The Burning Crown (Stone Blade Book 4)

by James Matt Cox

  "Who the hades are you, cully," demanded the first mate.

  "Who doesn't matter," said Ambith casually, "Where does. You are bound for League space and I wish to purchase passage on your vessel."

  Both men eyed Ambith suspiciously. He very carefully kept both hands flat on the table and his arms relaxed. He knew he could take out the two men but that would make a terrible start for the negotiation to come.

  "Torque me sideways," said the mate, "Sure an' we oughta toss you out the main lock! You an' the rest of yer prettyboys all makin' trouble for us comin' an' goin'. Laker. Get the cap'n down here. Don't let Bruch link, neither. You stay put, prettyboy, else we will have you breathin' vacuum!"

  Ambith held his expression calm, sat quietly and waited for the captain. Inwardly he heaved a sigh of relief. The captain might not be any happier but three witnesses was certainly better than two!

  The captain stormed furiously into the lounge and demanded Ambith stand. When he did, the captain took the chair, sat and glared at him.

  "All right, bally boy. Start with yer name."

  Ambith shook his head. "Believe me, captain, you're best off not knowing. Suffice it to say I am a former member of the Elder Guardsmen, multiple specialties, and that I wish to purchase passage aboard your vessel to a League world."

  "You just left a League world, yer ruddy flopper! After, I might add, yer buddy-boys gave me a hold full o' grief before we lofted! By hades I oughter just dump yer ruddy carcass out the aft lock. That or turn around an' take yer back."

  Ambith shrugged with a nonchalance he certainly didn't feel! "I cannot prevent you from doing either, captain, but if you will convey me to a League port outside the Star Crown worlds I will pay for the trip." Moving very carefully he took out five chits. "These are worth two hundred gold. You can hold and verify them if you wish. I will validate them as soon as we reach Lithceau or some other port beyond it. Your choice."

  The captain pulled out his exchequer and verified each chit.

  "That is two hundred gold, captain," said Ambith, "L-au. Twenty thousand credits." And all of the money he possessed, less a more reasonable fare and lodging further into the League.

  Ambith saw a gleam of greed in the captain's eye and he relaxed. He'd just offered the man ten times the price of a first-class or luxury berth to a destination well beyond what he asked. But all of it amounted to nothing until Ambith validated it.

  "I'll even sweeten the deal," said Ambith, "If you do decide to take me back to Faircoast I can guarantee you the Elder Guards who inspected your vessel will not be pleased. I'll be executed for desertion, no question there, but they will be very upset with you, too. I don't expect you to understand our ways, but they were assigned from a House opposed to the one with which you did business. Your penalty will be... severe."

  "But you stowed away, yer balmy scupperswill! I had nothing..."

  "That won't matter to them, captain," interrupted Ambith, "The Guardsmen will simply impose massive fines and possibly confiscation of your fine ship. The other Houses, though... You represent an embarrassment to them, captain. They do not... appreciate humiliation of that sort.

  "If, however, you elect to accept me as a passenger you will receive your payment. You don't know my name, you can forget my appearance easily and you three are the only ones who need know I am aboard. I'll gladly stay in my cabin and you or one of these two fine sailors can bring me my meals. No one will be the wiser and you can continue trading profitably on any Crown world."

  The captain stared at Ambith a long time. Then, finally he nodded and offered his hand.

  "Safe passage, then, an' you stay in yer cabin. Laker'll bring you yer rats an' no one else knows yer aboard." This last he also directed at the other two. "That an' you validate these," he shook the chits in his other hand, "as soon as you know yer outside the Crown!"

  "Thank you, captain." Ambith shook the proffered hand then well and truly relaxed.

  Now back in the same cabin in which he stowed away, Ambith began mulling over Parl's last few words. He regretted what little he left behind but not enough to face certain death for it. After the long hours he and Parl spent chatting in the small ship's bridge, Ambith felt honored to have known the man. He'd like to have met his roommate, but no. Impossible.

