Mistworld (Deathstalker Prelude) (6 page)

“Is she married?”

“How would I know?”

“I thought you were still seeing Madelaine Skye; or has she been arrested for tech-running again?”

Jamie’s face froze suddenly. “I couldn’t say. I won’t be seeing her again.”

“But I thought you and she… “

“Not anymore.”

Steel decided not to ask; he didn’t think he really wanted to know. His life was complicated enough without getting himself involved in the never-ending intrigues of Jamie Royal’s love life. “All right,” he said finally, smiling in spite of himself. “I’ll fix it so you can leave early. We can manage without you, I suppose.”

Jamie grinned, snapped off a salute, and left the cubicle, carefully shutting the door behind him. Steel watched him walk jauntily away, and shook his head ruefully. Jamie would never change. Steel turned his attention back to his command monitor, and for a long time he sat quietly, studying the mist-shrouded hulk of the starship
Balefire
. After a while he leant forward and tapped a code into his console.

“Yes, Director?”

“Call Investigator Topaz of the city Watch and tell her… tell her she’s needed.”

Steel signed off without waiting for his order to be acknowledged, and sank back in his chair, his fat hands clasped loosely across his ample stomach. It had been almost three years since he’d seen Topaz; he’d hoped the gap would be a great deal longer. Out of all the people the Bloodhawk had sent after him, only Topaz had come close to actually proving anything against him. But with a strange refugee ship on the main landing pad, and the disrupter cannon still being installed… Steel smiled sourly. Whatever else you could say about her, Topaz was very good at finding answers.

Steel’s hand strayed to his bald patch again, and he pulled it back. I
worry too much
, he thought irritably.
Getting soft
. He picked up his cup of unsugared coffee and sipped at it. The coffee had gone cold.

Topaz moved slowly about her living room, picking things up and putting them down again. A log stirred in the open fire, and the flames jumped higher for a moment before the wood settled again. The crackling flames were very loud on the quiet. A single lamp shed a warm, comfortable glow across the room, but the shadows were still very dark. Topaz moved slowly among her possessions as though searching for a lifeline, but they gave her no comfort. She looked at her padded armchair beside the fire, but didn’t sit down. She was too restless to settle yet. The room seemed too big and empty with just her in it. She and Michael Gunn had lived together as man and wife for almost seven years, and in all those years they’d never been separated from each other for more than a few days at a time, and then only rarely. She looked at his chair, on the other side of the fireplace, and realised with something like shock that he’d never sit in it again. She looked away, but everywhere she looked reminded her of Michael.

And Michael Gunn was dead.

It hurts…

She’d made the arrangements for his funeral. Everything had been taken care of. Michael had wanted to be cremated; he didn’t believe in graves or cemeteries, and he had a quiet horror of the bodysnatchers. No flowers, by request. Michael always said that flowers were for the living. So Topaz had accompanied her husband’s body to the crematorium and watched impassively as his coffin was consigned to the flames. A small choir sang something tasteful in the background. Afterwards, the manager gave her an urn full of ashes he said were Michael’s, and Topaz took it home with her. It didn’t weigh much. She put the urn in a cupboard under the stairs and left it there.

Died in the morning, cremated in the afternoon. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

It hurts… like somebody hit me
.

She wandered slowly, listlessly, through the living room, her mind far away as she searched for some kind of reason for Michael’s death. He had his share of enemies, all mercenaries did, but few of them had the money or the resources to reach him on Mistworld. And assassins with energy guns were very expensive. Lord Raven had sworn vengeance over the affair of Shadrach’s Burning.
Gunn and Topaz running sword in hand through the blazing courtyard while a hundred warriors in jet and silver murdered each other in a mindless frenzy. Behind and above them, the ancient castle blazed against the moonless night
. But the old Lord had been mad and dying even then, and his son had shown no interest in feud and vendetta.

Tobias Skinner still carried a grudge from the time Topaz and Gunn had murdered his brother.
The crowd roared as the slavemaster died, and Topaz held up the severed head to show it to the crowd
. But Skinner no longer had the guts or the money for this kind of vengeance. Topaz shook her head slowly, and finally sank into her armchair. None of it made any sense. She’d already thought of a dozen old enemies, and dismissed them all. If any of them had arrived at Mistport, now or in the past, she’d have known. She still had her contacts.

