The Enigma Score (34 page)

‘He’s a monster! All those people….’

‘Do you think Justin cares? After what you told me about him?’

‘Is he the one at the top?’

‘He’s at the top on Jubal, that’s certain.’ And at the top of my particular list, he thought. ‘Which doesn’t help us at the moment.’ He nodded at Jamieson and Clarin. ‘You two did a good job. Don’t look so downcast.’

‘I don’t know what to do next,’ Clarin sighed, then sighed again, patting a pocket, complaining tearfully like a child. ‘And I lost my mouse.’

She looked up at Tasmin, wishing in that instant she could make him respond as Celcy had evidently done. She could use a little comforting, a little protection.

He started to extend his hand toward her, then stopped himself, accusing himself, accusing Donatella. He couldn’t hug Clarin now, not after what Don had said. The whole thing was ridiculous. He had no place in his life for Clarin, not now, not when a world hung in the balance.

Clarin turned away, confused by the expression on his face, a rejection that she had done nothing to provoke. She blinked back tears and walked away from them, barely noticing the ironic twist of Donatella’s lips. Jamieson came after her, standing beside her as she stared back down the valley, the way they had come.

‘You need some sleep, lady.’

She did not see the yearning on his face. She responded only to his words. ‘Amen, Reb. Sleep. And two or three other little things I can think of.’

From behind them, Tasmin’s voice came in its usual matter-of-fact intonation, as though there was no whirlpool of feelings boiling among them, as though there had been no crisis, no imminent threat, no assassins after them, no map of disaster, no anything that mattered at all. ‘Get a little rest, Clarin, Jamieson. There won’t be any for the next few days. Don and I have picked a route out of this valley. With what you’ve told us, we can’t waste any time. We’ll have to head straight for the Enigma.’

14

The office of the Grand Master in the tower of the citadel at Splash One was a disaster area – or so Thyle Vowe thought, looking it over.

‘Can’t we throw some of this stuff away?’ he asked plaintively from among the litter of cube copy, handwritten notes, and files of untidy correspondence.

Gereny Vox looked up from the box she was packing. ‘If you’re not interested in having documents to base a case on later, sure. We could just burn the place down and get rid of it all.’

‘It’s all in the computers anyhow,’ he said doubtfully, not really believing it.

‘You sure? You sure Justin doesn’t have a mouse here in the citadel somewhere, wiping away anythin’ that Justin wouldn’t want to come out later on? Listen, Thyle! If I can find Crystallites workin’ in my own stables, you can find a mouse or two chirpin’ away here in the citadel. Believe me. Anyhow, I’m almost through.’

‘Where did you and Jem decide to put the stuff?’

‘We found an empty brou warehouse near the docks in Tallawag. It’s far enough north of Splash One not to get interfered with, and it’s close enough we can hide out there a while if we need to.’

‘An empty warehouse? That’d be scarce as red meat! How’d you find one of those?’

‘Well, somebody favorable to our side of things boggled a few records is what happened. So far as BDL’s facility files’re concerned, the place is packed with obsolete equipment. So far as the equipment inventory files’re concerned, it’s full of dried brou. So far as the brou shipment schedule files’re concerned, it was emptied last flight out. The auditors might catch up to it in a year or two, but by then it shouldn’t matter. Right now it’s got my mule breedin’ files and Jem’s agridiv files, and anythin’ else he or Rheme Gentry thinks is important enough to hold onto – includin’ at least six copies of all the evidence Rheme’s come up with in the Governor’s office – along with all the stun rifles we could steal from the armory and all the charge cubes we could steal from troop supply. There’s some mighty corruptible folks out there, Thyle. Makes you real sad, seein’ what the world’s come to.’

‘You’re sly, Gereny,’ he said admiringly. ‘That’s what you are. You and Jem are a pair. And you takin’ pay from BDL, too.’

‘Pair of old mules is what we are,’ she said comfortably. ‘Just because BDL fills our feed trough doesn’t mean we won’t kick ’em if they need it. We may not be able to prove sentience, which is what I bet Don’s up to, but we’ll sure as hell prove corruption. You heard anything about Don yet?’

‘Just enough to worry me quite a bit.’

‘That girl of yours get any information back to you?’

‘Not a word. No, I sent a couple of ’Singers up Redfang way the day after we sent Tasmin Ferrence. My ’Singers found bodies, more of ’em than there should have been, but none of ’em people we were worried about. They found tracks, too, headed back into the range. Four sets. I figure that means Don Furz is in good company.’

‘Includin’ Renna.’

