Under the Eye of God (34 page)

“You have what you came for—”

“
I do not!
I want to prevent the Gathering.”

“If you wish, I'll form up the fleet to move on the rebel alliance—”

Zillabar gave him a sideways look of disbelief. “You'll do whatever you think will gain you power. What I wish will have little to do with it.”

“Whatever you say, my lady.”

“I have no intention of wasting any more time on this backwater rock. I return to Burihatin to finish my business there, then I will deal with those who dare to challenge the Regency. I have a few surprises of my own, you'll see.”

“My people on Burihatin will place themselves at your service, my lady—”

“Don't bother. Your people still haven't found the headband, and that makes it inevitable that a new TimeBinder will accept the crown. I'll find the damned headband—and anyone who still dares to wear it.” She glowered at d'Vashti, “You may leave now—” An order, not a request. “The trackers will stay. I'll deal with them myself.”

d'Vashti allowed himself a final polite bow, graceful and suave. He straightened, turned and exited. His metal heels clicked loudly on the ceramic floor.

Zillabar waited until she heard the sound of the door dilating shut behind him. She turned to face the two silent humans.

Sawyer spoke up first. “We wish you no trouble, Lady Zillabar. We intend to leave Thoska-Roole. Kernel d'Vashti did have a contract with us, signed on your behalf, as you directed at our last meeting, and we would appreciate payment for our services—the promised antidote—so we can make an immediate departure. The
King David
breaks orbit for Sherman's Planet tonight and we'd like to catch the evening shuttle—if you don't mind, I mean.” Sawyer fell silent under the Lady's withering glare.

The Lady continued to stare at him for the longest time. Sawyer had the feeling that his outburst had so astonished her she remained unable to speak while she sorted through possible responses. At last, she said, “I find your remarks amusing, to say the least. Your impudence demonstrates either naiveté, disingenuousness, or perhaps even simple stupidity. I, myself, would incline toward the latter interpretation had you not already demonstrated your talent for destructiveness. But perhaps, d'Vashti's assessment contained some kernel of truth. Perhaps indeed, you and your cohorts stumbled your way to success in your escape. In that regard, at least, we might spare Lord Drydel from having the stain of incompetency attached to his demise. After all, who could possibly defend himself against a wild and random occurrence?”

Sawyer held his breath. He glanced over at Finn. His brother looked paler than usual. He decided wisely that whatever funny remarks might occur to him now, he would save them for later. In fact, he might save all of his thoughts for a long long time before he spoke again. The Lady had a definite flair for intimidation. Yes, she did.

She studied him closely. “You didn't realize, did you, whose nest you destroyed?”

“From your remarks here, m'Lady—no offense intended—I would guess that you owned that nest—”

“And do you know who you killed in that attack?”

“As a matter of fact, um—actually, the Dragon did most of the killing.
All
of the killing, in fact. We didn't want to. We tried to stop him, actually. By the time we got down there after him, he had pretty much wiped out everything that moved, so uh—we didn't actually participate in the killing, and we really didn't want to, because killing tends to get messy and leaves a lot of bad feeling and—and . . .” Sawyer trailed off ineffectually.

“You didn't answer the question. Do you know who you killed?”

“No, ma'am. We honestly don't know who the Dragon killed. We did see a lot of dead Phaestor boys. Apparently, the Dragon decided that his personal honor demanded all that unfortunate killing. I didn't understand why and I didn't have the opportunity to ask, but I think that it had something to do so with—uh. . . . gee, I don't really know, do I?” Sawyer realized abruptly that he did not want to complete this sentence in front of the Lady Zillabar.

“You and your companions killed Lord Drydel and his personal retinue. They had borrowed my nest for a private retreat. Did you know that Lord Drydel and I would have taken our final vows today?”

“Uh, no ma'am. We didn't. Um. You have our deepest sympathies at your loss. Now, if we could just arrange some kind of equitable settlement here. My brother desperately needs an antidote—”

“I had plans. I had
delicious
plans. You and your ragged band of rabble and refugees have caused me great annoyance. It seems to me that I owe you an equal annoyance.”

