by Timothy Zahn
The driver scowled at her in the mirror. "If you can't figure even that much out, you must not be much of a spy."
"You're welcome to believe that," Merrick murmured.
The driver shot him a look, and then fell silent.
Milika didn't seem to have changed much in thirty years, Jin decided as they crossed the Great Ring Road and continued inward toward the center of town. Several buildings were clearly new, but the shops and the people seemed much as they had back then.
Of course, she reminded herself, she hadn't had that much time to really observe the village. There were probably a lot of smaller changes she was simply missing.
They reached the center of town and turned left onto the Small Ring Road, circling the large park area known as the Inner Green. Jin leaned forward, her heartbeat picking up as she watched for her first glimpse of the Sammon house.
And then, there it was: a high privacy wall surrounding the courtyard, with the top of the house visible beyond it. Memories flooded back: the family's unhesitant hospitality when they thought her merely an injured stranger; their cautious but firm support when they learned who she really was; Daulo's willingness to risk his life for her. Not just his life, but also his family's honor.
A shiver ran up Jin's back as the driver maneuvered the car beneath the archway into the courtyard. The Sammon family had risked everything for her . . . and now her very presence on Qasama was once again putting them at horrible risk.
Whatever Daulo had summoned her here for, it must be something incredibly important.
"He's expecting you," the driver said as he pulled the car in front of the ornate door and rolled to a stop. "Do you need someone to show you the way?"
"No, I remember," Jin said. "Thank you."
The driver didn't answer.
The house struck Jin largely the same way the village itself had. It was basically the same as she remembered it, but there were enough differences in furnishings and décor to show the passage of years and the presence of a new owner. Feeling her heart once again speeding up, she climbed the stairs and went down the hallway to the room that had once been Kruin Sammon's office.
The door to the office stood open, with no guards in evidence. Jin keyed in her audio enhancers as she and Merrick approached, concentrating on the quiet sounds of breathing ahead of her. There was only one person in there, she decided. She started to step ahead of her son—
His hand brushed her arm. "I'll go first," he murmured. Before she could reply, he lengthened his stride and crossed in front of her through the doorway. Grimacing, Jin followed.
She rounded the door jamb to find Merrick standing a little to the right just inside the room. Seated at the desk across the room, his eyes steady on his visitors, was a heavyset man with a roundish face and white-flecked black hair. He wore an elaborate red-and silver robe, with a dual-patterned scarf tied casually around his throat.
Jin took a deep breath. "Hello, Daulo Sammon," she said, hearing the slight trembling in her voice. After all these years . . .
"I greet you, Jasmine Moreau," Daulo replied, his own voice dark and steady and without a single trace of genuine welcome that Jin could hear. His eyes shifted briefly to Merrick, measuring the younger man with a single glance. Then, laying down the stylus he'd been working with, he rose to his feet. "In the name of God," he demanded, "what are you doing here?"
Daulo lifted his eyes from the letter and shook his head. "No," he said. "I didn't write this. Nor did anyone in my household."
"Yet your driver quickly identified us and brought us in," Merrick pointed out. "Obviously, he was expecting us."
"First of all, the driver, as you refer to him, is in fact my son Fadil," Daulo said acidly. He ran his eyes up and down Merrick's clothing. "As to identifying you as strangers to Qasama, anyone who came within five meters of you would have known that instantly."
"What's wrong with our clothing?" Jin asked, glancing down her front. "It looks close enough to what I saw the villagers wearing."
"The design is close enough," Daulo agreed. "But the material is wrong. We stopped using it over two years ago."
"You're saying it hasn't been sold for two years?" Merrick asked, frowning.
"I'm saying we stopped using it," Daulo growled. "By order of the Shahni. All Qasaman clothing had to be remade in this new material, with older garments destroyed."
"But that's crazy," Merrick protested.
"Hardly," Jin said, wincing as she suddenly understood. "In fact, it worked exactly the way they intended."
"What—oh," Merrick broke off, his face changing as he got it. "Right."
"Indeed," Daulo said. "The real question is whether anyone else saw you."