‘I do worry some about her,’ he confessed.

‘Well, why’d you send your own daughter off on a fool trip like that?’

‘Because she was with Tasmin and his other acolyte, and because accordin’ to you there were only three or four Crystallites to worry about – instead of about a dozen assassins, which is what there turned out to be accordin’ to the tracks – and because Renna and I agreed nobody was to know she’s my daughter because she says it makes her life difficult. I gave her my word. She started callin’ herself Clarin and moved away from Northwest where people knew about it. Clarin was her mama’s name. My Princess. Did you see what those pagans did to her hair, down there in Five? She had the prettiest hair….’

‘You don’t want citadels cuttin’ neophytes’ hair, all you have to do is tell ’em so. You think somethin’s happened to her?’

‘No,’ he grumped. ‘No, I don’t. Tasmin’s clever. And that Jamieson is cleverer than two Tasmins. He could sing his way by the Black Tower in the dark with a high wind blowing. And Renna’s no fool-child, herself. No, I think they got driven back into the range and are bottled up in there. They’ll get to a citadel eventually. Hope they’ve got sense enough to stay there until all this is over.’

He went into a silent communion with his worries, fumbling papers from one pile to another until Gereny asked, ‘You knew the discipline stockade was found empty, and all the hard cases have disappeared along with most of the regular troops and a whole batch of weaponry?’

‘Captain Jines Verbold told me, yes. Came to me at home, kind of snuck around so’s nobody’d see him, said it happened without his knowledge or help, and I believe him. Verbold says his men are the only ones left around, barely enough of ’em to round up the Crystallites – which he had orders to do. Colonel Lang is showin’ his true colors, Gereny.’

‘Well, what are you doin’ about it?’

‘I’ve got every citadel on alert. I’ve cut off Tripsingers, so he can’t use them to get anyplace. Trouble is, Gereny, there wasn’t any pressure to get Tripsingers. Which means….’

‘Which means Justin figures he won’t need ’em, right?’

‘Doesn’t need and doesn’t want. That’s the way I see it, yes. So, I’ve sent Tripsingers here and Tripsingers there, the ones with the best rifle scores, and I’ve sent some noise projectors and what not. Way I got it figured, this is pretty rough country and those troops haven’t seen action in a long, long time. One good rifleman ought to be able to pin down a lot of troops, don’t you think? Blow up some ’lings on top of ’em. Delay ’em some?’

‘Delay ’em maybe. I don’t think you’ll stop ’em.’

‘No, Gereny, I don’t either. We’ll need some help to do that.’

‘Did your Captain tell you the troops had some Explorers with ’em?’

The Grand Master scowled at her. ‘Chase Random Hall has had both hands out for a long time. He probably called in a few loyalty chits, told a few more lies. Some fool young Explorers think loyalty’s more important than good sense.’ Thyle ran both hands through his white hair and sighed. ‘Hall’s been their union rep for years, sold ’em out on almost every issue, and they still vote for him and pay him his fealty. Makes you wonder what some people use for brains.’

‘Rheme’s trying to get a message out asking for a gun-ship, is he?’

‘Why the hell else are we gettin’ ready to evacuate the citadel, Gereny? Say the PEC figures it has enough evidence of corruption it gets itchy and calls for Justin’s resignation and the Governor’s. Up until just recent, Rheme was gettin’ a lot of information out, and I figure the PEC might figure it had about enough evidence by now. Say Justin or Wuyllum or both orders out the whole army to defend ’em and refuse to budge. Be dumb of either of ’em, but they might do it anyhow.’

‘Not the Governor. Rheme says he’s gettin’ ready to run. Any time now.’

‘Well, Justin then. Say Justin digs himself in and won’t move. It’d be like him. So, then, say the PEC decides to slash off BDL headquarters as a sort of object lesson. That happens I don’t want to be sittin’ here in the citadel, right on their doorstep, examinin’ my belly button as my last view of anythin’ mortal.’

‘’Tisn’t a bad belly button,’ Gereny remarked in a discriminating tone.

‘Lots’ve flesh I’d rather be lookin’ at,’ he replied, pinching a portion of Gereny’s.

‘You old bantigon,’ she remarked fondly. ‘Well, if you want to spend any of your declinin’ years chasing women, you’d better go through this pile of stuff and tell me what we need to keep.’ She put another file in a carton and thumped it to settle the contents. ‘And you’d better start thinkin’ up real good excuses to move everybody out without Honeypeach Thonks gettin’ suspicious. She watches this place like she was a gyre-bird and we’d been dead for three days.’

