Wild Cards X: Double Solitaire

by Melinda Snodgrass

  The man lifted desperate brown eyes. Blaise nodded encouragingly. “Remember, you have nothing to fear but fear itself.”

  Hate replaced confusion, and the Tarhiji buried the blade in Aleh’s chest.

  Blaise laid a hand as if in blessing on the Tarhiji’s sweat-matted hair. “You may keep my sword. A gift of thanks from the Raiyis of House Vayawand.”

  A cheer tore the air, and then the frenzy struck all the blind, and they rolled over the remaining Zal’hma at’ Irg. Durg wasn’t sure if at the end they were using weapons at all. A cold finger traced a line down the length of the Morakh’s back.

  More to banish his unease than any real desire to discuss the event, Durg said, “Rodaleh was well into festival preparations. We can use their goods in place of House Vayawand’s. It should save us substantial expense.”

  They moved from the gardens into the House. Tarhiji servants filled the doorways, anxious for a glimpse of the conqueror. Blaise bestowed offhanded smiles and waves on them.

  “Great, but I’m still not going to this little party.” Blaise stepped over a body crumpled in the center of the hall.

  Durg kicked it aside. “You must, you are Raiyis, and it is our most holy, most important celebration.”

  “My grandfather’s going to be there!” Raw panic edged the words.

  Closing his eyes in pained reaction, Durg prayed for patience. “What can he do? Female, pregnant, and our spies report that my Lord Zabb has wrested the House from her grasp. She is helpless.”

  Blaise was shaking his head violently. “You don’t understand how tricky he is. He’ll get to me somehow. I’ve told you to kill him, but you won’t do it! I won’t be safe until he’s gone!” The boy’s voice was spiraling upward, and Durg was horribly aware of the listeners.

  “Hush, don’t show your fear!” The glimmerings of a plan began to form. “And my lord, there is a way to neutralize your grandfather. And one which I think will give you pleasure.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  “HI. YOU GOT STUCK for my lunch. I know you won’t take money, so try these.” Jay thrust out the bouquet of flowers and smiled down at Hastet. He peered past her shoulder to the room beyond. It was an occupational hazard of detectives.

  The view was heartening. She was a slob just like him. The room was a cluttered mess. A pair of shoes cocked shyly across each other as if ashamed of their position in the center of the room. Brightly colored pillows spilled off a sofa and onto the floor. There was a plate with a half-finished meal on the floor among the pillows. It was apparent that Hastet was not a furniture sitter. She sought the low ground.

  The holo was on. At first he thought it was a newscast of a bunch of psi lords. Then he realized they weren’t pretty enough, or delicate enough. They were half-starved Tarhiji actors prancing around pretending to be psi lords. Unfortunately it didn’t look like a satire. Another piece of the puzzle about the relationship between ruled and ruler clicked into place.

  Hastet was still eyeing the flowers. “You really are hopeless,” she finally said. “You don’t give flowers to one of the bitshuf’di. And an odd number of flowers are either for your wife or your mother. When you’re courting, it’s an even number. And you never bring red—that’s the color for the dead.”

  “You people are opaque. Is anything simple in this culture?”

  “Only dying.”

  She was still blocking the door. “May I come in?”

  “Why?”

  “I want to apologize.” That didn’t seem to be winning any points. “I want to understand.” That got her. Curiosity replaced hostility.

  “What?”

  Jay sucked a breath past his teeth, prepared, spoke. “Let me be up front about something—I’ve been snooping. So I know a little about you.” The pupils widened until the warm brown eyes seemed an implacable black. “And knowing what I know, I don’t understand,” he gestured toward the holo. “Why are you watching a soap opera about the trials and tribulations of a psi lord? Why don’t you just rise up and kill them all?”

  “They read minds. Or have you forgotten? And what are you doing off your leash?”

  “I got a dispensation from big daddy Taj.”

  Probably because the news out of Vayawand just kept getting scarier, Jay reflected, and they probably figured he wasn’t going to head off to Vayawand on his own. They had figured right.

  With a quick flick of the wrist, Hastet threw the door fully open, pivoted, and walked back to her pillows. It was grudging, it was unspoken, it was an invitation. Jay accepted and entered.

