Robert nodded. "And now, here we are, about to get married. It's going to seem strange, having lifelong enemies as my in-laws."
"Same here," said Letitia, clapping her hands together suddenly and grinning wickedly. "Do you Campbells really eat babies for breakfast?"
"Oh, every day. Beats the hell out of bran flakes."
"Maybe we'll bring our Families together, like we're supposed to. Stranger things have happened. Bobby…"
"Yes, Tish?"
"If I have to marry someone, I'm glad it's someone like you."
"Same here, Tish. Same here."
She put out her hand, and he took it gently, enfolding her small slender fingers in his. And they sat there, smiling together, for an endless moment. And then Adrienne came bustling in.
"All this time, and you've only got as far as holding hands? I don't know what's wrong with you young people these days. I'd have had him pinned up against the wall by now. But time's up, I'm afraid. Finlay sent me to fetch you, Robert. Urgent Family business, and your presence is required."
Robert gave Letitia's hand one last squeeze and got to his feet. "Family business is always urgent, especially when it's inconvenient. I'm glad we had this chance to talk, Tish. I'll see you shortly."
"Bye," said Letitia, and blew him a kiss. Robert snatched it out of midair, put it in an inner pocket over his heart, and only then allowed Adrienne to lead him away.
It turned out to be quite a Family gathering, all squeezed together in a side room, with guards outside the door to make sure they wouldn't be disturbed. Finlay was there, at his most outrageously foppish, studying Adrienne through his pince-nez as though she were a stranger. William and Gerald were arguing quietly but heatedly, barely stopping to nod to Robert as he closed the door behind him. He took in their earnest faces, and his heart dropped. Something bad was in the wind. He could feel it. Finlay cleared his throat, and everyone looked at him.
"The Campbell himself cannot be here in person," he said flatly. "He's had a communication from our allies on Shub. It came via a series of espers, so we're pretty sure it wasn't intercepted. It seems that some other House has discovered our connection with Shub."
"Wait a minute," said Robert. "Hold everything. What's this about Shub? What allies have we got on that hellhole?"
"You have a right to know," said Finlay. He sounded surprisingly articulate, for once. "Now that you're to be a central part of Family business. But you cannot discuss this with anyone outside the Family; not even your wife. No one must know. Our existence as a House depends on this. For some time now, we've been secretly intriguing with the rogue AIs on Shub, in defiance of Empire policy. The Enemies of Humanity have been passing us designs for advanced technology to help us win the contract for mass-production of the new stardrive in return for us making the drive available to them. They are desperate to remain the Empire's equal, and we need to contract. Our finances are somewhat depleted at the moment."
"To be exact," said Adrienne, "we're in deep shit. If we don't get the contract, we're ruined. Bankrupt."
William winced, but nodded. "We must win the contract if we are to survive as a Clan. Everything depends on it."
"Anyway," said Finlay, "it appears someone has found out. They can't have any definite proof yet, or they'd have turned us in to the Empress. And we'd all be facing a quick trial and a lingering execution."
"Can you blame them?" said Robert hotly. "We're working with the AIs on Shub? They're dedicated to wiping out Humanity in its entirety, and we're giving them the new stardrive? Is it just me, or is this completely bloody crazy!"
"Please don't shout," said Finlay. "This has all been discussed and decided at the highest Clan levels. We have absolutely no intention of giving them the drive, whatever happens. We are ambitious and desperate but not, as you say, crazy."
"In the meantime," said Adrienne, "it's vital we find out who knows our secret. That's why you're here, Robert. We're already running several clandestine operations to discover our enemy, and you're uniquely suited to investigating the Shrecks. But you're not to discuss this with your wife. She may be marrying into the Campbells, but for now she's still a Shreck. Use her, but don't trust her. Don't look so shocked, dear. This is Family business, and the Family always comes first."
"It's important we discover how much our enemy knows," said William. "Anyone who knows too much must die. The safety of the Clan is at risk."
