Chapter 25
Allies
Chet wandered through the airport, a knapsack on his back, literally kicking his heels while waiting for his delayed, overbooked flight. It was four hours overdue. So much for getting to Allistair before the train arrives, he thought dourly. He still felt wrung out from the fever. While his ass ached deeply, it was a satisfying kind of ache. Fortunately, Quor had given him snacks and some cash. He also had Knife’s home address in his pocket along with a map of Allistair. He was prepared as he could be for whatever came next.
Chet wondered what Journey, Knife and Fenimore were doing at this moment. Sleeping, if they were smart. Was Fenimore toying with the Raptus even now, working on his goal to gain ascendency over the Flame?
If Fenimore hurt Journey, Chet would—what? What would he do?
He was too tired to keep pondering such things. There was a fancy, sunken conversation pit with chairs and tables for passengers to use; it currently held several families and business people. Chet wondered whether he could nap with his head resting on one of those tables. He paused, staring at a young, bistre-skinned woman who was sitting with her back turned to him. She looked familiar.
Oh! It was Rory.
Chet swallowed. He didn’t know how he felt about seeing her again. He’d missed her terribly. Chet was not unaffected by their break up as he’d originally thought. On the other hand... Rory had shown her true colors by becoming invisible and rushing right through him. Then she’d met with Knife under a street lamp in the most cliché god-affiliate scene he’d ever witnessed. She hadn’t even stopped to say anything to him, let alone apologize. Rory's Cluster was supposed to follow their group, to keep an eye on them as they unlocked it, but so many bad things had happened without their intervention. Was that why she was here? She was late if that was the case.
There wasn’t anything around that looked like a pulsating black hole, but she wasn’t alone. Rory’s companion... Chet’s mouth opened and shut in rapid sequence. Her companion was Professor Clementina. No longer wearing black, the frumpy professor was dressed as any Tache citizen in a red skirt with a rustic pattern and a fur-lined muff. Clementina and Rory were chatting as if they were travel partners awaiting their flight. Exactly the way he was.
They hadn’t spotted him yet. Chet considered his position. Were they booked on the same flight? A distinct possibility, especially since the recent strike had narrowed everyone’s choices. Chet decided he preferred to make the first move rather than be discovered. What would Knife do in this situation? Knife would approach them in a casual, quiet manner to see how they reacted, playing by ear. Knife would trade information for information, a game of checks and balances. Right.
Chet headed for the conversation pit at a moderate pace. He grabbed a spare chair—there weren’t many—and approached their table. Rory’s face when she finally caught a glimpse of him radiated shock and... was that fear? Clementina kept talking, her words trailing off as she realized her companion’s attention was elsewhere. Then she, too, grew silent, her eyes wary.
Chet positioned the chair backwards and sat, legs spread wide and hands clasped across the back. “So, how’ve you been, Professor? Rory?”
Rory licked her lips. “Chet. You’re here.” She touched a bracelet around her wrist. It was a pretty piece, bronze with a turquoise stone. Chet gauged it five or six hundred years old.
Having secured the first word, he intended to continue on the offensive. Chet smiled. “Rory, glad to see you’re visible again. Professor, good to see you, too. Murdered any more Flame, lately?”
“I do not know what you’re talking about.” Clementina’s fallow skin was pale and she looked rather clammy. She, too, touched a bracelet at her wrist, identical to the one Rory wore—an oddly vulnerable gesture. Were the bracelets significant somehow?
“So, what are you two doing here?”
They glanced at one another. Rory seemed to be holding her breath. Clementina looked a little stuffed, but her eyebrows were starting to descend into their typical, pissed-off position. Why were they so frightened?
Chet decided to push. “Oh, wait. I know exactly why you’re here. You’ve got tickets to Allistair, just like me. A little late off the mark, aren’t you, Rory? You must have lost us somewhere along the line, I’m thinking.”
Another significant silence, neither denial nor confirmation of his supposition. Rory seemed to pull herself together. “Perhaps we should go somewhere more private to speak.”
Chet had expected Clementina to treat him like the enemy, but Rory was a different story. Hadn’t she and Knife decided they were all on the same side? He frowned at her. “No, I don’t think so. Rory, where’s your Cluster?”
Rory’s expression hardened. She appeared to be waiting for him to do something. Clementina kept looking at his knapsack as if waiting for it to explode. Why were they treating him this way? What would Knife make of their behavior and their silences? There was certainly a lot of silence here. If he didn’t speak, no one did. Rory wasn’t a passive individual, yet she was waiting for him to—what?
