The Coming Event

CHAPTER TWELVE

Could it have been Fydor? He had been on Jourdan when Sharon had died but so had Mikhail and Vasudeva and most of the others who would have any reason to have instigated her death. A dead end and she glared at the tablets lying on the desk before her, the small squares carrying names and dates and locations. Adjusted, placed in the right order, they should determine who had had the opportunity, the motive, the means.

Eliminate motive-they all had that. The means? She hesitated then decided all could have arranged for the thing to be done. Which left opportunity and that was no help at all because if they had the means their personal presence was unnecessary.

She'd come to a blank wall but stubbornly refused to recognize it. A computer could have handled the problem but then she would have had to confide in the technicians who would program it and they, in turn, could talk and so warn the one person she needed to catch unawares.

Again she manipulated the tablets. Fydor had been on the southern coast when Sharon had crashed and had been busy with a fishing project. Could he be eliminated? If so then Vasudeva was equally innocent and Mikhail had been too young for such devious machinations. Perhaps the accident had been exactly that and she was chasing shadows.

But Sonia?

The infection that had taken her life-could it have been deliberately administered? The suspicion had caused her to send Lucita to Lomund and now it sent her hands flying over the scattered tablets, assembling them in various heaps, the highest of which should yield the answer to her search.

She had played this game as a child but now it held a serious intent Lucita's life could depend on her skill and, with sick realization, Su Posta knew that her skill was not great enough.

"My lady?" Venicia was at her side. "The man Dumarest asks audience."

"Earl Dumarest?"

"From the field, my lady. He refused to be specific as to the nature of his business but hinted at a matter of the greatest delicacy, — which could touch your reputation."

"How?"

Su Posta hid her smile as the woman tried to be both knowledgeable and diplomatic. Any reason she gave would be a guess and it was simple to anticipate what one would be. A tall, strong man confined in a ship with a woman known for her tastes-did Venicia think her such a fool as to form an association with a blabbermouth? And yet even the possibility held a certain flattery, which she savored before putting the woman out of her misery.

"I will see him. The garden-in an hour."

She had always liked the garden with its winding paths and beds of flowers, its scented shrubs and the high walls which trapped the warmth of the sun so that the profusion of blooms which filled the air with their perfume seemed gifted with a special appeal. Here she had walked with her consort, now long dead, and here she, had played with her children when they had been small. A haven of peace and one which held the tender memory of years long past. The residence of ghosts-one of which seemed to have taken form as Dumarest walked toward her.

A trick of the light-it had to be that. An illusion born of shadows and fading gleams but for a moment she thought Donal had come to her as he had so long ago, tall and strong and radiating a firm comfort. Then, as he stepped nearer, she saw the small, telltale signs which set Dumarest apart from all other men she had ever known. The hardness, the almost feral determination, the aura of power, the stubborn independence which had brought him to her as she had guessed it would.

"My lady!" He bowed as, coming close, he halted before her. "You are gracious to have granted me an audience."

"It would have been ungracious to have refused. Your business?"

"A small matter, my lady, yet one of importance to me. The question of a certain promise which-"

"You hinted of damage to my reputation," she interrupted. "Do you dare to threaten the Matriarch of Jourdan?"

"I would be a fool if I did."

"And you are not a fool. I understand your meaning. I still fail to understand your words as reported to me. Just what could you do to hurt my reputation?"

"Nothing." He was blunt in his honesty. "The words were used only to gain your attention. Now that I have it the real nature of my business can be mentioned. The matter of a promise, my lady. One you were kind enough to put in writing."

"The promissory note?"

"Yes, my lady."

"Which as yet I have refused to pay?"

"An oversight, I'm sure. If you will give orders to your treasury the matter could be settled without further delay."

"And if I refuse?" She waited as the question hung in the air. "If I deny payment?"

Dumarest said, coldly, "As you have reminded me, my lady, you are the Matriarch of Jourdan. If you refuse to honor the note there is nothing I can do. Of course the incident will be known and questions may be asked and, later, perhaps, your word will have lost some of its value. You may even feel a sense of-not guilt, for how can a ruler feel guilty? — but, shall we say, regret?"

"For a man you are bold!"

"My lady-would you have me cringe?"

So Donal would have spoken and, for a moment, the illusion returned so that she trembled on the edge of throwing herself into his arms. Then she remembered her age, who he was and why he was here. Not why he had come-though he might think it just for his money, but why she had forced him to appear.

She said, "I delayed payment on that note for a reason. I wanted to see you again."

