The Sardonyx Net (44 page)

She dressed in blue-and-silver. She missed her room; it was hard to think in this alien place, where the pastel colors made the air seem fuzzy. She wanted the hard bright dimensions of her house. She had never cared for it, before.
 

And Binkie had burned it. Anger shook her like a benediction. The door opened wide; Zed came through it. He, too, was dressed in blue-and-silver, the Yago colors: she hugged him fiercely for a moment. Once more their responses had run alike. Twin! she thought.
 

“Did you sleep?” he questioned.
 

She smiled at him. “Always the medic. Yes, Senior, I slept very well.”
 

“What shall you do this morning?”
 

Binkie. But she was not going to tell Zed about Binkie. “Things,” she said, vaguely. “I need a new secretary.”
 

“I thought I would go and look at the house,” he said.
 

“I doubt it can be rebuilt,” she said gently. “Not as it was.”
 

“I wouldn't want it as it was. Would you?” he inquired.
 

“I don't know,” said she. “I hadn't thought about it.”
 

“I thought you didn't like it,” he said.
 

I didn't, she thought. But that house had been begun by Lisa Yago. It symbolized something; it contained more than just their personal history. Suddenly she grew suspicious. Imre might not have kept his promise. “Why are you up so early?” she said.
 

“Why are you?” he countered.
 

She grinned, and said lightly, knowing he would not believe it, “Zed-ka, I'm hiding something from you.”
 

But to her dismay, he did not laugh. “Are you?” His gaze sharpened. “Rhani—” He was interrupted by a knock at the already opened door. Calling good morning, a slave came in with a tray piled high with papers. Amri carried the mail like that, Rhani thought, and her heart wrenched in her chest like a squeezed toy.
 

Aliza Kyneth followed. “Good morning, my dear,” she said. She gave Rhani a kiss, and the smile which she might have given her eldest daughter, and turned to Zed. To Rhani's astonishment, her brother stood unmoving as Aliza kissed him. “Did you sleep?” she asked, looking at them both.
 

Zed said, “Yes, Aliza. Thank you.”
 

Rhani said, “Very well, thanks.” She pointed to the tray. “What's this?”
 

“Letters that came for you in the morning mail. Most of them were hand-delivered. They came from all over Abanat—expressions of sympathy, probably offers of refuge—” she smiled without malice—"Who would have guessed a Yago would ever need refuge, on Chabad?”
 

“None of us,” Rhani said. She sorted through the letters. There were notes from Ferris Dur, from Theo Levos, from all the lesser Abanat families, from the Yago businesses, from the banks, from Charity Diamos—she held that up for Zed and Aliza to see. They laughed. There was an impressive communiqué from the Lower House of the Chabad Council, offering sympathies and unspecified support. There was a letter from Clare Brion. She read that; it said, in part, “
if there's anything I can do, please call me
.” There was no letter from Tuli. In the midst of the mail was a printed communication from the Abanat police, telling her that Ramas I-Occad was in custody at Main Police Station, along with five self-confessed members of the Free Folk of Chabad. She slipped that into a pocket. At the bottom of the pile, a PIN headline said: “YAGO HOUSE OBLITERATED!” She made a face at it.
 

“Rhani, Aliza, if you'll excuse me—” said Zed. He started toward the door. A third slave walked in holding yet another tray, on which sat six or seven different kinds of breakfast dishes. Zed lifted an egg tart off the tray and strolled out.
 

Rhani said to Aliza, “I want to hire a secretary.”
 

Aliza said, “Of course, my dear. In the meantime Imre has instructed one of his secretaries to assist you in whatever you need. Her name is Nialle Hamish; she is very capable.”
 

“
One
of his secretaries?”
 

“He has three,” Aliza said. “I'm sorry, my dear, will you need more than one? I know we can—”
 

“No, no,” Rhani said hastily, “one will be fine. I've never needed more than one.”
 