"The gate guards were watching us," Jin said. "I don't know whether they could spot something as subtle as clothing material from a moving car, though."
"Well, we can't afford to take chances," Daulo said heavily, standing up and coming around the corner of his desk. "I'll take you to rooms and have fresh clothing brought to you."
"Thank you," Jin said. "I'm sorry, Daulo. I really did think the message was from you. The last thing I want is to bring more trouble down on your household."
"May God grant that we can avoid that," Daulo said. His voice was still grim, but Jin caught a hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth. "I'm no longer as young and reckless as I once was, after all. I'm a respectable member of the community, who would very much prefer to avoid scrutiny from the Shahni or their agents."
"That goes double for us," Jin assured him. "Don't worry—as soon as we have that new clothing, we'll be gone."
"Gone where?" Daulo asked as he gestured them toward the door. "You said you had no way to contact the alien ship."
"No, but it'll be back in two weeks to pick us up," Jin said. "We'll just find somewhere safe to hide until then."
Daulo was opening his mouth, undoubtedly to argue that there was no such place on Qasama, when the door was thrown open and Daulo's son Fadil hurried in. "Father, they're coming," he panted, his expression tight. "The Shahni agents. They're coming.
"They're coming here."
Chapter Five
Jin shot a look at Merrick. His eyes went briefly wide, then calmed down again as he recovered his balance. "From the front?" she asked Fadil.
Fadil gave her a half-astonished, half-scandalized look. "I wasn't speaking to you," he bit out.
"Answer her anyway," Daulo ordered.
Fadil looked at his father with the same look he'd just given Jin. "Yes, from the front," he managed.
"Go and stall them," Jin said. "Daulo, we'll need those fresh clothes, now."
"I'll get them," Daulo said grimly. "Meanwhile—"
"What do you mean, stall them?" Fadil cut in. "These are agents of the Shahni!"
"Which is why we need to stall them," Jin explained, fighting hard for patience.
"And how exactly do I do that?" Fadil persisted. "Tell them you've gone?"
"Don't tell them anything," Merrick said. "Welcome them in, ask about their families, get them some refreshments—you do still do those things, don't you?"
"Yes, of course," Daulo said. "But that will only gain us a few minutes."
"That's all we'll need." Merrick visibly braced himself. "Get me some new clothes, and I'll go down and talk to them."
"Out of the question," Daulo said firmly.
"He's right, Merrick," Jin agreed. "If anyone's going to talk to them, it'll be me."
"What, a woman?" Merrick countered. "You don't think that'll raise their suspicions?"
Jin squeezed her hand into a fist. Unfortunately, he was right. "Merrick—"
"I need those clothes, Master Sammon," Merrick said. "And you, Master Fadil, need to get downstairs and entertain our guests."
"Father?" Fadil asked in a strained voice.
Daulo grimaced. "Do it," he confirmed.
Fadil hesitated, then gave a jerky nod and headed back down the hallway. "But I don't think eithe
r of you should face them," Daulo continued. "Let me first go see what I can do."
"With all due respect, I think running interference for us will only add to any suspicions they already have," Merrick said. "No, the faster one of us comes out and spins them a soothing story, the better." He looked at Jin. "It also occurs to me that if the Shahni have been updating their facial-recognition software, they may have a fairly good idea what my mother looks like."
Jin looked at Daulo, found him looking at her. "Jin?" he asked.
"I don't like it, either," Jin admitted reluctantly. "Unfortunately, it really is probably our best shot. At worst, all he'll do is confirm suspicions they already have. Merrick, do you know yet what you're going to say to them?"
"I've got a couple of ideas," he assured her. "While I'm changing, perhaps Master Sammon can give me a quick update on the new mark of respect and anything else they've changed since you were here."
"I'll do what I can," Daulo said grimly. "Come with me. Jin, can you find your way to the women's section? If they ask where you are, it might be useful to be able to say you're in a bath."
"I can do that," Jin said, acknowledging the advice without in any way stating she would follow it. In actual fact, she had no intention of getting out of earshot of her son right now.
