“A prominent member of society.”
“Oh. I suppose I am.”
“And an observant one. We didn’t exchange a single word at the entry port, and you still remembered my face.”
“I’ve trained myself to remember things.”
“I envy you the talent. In my line of work, it would be very handy.”
“I’ve got a system for recalling faces. I’ll teach it to you, if you like.”
“Would you? That’s very kind.”
“Not at all. My pleasure.”
———
The racecourse was only slightly wider than two of the racers travelling shoulder-to-shoulder. It was possible to physically block someone trying to pass, and the rules allowed it, but blocking only invited a collision that could wreck both racers’ times and might end in penalty assessment. Pearl Woman, maintaining her half-second lead over Roberta, had approached the racer immediately ahead of her, a Tanquer dressed in violet. Pearl Woman hung back through a series of short straights, then gathered her powerful legs beneath her and launched herself on a diverging pass. She squeezed between the Tanquer and the wall, touched the wall lightly, a graze on her stomach, and then rebounded gently into the other racer’s path. The violet racer flailed in an attempt to avoid fouling her, but Pearl Woman had already tucked into a ball and was ready for the next comer.
The Pearl cast a glance over her shoulder. The flailing racer was squarely in Roberta’s path.
Well, she thought. That should hold her for a while.
———
“Well done, Pearl Woman!” Vanessa tapped her foot in a congratulatory rhythm.
“Yes. Quite.” Fu George’s drink was covered in frost. He removed his numbed fingers and frowned. “Drexler and Chalice are mapping the route from the ballroom to the Duchess’s suite.”
“Good. You’ll do the pick-off after the ball, then?”
“Yes. I don’t want to give Maijstral too much time. He’s already too friendly with her grace.”
“What if her guards are with her?”
“We’ll use dazzlers and smoke. Once we’re inside, they won’t be able to shoot without risking her grace. And we’ll have the advantage of surprise.” He chipped frost from his drink with his fingernail. “Once we have the Shard, we’ll hide it in her grace’s suite. Then remove it after the time has passed.”
“The plan seems a little…”
“Over-direct? Violent?”
“Yes.”
“I know.” Frowning. “No points for style. Maijstral hasn’t given me any time.”
“This may sound a little odd, Fu George,” hesitantly, “but have you considered simply approaching the Duchess?”
Pause. “I… assumed… she wouldn’t make an arrangement about something as notorious as the Shard.”
“Think about it, Fu George.”
Fu George said nothing. He was already thinking very hard indeed.
———
Roberta passed the violet Tanquer on the next long straight. Concluding her first lap, Pearl Woman increased her lead over Roberta during the long, straight outer passages; but once she got into the twisting, shorter, inner passage, she lost time. Her massive upper body lacked flexibility: forbidden by the rules from using the power of her arms and shoulders, caught in a part of the course that demanded quick reverses and compact athleticism, Pearl Woman’s rebounds were slow and slightly off-course. Roberta, who was surprisingly limber for a woman her height, began to shorten Pearl Woman’s lead. By the time they reached the next long straight, she was only a fraction of a second behind.
———
Maijstral leaned forward. Now, he thought, he’d see it. The fix or whatever it was.
“Oh, yeah. I’ve been on my own since I was twelve.”
“In this current line of business?”
“Or something like it. I mean, they won’t give you a burglar’s ticket till you’re sixteen, right?”
“Right.”
“So I got interested in the technical end of the business. That way it wasn’t me the police came looking for.” There had been a few arrests to help him decide on that course but Gregor saw no point in mentioning them.
“Hey.” Kyoko’s voice broke with excitement. “Hey. Did you see that?”
———
“Damnation!” Smiling . “I told you, dear.”
“Oh, no!” Biting a knuckle. “How did it happen?”
“Take comfort.” Admiration rose in Maijstral’s mind, “You’ve won your bet.”
