Ruler of Naught (49 page)

Now she faced the most important negotiation she’d ever had
with the fork-tongued rocklurker Snurkel, and she would have to run it on her
own.

As well we’re blasting out of here within hours. At least
I’m not without defense,
she thought, conscious of the sere-edged knife in
the top of her boot, and of her face, which she’d learned since she left
Dol’jhar was considered as warm and expressive as that of a corpse.

She stepped up to the guards before Snurkel’s shop. They
scanned her for energy weapons, and one gave a short nod.

The shop was small, but it conveyed an almost heady aura of
great wealth, even to the live carpet underfoot, a rare, fragrant, thick
blue-green moss. Art objects of inordinate rarity, each exquisite examples of
their kind, and totally different from anything else in the room, were set in
framing nooks of exotic fine-grained woods. The overall arrangement was
pleasing to the eye.

She passed inside, drawn by the glimmer of light along a
worked-gold neck torc of unimaginable age. Near it lay a strange, U-shaped
metal-faceted artifact from a distant world. A wooden cask, carved with
ferocious demons, gave off a sharp scent of incense that evoked ancient
mysteries. The air stirred as she walked, carrying the faint, melodic tinkle of
an unseen wind chime.

A woman came out and bowed. “How may I serve the genz?”

“Selling, not buying,” Vi’ya said.

“If the genz would be so good as to display the items in question?”
the woman said incuriously.

“I think Giffus Snurkel will want to see these.”

The woman bowed again and retreated. A moment later, Snurkel
himself stepped out, licking his lips, his soft, fat hands pressed together in
a pose meant to convey peace and goodwill. His rubbery face split into a smile
of delight when he saw Vi’ya.

“Ah! It is the captain of the
Telvarna
, come back
from far places to visit our humble abode. I bid you welcome.” He bowed
elaborately.

Vi’ya merely waited, unable to furnish any reply. Silence,
when one was unsure, was the best answer. Among her people on Dol’jhar, there
had never been anything remotely like what Montrose and Lokri called small
talk.

Snurkel radiated anticipation, and covetousness, stronger
than he ever had. She suppressed a surge of revulsion when he licked his lips
again.

He bowed even more deeply. “Please,
Telvarna’s
captain...
Vi’ya, is it? It is so cold, so formal out here. Do come within my little shop,
where we can sit comfortably.”

She thought about saying no, for she knew that his mindblur
was on in the back—she could feel its tickle inside the back of her skull, like
a knife blade scraping the hairs on her skin. She thought about insisting on
staying out front, but she figured he would simply turn on the mindblur that he
undoubtedly had there.

If I show hesitation he will see that as an advantage.
And that meant he’d try to protract an exchange she wanted to be fast. So she
shrugged, and followed him into the back, which was crowded with shelves and
art objects in the process of researching, meticulous reconstruction, or
repair. They passed through that to a tiny cubicle with a desk. The mindblur
buzzed supersonically, and Vi’ya’s thoughts muffled, as if a rough blanket had
dropped over her consciousness.

“Would you care for some refreshment, perhaps? I can offer
you some hot spiced barleywine, which I understand is preferred among
Dol’jharians.”

“No,” Vi’ya said, hiding a flash of surprise.
So he’s
been doing some research on
Telvarna’s
new captain, has he?
“Thanks
anyway.”

“No? Very well, very well,” the man said, his wet lips creasing.
“Now, then. What have you to show the eager Snurkel?”

“There’s this.” She reached into her pouch and carefully removed
a small object. Unwrapping it, she displayed one of the least rare of the
treasures from the Mandala, carefully selected for this interview.

Snurkel’s eyes widened. He reached out, then pulled his hand
back. Vi’ya set the tiny butterfly down, and Snurkel pulled a magnifying lens
from behind the desk and emitted a pleased “Ahhhh!” as he examined the fragile
gold framework inlaid with stylized shaped jewels.

“I do believe this is a genuine Lallic,” he said softly.
Then he looked up, his watery gaze acute. “I know of scarcely a dozen, the best
of which was housed on the Mandala itself. This item compares with the best.”

Vi’ya shrugged.

Snurkel smiled tolerantly. “Well, well,” he said. “Just out
of curiosity, as we have done agreeable business in the past. How came you by
this artifact?”

