Against A Dark Background (52 page)

It was the androids’ stated intention to return the city of Vembyr to a state resembling its condition during the time of the Lizard Court, when by general agreement the city had been at its most culturally vibrant and architecturally coherent. As well as rebuilding the ancient steam-powered automobile it had used to transport them from the docks, Feril had restored two other apartment blocks over the past few decades; this was its third.

All the rooms were tall. Wood panelling carved with intricate abstract patterns climbed from floors of polished wood to agate and marble dados, from which plain white plaster walls rose to fabulously complicated plaster friezes composed of leaves and vines and little peeking lizard faces. The room they were in was sparsely furnished with black wood and hide furniture that looked both severely formal and strangely organic.

`How much?’ Sharrow said.

`Ten million,’ Zefla said, nodding. She was standing by a panelled wall, running her hand over it.

Miz spread his arms as he turned from the window. He stood there, silhouetted. `The guy didn’t even look surprised!’ he exclaimed.

Judge did,’ Zefla said, peering intently at the panelling.
You could see she’d thought it was just a formality, setting bail that high. She had to consult the Court AI right then, in front of everybody, probably asking if she could re-set the bail beyond anybody’s reach, but the rules say no. So Roa walked free.’

`Who’d risk ten mill on somebody that crazy?’ Miz said.

`No clues, I take it?’ Sharrow asked.

Zefla left the panelling and came to sit with Sharrow on a long couch. She shrugged. `Bail company. Had the money there in a cash-good chip within the hour. No idea who’s behind it.’

`Maybe it’s the same son-of-a-bitch named the noon race winner Minus A Fifth in Tile yesterday,’ Miz said, leaning back against the window sill.

`Oh, Miz,’ Zefla said, frowning at him.

Yeah,’ he said.
I know, I’m being paranoid.’

Sharrow felt the nagging sensation return; that feeling there was something she’d missed, something important.

‘Miz?’ she said.

`Hmm?’

`Come away from the window, will you?’

`What?’ Miz said, frowning and looking round behind him. He eased forward, taking his weight off the glass and stepping away.

Sharrow was aware they were all looking at her. Miz glanced back at the city beyond the window again. She found herself looking round the room for Cenuij. She made a half-exasperated, half-despairing gesture with her arms.
I’m sorry; it’s me who’s paranoid.’ She pointed at the window and told Miz,
I’m sure there isn’t a sniper out there, and the glass won’t give way behind you.’

Miz smiled uncertainly at first, then sat down on a pale hide chair.

Anyway,’ Dloan said, flexing his wounded leg a little,
we’re here. What is it we’ve come to see?’

`Something Gorko left behind,’ Sharrow told him. She looked round the others, feeling something was wrong, and realised that she was looking for Cenuij again, to catch his gaze. ‘We go to the warehouse tonight,’ she said.

`A warehouse?’ Miz said.

`A lot of family possessions are stored here, courtesy of the World Court,’ Sharrow said.

`The storage rates are cheap,’ Zefla explained to Miz, who was still looking puzzled.

Some of the stuff’s Gorko’s,’ Sharrow told him,
but they haven’t been able to dispose of it yet, and some of it’s still disputed; the Court says it’s theirs, my family says it’s ours.’

`Which category does whatever we’ve come to look at fall into?’ Zefla asked.

The latter,’ Sharrow said.
It’s Gorko’s tomb.’

`His tomb?’ Miz said.

Sharrow nodded.

Zefla looked mystified. `How did the book lead to the tomb?’

Sharrow looked around the wide, white room, her eyes narrowing. `Tell you somewhere else,’ she said.

`Don’t you trust your new friend?’ Miz inquired.

Oh, I trust it,’ Sharrow said, looking at the delicate leaves, fronds, stems and flowers described in the patterned plaster filling the angle between wall and ceiling.
But who knows . . :?’

There was silence in the room for a while. Then Zefla clapped her hands together and said, `There anywhere a girl can get a drink round here?’

Good idea,’ Sharrow said, rising.
Let’s try the City Hotel; we need to get you lot booked in, anyway. They won’t let me stay there but I don’t think I’m banned from the bar.’

The warehouse extended into the distance; section after section, aisle after aisle, shelf after shelf after shelf. Sharrow stood with the others at the entrance, while Feril and the warehouse’s caretaker android turned all the lights on from a great board full of switches, slowly filling the cavern with yellow pools of illumination.