Chet understood. They think I have the Raptus! They’re waiting for me to issue orders. No wonder they were frightened.
“Pardon me, ladies. I think we have a problem, and I’d prefer to speak more openly. With that in mind, I’ll take the first step toward trust.”
He slowly took off his knapsack, aware that they were inching back in their chairs, their eyes hard. Rory had her hand wrapped around the bracelet on her wrist. Was it something that could help protect against the Raptus’s influence? Hmm. As carefully as he knew how, Chet unzipped and emptied the knapsack onto the table. Three pairs of men’s underwear. One paperback novel (historically accurate, Quor had assured him.) One doedicu-and-processed-cheese sandwich with sliced radishes, just the way Chet liked it, wrapped in wax paper and sealed by masking tape. One map of the city-state of Allistair, and a bag of nuts and dried fruit.
The women seemed to relax as each item appeared. Chet shook out the empty knapsack. “There. I’m not here to assault your minds and remove your free will. I’m here to talk.”
“So it seems,” Clementina murmured.
Chet decided to start with her. He repacked the knapsack and folded his hands together, feeling like a character in a spy novel. “Who are you really, Professor? Who are your people? Why have you been trailing us, and what do you want with the Raptus?”
“You would not understand.”
“Try me.” Chet spread his hands. “What do you have to lose? Notice I’m not strangling you for the information.”
She glared at him. “I have a great deal to lose!”
Rory put a restraining hand on her arm. “Professor, please. I think Chet has a right to know.”
How long has Rory known—what? Was Clementina another Steve, a secret Rory had kept from him? Clementina sighed, a long and theatrical venting of wind. “This is confidential information. Not for the ears of the university administration, Chet Baikson!”
“Mmm.” He wasn’t making any promises, not with this enemy turned enigma. Then something clicked in his mind. It was exactly like a riddle: who on Uos moved in groups like affiliates yet reviled all gods? “You’re an atheist, aren’t you, Professor Clementina?”
Clementina gaped. He’d never seen her at a loss for words; she looked rather like a fish. She snapped her mouth shut. “Yes, my husband’s family and I are atheists.”
“Your family is using its money to fight the Pantheon?” It seemed a safe bet: Clementina’s wealth, gained through her husband, was common knowledge at Semaphore University.
She regarded him with a frown. “Of course. Unaffiliated people are the vast majority upon Uos—over eighty percent of the population is not committed to a god—yet we are treated as second-class citizens. Evil affiliates must make room for us! We must be heard.”
While he agreed with her statistics and general thrust, he wasn’t sure about the other parts. Evil affiliates? Chet glanced
at Rory and raised an eyebrow. Nice ally you have here, he wanted to say. She seemed to get the point anyway; she rubbed her face and looked tired, her shoulders slumped.
Chet turned back to Clementina. “You work with god affiliates all day, both among your colleagues and students. Why did you choose to teach at a Literati University when you hold these political views? You can’t get tenure at Semaphore anyway.”
“There are more important things in life than tenure.” Her mouth snapped shut as if she hadn’t intended to say anything regarding her true purpose.
Chet, however, could make an educated guess. “You’re a spy for your people. Your family wants to know what’s going on in the world of Literati.”
Rory shot him an expression of pleased surprise. “Hanging around Flame has made you smarter, Chet.”
He didn’t like her condescending tone. “Oh, by the way, Rory, I ran into our mutual friend Steve the other day. She told me how loving and caring you’ve been to her lately. I’m impressed at your thoughtfulness. There’s nothing like a well-kept secret between friends, is there?”
Rory folded her arms, looking disgruntled. “Oak told me not to say anything. You wouldn’t have taken the news well.”
“Thank you for your vote of confidence.” He glanced back at Clementina. “So, back on the subject of espionage, how did you know the Raptus was going to be found at the Lucid Mud Dig Site?”
“Of course I knew. I know everything there is to know about the Tache royal family.”
Chet grunted. “That’s right, you’re a fan of Emperor Konstantine.”
This time her glare was especially withering. “I am the world expert on Konstantine. I’ve read every scroll, every little reference I could find, even traversing underground tombs in Allistair to discover evidence long buried. Konstantine wrote in secret about sending two courtiers to fetch the Raptus, and one disappeared in Wetshul. I followed up, utilized my own resources to figure out where the courtier had lost it.”
Chet caught his breath. “Did he have special orders for Fenimore LaDaven, the courtier who disappeared in Wetshul?”
“How did you know that name?”
“You know Fenimore, Professor. You fought him on the passenger ship in Plainsdaugheau. He nearly stabbed you with a three-hundred year old hunting blade.”
