The Thirteenth Man (23 page)

Dieter stood there for a moment, his anger radiating outward like heat from a white-­hot cutting torch. Then he spun and marched toward Carristan and the door. If she hadn't skipped aside at the last moment he would have run right into her and knocked her to the floor. She continued to back away as he walked past her, and he slammed the door on his way out.

“W
hat do you mean by insurgents?” Goutain growled, his voice almost a whisper. “We don't have insurgents in Syndon.”

General Tantin knew the symptoms all too well. When Goutain shouted he was to be feared, certainly, but shouting rarely ended with loss of life. However, when the shouting ended, or even worse, when there was no shouting at all, when his voice dropped into that cold, angry growl, someone was going to die. And it was up to Tantin to make certain it was not him. “Yes, Your Excellency. Insurgents indeed! They blew up a local electrical distribution station. And though I confess I've only just been informed of this, last tenday they executed an armed assault on the local security facility, killing half the security forces there. They seem to be organized somewhere in the Rawda Slum.”

“Insurgents,” Goutain whispered. “Rebels, defying me?”

Goutain had had to return to the Republic for this, and Tantin knew someone would pay a price for that. The president sat behind his desk in the Presidential Residence staring straight ahead, his eyes focused on nothing and his thoughts apparently turned inward. Now was the moment to give him a target for his anger. “Yes, Your Excellency. But most disturbing of all is that it's been going on now for quite some time, and we've not heard about it. I fear that the captain of the local security forces in charge of Rawda has been lenient regarding his charges, and covering up the fact that his indulgence is allowing an escalation of this violence. I'm investigating now and should have a better understanding of the situation before the end of the tenday.”

“Don't investigate,” Goutain growled. “Execute the fool. Execute him and one tier of officers below him. Then replace them and sweep Rawda clean.”

“We haven't yet identified the exact location of the insurgents and their headquarters, Your Excellency.”

Goutain shook his head. “I said sweep Rawda clean. Burn it. Kill enough of them and you'll kill the insurgents with them.”

“H
e would have struck me,” Del said.

Her mother listened calmly, though, seated on one of the sofas in her private chamber, she was more interested in reviewing arrangements for the betrothal party. Del had quietly dismissed Adan's servants and ladies-­in-­waiting so they could speak privately. Adan rolled her eyes, looked at Del, and shook her head. “Don't be melodramatic, child. He is your betrothed and you had an argument that got out of hand.”

Del was too angry to shout or plead or cry, angry with Dieter and angry with her parents. She'd gotten the same reaction from her father. She spoke barely above a whisper. “Damn it, he would have hit me if Carristan hadn't returned.”

Adan stood abruptly, faced Del, and grabbed her by both shoulders. “Keep your voice down,” she snarled. “You'll speak of this to no one. This marriage is too important for you to endanger it with wild accusations. I care not if your future husband lacks a gentle hand. You'll marry him, and you'll smile, and if all you can do is pretend at joy when you go to your marriage bed, then you'll do that too. Do you understand me, girl?”

Del hadn't expected anything better from her mother, and she chided herself for even bothering to bring it up. Both Adan and Lucius were desperate to see this marriage happen. “Yes, mother, I understand.”

Her mother let go of her, sat down, and returned to her plans for the party. “Next time, don't disagree with him. Let him have his way.”

Del thought, but did not say,
There won't be a next time.

 

CHAPTER 23

TOO MANY DECEITS

A
s parties went, Charlie thought the betrothal gala rather dull. Queen Adan had spared no expense and was clearly enjoying herself. The festivities had begun with an elegant banquet. Dieter and Nadama sat with the royal family at the head table, with the remainder of the Ten seated at tables nearby, all on a raised dais. Two hundred guests sat at tables on the main floor, surrounding a large open space where an orchestra provided pleasant background music to accompany the dinner conversation. Dieter sat next to Del, and she seemed distracted. She just toyed with her food, merely shoved it around on her plate, took an occasional bite, and appeared joyless and unhappy.