Sheech,’ Zefla said, leaning one elbow on Sharrow’s shoulder.
This Gorko’s shit?’

`Yes,’ Sharrow said.

`What, all of it?’

Sharrow looked slowly around as the last few lights flicked on in the distance. `This is just one house,’ she said.

`Wow,’ Miz said.

Lady Sharrow,’ Feril said.
You wished to see your late grandfather’s tomb?’

`Please,’ she nodded.

`This way.’

They walked through the dusty debris of her family’s past, amongst the piled crates and past the stacked boxes and faded labels and yellowing lists tied and pinned to the assorted containers. The items that weren’t boxed were covered in translucent plastic wrapping secured by World Court code-seals.

After a short walk they carne to a section of the warehouse dominated by a large plastic-sheeted cube about four metres square, standing on a metal pallet and surrounded by crates, boxes and a variety of loose items also shrouded with the translucent sheeting.

`That is the tomb,’ Feril said, pointing at the dark cube.

Oh,’ Miz said. He sounded disappointed.
I’d kind of thought it’d be bigger.’

`That’s all there is,’ Sharrow told him.

Fend found a way through to the cube; they trailed after it. `I shall take the wrapping off,’ it told them. It found the plastic sheet’s Court seal and ran its fingers over the input surface. The plastic sheet parted around the sarcophagus and Feril and Dloan pulled it off, revealing the black mirror-surface of the tomb’s polished granite. Sharrow pulled a crate over and stood on it to look through the little smoke-glass window half-way up one black wall.

She put one hand to the side of her face to screen out the light from the warehouse, then took a small torch from her pocket and shone it through the window.

She looked down at the others. `It’s empty,’ she said, trying not to sound shocked.

Your grandfather’s body is in the Noble’s Temple in Yadayeypon,’ Feril said.
It was felt that a warehouse was not a fit place for human remains.’

`Same could be said for Yada,’ muttered Miz.

`I didn’t know,’ Sharrow admitted. She squinted in through the smoke-glass window again.

`The World Court did not publicise the removal of your grandfather’s remains,’ Feril said.

`They take his bike to Yada too?’ she asked.

`His bike?’ Feril said. ‘Ah, the vehicle in the tomb with him. No. That is . . . here,’ the android said, turning and pointing at a long, translucent bundle.

‘Ah well,’ Sharrow said, clicking off the torch and stepping down from the pallet. She looked around. `I really wanted to pay my respects to the old man, but. . .’

`I’m sorry,’ Feril said,
I should have realised. You asked to see the tomb and . . .’ Its dull mirror-eyes gazed levelly at her, reflecting the black stone tomb behind.
How silly of me. I do apologise.’

That’s all right,’ Sharrow sighed, looking around at the other boxes. She shrugged.
Would you mind if I have a look at some of this other stuff? I knew house Tzant well . . .’

`By all means,’ the android said. It opened the seals on a variety of nearby crates and packages while Dloan and Miz pulled the wrappings off.

`That’s fine,’ Sharrow said, after the android had opened twenty or so of the plastic bundles and - far from showing any sign of stopping - actually seemed to be speeding up.

Feril, bent over to de-seal a tall crate, stood immediately, bowed to Sharrow and said, `Please, look at your leisure. Unless you need me for anything else, I shall be at or near the door.’

`Thank you,’ she said.

The android walked away, disappearing between the stacked cases.

`Never seen an android embarrassed before,’ Zefla said after a little while.

`Idiot,’ Miz said, sitting on a low sideboard constructed from blackwood and seagrain and edged with brushed platinum studded with opals.

Oh well,’ Dloan said.
At least some of this stuff looks interesting. . .’ He gazed round at the opened packages.

`I take it this fouls up the plan,’ Miz said.

‘Hmm,’ Sharrow said, frowning. She stroked a heavy fur cloak of silver inlaid within black, which lay draped over a huge crystal bowl crusted with jewels and strung with loops of precious metals; they both sat on a mirror-rug covering an antique holotank.

Zefla strolled towards a huge, intricately carved wooden cupboard and opened a door.
Whee!’ she said, and pulled out a bottle.
A stand-up wine cellar.’ She sat up on the sideboard with Miz.

`Look what I found,’ she said.

`Amazing,’ Miz said, shaking his head and looking closely at Zefla. ‘Is there anywhere you can’t find a drink, Zef?’