Pearl Woman’s coup, Maijstral thought, had been perfectly timed and beautifully executed. Entering the first of the long back straights, her kickoff had seemed to go wrong. The pulled muscle had, to all appearances, taken its revenge. Pearl Woman had been propelled on a slightly wrong angle, drifting toward one of the walls. She tucked and prepared to carom off.
Roberta saw her chance and leaped for it. Her kickoff was flawless, her trajectory down the middle of the course perfectly timed to pass Pearl Woman just as the Pearl grazed the wall.
Roberta, in her tuck, had to reverse herself, touch the far wall with her feet, kick out and alter trajectory to fly down the next straight. She came out of her tuck, her legs cocked and ready.
Pearl Woman grazed on her helmet, came out of her tuck, prepared for her own change of course. She looked above her, left, and right, trying to find Roberta. She searched everywhere but where Roberta actually was, behind and below her. Pearl Woman was trying, Maijstral thought, to establish in the minds of the audience and Priests that she didn’t know where Roberta was, and show that a foul was the last thing on her mind.
Roberta touched and kicked. Pearl Woman came down on top of her, her own legs lashing out.
Maijstral deduced that Pearl Woman intended to kick the Duchess on her thigh or knee as Roberta passed below her, crippling her for the rest of the race. But somehow Pearl Woman’s driving feet passed through Roberta’s legs without connecting—Roberta had twisted slightly in her trajectory change, and Pearl Woman flailed, bouncing into the corridor wall and missing her course alteration.
The proof of Pearl Woman’s intent, Maijstral later concluded, was that loss of control. Had Pearl Woman intended to kick the wall, her course change should have gone off without a hitch. But since she intended to connect with Roberta, her timing was thrown off by her miss and she bounced hopelessly into the corner.
Maijstral settled back into his chair and smiled.
“What bad luck!” Advert cried.
“Yes,” Maijstral said. “One might call it that.”
———
Roberta passed the other racers to come in first, not simply in time-corrected listings but actually ahead of the others, even those who had started before her. She left the course to the enthusiastic, foot-tapping applause of the spectators, and the Priests of the Game, pouring incense, set up a hymn. Pearl Woman finished fifth.
“I think,” Maijstral said, rising, “you should avoid mentioning your bets to the Pearl.”
Advert nodded. “Yes. I’d already thought that.”
“Please give her my condolences. It was a brave attempt.”
“I’ll do that. Thank you, Mr. Maijstral.”
“Your servant, ma’am.”
Khamiss sighed as she saw Maijstral rise from his place. “Duty calls, I’m afraid.”
Zoot rose with her. The nebulous magnification field in front of his face vanished. “Please contact me when you’re free. I’ll tell you about my identification method.”
“I’m working double shifts. But by midnight the Baroness’s art collection will either be recovered or belong to the burglar forever, so perhaps I’ll have more freedom tomorrow.”
“Madam. Your very obedient.”
“And yours.”
———
“I’d never have got this far on my own. I’m learning a lot from him.”
“Such as?”
“Ton and things. How to behave around people who are rich enough
to have stuff I want to steal.”
Kyoko laughed. “Ton and things,” she repeated.
“I’ve got a bit to learn yet.” With wounded dignity. “The point is, High Custom folk behave in different ways from the people I grew up with. I’ve got to learn how to use that, see?”
Kyoko looked at him. “Learning how to make use of the way people behave is different from turning yourself into an imitation aristocrat.”
Gregor’s ears flicked dismissal. “I didn’t make the rules. It’s their game. I’ve got to play it the way they want, or I don’t play it at all.”
“That isn’t my point. My point is that you should make use of who you are.”
“Of course I—”
Kyoko held up a hand. “How long have you been with; Maijstral?”
“Four years.”
“Yes. Four years to integrate yourself with High Custom. While everyone else here has been working at it their entire lives.”
Gregor scowled. “I’m bright. I can learn.”
Kyoko tipped her head to one side. “I’m sure you can, and have. My point is that you can’t succeed entirely. The people on Silverside Station have had the same education, the same training, and moved in the same circles for years. They can spot a phony by his dress, his manners, his language—or just by the set of his ears.”