"My lady, you had only to command."

"Perhaps. Or you could have been in space by now, but never mind that." Her gesture dismissed the concept. "My Akita are dead. Did you know their prime function was to guard my granddaughter? Well, never mind, they are gone and can be replaced in time but, until then, I have need of dedication and strength to safeguard the heiress. I have decided that you are the most suitable person to undertake the responsibility. Lucita likes and trusts you and you have proved your abilities. Shall we regard the matter as settled?" She frowned as he made no answer. "Well?"

Dumarest said slowly, "You honor me, my lady, but I cannot accept the assignment."

"You cannot?"

"I have a ship, others dependent on what I do, a mission to be accomplished." He saw the expression on the raddled face, the anger glinting in the eyes. A woman rejected-maidservant or matriarch the reaction was the same. Only the threat was different.

"You refuse?" Her rage mounted as he nodded. "How dare you! Who are you to put self above the needs of Jourdan? My granddaughter needs to be protected and I have decided you are the best person to do it."

"No, my lady-you are."

"What?"

Dumarest said, "You are her blood. Her grandmother. Her ruler. If she cannot trust you then who can she turn to? And you, my lady-you hand her life to a stranger!"

He was a fool. One who failed to recognize her power and his own helplessness. One who made no effort to mask his contempt. An idiot who had lost command of his tongue. Not even her late consort would have dared to speak to her like that.

And yet there was something heroic in his folly. Watching him, fighting her anger, she could sense it. So an early ancestor might have stood as he defied the elements; ready to die but unwilling to yield. Displaying a pride she understood only too well.

Then, abruptly, as if she had been looking through a kaleidoscope which had moved to form a new picture from the old, she saw things as they really were. Not an ignorant savage standing in stupid defiance but an intelligent man fighting to gain advantage. One who had deliberately manipulated her emotions so as to create the earlier impression. A gambler who had risked and won.

She wondered if he guessed how close he had come to losing all.

Watching, waiting his moment, Dumarest said, "My lady, why do we argue when your granddaughter is in such danger? The Galya was sabotaged as you must know and the target included both you and Lucita."

"Which is why I want her protected!"

"No one man can do that. You must have the loyalty of guards and attendants-don't try to abrogate your responsibility."

She said tightly, "Say that again and you'll regret it. Lucita is my life. Yes, I know you saved her and you'll be paid for it, that I promise. The note will be met the next time it is presented-but to hell with the money. I want the girl to be safe!"

And, desperate, she had turned to the one man she thought could insure that. Held him by stopping payment of a just debt, forcing him to come to her, exerting a pressure he had withstood and turned against her. Showing her, too, that she had been wrong. No single guard could give total protection. Not a thousand if the enemy was strong and determined and had ambition enough and wealth enough to achieve the desired end.

And Lucita, dear God, was so small!

"Think, my lady," said Dumarest. "Don't let emotions rule your head. You must have enemies-who are they? Someone knew of your journey to collect Lucita. Someone must have wanted you both dead. A person who had the motive, means and opportunity. One or-" He broke off, looking at her face, the expression it bore. "My lady?"

"Nothing." She had been thinking of the tablets cluttering the desk in her office. How strange that he had followed her own line of reasoning. "Go on."

"One or more who could have conspired to act against you. Maybe someone of your party was responsible and could try again unless stopped."

"Who?" She glared her impatience. "Give me the name!"

"I can't," admitted Dumarest. "I don't know it. But you could have the information to find it. Who rode with you to collect Lucita and did not return with you on the Galya? Someone who could have pleaded urgent business to take care of or who'd fallen sick just before departure?" He saw the change of expression on her face. "There was someone?"

Tammi Canoyan-the bitch!

"The handler was contaminated," said Dumarest. "A virus affected the brain and caused a mental breakdown. He killed the navigator and two others. Then he rushed into the engine room and tried to open the generator. It blew in his face. My lady?"

He stepped closer in his concern, but she waved him back and plumped on a bench, face mottled as she fought for breath. Fought too the rage which threatened to overwhelm her.

Sonia had died of an infection-had Canoyan been close? She remembered the tablets and, in her mind, picked and adjusted, setting each in its place to build a pile which told its story. The woman had had the means and opportunity, and the motive was obvious. With both herself and Lucita dead the direct line would be ended and the way open for her to claim the throne.

Canoyan, she was sure of it-but how to find the proof?

