Confident that the Elanners would keep an eye on Quell, Jara focused on slogging through the next sixty minutes of official proceedings. The Surinas went through the motions of resting their case, motions that required a numbing amount of back-and-forth slathered with ceremony and legal jargon. Protocol dictated that Martika respond with a number of pro forma declarations that Jara couldn't comprehend.
As this tiresome charade of justice continued, Jara had to sit and endure the gloating of Suheil and Jayze Surina. The two seemed quite pleased with themselves, and had no hesitation about showing their smug expressions to the defense table and the room at large. Sen Sivv Sor and John Ridglee, for their part, did not appear upset at all to see their theory disproven-on the contrary, the reappearance of Quell had provided a dramatic new angle for their stories and would likely cause a small spike in their Data Sea traffic. Through it all, curious members of the audience kept fixing Jara with their voyeuristic stares, as if waiting for a spat of emotion or volatility. It's only a matter of time before some drudge starts zooming in on my face and psychoanalyzing my facial expressions, thought the fiefcorp master sourly.
Jara would have almost been happy to give them something to see. But the outcome of this case still made little difference to her. So the fiefcorp would be forced to cede over a pile of money they weren't using, and the title to a product they hadn't seen in over two months. Did any of that really matter? She could barely muster up enough emotional energy to feel disappointed.
Much more important was the question of whether Jara's refusal of the Surinas' settlement offer had provoked Quell's testimony. And if so, what did that say about the mysterious powers behind the chessboard? Had Jara appeased or enraged them? Had she simply done what they had expected?
"Well, we can rest easy about one thing," said Horvil over Confidential Whisper.
"What's that?"
"Quell's not hustling off to the Islands. I just heard from the Creed Elan guys. They followed him to a nitro bar, where he's just sitting on the patio watching soccer."
Jara nodded. "Which bar?"
"It's the Ostrich Egg-the place across the street from our hotel."
Quell's choice of the Ostrich Egg was obviously no coincidence. Jara had been frequenting the bar every morning since the trial began and had grown quite attached to their baklava. For the Islander to lounge around the same establishment in full view of the passersby was a resoundingly clear signal that he was not avoiding Jara's presence. That he might even be inviting a conversation.
As Jara threaded her way through the streets of Andra Pradesh between shopkeepers, tourists, and bodhisattvas preaching the virtues of obscure creeds, it occurred to her that Quell's choice of venue sent two more disturbing messages as well.
It said, I know where you've been staying and where you've been having breakfast.
And it also said, I've got plenty of protection from the Defense and Wellness Council.
Jara rendezvoused with the three Creed Elan security staffers on the corner opposite the nitro bar, where she thanked them for their assistance. She recognized one of them from the frenzied escape out of the Tul Jabbor Complex two months ago. The Elanners pointed out the shadowy figure of Quell on the patio, though even from this distance he was difficult to miss. Jara thanked the security men again, asked them to give her regards to Berilla, and then dismissed them.
Quell had taken a seat in the sunniest part of the patio, not too far from the locals who had flocked there to enjoy soccer on the viewscreen. Somewhere between the courtroom and the Ostrich Egg, he had discarded his connectible collar altogether, leaving him with only the coin to provide the sights and sounds of the virtual world.
Jara sat down opposite the Islander as the bar patrons erupted with applause. She looked over her shoulder just in time to see a handsome soccer player leap over two defenders and head butt the ball into the net. Jara felt a rush of deja vu. She had actually met this man a few months ago, back when the company was preparing for its aborted MultiReal exposition. Wilson Refaris Ko, that was his name.
Quell had clearly been expecting her. "Perfection," he said, gesturing at the cup of steaming nitro that was already sitting on Jara's side of the table. "What, no Horvil?"
Jara shook her head. "Serr Vigal wanted to talk to him about something."
The Islander shrugged and reached for the gargantuan mug of tea sitting in front of the chair where Horvil presumably would have sat. "Tell him I say hello."