‘I know she does,’ he said uncomfortably. The close surveillance Honeypeach exercised over the citadel in Splash One had been one of his major concerns. ‘I figured she’d be gone by the time we needed to move. Thought I might leave movin’ ’til the last minute, Gereny, love. Assumin’ there’s goin’ to be a last minute.’

Vivian Ferrence lay on a mattress inflated over a layer of crates in the bottom of a brou wagon, baby Miles bouncing on her stomach. Their journey had gone on for many days, and the anxieties of Splash One were beginning to give way to less painful feelings, though in an erratic and undependable fashion. She no longer had to worry whether Miles would have enough to eat on a given day. The food provided by the trip cook was monotonous but adequate. Flat bread. Beans or cheese or bean cheese. Dried fish or meat. A small ration of fresh fruits and vegetables. Once every four or five days, a bit of roasted fresh meat when one of the bantigons from the crate in the back of the cook wagon was slaughtered. There was milk for Miles, as well, artificial and reconstituted, but full of appropriate minerals nonetheless.

And there were cookies. The trip cook, Brunny, had an affinity for children, and cookies seemed mysteriously to materialize whenever Miles toddled around the cook wagon after lunch or during the evening halts.

During the night there were the peaceful stars and sleep that was better than she had had at any time recently. During the day, there was Tripsinging and the glory of the Presences. She had not been afraid. Even considering how Lim had died, she had not been afraid. Her acceptance was almost fatalistic, she realized. If she died on this journey, she would at least have had this period of peace and sufficient food and a warm bed. And memories. Lots of memories.

Night before last, just at sunset, they had seen a red sparkle on the eastern horizon, twin spires of iridescent scarlet. ‘That’s the Enigma,’ the Tripmaster had announced. ‘Be nice if there was a trail that way. It’d cut off about fifty miles. As it is, we turn north up ahead a ways, go on up through Harmony and past the Black Tower. You can see the very tip of Old Blacky, sticking up there over that purple peak. Then Deepsoil Five, same day.’

Deepsoil Five. The feelings of peace fled, and Vivian became anxious once more. Why? She had accepted what Tasmin had told her. He hadn’t known, his mother hadn’t known. Much though she believed they should have known, she could not condemn them for something that had been between Lim and his father. Or, she could condemn them but chose not to. Chose, rather, to let baby Miles have a family – if only her mind could stop there, but it never did. It always went on, ‘let Miles have a family even though they betrayed his daddy and ended up killing him.’

No matter how often she told herself that she did not condemn them, she ended up by doing exactly that. Betrayal, she moaned. Killing. Violent accusations against absent people she didn’t even know. Each time she arrived at this point in her circular agony, she cried bitterly, then told herself all over again that they hadn’t really done it. Tasmin had been seven years old when it happened; he had been only sixteen or seventeen when Lim left. Could she really hold a seven-year-old boy responsible? And Thalia, Tasmin’s mother – she had been going blind even then. Perhaps that had been all the trauma she could handle. Her husband couldn’t have been any help to her. Perhaps she had been unable to see anything at all.

So, alternately accusing and exonerating, Vivian had spent the recent hours gradually working herself out of the emotional maelstrom and into something approaching calm. Now, with the end of the journey in sight, that calm was disrupted and all the feelings of pain and anger were stirred once more.

‘I have to stop this,’ she whispered half-aloud. ‘I have to stop it.’

‘ ’Top it,’ said Miles. ‘ ’ Top it, Mama.’

‘I will,’ she promised, laughing at him through teary eyes. ‘I will. Are you going to get some cookies from Mr Brun?’

‘Cookies,’ Miles verified with a nod of his head. ‘Yes. Cookies wit’ nuts.’

‘Where do you suppose Mr Brun gets nuts?’ she asked in pretend amazement.

‘Viggy nuts,’ crowed Miles, giggling. It was a story Brunny told him, about the viggies bringing nuts to trade for candy. Actually, there were no nuts on Jubal, and the sweet, hard nuggets in Brunny’s cookies were merely sugary chunks of baked proto-meal, but Miles loved the viggy story.

‘That’s right,’ She laughed with him, sitting up as the wagon slowed and stopped. ‘Supper time, almost.’ She was hungry tonight. She had noticed herself being a lot hungrier over the past week or so. That was good. She had lost a lot of weight in the fish market, lost a lot buying food only for Miles because there wasn’t enough money for food for them both. Lim wouldn’t have known her, she had become so haggard. She didn’t want Lim’s mother to see her that way.