, you'd better not go near the house.”
 

Dana's stomach began to hurt again. “Just tell me,” he said.
 

“Zed,” said Binkie succinctly. “He and Rhani had a fight. I heard your name. Rhani sent me out to wait for you, to tell you to stay the hell away.”
 

“The curfew—” Dana said.
 

“Fuck the curfew,” Binkie said roughly. “You idiot, Zed
knows
.”
 

Sweet mother—Dana looked at the house. The lights were lit in Rhani's bedroom. Against the curtain, Dana thought he saw a familiar shape. “How did he—who told him?” he said.
 

“I haven't the faintest idea,” Binkie said. “Pull yourself together, man. Take this.” He thrust something soft at Dana, who took it automatically. It was a cloak. “You'll need it.”
 

Yes, Dana thought, and with clumsy hands he wrapped it around his shoulders. “How long should I stay away?” he asked.
 

“
I
don't know,” said Binkie. “Six hours? I've got to get back inside. Keep moving. Good luck.” He hurried away. Dana watched him go up the steps. Corrios opened the door, his big frame plain against the light. Keep moving, Binkie had said. Dana started to walk silently east. If he kept moving, he could probably evade the police patrols.
 

An hour before curfew, Dana had not yet returned. Alone in her bedroom, feeling like a kerit in a cage, Rhani paced back and forth, back and forth.
 

She was worried about him. And, she admitted to herself, she was feeling guilty, because she had sent Dana to the Hyper district to find Loras U-Ellen without consulting Zed. Outside her windows, the city gleamed like a jewel, all the street lights blazing on the wide white streets. She strode to the window and, leaning close to the glass, looked out. People strolled past the house, arm in arm, laughing, talking.... None of them was Dana. She scowled at the street and resumed walking. How many years would it take her to tramp a ring into the glossy wooden floor?
 

“Rhani-ka, would you like some dinner?” That was Amri, standing timidly in the doorway.
 

“No. Unless—ask my brother if he wants to eat.” Zed had come back from the Clinic early, and had gone straight to his room.
 

The girl went away. Rhani heard her knock, heard her speak, heard Zed answer. Amri returned. “Rhani-ka, he says no.”
 

“All right. Thank you, Amri.” She glanced at Binkie, who was sitting at the com-unit logging names into the computer, names of the people who were coming to the party. “Bink, have you eaten?”
 

He looked up. “Yes, Rhani-ka, thank you. I ate about two hours ago.”
 

Damn, Rhani thought, oh damn, damn.... Finally she squared her shoulders and went down the hall to Zed's bedroom. She tapped on the door. “Zed-ka, it's me.” She heard his step, and the door drew back. She glimpsed the rumpled bedclothes, his booktapes, a light. He was holding a viewer in one hand. He looked tired. “Zed, I'm sorry to disturb you,” she said. “But I'm worried about Dana. I sent him on an errand three hours ago, and he hasn't returned.”
 

For a moment he gazed at her as if he had no idea what she was talking about. “What?” he said. Then his voice grew sharp. “Three hours? That's too long. It's almost curfew.”
 

“I know,” she said.
 

“Where did you send him?”
 

She sighed. “To the Hyper district.”
 

“What?”
 

“Yes. I hoped he could take a message to Loras U-Ellen.”
 

“What message?” Zed asked.
 

“That I want to see him. But that's irrelevant. Dana should have been back by now.”
 

Turning, Zed tossed the viewer on the bed. “Yes. Did you ask if any of the slaves have seen him?”
 

She shook her head. “I thought perhaps he might have gotten hurt.”
 

“Hurt!” Zed snorted. “He's a Starcaptain, he's been in and out of the Hype, he's not going to get hurt in some backwater city.”
 

“It isn't!” she protested.
 

Zed smiled. He no longer looked preoccupied. Closing his door, he went ahead of her to her room. “No. But it's not very big, and he lived six years in Port City on Nexus. Do you want me to call the Clinic?” He glanced around the room. “Where's Binkie?”
 

“I don't know,” Rhani said. “He was just here.”
 

Zed leaned over the com-unit. He riffled the stack of party responses with a finger. “Dull work.” Seating himself in the chair, he instructed the computer to hold all prior operations, and punched the direct line number for Main Clinic. “This is Senior Zed Yago,” he said to the clerk. “Please consult your records and the records of all the district clinics for any report of injury or accident to one Dana Ikoro, about 1.7 meters tall, black hair to the shoulderblades, ivory-yellow complexion, thumbsized scar on the inside of his left thigh, deformed knuckle on the left fourth finger—” Rhani listened, fascinated, to the clinical, dispassionate description—"a tattoo, the ‘Y' in blue. He's a slave.”
 

They saw the top of the clerk's head as he played with his machinery. He looked up. “Senior, we have no such record, nor do the district clinics.”
 

“If he comes in to any of the clinics, send immediate direct-line notice to the Yago house.”
 

“That is our usual procedure, Senior.”
 