Aliza pursed her ample lips. “That one must have been superb.”
 

“Yes,” Rhani said, “he was. What happened to the slave who came with me last night, and to the house steward?”
 

“We lodged them both in the slave quarters.”
 

“I want to see Dana. The slave.”
 

Aliza gestured to one of the women and gave her a swiftly murmured order. “And ask Nialle to come here,” she added. “Rhani, before you begin to plan, let me assure you that you may call this house home for as long as you like.”
 

Rhani shook her head. “Aliza, you are the most generous person I know,” she said. “But I can't believe that your staff will welcome having to care for two households. As soon we can, Zed and I will go back to the estate. We can live there.”
 

“But you will rebuild the house?” Aliza exclaimed.
 

“Certainly,” Rhani said.
 

A step sounded in the hall. A pudgy woman bowed from the doorway. Rhani recognized her from the phone tape. “Domna,” she said, “I am Nialle Hamish.”
 

Rhani smiled at her. “Please come in,” she said, liking the woman's voice and bearing. She seemed calmly competent. “My household calls me Rhani-ka. I'm grateful that Domni Imre can spare you from his work long enough to help me. I need first to deal with this.” She indicated the tray of mail. “They all need answers and some of them will need handwritten responses. Can you find me a calligrapher?”
 

Nialle said, “I myself am a calligrapher, Domna. I beg your pardon—Rhani-ka.”
 

“That's wonderful,” Rhani said. The breakfast smells in the chamber grew suddenly tempting. Stepping to the laden tray, she picked out a strip of broiled fish.
 

Aliza said, “Rhani darling, I will leave you now. If you need anything, you have only to tell Nialle.” She swayed to the doorway. In a few moments, Dana walked through it. He too was wearing fresh clothes, and his face was swollen—why? Rhani thought.
 

He stopped meters from her, and bowed. “Good morning, Rhani-ka,” he said.
 

She wanted to tell him: I believed that you had run. She wanted to ask him: Would you go? And she wanted to hold him, to touch him...."If you don't mind,” she said to Nialle. At once the secretary left the room, and the slaves followed her. Rhani waited until the door clicked shut before she closed the distance between them. She laid her hands on his arms. He smelled of the same bath scent she did. He gripped her, murmuring her name, and then let go suddenly.
 

“I forgot your side.”
 

She laughed at him. “It's healed.” She touched his cheek very gently. “How did you come by this?”
 

“A policeman,” he said, “last night. When they thought
I
had burned the house.”
 

“Binkie burned the house.”
 

“I know,” he said.
 

“How did you know?”
 

“I guessed. He wasn't there, you see. And then Zed told me, last night.”
 

“Did my brother—?” She could not finish the question. But he understood, and shook his head, seeming bemused.
 

“No. He didn't.” Rhani put her hand on his chest. Under the soft fine weave of his tunic, his heartbeat trembled, rapid as freely running water. “Binkie—he told me to run away. He said, ‘
Zed knows
.' You can guess what I thought.”
 

“Oh, I can.” She could, vividly. The shared vision pulled them out of each others' arms. He hesitated, then touched her hair.
 

“I was so worried for you, Rhani,” he said.
 

“And I for you. I'm so glad you called me. If you hadn't—”
 

“I almost didn't,” he said. “But something about Binkie's manner troubled me. He was just—odd.” He drew a breath. “Stars, I was stupid.”
 

“We've all been stupid,” she said. “Have you eaten? Come and eat.”
 

She watched him eat. He did not appear to be tasting much. After his pace slowed down, she said, “Did you reach Loras U-Ellen?”
 

Hand halfway to his mouth, he halted. “I found someone who could. I paid her eighty-five credits. I told her to tell him to get in touch with you, by letter.”
 

“You're sure the message will reach him?”
 

He looked surprised. “Yes,” he said, “I'm sure. She—when she says she'll do a thing, she'll do it.”
 