She sat brooding in her chair, her muscles aching from the continuous strain of being unable to relax. Her wounded thigh still troubled her with a dull persistent ache. Her head was pounding and her hands shook. She folded her hands together in her lap and stared into the fire. The day was slowly wearing on, and tired as she was, she still hadn’t gone to bed. She had tried, but found on entering the bedroom that she couldn’t stand the thought of sleeping alone in the empty bed. She didn’t feel like sleeping anyway. She leant her head back against the chair and stared unseeingly up at the ceiling. Thoughts moved sluggishly through her mind, drifting here and there, unable to rest. Memories, plans for revenge, theories of guilt and murder… none of them made any sense. The memories cut at her like so many knives, but she couldn’t get away from them. Everywhere she looked brought back another memory. And anyway, she wouldn’t give them up even if she could. They were all she had left of Michael now. Emotions roared within her like great consuming flames, but still her face remained calm and composed. She’d worn her mask a long time, and knew that without it she’d break down completely. And she didn’t have time for that now. She’d do her mourning later, after she’d tracked down Michael’s killer. She had no faith in the Watch finding the murderer. Mistport was full of murderers. And besides, the Watch dealt only in justice. Topaz wanted revenge.

She reached out to the table beside her chair and picked up a small wooden casket. She held it before her for a long moment, just looking at it, remembering, and then she snapped open the catch and raised the lid. Inside the casket was an ornately fashioned steel bracelet. Topaz took it out and hefted it in her hand, then slipped it round her left wrist and locked it firmly in place. It was a personal force shield. They were rare on Mistworld, even more so than energy guns. Topaz had brought it with her when she and Gunn had escaped from Darkmoon’s Standing and headed straight for Mistworld. She hadn’t worn it in Mistport; with Gunn and the Watch to guard her back, she’d never felt the need. Now he was gone, and she had a killer to find, alone. The bracelet weighed heavy on her wrist. Michael had been working on it for the past few months, trying out an idea he’d had. Michael loved to tinker.

Topaz stirred restlessly, needing to be going somewhere, doing something.… But as yet she had no clues or leads to follow. Her mind was still too shocked to work logically, and she knew it. Until the shock wore off she was in no condition to begin her search. She sighed quietly. In the meantime, she needed something to do, to occupy her mind and keep her from thinking. She knew she ought to be gathering up Michael’s things and sorting through his… effects, to decide what she was keeping, and what would have to go. But she couldn’t do that yet. That was too final, too much like saying goodbye forever.

The monitor screen on the far wall chimed discreetly, and Topaz jumped at the sudden noise. She waited a moment to be sure she had control of herself again, and then she got up from her chair and walked unhurriedly over to the monitor. She entered her code and the screen lit up to show her a familiar face: John Silver, the duty esper at Mistport command centre.

“Hello, John.”

“Hello, Topaz. I heard about Michael. I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you.”

“Have the Watch come up with any leads?”

“Not yet.”

Silver hesitated. “Topaz… are you all right?”

“I’m fine, John. What was it you wanted?”

“Port Director Steel asked me to call you. We have a problem with a refugee ship that landed here earlier today. Steel wants you to come and take a look at it.”

Topaz smiled coldly. “He must really be in a panic if he asked for me.”

“Topaz, if you don’t want to do this, I quite understand. We can always find somebody else.”

“No, I have no other commitments. I’m free to take the assignment.”

“If you’re sure… “

“I’m sure.”

“Very well. The Director will meet you on the main landing pad in two hours’ time. The ship is the
Balefire
, out of Tannim. I’ll tell the Director you’re on your way.”

“Thank you, John. And thank you for your sympathy. You were always a good friend to Michael and to me.”

“You’re welcome, Topaz. If you need anything, you know you can always call me.”

“Yes.”

“Goodbye, Topaz.”

“Goodbye, John.”

The monitor screen cleared, and Topaz turned it off. She stared at the blank screen for a while, and then turned abruptly away. If nothing else, the
Balefire
would give her something to do until she found the lead that would put her on the trail of Michael’s killer. She smiled slowly as a thought came to her. She’d find Michael’s killer, but not as a Sergeant of the city Watch. The Watch were limited by rules and regulations. Topaz would hunt her prey as an Investigator. Her smile became cold and grim, and her eyes held a dark humour that had no mercy in it. She left the living room and went upstairs to her bedroom, to change her clothes. She still had her old Investigator’s gown. She’d sworn never to wear it again, but that was a long time ago, when Michael was still alive.

Topaz was an Investigator, and Mistport was going to learn what that meant.

CHAPTER SIX