"What's the Campbell doing?" said Gerald anxiously. "Why isn't he here? He should be making these kind of decisions, not us."
"He's busy reassuring the AIs through the esper link," said Finlay. "We don't want them doing anything impulsive, or… unfortunate. We're only valuable to them as long as our connection remains a secret. He took a hell of a risk sending a messenger here, but it was important we know immediately. From now on, we don't go anywhere without guards, and no one is to go off on their own. Our new rival might try to kidnap one of us to pump that person for information and put pressure on the rest of us. You're especially at risk, Robert; you're not as used to this game as we are. We can't put you in seclusion right after your wedding; that would look just a little suspicious, like we had something to hide. But from now on, you and your new wife will have a double security presence. If she asks why, point out how easily that esper zealot broke in. Now, let us return to the celebration, before our absence becomes a talking point. Smiles and laughter, everyone; no point in putting weapons in our enemies' hands. After all, it's not certain they know that we know they suspect. You're looking puzzled, Gerald. Don't let it worry you. Just stick close to us, and if you feel like saying anything, rise above it. William, keep an eye on him. If he opens his mouth, stamp on his foot."
Adrienne looked at him thoughtfully. "Since when did you become such an accomplished conspirator?"
Finlay smiled at her dazzlingly. "It's in the blood, my dear. I am a Campbell, after all."
He took Robert by the arm and led him back into the crowded ballroom. Everywhere faces smiled and heads bowed, and Robert nodded numbly to them all. Some weren't really there, of course. Attending in person was a compliment and a privilege; the less well connected usually had to settle for sending a holo. If nothing else, it helped to cut down on duels. Nothing like a wedding to bring out old Family quarrels. Robert thought about that to keep from thinking about anything else, but it didn't work. He pulled his arm free of Finlay and gave him a hard look.
"Just how much danger are we in, Finlay? How much danger am I putting Letitia in by marrying her?"
"Not much more than she's already used to. She is a Shreck, after all, and they have a history of intrigue that makes us look timid. Now forget about all that and concentrate on your wedding."
James Kassar, Vicar of the Church of Christ the Warrior, called the gathering to attend him in the kind of voice usually reserved for a parade ground, and the two Families separated out to form two groups, so that they could look down their noses at each other. They left a narrow aisle between the two groups, and almost before he knew it, Robert was heading for the aisle, surrounded by Finlay and William and Gerald, all looking very stern and respectable. The bride was brought forward to walk beside him, surrounded by women of the Shreck Family. Letitia arrived amid a crowd of whispered jokes and comments and stifled laughter, but Robert's companions stayed straight-faced, as custom required. Robert was grateful for that, at least. He had a strong feeling that just at this moment, even a bad joke would collapse him into howls of hysterical laughter. And then he and Letitia were walking down the aisle side by side, alone at last, both looking straight ahead and concentrating desperately on the moves and words they'd learned at rehearsal.
They came to a halt before Kassar, resplendent now in a purple gown, who bowed curtly and began the wedding service in a calm, businesslike tone. Personally, Robert preferred it that way. It made both the Vicar and the service seem less awe-inspiring. The words were familiar from any number of Family weddings Robert and Letitia had attended sin
ce childhood, and they made their responses in calm, dignified voices. Everything went smoothly, and Robert even remembered to raise the veil before he kissed her. All that remained was the ceremonial tying of the knot. Kassar gestured for the page boy to bring forward the ceremonial golden cord on its platter. He wrapped the cord loosely about both their wrists, binding them together, and then called forward the Church esper. Before the Church could give its blessing, and thus validate the marriage, it was important that both parties were proved to be who they said they were. Nobody ever said the word clone, but it was never far from anyone's mind.
Many of the guests stirred uneasily. The esp-blockers had been shut down for this moment, and the threat of outside attack was that much greater, but mostly the guests were concerned that their own little secrets might be detected and exposed by the esper. Everyone had something to hide. They needn't have worried. The esper knew better than to let his thoughts stray. There was a Church guard standing off to one side with a gun trained on him. So he concentrated on the bride and groom before him, and everything was hushed. Until his head came up sharply, and he stepped back a pace. Kassar glared at him.