“Madame Zillabar, we have no wish for enmity on either side of this transaction. Obviously, that would benefit no one. Surely, you would agree. Perhaps before Finn and I leave Thoska-Roole, we could perform some additional service that would help to alleviate the, uh—the annoyance that you feel. Perhaps we could—” Sawyer shrugged, “—I don't know, but certainly, if we could arrange for the antidote, we could the proceed to negotiate some procedure for balancing the scales of justice so that we could part as—as—”

“Have you quite finished?” the Lady Zillabar said acidly.

“Uh, yes. Yes, I have.”

“I have no intention of paying you for your services. I find your performance almost as incompetent and unacceptable as d'Vashti's. You, at least, have the excuse of your genetic deficiency. But in any case, the two of you have done quite enough damage for one lifetime.”

“Well, yes, I guess so. Um, so then I guess we'll just take our leave and thank you for your kindness and—come on, Finn, let's stop wasting the Lady's time—”

“Kindness? Yes, I have always liked the sound of that word, whatever it means.” Something about the way she spoke, Sawyer and Finn stopped in their tracks. The Lady Zillabar took a breath, a sound of quiet expectation. “I have decided to put you two away for now—to prevent you from wreaking any more havoc.”

The Lady stepped back away from the brothers and waved one hand in the air—a graceful gesture, but also an imperious one. Immediately, a squad of armored Dragons came thundering into the room; the light blazed around them and they loomed like metal monsters. “Take these two worthless dregs and throw them into the holding tank with the rebels they betrayed. Let the one watch the other one die. And then the others can kill him.”

Sawyer felt as if his heart had dropped out of his body. He felt betrayed. The anger rose in his throat like a bad taste. But even as the rage possessed him, he remembered his manners and phrased his words accordingly. “You leave me with no choice, Lady,” he said as one of the Dragons seized him in both hands. “I hereby declare you in breach of contract and demand a full hearing under the auspices of an arbiter of the Regency as required under the Holy Charter.”

“An interesting demand,” the Lady Zillabar replied, as the Dragons started carrying the two brothers away. “But I believe you'll have some trouble enforcing it. You'll probably have to sue me,” she said to their departing backs.

“I'll do more than that,” Sawyer promised. He struggled desperately in the Dragon's grasp. “However long it takes, I'll have justice—human justice!
You'll live to regret this, you Vampire whore! I promise you!
”

Lady Zillabar laughed at the man's impudence, but the laughter had a hollow sound. The brothers Markham had already demonstrated their propensity for discoordinating the most carefully balanced machinery. She wondered if perhaps she should order them both killed immediately. She shook the thought away, she had more important matters to attend to. She could plan a suitable punishment later.

When she had more time.

At least the tank smelled clean.

Sawyer sat on the floor with his feverish brother and kept a solemn death watch. He didn't think Finn had much time left. He cradled his brother's head in his lap and whispered softly to him. He doubted that Finn could understand or even hear much of what he had to say; but he said it anyway. He refused to believe in personal mortality. It seemed like such a—a slap in the face from God.

The other prisoners kept to the other side of the cell, well away from the two men they regarded as traitors. They whispered among themselves and avoided looking toward the Markham brothers. Sawyer wondered about their intentions, but he had more immediate concerns to worry about. Besides, if they intended to harm either himself or Finn, they would have acted already. Perhaps, they didn't dare proceed without first conferring with their TimeBinder.

William Three-Dollar sat apart, composed and quiet. The tall man had folded himself into the lotus position, his long legs crossed in an impossible knot with his large feet placed precisely on top of his knees, and his hands resting gently on the thin bones of his ankles. His eyes remained closed, his features relaxed. He seemed totally at peace. Either he slept or meditated, Sawyer couldn't tell. Whatever his state, Sawyer sincerely doubted that the TimeBinder realized the profound danger of his situation.

