by Jaine Fenn
Nual spoke in a low, even tone. ‘Aye. And I decided to trust him too. In fact, I trust him more than I trust you.’
The Minister raised a slender eyebrow. ‘I’m hurt.’
‘So hurt you felt the need to set your Angels on me.’
‘You ignored a direct order. I had no choice.’
‘The orders were intercepted. It took a while to recover them.’
‘Intercepted?’ The Minister gave Taro a cool look. Taro, to his surprise, found he wasn’t afraid. He’d done his best to obey the Minister. He’d nearly died trying to protect the orders. He no longer felt any guilt at his failure; if anything, he felt angry. He’d let himself be used, and what had he received in return? He’d had no help, been given no reward. He said nothing.
The Minister cleared his throat. ‘Is there anything you - either of you - feel I should know about recent events in the Undertow?’
Taro looked at Nual, and saw her mouth curl into a smile. ‘No,’ she said.
‘You always did like your privacy,’ the Minister said. ‘I can’t make you explain yourself, but I can order your death if you disobey me. Or should I tell my loyal Angels that you have not gone rogue after all?’
‘If you mean,’ said Nual slowly, ‘will I perform the removal, then the answer is no, of course not. Elarn Reen is not a politician and ordering me to kill her is illegal.’
‘Technically, that is entirely true,’ the Minister agreed affably. ‘But one must adapt to survive, and such desperate times sometimes call for a little rule-breaking. And asking you to kill her did finally get your attention.’
‘Simply telling me she was on Vellern would have done that.’
The Minister looked sceptical. ‘Are you telling me that you really had no idea she was here?’
Taro wondered who in the City’s name Elarn Reen was, and what she’d done that was so bad the Minister wanted her dead.
Nual, sensing his confusion, turned to him. ‘Elarn Reen was someone I trusted, long ago. She was listed as my legal guardian on the ID I had when I arrived in Khesh City, which is how he’ - she nodded in the Minister’s direction - ‘knows about her. She lives on a world a long way from here and, given that she never wanted to see me again, I had assumed that was where she would stay.’
‘As had I,’ the Minister agreed. ‘From what little you told me I hardly expected her to follow you here.’ His voice grew hard. ‘Incidentally, my dear, just how far did you say you trusted this young downsider?’
Nual laughed, as though she had been caught out but didn’t care. She lowered her voice and whispered to Taro, ‘He hates it when I answer questions before they are asked.’
Taro gawped, then stuttered, ‘You mean he knows—?’
‘—what she is?’ interrupted the Minister. ‘Of course I know she’s Sidhe. But it was a condition of her remaining in my City that she never use her powers without my consent.’
Nual finally looked at the Minister. ‘And the rules of the Concord state that only politicians can be removed. Desperate times, as you say.’
‘Ah.’ He turned to Taro and said, ‘That’s me told.’
Taro couldn’t tell whether the Minister was amused or furious.
Nual sighed and shook her head. ‘I have spent seven years pretending not to be what I am - but no more, not if my sisters are coming after me. And to answer your question, I meant what I said. I trust Taro completely.’
Taro felt a terrifying rush of pleasure - she did love him. He just hoped he could survive that love.
‘And, sirrah,’ she drawled the title mockingly, ‘believe it or not, I had no idea Elarn was here until I read your order to kill her.’
The Minister nodded, ignoring her tone. ‘I have no reason to doubt that. Nevertheless, she is here, and she has already invested considerable effort in trying to trace you. I have yet to establish precisely why, but I feel it is unlikely that she wants to renew your friendship.’
‘You think the Sidhe sent her?’
‘None of my scanners have picked up anything, so she’s not a glamoured Sidhe, or anything as unsubtle as that. She’s not even, as far as I can tell, under direct Sidhe influence. But we both know how devious those bitches can be, and I hardly think the woman would come to the Three Cities by choice. The most logical conclusion is that they are behind her decision to visit Vellern.’
‘And what do you want me to do about it? You can hardly expect me to kill my friend simply because you tell me to.’
‘If she is still your friend,’ the Minister pointed out. ‘No, I didn’t really expect you to accept the removal; ordering you to kill her was a way of shaking you up, to see how you responded. I took your lack of response to mean that you had your own agenda, possibly even that you knew she was here and had been in contact with her. I declared you rogue on the assumption that whatever you were up to, you were no longer loyal to me. However, given that you have - finally - started talking to me, I will call my Angels off.’
‘I would appreciate that.’
‘And as for what to do about Elarn Reen, well—’ He paused, and spread his hands, ‘I give you full leave to perform whatever obscene magics you require to find out why she’s really here. If she is a Sidhe agent, then at the very least you must convince her to leave my City - though I suspect if that is the case you might want to change your own plan and kill her. But I do need to know what she is really up to and who else is involved.’
Nual nodded. ‘Fair enough. I will go to her and I will find out why she’s here. But I will not kill her.’
‘Even if she is a Sidhe agent?’
