Empyrion I: The Search for Fierra (28 page)

The message had been
explicit; there was no mistake. Tvrdy had acted at once to arrange a meeting of the Cabal. Now he waited at the appointed place—a granary in Hyrgo deep Hage. He wore the green-sleeved yos of the Hyrgo and sat among bulging sacks of fresh-smelling grain. He waited patiently, knowing the others would join him soon, content to allow Piipo's personal bodyguard to keep watch over the meeting-place.

How long must we continue to practice our deceptions? he wondered. Not long, he guessed. One way or another there would be an end to their secret activity. The day was coming for open confrontation. He could feel the dread approach of that day in his bones. It would be a dark day. Yes, a dark, bloody day.

The quick flit of a shadowed figure hurrying along the aisle between the steep stacked bags of grain drew Tvrdy's attention away from his thoughts. He recognized the furtive step as that of Cejka's. He stood and welcomed his friend.

“No trouble tonight?” Tvrdy glanced past Cejka's shoulder—a reflex action born of years of exacting vigilance.

“I was not followed, nor was I seen. Don't worry.”

“Did you see anyone else?”

“No one.” Cejka studied him closely. “Should I have?”

“Piipo has several of his personals at watch. I thought it best to maintain extra security tonight.”

“Your news is that important?”

A tight smile stretched the edges of Tvrdy's lips. “Do you think I would have pulled you from the arms of your Hagemate if it was not?”

“Listen!”

“That will be Piipo. He said he would come after us and seal the entrance. That way we will not fear discovery—at least while we are here.”

There was a slight rustle of clothing close by, and Piipo slipped into view from behind a small pyramid of grain sacks. He walked confidently toward them, his hood thrown back on his shoulders. “This is the best I could provide,” he said, indicating their surroundings. “There was not much time.” He regarded Tvrdy frankly.

“The information could no doubt have waited until tomorrow, but by then we might have lost an important opportunity to make contact with the intruder in Sirin's custody.”

“Yes?” Piipo looked surprised.

“You were right to call us,” said Cejka. “I wouldn't care to miss such an opportunity. How did you find out?”

Tvrdy settled back on his grain sack, and the others gathered close. “For several days I have been receiving reports of a stranger moving through the Hages in the company of a Saecaraz magician—a female called Calin. They have been careful not to go into deep Hage, but have moved freely enough among the populace. There does not seem to have been any attempt to disguise their visits.”

“I have heard nothing of this,” said Piipo.

“They came to Hyrgo two days ago,” said Tvrdy dryly. “And to Rumon the day before that. It is not likely they would have been reported—the visits did not draw attention. They traveled on foot for the most part and were observed together at all times. There was nothing at all unusual about their visits.”

“Then how do you know it
was
the intruder?” Piipo frowned, and Cejka glanced at him sharply. “I assure you I do not doubt your sources,” Piipo hastily added. “But I don't see—”

“If Tvrdy says it was the intruder,” Cejka cut him off decisively, “then stake your life on it.”

Tvrdy raised his hands to quiet the two and continued. “Today, however, they stayed within Hage Saecaraz. In fact, they left the intruder's kraam three times only—yes, Sirin has given the intruder a kraam within the Supreme Director's chambers— and twice they went to see him in the audience room.”

“A kraam for the spy?” wondered Piipo. “What does it mean?”

“And the third visit?” asked Cejka impatiently.

“To the Archives. They have not returned.”

“The Archives!” Cejka gasped.

Piipo stared incredulously. “I don't understand. What does it mean?”

“It means,” replied Cejka, recovering quickly, “that we may already be too late to learn much from the intruder. Either the psilobe has permanently altered his memory, or he has joined Rohee's reign.”

“The Archives,” Piipo muttered. “You put too much store by them. They cannot be that important.”

“We have seen records—” began Cejka. Tvrdy warned him off with a stern glance. “You have no idea how important the Archives are. If we told you, you would not believe us.”

“It is all old mother's prattle,” Piipo scoffed.

“It doesn't matter,” said Tvrdy. “All that matters now is whether we should risk trying to contact him. That is why I called you. I would not implicate you without your knowledge. If we tried and failed …”

Cejka nodded silently. Piipo looked from one to the other of his co-conspirators. Tvrdy's gaze was steady and patient. He had worked through the problem in his own mind, and wanted to allow the others a chance to reach the same conclusions for themselves.

“Well,” Cejka said, breaking the silence which had grown heavy as the grain in the great vault of a room, “I see no other course but to try. We must be certain. And even if he has joined Rohee, we may discover a way to use him to help us gain entrance to the Archives.”

“And you, Piipo?”

“I agree. In any case we have to know whether he has joined them or not. Yes, contact him as soon as possible.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Tvrdy beamed at them and began explaining his plan to make contact with the stranger. They discussed his plan from every angle and in the end agreed on how it should be carried out.

As they rose, stretched, and made to leave, Piipo asked, “Tell me—any news of our latest acquisition?”

Tvrdy shrugged. “Still too soon to tell. He was given a large dose—much larger than normal. They were taking no chances. But he is beginning to ask questions.”

“That's a good sign,” put in Cejka.

“Yes, there is some small hope. A partial recovery at least.”

“What about the woman and the fourth intruder? Still no word?”

“The woman has been seen from a distance. Two attempts at contact have failed—the Chryse troupe she is with did not appear as scheduled. It could be that the troupe's leader has been instructed to keep her under close security.” Tvrdy paused and added, “I wasn't going to tell you now—we've had enough bad news for one night…”

“Go on,” urged Piipo, “we might as well hear it all. The night is too far gone for sleep anyway.”

“The fourth intruder was taken to Starwatch level of Nilokerus several days ago. Condition uncertain, but he has been attended continuously by Ernina herself since his arrival.”