  Ambith finally concluded that Parl told him to escape. He hoped he'd accomplished that. He would certainly feel more certain when he did have Crown space half a dozen links behind him, but that would come later. Then he would see to avenging his friend's death. Ambith knew he could do nothing by himself but, by the stars, he'd find someone who could!

  ***

  Fyrelm rubbed his eyes and examined the numbers again. And again he felt the seeds of frustration take root and sprout. The data simply did not make sense! House Brightcrown and all of its allies cleared good profit on most of their ventures and the few losses barely made a dent in the gains. They all operated properly within the laws, gave fair trade and enforced it where necessary. All who swore fealty to them prospered within their jobs and lives and the House Ombudsmen had little enough to occupy their time. Yet still Varl outpaced them!

  Varl's legally recorded and taxed profits and ventures summed properly and no auditors Fyrelm found could find aught of concern. Even the less-than-legal revenues flowing into House Varl checked, albeit with a margin of error apropos the reliability of the intelligence about them. Yet even with a higher error than a House Larner solicitor could justify, the sigma lines still did not match!

  Despite everything Fyrelm could find House Varl still showed more wealth than they should have, and subtle indications hinted that they had access to even more. Nor did Fyrelm ignore House Binkor-Sud, House Snughblak and the numerous lesser Houses associated with them. They too seemed to have some unknown and untraceable source pouring wealth into them. None of his other agents found anything even half a milli off the beam and he had no Parl to find him more.

  Hints of rumors flowed to Fyrelm, now that he knew to search for them. Though tantalizing in inference, even the least-vague of them lacked anything he could latch onto and track. The thing strongest about all of them was Moot censure of House Brightcrown. Did he not know better Fyrelm would suspect his foes of creating the rumors simply for their own sake.

  Not that they hadn't tried that tactic before: conflict between Houses took many forms, from blatant and straightforward to subtle and devious. Over the centuries House Varl tried its hand at all of them. Though damnably hard to fight directly, simple revelation of the truth made false rumors, implications and suggestions vanish like morning fog. House Varl learned that lesson as well, and more than once! No, thought Fyrelm, this time his foes would have something of substance.

  Fyrelm's comm beeped.

  "Your guests have arrived, sir," reported Jackson Osbury, Fyrelm's butler for as long as he could remember, "I've served them wine and cheese and they both seem in good cheer."

  "Thank you, Osbury."

  Fyrelm couldn't help the smile that crossed his face. In Osbury's world serving the wrong cheese with the wine constituted a greater catastrophe than the impending collapse of the House he had served for most of his life. He knew his Laird would handle such trivial matters so long as he and his guests received proper attention.

  Fyrelm took a moment to collect his thoughts and review what he planned to ask before rising. No House, Great or Lesser, especially one allied, would refuse an invitation to dine with the Laird of House Brightcrown. It pained Fyrelm to think of his dearest friends thusly, but better that than any of the alternatives. He took a moment outside the library to compose himself and summon a smile.

  "My Laird Brightcrown," announced his herald, "is most pleased to welcome you, my Laird Edders. My Laird Brightcrown is most pleased to welcome you, my Laird McReely. Please to find comfort and welcome at our hearth and home."

  Fyrelm, Edders and McReely all shared a warm smile at the announcement. Though not as old as Osbury, Brightcrown's Chief Herald cert
ainly lived in the same world. As long as he announced their guests properly and saw them receive due courtesy all disasters would fall to nothing.

  "M'Lord Reginald," said McReely, "Always a pleasure. You as well, m'Lord Luther."

  "Always and ever," affirmed Edders.

  The three Lairds bowed and acknowledged each other properly and the herald bowed and left. Then they relaxed, dropped all formality and sat. They discussed mundane and amusing matters pertaining to their Houses until Osbury appeared and announced dinner. That luxury, at least, they still had.

  The three of them kept the conversation light during dinner. Once again Fyrelm's chefs did their Laird and House proud. Even McReely praised it and he'd spent his youth traveling and trading throughout the League. Then, as they relaxed in a meeting room with an excellent aperitif, Edders spoke seriously.

  "I take it you've heard the rumors, Reginald."