Goutain was absent this time around, called back to Syndon for some reason, though his Syndonese thugs wandered about everywhere. Rumor had it that a growing insurgency in Syndon itself had created considerable difficulty for Goutain's Security Force, and Goutain had returned to personally clean up the mess. That was the first real justification Charlie had heard for the amount of small arms and other supplies the hunter-­killers were delivering to Sobak and Thamaklus.

Displaying a truly sadistic streak, Adan had seated Charlie at a table with Theode and Gaida. Whenever she spoke to him she had to address him as “Your Grace,” and each time she looked as if she'd swallowed something unpleasant. Charlie understood fully: her rank within the aristocracy, as the wife of a deceased duke and the mother of a presently seated duke, was still beneath that of Charlie, a seated duke. It had to rankle.

It was one of the few times, in her presence, he had reason to smile. But he kept his expression neutral.

At one of the many lulls in the conversation, Charlie asked Theode, “Any luck yet with the pirates who kidnapped our brother?”

Theode glanced Gaida's way before answering. “We're negotiating with them now. But that scum of a Syndonese pirate is impossible.”

Charlie knew the truth of it. It had become clear that Theode was just as happy to have Arthur out of the way. He had no desire to see the negotiations come to fruition. If a bunch of filthy pirates held Arthur indefinitely, or perhaps even murdered him, Theode could wash his hands of the whole matter.

Telka joined them and all the men stood. Not as traditionally beautiful as Gaida, Charlie still found the plump little woman decidedly attractive, certainly more so than Gaida's sharp-­edged beauty. Telka held her hand out to Charlie. He bowed and kissed it properly. “Your Grace,” he said. “You grow more beautiful every day.”

She chortled and shook her head. “You sound like that old reprobate Rierma.”

Theode reached out to take her hand, but she snubbed him by sitting down and ignoring him. Since Theode had sided with Nadama, Lucius, and Goutain, and she'd lost her heir in the matter, her impartiality had shifted decidedly. She did give him a nod, and a cold acknowledgment, “Your Grace.”

Protocol did not require her to even recognize Gaida, but she did so without title. “Gaida,” she said, almost a slap in the face.

She turned to Charlie and beamed a smile at him. “So, Charlie, you must visit sometime. You'll be most welcome.”

“I look forward to it,” he said.

“Beware, Your Grace,” Theode said. “He's near destitute. He'll probably steal your silverware. If his whore-­of-­a-­mother were still alive—­”

Gaida lurched slightly and Theode started. Apparently she'd kicked him under the table.

Telka reached up and ran a finger lightly along Charlie's chin. “Well, his whore-­of-­a-­mother must have been quite beautiful to produce such a handsome young man. Not to mention stealing Cesare's heart. It's said she was the only woman he ever truly loved.”

Telka turned a malicious smile on Theode and Gaida. “Tell me, Theode. What of these Syndonese pirates?”

“As you know, they kidnapped my brother,” he said, though his indignation didn't ring true. “And I've lost four merchant cargoes in the past month. What of you?”

“I've lost some too,” she said, though Charlie knew that was a lie.

Darmczek had had considerable success using the Syndonese warship in league with the new hunter-­killers. He continued the tactic of using the hunter-­killers to get in close, unseen, then disable a vessel and disappear, while
The Headsman
, a ship of obvious Syndonese make, took visible credit for a lucky or cunning shot. But Charlie's shadow fleet targeted only Nadama, Theode, Karlok, Goutain, and Lucius's shipping. Telka must be trying to avoid suspicion by claiming losses of her own.

Telka said, “I hear Goutain has lost three capital ships to the resistance. One was found hulled and gutted, only a few survivors in lifeboats.”

That was news to Charlie. He was only aware of having taken
Sachanee
and converting it to
The Headsman
, and she was a heavy cruiser, not a capital ship.