Vi’ya’s heartbeat accelerated sharply. He had never asked
that before. “You know the Rifter life. We acquire things.”

Snurkel wet his lips again, and Vi’ya thought,
The news
of the raid has reached Rifthaven.
He’s trying to figure out if
Telvarna
is the
Maiden’s Dream
and I have the Arkad. In which case these
artifacts are just a side issue.
But Snurkel’s greed would keep him from
jumping to conclusions and risk losing the Arthelion treasures; she could use
that against him.

“Of course, of course. And very profitable we all find such
acquisitions. Many of our best collectors would unclip their purses if they but
knew that artifacts were to appear that hitherto were seen only by the eyes of
one family. Might I only inquire where you might have made yours?”

“Ah,” she said, trying to think: Where would an Arkad known
for his stupidity run to? “We were scouting the edges of the Lao Tse system,
when we had a surprise encounter.” She shrugged.“Beyond the artifacts,
there was a particularly satisfying conclusion to it.”

Snurkel’s eyebrows shot up. “If perchance you have a vid of
that...”

Got him.
A vid of the death of the last Arkad son
would be worth almost as much as some of the treasures.

“Wish we did. How much for this?” she said abruptly,
directing his attention back to the brooch. Pressure was building in the back
of her skull. She forced herself to breathe slowly, trying to release it
without revealing her distress.

“Without a certificate of ownership, you know these things
are more difficult,” he said, opening negotiations.

They dickered a bit, which steadied her: this was like
normal.

“Times are very unsettled now, and with all this nasty talk
of war and fighting,” Snurkel said at last with a mendacious sigh. “It does not
seem a good time for art, does it?”

He named a price much lower than she’d counted on, so she frowned,
and put the butterfly back in her pouch.

Snurkel made a moue of disappointment, but he did not give
in. “What else have you?”

“How about this?” She pulled out a little book and carefully
opened it.

“It appears to be another pre-Exilic artifact,” he said.

“See. It’s handwritten,” Vi’ya pointed out. “It has to be
old.”

“Perhaps... perhaps... There was a fashion for handwritten
copies of old materials from before the Exile. This is definitely not the
original binding, you can clearly see. These copies are really classed as
curios—but it is not without value. Note the clever illustrations.” He chuckled
unctuously. “This one here—
The Waif of Bath
(you see I have some
knowledge of Pre-Exilic scripts). This drawing is quite amusing for someone who
has, ah, a taste for the, er, vigorous crudities of a bygone era.”

As if worse things aren’t going on right above us now,
you old thief.
Vi’ya nodded. “If it’s worthless, I’ll keep it.”

“Worthless? Did I say worthless, my dear Captain? I did not!
No indeed, not for such a good supplier... You know, we might really speak
again about the possibilities of your joining our Karroo Family. In these times
especially, the protection would be most invaluable... ”

A warning pang shot through her temple. “How much for the
book?” This was already taking longer than she’d planned, and she knew she’d no
longer be able to avoid a massive headache.

“... though if you sell me both, we might both like a
rounder sum?”

“Round it upward, and they are yours.”

“Ah, a meeting of the minds! I am delighted, delighted.
Anything more?” he asked, making a show of keying open a drawer. He pulled
forth a sheaf of AU scrip.

“Just a question.” She stopped, hearing a harsh edge to her
breathing. “About Urian artifacts.”

He stilled. Warning? Or mere curiosity? He was
knowledgeable—that’s why she was here. “What sort of Urian artifacts?”

“Any kind. Where does one go to find information?”

“It depends largely upon what you seek,” Snurkel said, licking
his lips again. “I would not hesitate under ordinary circumstances to direct
you to the excellent learning establishment housed upon the planet called
Charvann, but I have recently received most lamentable news indicating that
their operations have been interrupted. Have you found something you think
might have been left behind by those mysterious folk we term the Ur?”

His words were blurring, sounding to her as if he spoke
through a mouthful of meal. Forcing her mind to concentrate, she touched her
pouch, hesitated, then she decided.
If I don’t try, I find out nothing at
all.

She pulled the sphere free.

“Ah. It seems an ordinary metallic object, Captain,” Snurkel
said in disappointment. “Who led you to believe it was an Urian artifact?”