  "Indeed so, Luke. They are of some concern but I have other matters troubling me more."

  "How so?" To Edders nothing outranked possible Moot action against one's House.

  Fyrelm garbled the room, called up the summaries of his data and presented them.

  "Interesting," said McReely, himself a very astute businessman, "Have you checked their cargo manifests, shipping records and trade schedules?"

  "Thoroughly, Savn. I've asked the Elder Guards, my own agents and even the League officer here. None of them reported aught off the beam."

  "That means they're being sneakier than we are," said McReely. Then, sarcastically, "That's a coronation week surprise."

  "What do you wish us to do," asked Edders, "Without regretting the necessity and despising the fact that you must ask it. We are friends as well as allies and you know we'll gladly help."

  Fyrelm winced at that but McReely merely smiled and nodded.

  "Thank you, Luke. It does pain me to ask but ask I must." He handed each of them a datacube. "This is the extent of what I've found so far. Please help me investigate this as best you're able. Luke, House Edders is as capable and tenacious as its roots to the Founding. Savn, nothing escapes House McReely's notice. Whatever Josef Fadding is planning will not bode well for any of us and blind surprise will only sauce it worse."

  "With pleasure and with honor!" "Absolutely!"

  "Thank you both," said Fyrelm sincerely, "Make no mistake. House Varl is cunning and devious past all sanity. Our ignorance of its plans makes it even more dangerous. I shall do all that I am able to distract, but do not assume I'm successful at it. Step cautiously and tread lightly."

  Edders and McReely both nodded and Fyrelm killed the garble. The three of them spent a few more minutes in pleasant conversation but only a precious few.

  ***

  Josef Laird Fadding stared coldly at the man across the desk from him. Ken Tobart stared right back, unintimidated. Outremin stood to the side of the door, facing the men and glad not to be a part of the conversation. Or lack thereof.

  "Your numbers are quite impressive, my Laird," said Tobart, finally breaking the silence.

  "Less so than they should be. They will improve ere long."

  "As you say, Laird Fadding. That is what concerns us."

  "How so?" Alliance, convenience or otherwise, be burned! Fadding was ready to draw steel over Tobart's words and demeanor.

  "Please, my Laird," said Tobart, "I mean no insult. The simple fact is that my friends and I have taken severe... consequences when our profits reach the point of excess. That tends to foster patience and caution, most especially given the nature of our business."

  "Then perhaps you should have allied yourselves with House Binkor-Sud."

  Tobart shook his head. "Doubtful, my Laird. They're bankers. They would desert the course at the first sign of trouble."

  "Then you should make fabulous partners."

  Tobart's mouth tightened but he kept his control.

  "I think not, my Laird. We chose our partner well and with due and considerable deliberation."

  "Indeed." Fadding nodded. "Then do not doubt, Master Tobart, the strength and resolve of the Great House of Varl. The other Houses are weak and willful, filled with sniveling fools who lack the stomach for true power and greatness.

  "In the veins of House Varl runs the blood of the man who forged the Crown of Stars and defended to his death the worlds it enfolds. We will not fail! We will not fail to reward our friends beyond their dreams nor will we fail to reward our enemies with suffering beyond death."

  "Your words speak well, my Laird, but what of the other matter? After we dispatched the first message we did find evidence that our secure net was compromised and data stolen. We do not yet know the full extent of it but any disclosure would be... most troublesome."

  "That matter has been handled, Master Tobart. With finality. My agents discovered the traitors most quickly and pursued them throughout Crown space. They had no time to rest or communicate and they died in a most convenient fashion." Fadding shifted his gaze to Outremin. "Is that not true, Sir Beau?"

  "It is true, m'Laird. Convenient, tragic and absolutely final."

  "Excellent," said Tobart, "In that case I can inform my partners that we are clear for continued production and profit."

  "Indeed." Fadding smiled with apparent sudden inspiration. "Message them by LINC, Master Tobart. Inform them of your positive news, certainly, but remain here. I would be most honored to have you and your party as my guests. That will give you a closer and more personal view of our... endeavors."