  Just as his knees were buckling to drop him onto the pillows, a critter stuck its head straight up out of the cushions and let out a hiss like a tire deflating. It looked like a cross between a ferret and a feathered snake, with teeth that wouldn’t be out of place on a moray eel. Jay dived one way while the critter dived back into the safety of the pillows.

  “Please excuse Haupi. She’s a little shy,” Hastet said, her voice catching on a chuckle. Despite his alarm, Jay had to admit that a smile became her. The lines about her mouth and between her brows softened, and there was that dimple again. Jay was a sucker for dimples.

  “You don’t get many visitors,” Jay correctly deduced.

  “No,” Hastet admitted.

  “Takisians just keep getting dumber.”

  The presence of so many guards had Jay’s wee-wee trying to run for cover. It was the first time he’d actually entered Rarrana since Tisianne’s seclusion. It was Lillyshit day, or whatever the hell they called it, so supposedly it was okay for him to be there, but it still put him in fear for his dick.

  Tisianne was arranging flowers and taking a long time about it. Jay’s idea of flower arranging was a jelly jar and water. He had to admit the results so far were really pretty. Tis picked up one blossom, and the air was filled with a gentle chiming.

  “Oh cool, is that the flower?” Meadows asked.

  “Yes.” Tis offered it to the ace.

  Jay reached out and lifted a blossom from the table. Several of the guards tensed. Jay cringed back into his chair and folded his hands in his lap. There was a smile lurking at the corners of Tisianne’s mouth as she tossed him a flower. Jay hid his embarrassment by studying the lilac and white blossoms. They were hard, and the stamens apparently acted like the clappers of a bell. He noticed wounds on the stem.

  “They pulled off the thorns.”

  “Yes,” Tisianne said. “They don’t do that for the men who enjoy this art. It’s funny because men are really far more vulnerable than women.” She selected another flower from an overflowing basket. “What news from the wide world, Jay?”

  “You’ve heard as much as I have, and it’s all shitty—”

  Zabb walked through the doors of the suite, and Jay, Mark, and Tis all stiffened.

  “Cousin,” Zabb said, and gave Tisianne a buss on the cheek.

  “Is there some reason that you are allowed to annoy me with impunity?” Tis asked in that sharp, snotty tone that always made Jay’s teeth ache.

  Zabb smiled sweetly down at his cousin. “I’m the Raiyis. All women are my daughters … potential wives. I can see you whenever I choose in whatever manner I choose.”

  “And I may choose to put that grandiose fiction to the test,” Tis challenged.

  “Let’s not disturb the beldams again, shall we?” Zabb dropped with a sigh into a chair.

  “Then leave me alone. Haven’t you done enough to me?”

  “You’re lucky I didn’t—”

  “Kill me.” Tisianne selected another bloom from the overflowing basket. Continued in that same sweetly soothing voice. “Yes, every day as I look about me, consider my situation, I am again struck with how much I owe you.”

  Meadows stepped in. “Hey, man, it’s like you said. You can visit us anytime. We only get to see Jay once in a while. Why don’t you split and come back later?”

  “I need to discuss the Crossing Festival with my cousin.”

  “I w
ill not attend,” Tis snapped.

  “You will!”

  Jay watched as Tisianne’s fingers tightened convulsively at the rap of command in that cold voice, and the delicate stem snapped. She regarded the drooping flower with annoyance.

  “He’ll be there. The Ideal knows what he might try,” Tisianne argued.

  “It’s Festival, you’ll be safe.” Zabb helped himself to a piece of fruit from the bowl on the table. “And speaking of your so-charming grandson, I want to discuss the speech he delivered.”

  “What about it?”

  “Taj and I were wondering if this power is a side effect of this jumping power? It is having an electrifying effect on the Tarhiji planetwide.”

  “Maybe because it’s hitting home?” Jay said.

  Zabb ignored him. “And you heard what happened at Rodaleh. We cannot fight if we cannot trust the troops at our backs. You said Blaise possesses a powerful mind control. It is possible it can sway thousands? Work across a bounce/cast?”