Theode added, “And only last tenday Nadama lost an entire shipment of military supplies, some heavy weaponry included.”

More information Charlie hadn't known. It sounded like Darmczek had been quite busy.

“It's this growing resistance around Aagerbanne,” Telka said.

“I don't believe that for a second,” Theode said. “I think it's this Mexak League. These Syndonese pirates are much better organized than we thought.”

The servants served dessert as a troupe of acrobats joined the orchestra on the floor below them. They all turned to watch and for a time the conversation died. In any case, there wasn't anything of substance they could discuss with Gaida and Theode present. Telka and Charlie spoke of trivialities, and Theode tried to throw out the occasional insult, more to Gaida's embarrassment than Charlie's. He'd learned long ago to simply ignore Twerp, and even though his standing as a duke made it possible to consider responding, he knew that by simply showing restraint, he appeared more noble than Theode.

After the banquet, everyone adjourned to the grand ballroom for polite music, polite dancing, and polite chatter. Charlie thought longingly of his time with the trampsies, who knew how to throw a real party. His mood had also turned melancholy; he really didn't want Del to marry Dieter. He'd thought about it quite a bit and had come up with all sorts of proper political reasons why the union should not take place. But he knew in his heart that such reasoning was actually specious justification for his own feelings. And watching her stand beside Dieter, her back stiff and her face expressionless, he could only think that now he'd probably never have that dance with her.

For the gala she wore a floor length gown of a shimmering pale blue material with embroidered highlights here and there. It was cut to emphasize her figure, cut low enough to expose a bit of cleavage, but not so low as to be provocative. Her hair had been piled elaborately atop her head with the sparkle of small jewels among the curls, but the sparkle had abandoned her eyes. She looked his way, caught him staring at her, and pulled her arm loose from Dieter—­actually had to tug a bit forcefully to break loose from his grip. All eyes in the room followed her progress as she marched purposefully, almost angrily, across the floor toward Charlie. She stopped in front of him and faced him squarely. Dieter glared at her but didn't move.

Charlie bowed carefully and she curtsied, saying softly, “No longer the penniless bastard, eh, Your Grace? But I think my father will still disapprove of my dancing with you.”

He shrugged and said, “But I'm still penniless. Certainly you must have heard that the de Lunis is near destitute.”

She smiled and the sparkle returned to her eyes. “But since Cesare acknowledged you in his will, you're no longer a bastard.”

He gave her an evil grin. “I'll always be a bastard, in one way or another.”

The sparkle left her eyes and she frowned. “Not nearly as much as others I know.”

At that moment the band began a nice, staid waltz. Charlie bowed. “May I have the pleasure?”

She held out her hand and he escorted her onto the dance floor, put his right hand in the small of her back and held her at the appropriate distance. They danced almost woodenly. “You're not having fun,” he said.

“I had an argument with my mother, and it soured my evening.”

“I was under the impression that mothers and daughters argued frequently.”

She breathed an exasperated sigh, and he sensed there was much more to it than a simple argument. Physically holding her like this, it was clear she almost trembled with suppressed anger. She looked at him mischievously and said, “And we'll probably argue again tomorrow about the brazen way I've chosen to dance with you.”

“Ah, but I'm one of the Ten, and by custom you must dance at least one dance with each of us. Is that not so?”

She gave him a conspiratorial grin. “But this isn't the kind of dance Del had in mind when she promised one to her spacer.”

“What kind of dance did Del have in mind?”

She laughed. “Something lively, not a staid and polite waltz. Maybe even . . . in a crazy place like a trampsie bar.”

The music ended and she lingered in his arms for a moment. The smile disappeared from her face, she turned serious, and said, “But we're never going to have that dance, are we?”

Dieter appeared almost magically behind her. Without acknowledging Charlie he said, “My dear, come. You should dance with my father.”

She stepped out of his arms. Charlie bowed. She curtsied, turned, and walked away with Dieter.