She squeezed Merrick's shoulder, her fingers lingering perhaps a bit longer than really necessary. "Good luck."
From the way Fadil had been talking, Merrick had expected all four of the men from the village gate to be in the house, accompanied by the two official gate guards and possibly a few other armed friends. It was therefore something of a surprise when he descended the staircase to find that only one of the four men was actually present.
The youngest of the four, in fact, if Merrick was judging the other's face properly behind his closely trimmed beard. The young man's tunic was mostly brown, with dark red and blue highlights, tied with a tan sash. His trousers were a darker brown, with low, age-scuffed boots completing the ensemble. He would have looked perfectly at home beside any of a dozen other young men Merrick had noticed on the way into Milika.
He and Fadil were in the greeting room just off the foyer, Fadil watching stiffly as his visitor studied the refreshment trays being held for him by a pair of servant girls. The young man looked calm and perfectly at home, considerably more so than Fadil himself.
Merrick took a deep breath. Showtime. "Master Sammon, your father said I'm to—oh; excuse me," he said, bringing himself to a slightly jerky halt a couple of steps into the others' sight. "My apologies. I didn't realize you had a guest."
"Greetings to you, friend," the stranger said, waving away the trays with a double flick of his fingertips and lifting his right hand to touch bunched fingertips to his forehead.
Merrick suppressed a smile. That one had to be the oldest trick in the book. "Greetings to you," he replied, responding with the more proper two fingers to forehead and lips that Daulo had just taught him. "I am Haiku Sinn."
"Ah! My apologies—I keep forgetting," the other man said, lifting his hand again and giving the proper mark of respect. As he did so, his sleeve fell back, and Merrick caught a glimpse of a scaled gray undersleeve beneath the tunic. "I am Carsh Zoshak. Please; join us."
"Thank you," Merrick said, starting forward again. As he walked, he keyed in his optical enhancers' infrared, and a patterned red haze appeared superimposed over everyone in the room. One of the servant girls offered her tray to him, and he selected the minced poofoo strip that Daulo had recommended. "Are you a friend, or a business acquaintance of Master Sammon's?" he asked Zoshak as he took a bite. It tasted a little like spiced shrimp, he decided.
"Neither, actually," Zoshak said. "I'm an inspector for the Shahni."
"Really," Merrick said, letting his eyes go a little wider. "May I ask what such an illustrious personage seeks in such a modest village as Milika?"
"I am hardly an illustrious personage," Zoshak said wryly. "My job is simply to travel around Qasama monitoring compliance with current social norms. You may have noticed me at the gate when you came through?"
"I'm afraid I wasn't paying much attention to individuals," Merrick admitted, peering closely at him. "It was my first visit to Milika, and I was eager to see what the village was like."
"Really?" Zoshak asked in a tone of polite disbelief. "A cousin to Fadil Sammon, and this is your first visit?"
"A cousin?" Merrick echoed, frowning. "No, not at all. What gave you that impression?"
"One of the other gate guards heard him call you his cousin," Zoshak said, his eyes steady on Merrick's face.
Merrick held his puzzled frown another second. Then, letting his face clear, he gave a short laugh. "Oh, how funny," he said. "No, he didn't call me cousin. He simply called my name: Haiku Sinn."
For a moment Zoshak looked blank. Then, slowly, he smiled as well. "Haiku Sinn," he repeated. "Yes, I can see how that could have been misheard. How funny, indeed."
"I only wish I were related to the Sammon family," Merrick went on, giving Fadil a rueful smile. The other didn't smile back, but merely continued looking tense. "If I were, perhaps it would be easier to persuade them to combine our two mining operations."
"You deal in metals?" Zoshak asked.
"Mining and refining, yes," Merrick said. "We're particularly interested in the new deposits of iridium and platinum they've uncovered." He grimaced. "Unfortunately, so are many others."
"Indeed," Zoshak agreed. "Tell me, who is the older woman who was in Master Sammon's car with you?"
"My mother, Lariqa Sinn," Merrick said. He'd thought about trying to come up with another identity for her, but there was too much risk that someone might have noticed a family resemblance. "She knows a great deal more about my father's business than I do."