Sawyer understood the peril. In this single instance, at least, he could see the single-mindedness of the Lady and the path she must follow as certainly as if she had given him her map. He wondered at the clarity of the vision. It had an almost-hallucinogenic quality. Did the TimeBinders see the same way? If so, then William Three-Dollar had to know what the Vampire queen planned.

The Lady Zillabar had to destroy not only each of the present TimeBinders, but also the bands they wore. Or—perhaps she had found some way to assemble all the bands and claim their power for her own. Sawyer tried to imagine a Vampire queen with the wisdom of a thousand generations. He couldn't. He whispered his concerns to Finn, almost demanding that the darker man wake up and reassure him.

At last, Finn opened his eyes and looked blearily up at his brother. He spoke weakly, but clearly. “You talk too much, you know.” How do you expect me to sleep with you jabbering away like that? You sound like a fretful mother.”

“You looked so pale, Finn. I thought that you might just slip away—” He couldn't bring himself to say the word.

“How can I die with you working so hard to distract me? Do you know what a noise you make every time you get worried that I might leave you alone? Grow up! I'll let you know when I finally get ready to die—all right? Until then, let me rest in peace.”

“I don't want you to rest in peace!” Sawyer snapped back, but his brother's sour expressions of contempt gave him much more relief than annoyance. “Do you want some water?” Finn nodded.

Sawyer held a canteen to Finn's parched lips and the big man sucked at it thirstily, pausing only to gasp uncomfortably for breath. He shook so badly, he had to stop several times. When he had finally had enough, he pushed it away and raised his head to look around. “Where did they put us this time?” Finn asked. “I don't recognize this place.”

“I have no idea,” Sawyer replied. “But at least it doesn't smell as bad as the last three prisons we've seen—”

“Has it occurred to you, Soy, that most of our recent career moves have put us behind bars? Too many of the things we do keep landing us in jail. I don't want this to turn into a habit.”

“But at least we've moved up to a higher class of prison. That should count for something.”

“Frankly, I'd prefer a different sort of progress,” Finn grunted as he levered himself painfully up into a sitting position. Just the effort of putting his back against the all left him out of breath. “Unfortunately, the quality of our jailers hasn't improved.” He noticed the men across the cell—Lee and the other three rebels—and smiled weakly at them; he lifted his hand halfway in a feeble gesture of recognition. Only Lee-1169 bothered to acknowledge it. He spat in Finn's direction.

The brothers ignored it. “He's had a bad day,” Sawyer explained.

“We all have. Madame Zillabar's hospitality doesn't exactly inspire confidence.”

“An understatement. I've decided not to like that woman. She has no integrity.”

“No integrity?” Finn looked sideways at his brother, a skeptical smile showed faintly on his weakened features.

“None at all. She breached our contract. I don't know about you, bro, but I just hate it when somebody betrays a trust.”

Across the room, Lee-1169 exchanged incredulous looks with his companions. How dare these trackers complain about betrayal?

“Well—” said Finn, his voice almost a whisper, “Now, will you believe me? No more government jobs.”

“I admit my mistake,” Sawyer said. “I promise you, we'll never do that again.”

“I think we can say that with some certainty,” Finn agreed. “Shall we go to Plan B?”

“Yes, I think we should go to Plan B.”

Both of the brothers looked up then, across the cell to the members of the Alliance of Life. As they did so, William Three-Dollar opened his eyes and came back to the present. He met their expressions expectantly. “Yes?”

“Uh,” Sawyer began cautiously. “About that job you offered us before—? Could we reconsider? We could discuss terms, if you wish—”

¹
Most starship Captains plying their trade among the worlds of the cluster elect to purchase regularly updated listings of all of these objects for their inboard memory tanks, demonstrating a more than casual curiosity about matters which might impact their existence.

²
Most of those who stay, do so because of the unavoidability of death.

³
The appellation Star-Captain signifies that the Interstellar Registry has licensed the bearer for Faster-Than-Light command.

⁴
The only time anyone ever observed Neena Linn-Campbell ill-at-ease occurred on the singular occasion when an unwary visitor placed a baby into her arms.