The fiefcorp master gave Quell a thorough visual examination. If his decision to perjure himself on the witness stand and betray his former employers had caused him any mental anguish, it was not evident in his casual, almost nonchalant expression. With his natty attire, the Islander might have been just another businessperson arranging to meet a colleague for an afternoon chat. He looked almost ... connectible.
"So I'm waiting," said Jara abruptly.
Quell raised his eyebrows. "For?"
"For an explanation. For a reason why Len Borda would release you from prison, just in time to testify on behalf of the Surinas. Just in time to ensure that Suheil and Jayze get the title to MultiReal."
"An explanation." Quell stretched his arms over his head and clasped his hands together. Jara couldn't help but notice from the stitching on the Islander's suit jacket that it had been custom tailored for his enormous frame. "I can't give you an explanation just yet. No, you're going to have to wait a little while before this will make sense to you. Another forty-eight hours at least."
"Why?"
"It's ... complicated. But in the meantime, I can offer you something else. Something that might make up for-for what those two jackasses put you through."
Jara was starting to get very frustrated with all of this careful ambiguity. "Like what?"
"A job."
"I'm perfectly satisfied being the master of-"
Quell interrupted her. "That's not what I meant. I'm not offering you a position, I'm offering you a gig for the fiefcorp. A consulting job." He put his immense hands onto the table, palms down, and fixed Jara with a penetrating stare. "I need your help."
This whole game was making less and less sense the longer Jara played it. Quell wanted her help? His motivations, never particularly transparent in the first place, had become completely opaque to her. Jara supposed she should feel grateful that she had a place on the board. That the forces at work wanted her continued involvement. The fiefcorp master reached for her cup of nitro and stared at the murky liquid. If ever she needed the beverage's unique powers of stimulation and concentration, it was today. Jara raised the cup to her lips and drank deeply.
But she wasn't about to acquiesce to Quell's request without a little more detail. "So what's the job?" said Jara.
"It's not one specific thing," said Quell. "It's more like ... a series of things that have to happen, or not happen." He squinted out the window, not looking at any particular object, but rather sweeping in the chaotic ambiance of Andra Pradesh.
"And how do I do these ... things?"
"Well, I don't really know yet. I won't know until we get there."
Jara could feel the impatience bubbling inside her like lava. "Get where?"
"The Islands."
"Listen," Jara snapped, smacking one clenched fist onto the tabletop and momentarily drawing some of the bar patrons' attention away from their soccer game. "You're being unreasonable. You can't just appear out of nowhere and expect me to wander out to the Pacific Islands without telling me why. Especially not after what you did to the fiefcorp." She jabbed her index finger out the window in what seemed like the direction of the courthouse. "I'm not in a very charitable mood right now, Quell. I've just had my company yanked out from under me-again-and this time I don't even have any idea why. So you'd better give me something to work with here, or I'm out the fucking door."
The old Quell might have grumbled or offered some scathing com mentary under his breath. But this post-prison Quell seemed to be a more patien
t fellow. He merely gave a measured look that indicated he was neither surprised nor displeased at Jara's irritation. "I understand," he said. "But you don't know the position I'm in. There's things I can't say yet. Not even to you, not even over ConfidentialWhisper, and definitely not in some bar in Andra Pradesh." He swept his hand around to indicate the interior of Ostrich Egg, now thinning out as the soccer game hit halftime. "Things need to happen out there in the Islands, and they need to happen exactly the right way, or this could very quickly become a much, much different world. I've got a lot of pressure on my shoulders, and I need people around who I trust. People who can get things done. That's you. And Horvil, and the whole bloody fiefcorp."
Jara finished her nitro. The stimulant had definitely kicked her mental processor into high gear, but what help was that when she had no data to process? She felt a small frisson of pleasure at being categorized as someone who could get things done, but under the circumstances, flattery was not sufficient motivation. "I'd like to help you, Quell. I really would. But this isn't good enough. You vanished-off to an orbital prison, I assume. You stood up in a courtroom and testified against the fiefcorp. Our fiefcorp, the one you used to be a part of. And now you just sit down here and tell me to trust you. Well, I'm not going to just trust you. You need to give me something tangible to take back to the fiefcorp."