“Then I'm sure you'll follow it,” said Zed. He blanked the screen. “So.” His voice was measured and grim.
 

So, that syllable said, you trusted him and he has betrayed that trust.
He's mine, now
.
 

Binkie walked in, saw Zed, and stopped. “Do you want me, Rhani-ka?” he asked.
 

“No,” she said. “Wait—” he turned to face her—"Bink, do you know where Dana is?”
 

“No, Rhani-ka.” He was very pale. He waited for her to speak again, clenching and unclenching his thin hands unconsciously. Irritated despite her sympathy, Rhani waved him away.
 

He walked like a man escaping a prison cell. He was one step into the hall when Zed said, “Binkie, come back here.” Binkie froze, and turned. His face was ice-white. Rhani glanced at her brother, frowning. She did not like him to give Binkie direct orders.
 

Zed said, “He's lying, Rhani-ka.” He stood, and stepped away from the chair. “Can't you see he's lying?” He glided toward the terrified slave. Rhani put a hand out to stop him. He halted. Binkie was breathing like a runner. “Binkie, I want the truth.”
 

Binkie licked his lips. “I—” He swallowed. “I did see him. He was here about two hours ago.”
 

“Here?” said Rhani.
 

“He came to the back door of the house. I was putting paper into the disposal bin when he dropped out of nowhere and took a cloak. I asked him where he was going and he said, ‘Out,' and then he laughed. He wished me luck and said he hoped he never saw me again.”
 

“No,” Rhani said.
 

Binkie was shivering. “Rhani-ka, I swear it's true!”
 

“But it's stupid!”
 

“I agree,” said Zed, “it's stupid. But he was bound to try to escape. Even Binkie, who should have known better, trudged out the estate gate. He must have made some connection in the Hyper district, perhaps found someone he knew...”
 

“No,” Rhani said again. Her heart thudded. “He wouldn't—”
 

Zed crossed to her and put his arm around her shoulders. “Rhani-ka,” he said gently, “are you saying that because you're sure he wouldn't run away, or because you thought he wouldn't and you don't want him to?”
 

Rhani let her head rest against her brother's cheek for a moment. “Both, I think,” she said. But it was my fault, she wanted to say; I let him go to the Hyper district, I even gave him one of my shirts to hide the “Y"—She remembered Binkie with pity. “Bink, you may leave.”
 

Once again Zed sat at the com-unit. He called the Abanat police, and described Dana all over again for them. “Treat him gently,” he added.
 

Why say that? Rhani thought, and did not say it. She knew why. Zed wanted Dana unhurt, because he wanted to do the hurting himself.
 

Going to the window, she slapped the curtain aside. There was no way he could get offplanet, of course. She imagined him hiding like an animal, somewhere in the cold, clear night, and wanted to weep. Hands on the sill, she leaned forward until her forehead touched the glass. If she were a telepath, she could call him. She turned. Zed was talking to the A.P., smiling, and her stomach muscles clenched. Dana, she thought—Dana—you stupid, stubborn, treacherous fool!
 

He called the house an hour after midnight.
 

Rhani, drowsing on the bed, woke to the soft insistent beep of the com-unit. She knuckled her eyes and then stumbled to the screen, expecting to hear the deferential voice of a police officer. “Yes?” she said. “Rhani Yago here.”
 

“Rhani?” said a whisper.
 

“Yes,” she said, “who is it?” And then she knew. “Dana!” She glanced at the clock. Sweet mother, it was late. “Where are you?”
 

“A public line. I had to call. Are you all right?”
 

“What?”
 

“Are you all right?”
 

“I'm fine,” she said, not understanding. “Dana, come back,
please
.”
 

“Is it safe?”
 

She fisted her hands on her lap. “Yes,” she said, “I promise. It will be.” Now, she thought, now I must make that true....
 

“All right,” he said. The connection terminated. Rhani yawned, and then grinned at the blank screen in moronic joy.
 

“Zed!” she called.
 

In a moment he came through the door. Like her, he was wearing the clothes he had worn all day. “What is it?” he said.
 

“Dana called.”
 

Zed's eyebrows lifted. “Really? What did he say?”
 

“He's coming back.”
 

“Is he.” Zed's voice was noncommittal.
 

Exasperated, Rhani said, “Zed-ka, what is wrong with you?
 

He said, “Rhani, it could be a feint. He must know the patrols have his description. Where did he say he was calling from, did you ask?”
 

“I asked,” she said. “A public booth.”
 

Zed ran his hands through his hair, smoothing it flat. “We can check that.” He sat at the com-unit. “There'll be a memory of the call in the computer which should contain the location he called from. Let's see.”
 

Rhani went to the intercom. “Amri,” she said, “Dana's coming back. Please have some hot food ready for him.”
 

“Yes, Rhani-ka,” said Amri's tremulous voice.
 

“Well, that was true,” Zed said. “He did call on a public line.”
 

Rhani swallowed. “Zed-ka,” she said, “this is important, please. I need to talk to you.”