"What is it? Is there a question of identity?"
"No, Your Grace," said the esper quickly. "They are who they claim to be. It's just that I sense not two minds, but three. The Lady Letitia is pregnant. And not by the groom."
For a moment there was a shocked silence, and men uproar filled the ballroom. Robert stared open-mouthed at Letitia, who stared numbly back at him. Had there been someone special? he'd asked. And she'd said yes. Kassar tore the golden cord from their wrists and threw it to one side. It seemed like everyone was shouting and screaming at everyone else, and swords were appearing in hands. Space grew around the white-faced bride as people fell back rather than be contaminated by her presence. Adrienne tried to get to her, but was held back by the crush of the crowd. For bringing a sullied bride to a joining of Clans, the Shrecks would be ostracized by society. It was the ultimate insult.
The Shrecks were yelling that they knew nothing of it, but no one was listening. Robert started toward Letitia, not knowing what he was going to say or do, only drawn on by the misery in her face. And then Gregor Shreck burst out of the crowd, the golden wedding cord in his hands. His face blazed with fury, and Letitia shrank back from him. Before anyone knew what he planned, he had the golden cord round Letitia's throat and pulled it tight Her eyes bulged as she fought for breath, and she clawed helplessly at the Shreck's wrists. He swung her round, put his knee in her back and tightened his hold, the muscles standing out in his arms. Robert plunged forward to stop him, but then strong arms were holding him back, no matter how he struggled. William and Gerald held him firmly, their faces cold and dispassionate.
Letitia's face was horribly red, and her tongue protruded from her mouth. There was shouting and some screaming from the crowd, but no one went to help her. Robert fought savagely, but William and Gerald held him fast. He called her name, and didn't know he was crying. Letitia sank to the floor, held up only by the Shreck's strangling grip. The ballroom slowly grew silent as the end drew near, until the only sounds in the chamber were Gregor's panting breath, Letitia's last choking gasps, and Robert's racking sobs. And then her eyes rolled up and she was silent, and Gregor slowly relaxed his grip. She fell limply to the floor and lay still.
Gregor turned to face Finlay, his face red from his exertion, his breathing unsteady. "I make apologies for my Clan and present this death as atonement. I trust this is sufficient?"
"It is," said Finlay Campbell. "Honor is satisfied. We will discuss the choosing of another bride at a later date that the wedding may proceed in the future. This ceremony shall be forgotten and never referred to again."
He nodded to William and Gerald, who released Robert. He stumbled forward to kneel at Letitia's side. Finlay gathered up the rest of the Campbells with his eyes and led them out of the ballroom. The Shrecks followed, and the Wolfes, and finally the Vicar James Kassar and his people, until only Robert Campbell was left, kneeling by his dead bride, holding her still white hand in his.
Outside in the corridor, Gregor Shreck looked across at his favored daughter Evangeline. Let her take a lesson from this. He'd kill her, too, if he had to, to keep his secret safe. He'd done it before. He smiled slightly. He'd murdered the original Evangeline because she wouldn't love him as he loved her, as a man loved a woman. He was the Shreck, and he would be obeyed.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Going Underground
The trouble in dealing with underground movements, thought Valentine Wolfe waspishly, is that sometimes they take their name too literally. He struggled on through the narrow service duct, shoulders hunched and head down to keep from banging it on the low tunnel roof. It stretched endlessly away before him, cramped and gloomy and unreservedly depressing. Low-intensity lamps hung down from the roof at regular intervals, providing just enough light to make him squint painfully. An insane tangle of interwoven cables stretched along the walls and ceiling, colored-coded in a way that presumably made sense to someone. Valentine thought them unforgivably gaudy and garish. Some of the cables were frayed and dangling, like hanging vines, and he had to bat them aside with his arms as he progressed. There was dirt and dust everywhere. Clearly no one had passed through the tunnel in some time, and Valentine for one didn't blame them. The view was monotonous, his back was killing him, and the smell was appalling.