Quell's face broadened into a grin. "Understood," he said. "That's why I brought money. Lots of money."
"A consulting job?" said Benyamin. "What the heck is that supposed to mean?"
"I have no idea," said Jara.
"But what would we be doing?"
The fiefcorp master shrugged. "Programming. Advising. Problem solving. Managing public relations. Isn't that what we do?"
Jara had gathered the fiefcorp together in one of the dingy conference rooms at the Kordez Thassel Complex. Jayze and Suheil couldn't exactly forbid them from holding a meeting at the Surina Enterprise Facility; the place was ostensibly open to all, and hosted hundreds of organizations from across the political spectrum every day. But that didn't make Jara feel any more comfortable handing over Vault credits to them. So the Thassel Complex it was, with its peculiar Mobius strip hallways and its sickly white furnishings. Their current conference room was free from SeeNaRee as well, except for the virtual chairs needed to make multi projections feel at home.
The rest of the company had taken their court setback with a large helping of indifference. Horvil had never seemed particularly invested in the lawsuit to begin with. Merri was more preoccupied with her creed activities and caring for her companion Bonneth (who had indeed suffered another health setback). Serr Vigal's despair over Natch's disappearance had inured him to any further business misfortune. Benyamin was more irritated at the thought of capitulating to slime like Jayze and Suheil than he was upset about losing any particular asset of the company's. And Robby Robby was nowhere to be found, presumably off with another client.
"Quell really is asking a lot," said Merri. "He expects us to pick up and follow him to a whole other civilization without saying what he wants us to do there? That's quite a leap of faith. Some of us have lives here and"-the channel manager flailed her hands around for a few seconds, searching for the right word-"responsibilities."
Jara was feeling quite philosophical about the whole thing. "Hasn't it all been a leap of faith since the beginning?" she said. "Natch never explained MultiReal when he asked us to sign up for his new fiefcorp, did he?"
"That's because he didn't know anything about it," snapped Ben.
"Yes," replied Jara, "and Quell's made it clear that he doesn't know exactly why he wants us in Manila with him either. There's trouble down there of some kind-political, economical, business-related, I don't know what-and Quell needs our help to resolve it."
"What do we know about this job?" asked Merri.
"We know it's highly secretive," said the fiefcorp master. "We know it's potentially dangerous. And we know it's lucrative. That's about it."
"Secretive, dangerous, and lucrative," muttered Horvil. "Our specialty."
Benyamin crossed his arms over his chest. "I can understand why Quell would want to hire us. The question is, why should we take the job?"
Jara gritted her teeth as she faced the young apprentice. Two months ago, she had been completely exasperated by Benyamin's constant patter of disagreement. But something had changed in those intervening two months. At some point, they had come to an unspoken agreement: Ben would stop treating Jara with contempt and disrespect, and in return, she would listen to him and take him seriously. Their little bargain seemed to be working pretty well so far. But that didn't mean there weren't moments of supreme annoyance along the way.
"Listen, Ben," she said. "I think you're forgetting something crucial. This is a consulting job. It's not charity. It's real work, and Quell's paying real money. He's already made a very nice down payment, which means that his money's good."
"It also means the money's probably not his."
"That's true. I've never seen any indication that Quell's got a private fortune stashed away somewhere. No, don't ask-I really don't have any clue whose money it is. Some creed? A governmental committee? That capitalman who lent Natch money a few months ago, whatever his name was?"
"Krone," said Merri.
"Him. I just don't know. So yes, it's a little crazy to suggest that you follow me to the Pacific Islands without having any idea why. But here are two things I do know. One: if you want to succeed in the long term, sometimes you have to sacrifice something that matters to you in the short term. Two: we've got absolutely nothing going for us here right now. Shitty programs. No direction. We don't even have a ranking on the Primo's board anymore."