Who? Rhani wanted to ask. But she remembered that she had promised to trust him—and besides, she did not want to watch his eyes grow secret as he considered how best to lie. “Binkie's at Main Police Station,” she said. “Zed doesn't know. I want to see him.”
 

Dana looked thoughtful. “Can't they bring him here?”
 

“No,” she said. “Zed would know. He's gone now to look at the—at the house, but he might come back. Besides, I want to see him
there
, behind locks and doors and bars.”
 

“What about the Free Folk of Chabad?” he said.
 

“They're locked up, too.” She felt in her pocket for the police communiqué. Pulling it out, she passed it to him.
 

As he read it, she ate another strip of fish.
 

“Ramas I-Occad—?” he said.
 

“That's Binkie's full name,” she said.
 

“Sweet mother. Why did you call him
Binkie
?”
 

Rhani said, “It was the name of a toy I once had.”
 

Dana stared at her. “A toy? A toy what?”
 

His tone annoyed her. “What difference does it make? A toy animal, as I recall. Stuffed. It was some ancient Terran creature—a giraffe.” She stretched her hands apart. “It had a long neck. Dana, this is all irrelevant.”
 

“Yes,” he said. “It must seem so, to you.”
 

She scowled at him. “Will you please make sense?”
 

He flushed. “I'm sorry, Rhani-ka. I—please forget it. If you want to go to the Abanat Police Station, then we'll go. Now?”
 

“Are you fit?” she said bluntly.
 

He nodded.
 

Rhani thought: I'd better warn them that I'm coming. She glanced around the pink room, looking for com-unit and screen.
 

If it was there, she could not see it. Walking to the door, she opened it and stuck her head into the hall. “Nialle?” The secretary popped from another room. “Thank you very much for your patience. Please come in now.” Nialle, smiling, came into the room. “I was looking for the com-unit.”
 

“Of course, D—Rhani-ka.” The round-faced woman went to a section of the pink-papered wall and pressed what appeared to be a heat-sensitive plate. The wall revolved, presenting them with a compscreen, a com-line, and a computer keyboard.
 

“That's rather nice,” Rhani said. “Would you connect me with the Abanat Police Station? Ask for Sachiko Tsurada, Officer Tsurada.”
 

“Certainly, Rhani-ka.” Nialle's small hands skipped delicately over the keys.
 

Watching her, Rhani was painfully reminded of when Binkie had first come to be her secretary. She had bought him during Auction, struck by something about him—his reticence, perhaps? She was no longer sure; whatever it was it had shone through the dorazine haze. He was a reticent man, a private person. Once he had relaxed in her presence and grown used to the household customs, he was pleasant, even funny, to be with. They had joked together; they made each other laugh. She had spoken to him of her childhood, and he had shared with her—a little, very little—his wishes and his griefs.
 

She could date precisely the summer night when the laughter had ceased.
 

She had not wanted him to be so hurt. She had warned him, more than once. But he had not listened....
 

“Rhani-ka?” said Nialle.
 

She brought herself to the present with an effort. “Yes?”
 

“I have Sachiko Tsurada onscreen.”
 

She went to the com-unit. Tsurada's dark face looked out at her. The edges of the screen were blurry as people flowed in and out of focus at Tsurada's back. “Domna Rhani,” said the policewoman. She sounded and looked exhausted. “I'm glad to see you safe.” She coughed. “We have your slave here: Ramas I-Occad. He is formally charged with the attempted murder of his owner and the actual murder of Amri Utasdatter, also a slave. We also have five members of the Free Folk of Chabad in custody. Their names are—but you don't want to know their names, do you, Domna? They are all members of the drug detail of the Federation Police Force.”
 

Rhani heard Dana gasp. “That's crazy,” he said.
 

“We have signed confessions from them, Domna,” said Tsurada. She smiled. “We also have their resignations waiting for the acting captain to accept.”