‘I sincerely hope not.’ Zefla waved the dusty bottle at Sharrow. `Fancy depleting the inventory?’

`Is it legal?’ Sharrow asked.

Zefla shook her head emphatically. `Not even arguably.’

`All right then,’ Sharrow said, as Zefla took a knife from her pocket and started opening the bottle.

`Let them sue us,’ Miz said.

`I know a good lawyer,’ Zefla told him.

They drank the wine from the bottle. Dloan inspected a presentation set of hunting rifles. Miz calculated the break-up value of the sideboard he was sitting on. Zefla donned the fur cloak, dragging its metre-long hem across the dusty warehouse floor.

`Fate, it’s heavy,’ she said, shucking the cloak and hoisting it back on top of the ceremonial bowl.
They actually wear stuff like that?’ She shook her head.
The weight of tradition.’

Sharrow sat side-saddle on the unwrapped motor-bike, looking glum.

Hey,’ Zefla said.
Any more news about Breyguhn?’

`Still staying where she is,’ Sharrow said.

`Crazy,’ Miz said.

Sharrow nodded. ‘I tried to call her; the Brothers said she’s there now as a willing guest. They said she wouldn’t talk to me.’

Zefla shook her head. `You think that’s the truth?’

Sharrow shrugged. `I don’t know. They might be lying, or Breyguhn might really want to stay; the way she was when I saw her last, it’s just about believable.’

`Think hearing about Cenuij could have flipped her over the edge?’ Zefla asked.

‘If she wasn’t long gone already,’ Sharrow said. She got off the bike and walked towards the black cube of the tomb, squinting up at it. ‘Dloan,’ she said. `Think you could give me a punt up there?’

`Surely.’ Dloan put one of the hunting rifles back in its case, stepped to the side of the tomb and made a stirrup with his hands. Sharrow was lifted towards the top of the sarcophagus and pulled herself up.

`You be careful up there,’ Miz called.

Yes, of course,’ Sharrow said, gazing at the top surface of the black granite cube.
I wonder if we can get this thing ope . . .’ Her voice trailed off as she looked down at the bike she had been sitting on.

`Shar?’ Zefla frowned.

Sharrow glanced around the warehouse. She sat on the edge of the black cube, turned and lowered herself on her hands, then let herself drop to the warehouse floor.

She walked over to the bike, a strange expression on her face. The others looked baffled. Sharrow put her hand on the bike’s front fairing and stared at the machine.

The bike was long and low-slung and had a single deeply contoured seat aft off a bulging gas tank and above a shiny V4 hydrogen engine. Its two wheels were dark tori of flexmetal, trenched by crosscut grip-curves.

Above the sweep of the front wheel’s splash-guard, what appeared to be the bike’s light cluster and instrument binnacle was a solid, bulky mass covered with a thin aerodynamic fairing. Two stubby cylinders protruded from the matt-silver of the main casing, ending in a pair of darkly bulbous lenses. A couple of oddly impractical stalks protruded from the casing, a strap with no apparent purpose lay draped across the gas tank, and the two main instrument dials at the rear of the binnacle looked tacked-on.

Sharrow knelt down by the tipped front wheel, patting the roughened silver surface over the two dark lenses.

Miz shrugged. Dloan continued to look puzzled. Zefla took another swig from the bottle. Then her expression changed suddenly from incomprehension to amazement. She sputtered wine and pointed. `Is that the Lazy Gu-?’ She coughed, then patted her chest.

`What?’ Miz said loudly, then looked around guiltily.

Dloan looked puzzled for a moment longer, then smiled and nodded slowly.

Sharrow shook her head, rising and inspecting the point where the two instrument dials disappeared into holes cut in the binnacle. `No,’ she said, inserting a fingernail into the gap and sliding it back and forth.
The real thing wouldn’t let you cut these holes in it.’ She stepped back and folded her arms, looking the bike up and down.
But somebody’s gone to some trouble to make it look like one.’

The others crowded round the bike.

Miz peered closely at the instruments. `Maybe you get on, fire it up and it takes you to where the real thing’s stashed,’ he said.

`Like a pair of magic shoes in a fairy tale,’ Zefla nodded.

`Maybe,’ Sharrow said.

Dloan leant closer, inspecting the instruments. He frowned, then tapped both main read-outs. They were old-fashioned electromechanical dials with slim, plastic needles pointing to numbers printed round the edges of the instrument faces.