"So what about the trial?" said Ben. "Are we just going to give up? Didn't Martika prepare a defense?"
"She did," said Jara. "But we all know that after Quell's testimony, it's not going to fly. So I told Martika to go back to the Surinas and settle. We probably won't get as good a deal as they were offering the other day, but we might be able to save a few credits. Let them have the title to MultiReal. It's worthless."
Surprised silence.
"This might be a fool's errand," continued Jara. "All I can tell you is that Quell sits at the crossroads of everything important that's happening in the world right now. Islander ... programmer ... friend and enemy of both the Surinas and the Council. He says he needs our help, and he's willing to pay for it. I can't tell you why the company needs to jump at this opportunity; we just do. I'm not ordering anyone to go. If you disagree with my reasoning, you can stay here, without penalty. I'm sure Horvil would be happy to turn his MindSpace workbench over to someone else to fix Y Not Ditch the Itch 18." Jara extended her arm towards the engineer, who she suddenly realized had barely said a word the entire meeting. "Horv?"
Horvil looked up from the tabletop, which he had been studying with deep concentration for some minutes now. He gave a sidelong look at Serr Vigal, who had not spoken at all since his arrival in the conference room. "I think what you're saying makes perfect sense, Jara," said the engineer, his voice uncharacteristically serious. "I would go if I could ... but I've already committed to doing something else."
Jara blanched. "Which is?"
The engineer and the neural programmer turned to each other and exchanged a few silent words over ConfidentialWhisper. After a minute, they seemed to arrive at some conclusion. Serr Vigal cleared his throat. "Horvil and I have decided to look for Natch," he said.
Nobody said anything for a good twenty seconds.
"I understand that you all ... you all have your reasons for feeling like you do about Natch," continued Vigal haltingly, fiddling with a frayed hem on his robe. "I can't pretend to vouch for his behavior these past few months. Or even ... these past few years. But things are different for Horvil and me. We ... I raised him. I was his legal guardian for sixteen years."
"And I've been his best friend for over twenty years," added Horvil. "Maybe ... fuc
k, maybe his only friend." He giggled. "I wonder if that says more about me than it says about Natch."
Serr Vigal clasped his hands on the tabletop now, not in a gesture of entreaty, but rather a demonstration of firmness. "Wherever he is, whatever happened to him after the Tul Jabbor Complex, we can't just abandon him. He could be hurt. He could be in pain. He needs our help."
Jara gave the neural programmer a firm and judicious nod. Despite her own history of acrimony with Natch, standing in his place at the head of the fiefcorp had given her a new appreciation for what he had been through. There had been many decision points in the past two months where a Machiavellian solution like one that Natch would dream up seemed like the best choice-and Jara had cursed her own weakness at being unable to make that choice. She would never love the man. But she couldn't bring herself to despise him either. Natch's was simply a misguided soul, and if there were two people who could guide him back onto a more fruitful path, it was Horvil and Serr Vigal. Her only reservation was a selfish one: this would mean separation from Horvil for who knew how long. But that was hardly the basis for making a decision of this caliber.
The fiefcorp master turned to the others. "So I guess that leaves the three of us?"
"The three of us," replied Merri.
Benyamin folded his hands into a tight ball and stared at them intently. After a few seconds of silent contemplation, the young apprentice nodded and sat back in his chair. "Three," he said.
13
Horvil had agreed with Serr Vigal about the necessity of starting their search for Natch "bright and early." Except the engineer's and the neural programmer's definitions of the term were almost completely at variance, like antipodes on the globe. And so when the neural programmer showed up at the hotel the next morning with baggage in hand, having taken a midnight hoverbird from Omaha, Horvil was quite perplexed. Try as he might, he could see nothing bright on the streets of Andra Pradesh that wasn't man-made.
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