Dumarest had left at noon and now it was long after dusk with stars shining like beckoning lanterns in the dark immensity of space. Ysanne wondered what had brought such a poetic fantasy to mind. The lights were stars and stars were nothing but suns burning with fading energy until they finally collapsed to form white dwarfs or, if they had been large enough to begin with, black holes or red giants or even to explode in ravening fury as novas. These facts of the universe she knew the way she knew that the touch of the night wind held a chill not born of the weather alone, or that the silver sheen of the sky was not wholly due to distant stars.

Standing at the head of the ramp she shivered and tried not to think of another night when the sky had been like enveloping mother-of-pearl and the wind warm and Dumarest close. Remembered too the way she had felt and then found the pain of his absence was a knife in her heart.

"Ysanne?" Andre Batrun had come to stand beside her, his hair reflecting the silver sheen which gave it added luster. He looked tired, shoulders stooped beneath his uniform, the insignia of his rank as bright as his hair. "You're worrying," he said. "Don't. It's a waste of energy."

"So tell me how."

"To stop worrying?" He smiled and reached for his snuff, snapping open the lid of the ornate box and taking a pinch of the powder to stand holding it between thumb and forefinger. "One way is to keep so busy you have no time for anything else."

"Is that why you've been working so hard?" She waited until he had taken the snuff. "Is it?"

"Certain things needed to be done."

"I know. Instruments to check for the dozenth time. Supplies to examine, the structure to test, even the cabin doors to be renumbered. Make-work, Andre, and we both know it. The Lucita's as ready as it will ever be."

The new name blazoned on the hull, stores stacked and the ship trimmed for journeying. Space was waiting-as soon as they got a generator.

"Ysolta was talking about the possibility of a cargo," said Batrun. "Staples to the mines then ore to the refinery on Myrtha. Little profit but it'll pay our way and we could haul ingots to Hago or Stave. Passengers too, and beasts-Craig's checked out the caskets. We'll take anything that comes."

And they'd go anywhere a profit was to be made. That was the philosophy of a free-trader, but the Lucita wasn't the Galya and, while Batrun was the captain, Dumarest was in command.

A fact she mentioned with unnecessary vehemence.

"I hadn't forgotten," said Batrun. "But a ship has to earn its keep. And while we're going where we're going it makes sense to get paid for the journey." He added dryly, "Especially as we don't know just where we are going."

"To Earth."

"Of course. To Earth. And have you plotted the course? Is it a five-stage flight pattern? A seven? Do we head above the plane of the galactic ecliptic or below? Which band? Which radial unit?" He saw her expression. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be sarcastic."

"Then why try?"

"A mistake. I'm not good at it."

He was trying to placate her and she smiled to show he was forgiven. "Don't fool yourself, Andre-you're damned good at it."

At irony and psychology both; his induced anger had channeled her thoughts in new directions and dampened the nagging concern.

"Earth," she said. "We'll find it. It's just a matter of looking. Earl has clues. He mentioned them and will tell us more once we're on our way. Damn it, Andre, a world just can't get lost."

"No."

"No?" She had caught his tone and recognized the flat intonation as the question it was. "You think it could?"

"What if the name was changed?" He took snuff as she thought about it. "Suppose someone was looking for the Moira. Standing out there on the field at this very moment and searching for a vessel they knew existed. Would they find it?"

"The name," she said slowly. "Earl knows his world as one thing and others call it another. Andre! Is it possible?"

"It could be the answer. Why else isn't it listed in the almanacs? But that isn't really the important thing. Have you ever considered the possibility that, to Earl, the search is more important than the finding?"

He had read too much and dreamed too often sitting in the dim womb of his control room embraced by the placenta of his chair. The seclusion had affected his mind and given birth to strange fantasies. This explanation she knew to be false but she clung to it because the alternative was something she didn't want to think about.

Sound from below brought a welcome distraction; an officer with attendant guards who halted to stare up at the couple limned against the bulk of the vessel.

"Captain Batrun?"

"Here!" He looked at the military bearing of the contingent. "Trouble, officer?"

"No. Name me your entire complement." She nodded as Batrun obeyed. "It checks. Have everyone stand by for attendance at the palace at midnight. A special ball is being held to celebrate the escape of the matriarch and her party from death in the void. You are all invited to attend."

"All?"

"Your entire complement without exception."

Ysanne said anxiously, "And Dumarest?"

"Is already at the palace." The woman's tone was reassuring. "Don't worry about him. The matriarch just wants to express her private gratitude to her benefactor." She added, "The guards will remain to escort you at midnight."