  Tis shook her head. “You are looking for a magic explanation. Jay is right, the truth is he has found our Achilles’ heel and is exploiting it.”

  “If you want to hang onto your own people, you better start offering them a mentat in every pot, and a chicken in every garage,” Jay said.

  Zabb frowned, confused. Mark stepped in. “You know, how a politician will promise anything just to get elected.”

  Zabb was staring at them both as if they’d suddenly begun speaking in tongues. And then it hit Jay. On Takis nobody got elected to nothin’. The art of the stump had never been invented. There was no demagoguery on Takis because there were no demagogues.

  That was Blaise’s secret power. Not wild card, not the jumper skill, not his quarter Takisian blood. In a fit of excitement Jay explained his sudden insight. Tisianne looked sick, Mark thoughtful. Zabb was still confused.

  Meadows slowly shook his head. “This is fucking awesome, Blaise is bringing down an entire planetary culture with the power of the Lie.”

  “Well,” Jay grunted, “he better get a new speech writer. At Rodaleh we heard Roosevelt and Churchill.”

  Zabb shook his head like a horse afflicted with flies. “Well, here is my truth. We will not mix our blood with that of the Tarhiji.”

  “Then I guess we better start studying Vayet,” Jay grunted.

  That pissed him off, and Zabb left with only another reminder that Tisianne would be attending Festival, and he’d send over her mother’s jewels.

  Tis sighed and settled into a chair. Meadows fluttered around her nervously. “You okay? He didn’t get to you, did he?”

  “No, no. Right now Zabb’s machinations, Blaise’s political posturings, the fate of the planet, and the future of Takisiankind are very secondary to my child.” She laid a hand on her stomach. “Personally I hope Zabb and Blaise beat each other to death with their respective peni.”

  “What is this Festival shit?” Jay asked.

  “It’s the holiest and most important celebration on Takis. It celebrates our passage through darkness to find and settle the Crystal World.”

  “But Blaise is going to be there?” Mark asked.

  “Yes. Everyone will be there.”

  “What, every House?” Jay asked.

  “Every House. Every member of every House.”

  “Well, shit.” Jay shoved his hands into his pockets and started pacing. “This solves—” He broke off and looked to Meadows. “You got the jammer?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Fire it up.” Meadows located the Network device and did so. “So Blaise and the body will be at the hop?”

  “Yes. How many times do I have to—”

  “So I pop them both here—”

  “No.” Tis’s eyes had gone dark with some undefined emotion.

  “What do you mean, no?”

  “First, you won’t be there. You’re not family.”

  Jay waved that aside. “So I sneak in. I’ve got a Ph. D. in hiding in bushes.”

  “The Festival is held on the South Pole.”

  “Oh fuck.” Jay kicked a chair. “So I stow away.”

  “On a living, mind-reading ship?” Meadows asked logically.

  There was some sort of internal struggle going on in Tisianne’s soul. Jay could read it in the conflicting emotions washing across that little girl’s face.

  “We can’t,” she finally said. “We swear peace at Festival. No one’s ever broken it. I can’t do this. I can’t let you do this.”

  “I can end this thing in about two seconds—”

  “No.”

  “You’ll have your body back—”

  “No!”

  “Meadows and I can go home—”

  “No!”

  “And you’re not going to let me do it because it’s Christmas?”

  It cost her. Her teeth gently sketched at her lower lip, then her expression hardened. “That is correct.”

  Jay checked just inside the kitchen door. Both big ovens were fired up, and all the burners on the stove. Steam formed worm tracks on the window in the back door. Hastet was alternating between making sugar flowers on a multitiered cake, and giving an occasional stir to a bubbling sauce.

  A young man, his plump face red with exertion and heat, was creaming butter in a giant ceramic bowl. Haupi went hissing and rollicking across the floor. Her wings were up, but she seemed to have about as much lift as a dodo.

  “Jesus, are we entertaining the army tonight?”

  Hastet pushed back a hanging strand of hair and left a pink smudge on her damp forehead. “I suppose I have you to thank for this.” She didn’t sound real happy.

  “What? What did I do?”

  “The House called yesterday. I’m to prepare desserts for Festival.”