"But is perhaps not an expert on fashion?" Zoshak asked pointedly.
"Oh. Yes." Merrick winced. "Yes, I know—those old clothes we were wearing."
"Clothing which should have been destroyed two years ago," Zoshak said, his voice dropping to the tone Merrick often heard from Aventinian bureaucrats quoting rules and regulations.
"I know," Merrick said again. "We usually just wear them when we're inspecting mines—we don't mind if they get damaged, you see. Unfortunately, in our haste to get to Milika after we received Daulo Sammon's invitation, we didn't bother to change."
"Or to check your fuel gauge?" Zoshak suggested, his tone lightening a couple of shades.
Merrick winced again. "Indeed," he confessed. "If we're trying to impress Daulo Sammon with our efficiency, we're not doing a very good job of it."
"Perhaps you may yet redeem yourselves in his eyes," Zoshak said. "You will, of course, destroy that clothing immediately."
"Of course," Merrick hastened to assure him. "And all the rest, too, as soon as we return home."
"Yes," Zoshak said, his tone making it clear it wasn't a suggestion. "Where is your home, by the way?"
"Patrolo," Merrick said. He knew nothing about the town other than that it was midway down the Eastern Arm of the Great Arc, that it had a decent mining and refining industry, and that Daulo had suggested it as Merrick's supposed home town. "You've probably never even heard of it."
"Actually, I have," Zoshak said. "I understand it has decent mining facilities and several small refineries."
"Yes, that's it," Merrick confirmed. "Also several fine restaurants, if I may be so boastful. We would he honored to have you visit us someday." He dared a small smile. "And I promise you'll find nothing illegal when you do."
"I'll hold you to that, Master Sinn," Zoshak said, smiling back. "Thank you for your hospitality, Master Sammon. With your leave, I'll be on my way."
"Of course," Fadil said. He and Zoshak made the sign of respect, Zoshak and Merrick did likewise, and then the young Shahni agent headed out again into the midmorning sunlight.
Fadil exhaled a shuddering breath. "Leave us," he said tartly to the two servant girls. "You—upstairs," he added to M
errick as the girls bowed and headed silently toward the kitchen.
Daulo and Jin were waiting at the top of the stairway. "What do you think?" Merrick asked.
"You sounded convincing enough," Daulo said. "Whether or not he was convinced, of course, is another question entirely."
"He wasn't," Fadil bit out, glaring at Merrick. "How could he have been?"
"Merrick?" Jin invited.
Merrick shrugged. "If he recognized me for who I was, it had to have been right at the beginning," he said. "I saw no indication of sudden surprise or excitement."
"A man could hardly become an agent of the Shahni without control of his face," Fadil said contemptuously.
"True, but I doubt even Shahni agents can control their heartbeat and the subsequent changes in their heat output," Merrick told him. "I was monitoring his infrared signature the whole time, and I saw no change."
"You can read body temperature that subtly?" Daulo asked, frowning. "I never knew that."
"It's something that was added to Merrick's generation of Cobras," Jin explained, her voice oddly distant. "My own enhancers aren't nearly so sophisticated."
"Still, it's certainly possible that I misread him," Merrick continued. "Qasaman reactions may be different from those I'm familiar with."
"Especially given the range of enhancement drugs available to us," Daulo agreed grimly. "And as you say, he may have been convinced of your true identity from the very beginning."
"He was also wearing something odd under his tunic," Merrick said. "Something gray and scaly that I've never seen before."
"Probably a krisjaw-hide armband," Daulo said. "It either means he's a good hunter, or that he likes to pretend he is."
"Never mind that," Fadil asked impatiently. "What do we do?" He jerked a thumb at Merrick and Jin. "They've been seen in our house."
"I think all we can do now is minimize any potential damage," Merrick said, "which means us getting out of here as soon as possible. If Zoshak tries to make trouble, you'll just have to claim that our story fooled you—"
"There's one other possibility," Jin said.
Merrick eyed his mother. There was an odd look on her face, even odder than the tone she'd used a moment ago. "What's that?" he asked.