Gregor threw up his hands. “So what am I supposed to do? Just resign myself to living as a servant for the rest of my life?”
“Of course not.” Kyoko looked at him coolly. “I’m here, aren’t I? Moving in the highest circles and behaving just the way I like. And I was brought up on the frontier, more than fifty light-years from the nearest noble house.”
“You’re a performer. That’s different.”
“Tell me how.”
“You—you need to present a personality for your viewers. It doesn’t matter as much what sort of personality that is.”
“It’s access that matters, Gregor,” Kyoko said. “Once you’re accepted in this crowd, you can do anything you want. Ask embarrassing questions, expose secrets, or steal. The trick is that first acceptance.”
“So how did you get accepted, then?”
“I conducted Saxony Weil’s first interview in twenty years. The first since the scandal.”
“And how’d you manage that?”
Kyoko smiled thinly. “I was very young, and I pretended more naivete than I possessed. She wanted to get her version of events on the record, and thought she could use me. She assumed I’d be so awed that I wouldn’t ask hard questions, and sufficiently inexperienced that I wouldn’t check the record about what actually happened all those years ago. She spun a web of lies, and I called her down on each one.”
“I sort of remember hearing about that that. Never saw the interview, though. Didn’t know anything about Saxony What’s-’er-name.”
“One critic called it ‘the definitive demolition.’ I liked that.” She frowned and sipped her drink. “She wanted to use me, and I used her instead, and now I’m famous and she’s still in exile. All I did was know my job, and my audience, and be myself.” She stood and put her loupe in her eye. “I’ve got to talk to Pearl Woman before she leaves. If she thinks she can race in front of me and get away with an attempt to break the Duchess’s knees, she’d better think again. See you later, I hope.”
Gregor grinned at her. “Only too.”
“Bye.” Gregor watched, his mind buzzing, as Kyoko’s marshalled media globes began to arrow toward Pearl Woman like a squadron of warships stooping on a target.
———
The Marquess Kotani was strolling rather rapidly from the arena when Maijstral intercepted him. Kotani wasn’t precisely running away: he was merely giving the Fates a chance to intervene between himself and his debt. Once caught, Kotani handed over the money with a flourish and congratulations, then made a much more leisurely exit. Maijstral collected his half-quiller from Fu George, who wrote his marker in an offhand way while conducting a conversation with the Marchioness Kotani and Vanessa Runciter, and who then offered Maijstral a single finger in his handclasp. Smiling for his own reasons, Maijstral put his winnings in his pocket and strolled toward the knot of well-wishers that surrounded Roberta.
“Great race,” Mr. Dolfuss was remarking. “Never seen a better.”
“Thank you, sir,” Roberta said. She pulled off her helmet and shook her bobbed hair.
“But what were the Priests singing afterward?” Dolfuss asked. “I couldn’t make it out.” He was using his actor’s voice that boomed loud in the enclosed space. Those nearby were falling silent, partly because they’d been outshouted and partly out of embarrassment for the man.
“They were thanking the Virtues and the Emperor for a race well run,” Roberta said. Her voice was softer than usual: perhaps she was trying to lead by example.
“What’s the Emperor got to do with it?” Dolfuss demanded. “We don’t even have an Emperor any more. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“If you’ll forgive my interruption, sir, it has never been a requirement of religion to make sense,” Maijstral said.
“Of course it’s supposed to make sense!” Dolfuss barked. “What’s the point of a religion that don’t explain things?” But Maijstral had turned to Roberta and offered her two fingers.
“Congratulations, your grace,” he said. “You came close to mishap, but you avoided it splendidly.”
There was a secret gleam in Maijstral’s eyes, one answered in the eyes of the Duchess. “I had warning, sir. Perhaps I’m intuitive that way.”
“That would explain it. It’s lucky I was intuitive enough to bet on your success.”
“I’m pleased to be the author of your good fortune.”