Nual paused. After a moment she said, ‘Elarn is terrified of the Sidhe. If she is serving them willingly then she is no longer the woman I knew.’
‘Which would make it easier. And if her presence here is just a coincidence, then you can always just make her forget she ever met you, can’t you?’
Taro felt Nual rein in her anger. All she said was, ‘Where is she now?’
‘She is currently en route from Grace Street to the offices of a certain Ando Meraint, infobroker. You’ll find him about halfway down Talisman Street, above a big antiques emporium specialising in offworld fetish gear.’
‘I’ll find it.’ She shrugged her gun off her shoulder.
The Minister frowned. ‘What are you doing?’
‘I am going as Elarn’s friend, not as your assassin, so I won’t be needing this.’ She handed the gun to Taro. When he hesitated, she whispered, ‘Don’t worry. It’s safe enough if you keep your fingers clear of the trigger-pad.’
Taro took the gun. It was lighter than he expected, almost as if this symbol of the Angels’ power no longer held the weight it once had - but he was still careful to hold it by the strap.
Nual turned back to the Minister. ‘I want you to re-code the gun so Taro can use it too.’
‘Now why should I want to do that?’
‘Because I am not likely to need it, given that you’ve as much as ordered me to use other methods. And because Taro has lost his family and his status, he’s been jerked around by everyone - including you, and me, at first - and yet he still remains loyal to the City. He deserves to be given the means to fight back. And he deserves honesty.’
‘Meaning?’
Nual turned back to Taro. ‘Ask him anything you need to know. If he doesn’t answer, ask me when I get back.’ She looked sideways at the Minister. ‘And you know, I think, just how biased my answers are likely to be.’
She was leaving him. Taro said, ‘D’you have to go alone? I mean, can’t I help?’
Nual smiled at him. ‘You can help, by staying alive. And by making our master here as uncomfortable as possible with awkward questions while you wait for me.’ She hesitated for a moment before leaning forwards and kissing him briefly on the mouth. The taste of her thrilled through him.
When he opened his eyes she was gone. He looked up and saw her, now just a dark streak against the orange sky.
CHAPTE
R TWENTY-SEVEN
When the door buzzer went, Meraint assumed Scarrion had come back for the results of his decryption job. The bastard would have to wait; the encryption on the file was complex and difficult, requiring carefully timed input from several subordinate algorithms, and he had just reached a crucial point. ‘You’re early!’ he said without looking up from his work. ‘I haven’t finished yet.’
‘I’m sorry?’
That wasn’t the Screamer. He hastily collated the final two sub-files and checked the image inset at the top of his screen. Elarn Reen was staring up into the camera; she looked a mess: no make-up, tangled hair loose over her shoulders and dark circles showing under puffy eyes. But much as he might feel sorry for her, she was a complication he could not afford right now. ‘Medame Reen, I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was you. I don’t suppose you could maybe come back in a couple of hours—’
‘I’m afraid not. I did try calling you but I couldn’t get through. I need your help.’
‘I’m afraid this isn’t a good time, medame.’
She blinked and he saw that she was close to tears. Meraint wondered what had happened to her since they’d last spoken.
‘Unfortunately,’ she said slowly, ‘I have run out of people to turn to, so if you can’t see me now, I’ll just wait here until you can.’
He considered calling her bluff but he didn’t like to think what would happen if she was still on his doorstep when the Screamer arrived.
‘You’d better come in, but this will have to be quick; I really am on a deadline.’
A moment after he pressed the door release the decrypt routine pinged to indicate completion. Meraint, gratified at his success, started to read the words turning from gibberish to text on his screen.
Oh shit.
The Screamer had to be kidding.
Elarn paused on the landing outside the infobroker’s office and took a deep breath. On the pedicab ride over she had found herself murmuring over and over, under her breath, ‘Let him be true, let him be true.’ More than anything, she wanted Meraint to tell her that Salik had nothing to hide, and if so, she would take that as a sign she could trust the Consul. She would call him from the infobroker’s office and meet up with him and he would put his arms around her and tell her that everything was going to be all right.
Or, if he had lied, the infobroker might be able to tell her where she could get help to fulfil her mission. She would enlist whatever aid she needed, spend whatever credit it took to kill Lia, then return home and try to forget Salik.
Those were her options. Simple as that. She opened the door.
The infobroker, staring intently at something on the screen before him, did not look up as she entered.
She cleared her throat.
Ando Meraint pulled his gaze away from the screen. For a moment she glimpsed shock in his face, then the professional mask was back in place. ‘Ah, Medame Reen. I must apologise for my rudeness, but—’
Elarn cut across him. ‘You’re obviously busy, so I won’t keep you long, but I do need to know what you found.’
‘What I found?’ He sounded frightened, as though she were accusing him of something other than making a professional enquiry.
‘Yes. I asked you to find out whether Salik Vidoran had any business interests outside Vellern.’
The infobroker refused to meet her eyes. ‘Well, I—As I said at the time, getting access to information held outside the City is more complicated, takes longer—’
‘You haven’t done it yet.’