Charlie spied Rierma across the room with an elegant blonde on his arm. He walked over to them, and said to Rierma, “Your Grace.”

“Charles, my boy,” he said happily, then leaned forward and whispered, “That robot Nadama is pissing his pants that he didn't get to dance with her first.”

“I hope it doesn't come back on her,” Charlie said.

The blonde smiled at him. “Your Grace,” she said, curtsying deeply. She was a beautiful woman, pale blond hair, blue eyes, expensive floor length gown cut provocatively low in the front, not cheaply done, but still hinting at a graceful seductiveness with which few women in the room could compete.

Since Rierma didn't immediately offer to introduce them, Charlie said, “I'm sorry, My Lady, but you seem to have the advantage of me.”

She smiled knowingly. “I think not, Your Grace. Surely you remember me.”

Charlie racked his brains, didn't want to insult Rierma by insulting the woman. “Again, I must apologize, but I don't recall having met before.”

She smiled and frowned. “I do believe you truly don't recognize me.”

She looked at Rierma and he grinned back at her as if they shared some hidden joke. She leaned forward, whispered in Charlie's ear in the street accent of the trampsies, “Frankie, was you asleep the whole time at Momma's?”

Charlie literally took an involuntary step back, looked at her carefully, and it all fell into place: Sally Wantsalot. “Sally!” he said. She smiled at him.

Rierma corrected him. “May I introduce the Lady Sally, Charles, my grandniece? She has come to comfort an old man in his final years.”

Charlie looked at the old duke. “Final years, my ass. You're probably going to be around longer than me.”

Rierma grinned, looked at Sally, and Charlie could see sincere fondness in his eyes. Rierma said, “But she is a comfort to an old man.”

Sally looked back at the old man with the same fondness, and she spoke again without any trace of the street accent. “And he's good to me, Your Grace.”

Behind Rierma stood one of his retainers, dressed in de Neptair livery and hovering discreetly in the shadows at the edge of the room. Now that Charlie knew what to look for, he recognized him easily. “Is that Stan Fourhands?”

Rierma grinned. “I believe that's his name.”

Charlie said, “Excuse me, Your Grace, Lady Sally.”

He walked over to Stan and asked, “How's the pickings?”

Stan shrugged unhappily. “Pretty good.” Like the rest of the trampsies he could drop the accent when needed. “It would be better if the old fellow—­” he nodded toward Rierma, “—­gave me free rein. As it is he'll only let me take from those Nadama and Dieter fellows, and of course from your stepbrother and his mother. And Sally told me if I disobey him she'll cut my balls off.”

“Theode and Gaida?”

Stan grinned happily. “Ya, but I do get to rob them blind.”

Where Stan went, Nano was usually nearby. “Is Nano here, with
Goldisbest
?”

Stan just smiled. “He's keeping a low profile, doesn't want to be seen.”

That meant Nano was setting up some sort of smuggling operation. Charlie turned back to Rierma and Sally, but Lady Carristan intercepted him before he reached them. “Your Grace,” she said, curtsying deeply. “May I have a private word with you?”

Charlie asked, “Is there a message from Her Highness?”

Carristan glanced over her shoulder in the direction of Delilah. “No, Your Grace. She doesn't know I'm speaking with you.”

Intrigued, Charlie said, “Where can we speak privately, then?”

“Please follow me,” she said, then turned and walked away.

He followed at a discreet distance, and outside the ballroom she turned into a servant's entrance, stopped in a dark corridor where they were alone. “Forgive me for such intrigue,” she whispered, “but I fear for Her Highness.”

“How so?”

“They had an argument, and as I stepped into the room, I'm certain he would have struck her had I not arrived to interrupt him.”

“You mean Delilah and Dieter?”

“Yes, Your Grace, he's an animal. And I think she's going to run away, but she has no place to run, except a distant cousin who can only return her to Lucius, or face the king's wrath.”