Dolfuss, in the meantime, had spotted someone over the heads of the crowd. With roaring apologies, to which no one listened, he made his way toward Pearl Woman. Maijstral, pleased by his confederate’s performance, smiled as he watched the actor leave, a smile entirely misunderstood by those present.
“You’ll pardon me, I hope,” Roberta said. “I have to make preparations for the ball.”
“Your grace.” Maijstral sniffed her and watched her leave. From somewhere he could hear Dolfuss’s voice on high, offering his sympathy to Pearl Woman on her damned bad luck. Maijstral remembered he had a bet on the tote and walked toward the stair. Climbing, he passed by Kham-iss, who, cursing under her breath, was compelled to jump aside to make way for him. Maijstral bowed and brushed past, nudging Khamiss’s gun with his elbow. Khamiss’s ears drew down in mortification, and she wearily reversed course and trudged up the stairs after Maijstral.
Standing by the cashier were the Marchioness and Mr. Paavo Kuusinen. The Marchioness smiled and waved. “Collecting your winnings, Maijstral?” she asked.
“I was lucky.”
“My husband was not. Despite his other splendid qualities, he is simply not the sort of man who should gamble.”
“How unfortunate.”
She gave an easy laugh and brandished her winnings. “I always win by betting contrary to his instructions. I’m afraid it puts him in a temper.”
Maijstral turned to Kuusinen. “Did you win yourself, sir?”
Kuusinen smiled politely. “I did indeed. I’ve seen her grace race before, and I was confident there was no one in this field she couldn’t cope with.”
“An astute observation,” Maijstral said, wondering. Cope he thought, was an odd word to choose. Win against might have been more obvious.
Kuusinen, therefore, had seen Pearl Woman’s stratagem and recognized it for what it was. The man was disturbingly acute.
“Cash your marker, Maijstral,” the Marchioness said gaily. “Then we can stroll to the White Room.”
“I’d be honored, my lady,” Maijstral said, and stepped to the cashier’s desk.
As he deposited his winnings into his hotel account, he could feel Kuusinen’s unsettling gaze on the back of his neck. The man sees too much, he thought, and wheth
er he’s police or not, this bodes ill.
———
“A moment, your grace, if you please.”
Roberta cast a look over her shoulder at Geoff Fu George. “If you don’t mind walking with me. I’m in something of a hurry.”
“You’re walking in my direction anyway.” Smoothly. Fu George matched his stride to hers and offered his congratulations.
“It was noble of you,” Roberta said, “to bet on Pearl Woman, despite her injury.”
Fu George stiffened in surprise. “I wonder,” he asked, “how your grace knew of my wager?”
Roberta shrugged. “Drake Maijstral mentioned you and he had made a wager.”
“Indeed.” His face darkened. Now he knew how he’d lost: Maijstral had put her on her guard somehow. Drake Maijstral, he thought, has a lot to answer for.
“Your debut tonight,” he said, “is certain to be a success.”
“Thank you. Success is something I’m counting on.”
“Success becomes you well,” Fu George said. “But I wonder if you have ever considered your debut being marked not only by success, but by sensation?”
She gave him a look. “Sensation? How so, sir?”
Fu George gave a deprecating laugh. “I don’t mean anything vulgar. No arguments, no duels, no scandalous fashion…”
“Ah. I perceive your intent.”
Fu George smiled. “Your grace is quick.”
Roberta laughed. “I’m afraid the family would not approve of such a major sensation, Mr. Fu George. But perhaps a minor one could be arranged afterward. Why don’t you speak to me after the ball?”
“I would be most happy.”
“Here’s my door. Your servant, sir.”
“Yours, madam.”
Geoff Fu George stood outside the door for a moment and gnawed his lip. Was Roberta just putting him off, or was she serious about the minor sensation? Should he proceed with the lift tonight, or not?
He’d go ahead, he decided. With Maijstral on station, he had no choice; he couldn’t afford to give Maijstral a chance at the Shard.
Confident in his assessment, Fu George turned and stepped toward his room. He and his assistants would have to choreograph their movements perfectly, and that would require careful preparation and rehearsal.
House of Shards Page 13