He was deep in the guts of the world, in its hidden underside: the maze of sewers and access tunnels and service ducts that linked the varying self-contained worlds that existed within Golgotha. Although the complicated maze was necessary for the inner world's survival, few people ever thought of them. Only service personnel were authorized to use the passageways, but then, Valentine was used to being in places he wasn't supposed to be. His lip curled in disgust as the slime he was treading in grew steadily deeper. It was already lapping at the ankles of his very fashionable thigh-length leather boots and was doing nothing at all for their shine. Valentine didn't know what the slime was and didn't feel in the least like investigating its nature. He had a strong feeling he was better off not knowing. It looked worryingly organic, and he thought it best not to disturb the stuff any more than he had to. He trudged on down the tunnel, one hand casually resting on the gun at his hip, trying without much success to ease the aching muscles of his hunched back.
He'd discarded the frailer parts of his outfit before setting out, replacing them with more robust and anonymous items, and wrapped himself in a long black cloak. He'd wiped the heavy makeup from his face, tied back his long hair in a functional braid, and together with his new outfit he presented a quite different appearance, which was just as well. It wouldn't do for anyone to discover Valentine Wolfe attending meetings of the clone and esper undergrounds. They wouldn't understand.
It was a shame he'd had to rush away so soon after the wedding debacle. He'd expected a dull and lifeless affair, followed by appalling food and worse dancing, but in the end it had turned out to be rather amusing. He would have liked to hang around and drop a few exquisite bon mots where they could do the most harm, but the call from the underground had arrived by its usual roundabout route, and when the underground called, he answered. He didn't take kindly to being summoned by such lowlife trash, but as long as they had something he wanted, he'd go along with the game. It did have its amusing moments. Though he had to admit this wasn't one of them.
He stopped suddenly and peered suspiciously about him in the gloom. The dimly glowing lamp shed a blue-white light before and behind him, but between the widely spaced lamps there was a darkness so deep even his chemically boosted eyes couldn't pierce it. He listened intently, holding himself perfectly still, but nothing stirred. Valentine scowled thoughtfully. He could have sworn he'd heard something, but sound traveled strangely in the narrow service duct. God only knew what kind of small, disgusting life might have made a home for itself down here.
He wasn't tha
t far from one of the main sewer offshoots, according to the map he'd memorized earlier. There were all kinds of stories about what strange and malignant creatures flourished in the sewers. Also, according to rumor, sewer workers received battle pay and bonuses for the heads of anything they brought back with them. Not that Valentine ever listened to such stories. He looked round sharply, sure he'd picked up something just at the edge of his hearing, but there was only the silence and the gloom. He concentrated, and deep within his body, drug caches dumped their loads into his systems. His breathing quickened and deepened as his metabolism speeded up, ready for action. He was stronger, faster, sharper now, and more than ready for whatever was out there. He grinned broadly. Let it come. Let them all come. A thoughtful voice somewhere at the back of his mind pointed out that he shouldn't really waste his resources. He'd set in motion events that would eventually produce a new supplier to replace dear dead Georgios, but until the new source was established and proven reliable, he would be wise to avoid using up anything he couldn't easily replace. Valentine decided to ignore the voice. It sounded entirely too sane and sensible, and Valentine Wolfe hadn't got where he was by being sane and sensible.
A light flared suddenly in the gloom ahead of him, sharp and distinct after the blue-white glare of the lamps, followed by the faint sound of footsteps splashing through the slime. Valentine's smile widened, and he drew his gun. A dark figure appeared in the tunnel ahead, silhouetted against the light. It stopped a respectful distance away, calm and silent, a ball of glowing clear white light bobbing at its shoulder. The figure looked human, but Valentine wasn't in the mood to make allowances. In fact, he felt rather like shooting it, anyway, on general principles. And then the figure spoke in a calm, collected voice that had the flat perfection of a machine. Presumably computer-disguised to prevent identification.
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