His disappointment relieved her. Enough so that she turned
her hand and dropped the sphere to the table. The speed with which it fell,
stopping with no bounce whatever, caused the man to blink. He tipped his head,
and without warning the mindblur whined into a high setting.

Lightning stabbed through her brain. Vi’ya gritted her
teeth, giving her head a hard shake. When she forced her stinging eyes open,
Giffus Snurkel had picked up the sphere and was thoughtfully moving it from
hand to hand.

“I’ll take it back,” she said, no longer able to hide her
ragged breathing. “Do you have to have that fire-cursed mindblur on force
nine?”

“Please pardon me. The mechanism is faulty. As it happens, I
do have a buyer who will pay enormous sums for these baubles... enormous sums,
and with them comes the gratitude of a powerfully emplaced individual.”

“I’ll take it back,” she said, holding out her hand. “I just
want information—”

“Almost nothing is known of these things, my good Captain,”
Snurkel said. “If you will entrust it to me, I can seek out information. I
will give you a great sum as insurance—”

“No. I want it back.” She stood up, ignoring the pain every
movement caused.

“But I do have a buyer... A very eager buyer... ”

She snatched at the sphere, and Snurkel dropped it behind
his desk.

His voice sharpened. “And sadly to say, my life would be
forfeit if my buyer knew I had let such an object pass through my fingers.
There is also a price on the head of the bearer, if this is what I surmise it
might be. but as we’ve done good business in the past, and I know how these
things change hands among our Rift Sodality, often without acquirers
recognizing what they have... well, if you’ll accept my price and leave, no one
will know of our dealings here.”

So Barrodagh must have put out the word that the Heart
went missing. I’m a fool,
she thought
, but I’ve not lost yet.
And
lunged across the table.

Snurkel emitted a squeak of fear and slammed his hand on a
pad at the edge of his desk but half a heartbeat after Vi’ya subvocalized the
emergency code on her boz’l. It then flashed the signal for being locally
blocked.

So she leaned down to whip out her knife.
I just hope one
of them hears that...

The little man cowered in his chair. “Guards!” he screamed.
“Stop her—get her!”

The two guards appeared at the door, pulling free pellet
guns. Probably nerve poison. Vi’ya vaulted over the desk and yanked Snurkel up
against her as a shield, while she surveyed the back of the desk. He had a
hundred tiny drawers there, all of them closed.

“Get me free! Now, or I’ll have you gutted and hamstrung!”
Snurkel’s shrieking voice sent waves of pain through Vi’ya’s head.

When he stopped, she became aware of pain on her arm; too
late she saw that he’d freed her boswell. She yanked him up, but not before he flung
it into the disposer next to his desk, then lashed out at the override button
with his toes. The disposer flashed as he screamed for his guards to kill her.

So much for the homing signal. Let’s just see how fond
they are of their master...
She kept the blade at his throat, and the
guards edged apart, taking one step forward at a time, their weapons trained
steadily on Vi’ya and her wildly struggling hostage.

o0o

Lokri was sick again twice more. Brandon steered him into a
pissoir. Lokri was dimly grateful for the presence of the tiny Eya’a, the mere
sight of whom fended off two pickpockets and a file-toothed Draco hopperpopper
seeking companionship, while he voided his system of its unwanted toxins.

“I heard they’re all over Rifthaven!” someone said behind
Lokri.

“Burning brains out?” someone else said. “Gotta be a Draco
plot!”

Lokri leaned against the wall, shaking, drenched in sweat.

Brandon said, “You probably won’t welcome this news, but
you’ll live. I even know an effective treatment, but I’ll need to raid
Montrose’s stores for the ingredients. Come on.”

Lokri opened his eyes. His head still ached, but his vision
was a lot less bleary. A faint gleam of humor flickered in his thoughts. “I
guess I will live.” He drew in a shaky breath, then said accusingly, “You’ve
got some kind of built-in alcohol neutralizer?”

“Nothing but forty-odd generations of hard heads, plus ten
years of little else to do but drink,” Brandon said with a laugh. “If I do
manage to stay alive another ten years, I’ll probably need a new liver. Let’s
get out of here before those two start a flood. There seems to be some sort of
rumor going around about them.”