  “It is a great honor, genefemme,” the young man said.

  There were a mountain of flaky cookies with pink icing. Jay snitched one. The sweetness of the frosting contrasted with the almost tart flavor of the dough. He snitched two more.

  “Shut up and stir,” Hastet ordered. “No, better yet, go to Wan’se and buy me some more sithi beans. I’m almost out.” The boy grabbed his coat and vanished, along with a cloud of steam, into the alley out back.

  Hastet caught Jay with his hand on the cookies, smacked him with her pastry gun, and decorated his shirt with green icing.

  “Thanks,” Jay said. Scraping it off with a forefinger, he daubed it on her nose like war paint.

  “I won’t be able to have a booth at Festival now. I’ll be too damn tired,” Hastet complained.

  “Nice of the lord and lady poobahs to let you guys party along with them. Even if you’re not good enough to go to the big polar hop.”

  “I wouldn’t want to be there. We have more fun here.” She had these incredibly serious eyes, and when she turned them on him, Jay felt as if it were X-ray vision to the soul.

  “Is that meant to be an invitation?” Jay asked.

  She turned away and stirred sauce. “I would like it.”

  He took the whisk away from her and put his arms around her. She let him, and he felt as if someone had opened a bottle of champagne in the center of his chest. “I’d like it too.” She glanced over at her cooking and gently freed herself from his arms. Jay perched on the marble pastry table. “So what’s this party like?”

  “It’s outdoors with lots of food and drink and music and dancing.”

  “And cops and fights?” Jay suggested.

  Hastet looked at him oddly. “When we Takisians fight, we fight for real. People die.”

  Jay remembered Hiram remarking, after a return from overseas, that the most violent cultures tended to have the most elaborate system of manners, the greatest degree of politeness; it was a way to keep the violence in check. Takisians seemed to be no exception.

  “And besides, this is Festival,” Hastet added.

  “Yeah, I’ve heard too much about how peaceful everybody is at Festival.”

  Hastet resumed her
cooking. She had an ability, rare in many women, to be perfectly comfortable with silence. Jay ate cookies and watched as the elaborate confection took shape. And slowly a plan also began to take shape.

  “How’s all this stuff getting to the pole?” Jay asked.

  “Servants from the House will pick it up tomorrow.”

  “So it goes in a day ahead of time?”

  “Yes.”

  “Waiters, bus boys, too?”

  “No, Tarhiji are not permitted. The Zal’hma at’ Irg serve themselves at Festival.”

  “Do they use living ships?”

  “Only to tow the freight barges.”

  “And who unloads once they reach the pole?”

  “Tarhiji who have ridden with the foodstuffs. Why?” she asked suddenly suspicious.

  “I just figured out how to crash that party.”

  “Not in my desserts you’re not.”

  “Let’s talk about it.” And he drew her arm gently through his.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  TWELVE THOUSAND YEARS AGO (or so legend had it) all the families had banded together to build Festival Hall on the edge of the polar continent. The Crossing Festival was always held on the winter solstice, the longest night of the year, to symbolize the blackness of space as the Takisians made their crossing and emerged into the sunlight of the Crystal World. It was the only time when for a brief count of hours the ruling families of Takis set aside rivalry, plots, and murder and celebrated together.

  Everyone attended Festival. The old (not too many of those in a psi lord family), the infirm, the very young (there seemed to be about twenty million crying babies in this shuttle), and everyone in between. But no guards. The Tarhiji were not permitted at Festival.

  “Perfect time to drop a tactical nuke,” Jay had remarked to Trips as he watched the tailor fit the lanky ace for the Festival. Mark couldn’t remember what he’d said. Maybe nothing. There really wasn’t anything to say when Jay was on the prod.

  Mark sighed and wished the detective were here now, but Jay was a mere guard, not adopted, not one of the family like Mark. Maybe that was what had made him so crabby, and why he’d vanished for a day. Probably pissed. If Jay was regretting missing the party, Mark would cheerfully have changed places with him. The ace didn’t want to see Blaise—too many bad memories. And speaking of memories, how the hell is the Doc going to handle this? wondered Mark.