“That's Jamrog's doing!” muttered Cejka.

“My source thinks not,” replied Tvrdy. “There have been no official orders regarding his disposition upon recovery. I think Hladik is responsible and doesn't want anyone to know what has happened to the captive assigned to him.”

“Conditioning?”

“That's my guess. I told you it was bad.”

Piipo took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “All the more reason to make contact with the remaining intruder as soon as possible. We are running out of alternatives.” He smiled unexpectedly.

“Well? What is it, Piipo?” asked Cejka.

“Excuse me, I am still new to the ways of a cabal and I have difficulty believing in the need for such urgency. I am quickly learning, however, and I just had a thought. Why not take
all
the spies? We know where they are. It could be done. Isn't tomorrow a Holy Day?”

Tvrdy stared at Piipo, then broke into a wide grin. “Excellent! I like the way you think. I was afraid you were beginning to doubt your decision to join us.”

“Never! It is the one thing I am pleased with in a very long time. I do not regret it. Once my word is given …”

Tvrdy clapped him on the shoulder. “It will soon get much worse, you know.”

Piipo's smile broadened. “How else can it get better?”

The three sat down again and reformed the plan, each taking responsibility for securing one of the intruders. Another hour passed before they were satisfied and adjourned the Cabal. Piipo put his fist to his heart and then slipped away, dodging behind sacks of grain. Tvrdy and Cejka nodded silently, returned the salute, and then hurried off, leaving the way they had come.

Jamrog,
forehead bulging menacingly, lips compressed into a tight line, twirled a bhuj between his quick hands. The spinning blade dashed light from its mirrored surface, flashing like the anger smouldering in the Director's eyes. Hladik sat to one side, frowning, dark brows pulled together into a ridge above his eyes, his jowls spreading over his collar.

Fertig, Nilokerus Subdirector, sweated into his yos and blurted out the rest of his news. “… but the usual procedures proved ineffectual. He lost consciousness when the second eye was burned out and died before we could administer revivants.”

“What was he given before interrogation?” growled Hladik unhappily.

Fertig spread his hands in a show of innocence. “The usual pain enhancers. Nothing more. It was not known he had such a weak heart.”

“Did you think to check his records?” Jamrog sneered.

“My men are better trained than that!” Hladik snapped. “Records are not kept on wastehandlers. Only the higher-order Jamuna have permanent files. This one was merely a recycler; the only record he possessed was his dole number. I looked into that myself.”

Jamrog groaned and smashed the bhuj against the floor. A starburst pattern appeared in the cracked stone tile at his feet. “How is this possible?” he demanded. The Nilokerus at the ready behind Fertig stiffened.

“Calm down,” Hladik soothed. With a wave he dismissed his aide, who, with the rest of the Nilokerus contingent, retreated gratefully without hesitation. “A third-order recycler's death—this Nendl, whoever he is—will not change anything. We'll get the spy back—where can he go? He has no friends; no one will help him. I would not be surprised if he were apprehended before the day was out.”

“Are you really so stupid? Save your mindless chatter. I know better. We don't know how long Pizol has been missing. His absence was discovered this morning, but as far as we know he has not been seen for three days at least. Obviously he's been taken in somewhere. I suspect Tvrdy is behind this.”

“What an accusation! Listen to yourself. Tvrdy is a Director, after all.”

“A Director who will stop at nothing to worm his way into power over us. Don't be a fool. You know he is cunning. He's not a brainless lump like Dey or Bouc. Who can guess what he's thinking in that tight mind of his?” He glared at Hladik, defying him to contradict this.

“I know you and Tvrdy have your differences—”

“Differences? Hah! He'd kill me without a second's hesitation if I ever gave him the chance—and I would do the same. We are enemies, Hladik. Or are you talking this way because you are weakening?”

Hladik pulled a hurt face. So far his little exercise had accomplished his goal: averting Jamrog from further questioning him about their other prisoner—the one he had nearly killed through the conditioning. That had been his own idea, a little insurance. If Jamrog ever found out—better not to think it. That was inviting disaster. With any luck the spy would recover before Jamrog suspected anything was wrong. He made a mental note to pay the prisoner a personal visit.

Jamrog, still scowling, flung out his hand. “Stop playing the wounded innocent and tell me what we are to do now.”

“As I said, Pizol will be found soon. In all probability he is still within Jamuna Hage. He will turn up. All dole kiosks have been alerted. It's only a matter of a few hours. Leave it with me.”

“I wish I had your confidence, Hladik. All right, I will leave it with you.”

Glad to change the subject, Hladik asked, “What have you learned abut the Fieri spacecraft?”

“Very little. Their magic is of a different kind than ours. Completely different. Much of it is incomprehensible, although there are a few minor similarities, I am told.”

“Is it genuine?”

“Yes, very much so. And that is the mystery of it. If the Fieri have regained flight, why did they send such a small force? It makes no sense.”

“I begin to think we may have to interrogate the spy under Rohee's custody after all. I understand the Supreme Director has given him a kraam in the High Chambers. He's mad.”

“Sirin is old but not insane. He has his reasons. We would do well to find out what they are before moving against the spy he has befriended.” Jamrog fixed his eyes on a spot over Hladik's dark head. “I wonder—” He tapped the staff of the bhuj gently in his hand.

“Yes?”

“I wonder if we have not made a mistake in placing the intruders in Hage so quickly. You should have killed them.”

Hladik's answer was direct. “The Supreme Director wished otherwise. We chose the best course open to us. If the Dhogs had found out about them, who knows what could have happened? This way we have kept them safely hidden from their own, and beyond the reach of Tvrdy's faction too.”

“Ah, so now you admit that Tvrdy has a faction, do you?”

Hladik answered benignly, “Of course, was there ever any doubt?”