  Tobart considered this. "I would love to accept your offer, my Laird, but certain elements within the League would not find our presence... tolerable."

  "The League?" Fadding's smile turned markedly superior. "Do not concern yourself with such trivialities, Master Tobart. The League is of no consequence to you whatsoever, I can assure you of that personally! Even when our plans ripen and yield fruit you and your associates will be safe here. Heh. What better place to watch them unfold? Besides, I dare say House Varl can offer you accommodation far in excess of that to which you are accustomed."

  "A most gracious offer, my Laird. Such a civilized break would be most welcome. Thank you."

  Then Tobart stood and bowed.

  Chapter 3. Sewer-Swishing

  Piotr Wayne Karr, scion of the Noble House of Edders, watched with almost-indifference as a hard-muscled man with a scarred and disfigured face examined the documents on his cube.

  "Dimarr, is it. Looking for work. According to this you're plenty qualified for not much at all. What makes you think I have a job for you?"

  "House Varl's showing plenty of profit lately. That means they need people to help 'em make it. I'm people and I'll work plenty hard."

  The scarred man half-snarled. "You want to work here, you say it right, nubb! It's the Great House of Varl. I got your name. If the Great House of Varl wants you we'll call."

  Karr rose and left, not bothering to hide his indifference. He did hide his elation! All the data he had pointed here as the place to start. His own Luther Laird Edders, who personally welcomed him when he swore fealty to Edders so many years ago, had summoned him. There, along with Savn Laird McReely he explained the nature of their request. Request! He told them they honored him and that he would happily serve his Laird and House. Then, when he learned he'd work against House Varl and on behalf of House Brightcrown, he doubly reiterated himself. By the stars and seas he'd not fail them!

  What Roger Parl did report before he vanished led to Tourmalin Shipping Interstellar, a company owned by and operated solely for House Varl. After Parl started his investigation he vanished. Karr, therefore, would trace Parl's steps and do his best not to vanish.

  Outside the building, Karr walked to an old and dented hover and dropped into the passenger seat.

  "Well?"

  "Negative problem," he said, "Apparently they don't think I'm qualified either."

  Lacy Blue smiled and lofted the hover. Both she and the vehicle came courtesy of House McReely. And s
he, like the hover, held many surprises beneath the surface. By her look she had more than a few drops of Edders blood in her family but she didn't claim it. When he thought to burn some of Varl's commercial nets she suggested a frag virus.

  "Their loss, darling. Are you thirsty yet?"

  "Plus-plus, dear lady. Finding a job with House Varl is drying work."

  She also flirted as naturally as she breathed, didn't mind when he returned it and didn't take it seriously. Important since they'd likely be together for quite a while.

  "Polar!"

  'Choggi_g Ac_o_s the Le_gue' flashed the hologo in front of Chugbarn's Chog and Data Shoppe, which was not Karr's first choice for food or data, but at least it was convenient. She hit the fresher while he ordered food, drinks and a moderate pipe. Besides their Delightful Dozen, a menu consistent across the League, this one also boasted some common Crown selections. Blue sat down just before their food arrived. He separated their orders while she jacked in and meshed her terminal with his.

  "Movie or music," she asked, sipping her Grape Equalizer.

  "Music," he replied.

  As they dined they each watched two small indicators at the bottom of their displays. They hit four different Varl companies and, with the exception of Tourmalin, their virus fragments had plenty of time to work. Though easy to prevent, a fragmentation virus was insidious when deployed and almost impossible to remove once it got a foothold in a system and connected to its other parts. The frag virus contained in Karr's resume came courtesy of House Edders' Aggressive Technology division. The burner who developed it also included a warning to keep it well away from any Edders net. By Karr's reasoning, inserting it within a net's outermost security would double or triple its chance of success; it had no worries about any security on external ports and pipes.

  "Bonusjack, my dear," he said, "The bait site just reported four pings. No obvious traces or backburns so I shall consider it a success."

  "Cryonic. Pious question: stay here or move? I'd personally prefer to wait until the fragments are fully synchronized and the nets recovered from it."