‘No. I’m sorry . . . I will, but as I said, I have other problems at the moment.’
‘I will pay whatever it takes to make this a priority.’
‘It’s not a matter of money.’
He kept looking back at the screen, as if hoping that if he ignored her she might go away. But he was her last hope, and she wasn’t going anywhere. Quietly she said, ‘I have another request which, your present problems allowing, I would like you to also consider. If one were - hypothetically speaking - to want someone killed, someone . . . someone hard to kill . . . how would one go about it?’
‘What?’ He looked up at her, then back at the screen again, as though whatever was displayed there had somehow anticipated her question.
‘I said, if I wanted someone killed—’
‘Medame Reen, I think you should leave now,’ Meraint said, his forehead shiny with sweat. ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can help you any more.’
He was scared. Fine, so was she, and desperate. She needed to make him see just how desperate. She fumbled in the bag hanging at her shoulder. ‘I don’t want to make things more difficult for you when you have been so helpful—’ Where was the damn thing? ‘But I’m pretty sure you must know the kind of people I need to get in contact with.’ There it was. ‘And if money won’t motivate you, perhaps the threat of violence will.’ She pulled the gun from her bag and pointed it at him in what she hoped was a convincing manner.
He watched the tip of the weapon, which jittered despite her attempts to hold it steady, and said quietly, ‘Why don’t you put that thing away before someone gets hurt?’ As he spoke he started to edge one hand under the desk.
‘Don’t move! I don’t want to shoot you, but I will if you don’t co-operate. Now, I have to arrange to have someone killed and it goes without saying that I’ll need help to do it. I will pay whatever it takes.’ Her hands wouldn’t stay still. The gun felt like a venomous animal, a creature with its own mind that could turn on her in an instant.
He nodded slowly, his eyes still on the gun. ‘It isn’t about money any more. You are obviously an innocent caught up in matters you’ve no control over, which, believe it or not, is a position I can sympathise with. I can see that you’re frightened, and frightened people do things they regret. I’ll do what I can to help you. But please, put the gun down.’
At last he appeared to have grasped how desperate she was. She let the gun fall to her side, relieved that she hadn’t needed to use it.
‘Thank you.’ He hesitated, then continued, ‘Before we go any further, there’s something you need to see.’ He reached forward and swivelled his screen round to face her.
Elarn started to read the text displayed there. ‘By order of the head of the Kheshi League of Concord, and in accordance with the will of the people . . .’ She looked at him. ‘What is this? I don’t understand.’
‘It’s orders for a removal.’
‘Why are you showing this to me?’
‘Keep reading.’
Her eyes scanned the file. The first time she saw her name she didn’t make the connection. She read the line out loud. ‘For the death of Elarn Reen, citizen of Khathryn.’
She staggered and almost collapsed ‘That’s impossible! I mean I’m just—I’m not even from the Confederacy! How can I be—? They can’t do this, can they?’
‘Not legally, no,’ the infobroker told her. ‘But, Medame Reen, if I were you, I would walk right out of here, take a pedicab to the transit hall and leave Vellern as quickly as you possibly can.’
Orders to kill her. Elarn’s head swam. ‘You’re sure this is genuine? I mean, where did you get this? Surely these things aren’t—’
There was a buzz from the desk and a window popped up in the corner of the screen. Elarn leapt back as Lia’s image appeared - not Lia as she had known her on Khathryn, but as she was now, the woman in the clip Meraint had sent her.
Meraint grabbed the screen and swung it back round to face him. ‘Oh shit,’ he muttered, ‘just when I thought my day couldn’t get any worse.’ He looked up at Elarn. ‘Medame Reen, I have a back door. I recommend you use it.’
Elarn stared at the screen. Lia was here, now. Lia the Angel. Here to kill her.
‘Medame Reen! You can’t stay here! If you go into the kitchen alcove next to the door you came in by and open the cupboard door at the end, you’ll find a staircase. The stairs loop round to come out at the side of the building, out of sight
of the Street. I’ll try to stall the Angel for a while, long enough for you to get clear. I’m sorry, but that’s all I can do for you.’
Every instinct screamed run! - run, or be killed. She looked round at Meraint’s escape route. Out the back door, into the sidestreets . . . and then where? Lia would find her, if not now, then soon enough. She looked down at the gun in her hand. It wasn’t run or be killed; it was kill or be killed. ‘Thank you, but no, I won’t run. Not any more.’
‘She’ll kill you, you know that, don’t you?’ Meraint sounded as frightened as she felt.
‘Quite possibly.’ Was Lia really here to kill her? Did Lia even know she was here? Maybe she was only responding to the infobroker’s curiosity, trying to find out why he had been trawling for data on her; a slim hope, but something to hold on to. And if she was looking for Elarn, well, she might still have a moment, a fraction of a second to act before Nual’s Sidhe magic stole her will. She looked back at Meraint. ‘Listen, whatever you were doing, keep doing it.’