Her eyes went wide. “Oh. My. Well, that answers my main questions. I hadn’t realized the Lucid-Mud Man was Fenimore LaDaven. No one told me,” she growled, glaring accusingly at Rory.
“You didn’t ask. I don’t routinely give away information.”
Chet couldn’t help but smile dourly. Now that he’d been around Knife a while, Rory’s way of doing things made much more sense. He had so many questions for her, but Chet turned back to Clementina.
“Did Konstantine write of why he’d sent Fenimore in the first place?”
She blinked, apparently taken back. “Not that I found. He wrote that one of the courtiers, whom he called Uncle Flame—I’ve never been sure if he referred to a real Flame or a perverted relative like a Flame—was suited to find the Raptus due to cunning and knowledge. He mentioned in passing that the other courtier, LaDaven, had made a study of the Raptus. Which I was uncertain how to interpret, since Fenimore LaDaven was a well known satirist and libertine who’d been sent to a famous gaol several times due to a variety of transgressions.”
“Ah.” Chet sighed, ignoring the crying baby at the next table. Konstantine hadn’t known then. It was a point lost to history. “Do continue, Professor.”
“After purchasing the site, I hosted you little diums in my house to keep it well contained. My family is certain that we do not want the Raptus in the hands of god affiliates. Even Professor Tibbets would not have made a good guardian. He was too old and would have had a hard time defending it.”
“What would your people have done with the Raptus if you had it?”
“Our plan had been to bury it under the mountains in a place only we know about. We would have kept it buried. A sacred trust for our grandchildren’s grandchildren. We do not otherwise have god gifts to otherwise contain such an object.” She glanced at Rory, who smiled benignly, then back to Chet. “Do you even know what it does, Baikson? Do you know what you’ve been harboring?”
“At this point, I know with my entire body and soul, which was not a fun ex—” Chet paused as the overhead sputtered to life, announcing that his flight was going to be board in ten minutes. At last! he thought irritably. Rory and Clementina, also alert, started gathering their carry-on bags. They were on the same flight after all.
Chet repressed a grin.“I suggest we resume this conversation at the boarding gate.”
As they were walking, Rory looked him over; she seemed to be gauging him. Chet wondered whether she noticed how tired he still was, post fever. “Chet, I am actually glad to see you.”
“Are you?” Though she was a breath of home in this strange city-state, he felt decidedly grumpy about the way she’d frightened him back in Wetshul. She’d had no right to turn invisible and run through his body like that. That was just rude.
“Do you think I wish ill upon you?”
“Honestly, I don’t know what to think.” Chet studied her right back. She wore neutral taupes and white in the manner of an Eich Che independent citizen, which she was. The style looked good on her. “Where is your Cluster, anyway? I thought they were supposed to tail us.”
“They’re elsewhere,” she said evasively. He shot her a dirty look which she readily ignored. They reached the gate before she spoke, this time to Clementina. “I believe we all want to sit together, Professor. Do you mind negotiating with the airline staff?”
“Not at all,”
Chet refused to be distracted as Clementina trod off. “Your Cluster lost us, didn't they. When?”
“During the uproar at Semaphore. When... when Professor Tibbets...”
“I know.” He offered his hand, and she gripped it tightly. They stood a moment in silence.
“Chet, I really am impressed with you. I thought you were a...” Rory paused, shamefaced.
“What, that I was an unaffiliated idiot with my head stuck up my ass? It’s true. Rory, I was stupid as Abyss and twice as blind. Now I’m playing catch-up and the stakes are astronomically high. I’ve lost Tibbets, I lost Aureate, now I might lose... well.”
“Who’s Aureate?”
He ignored the question; she’d learn soon enough. “When we were at the dig site, you knew about the Raptus, didn’t you? You were stationed there by your Cluster to watch over it, right?”
“Of course Rory knew. She took my class on Konstantine, smart girl that she is,” Professor Clementina said, straightening her cuffs as she came to a halt beside them. “I cover the Raptus in the third week.”
Chet’s mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding.”
Rory grinned at him. “Don’t look so surprised. My people knew about the Raptus well in advance of the good professor’s course. We figured even if Clementina’s people got hold of it first, we could track them into the mountains.” The women traded ironic looks.
“Huh. So the dig really was an arms race.”
“Oh, yes.”
Airline officials threw open the outside doors, and a cool breeze traveled through the terminal as the line moved forward. Chet could see the plane as they stepped onto the tarmac.
“Chet?” Rory said as they reached the rollaway staircase.
“Yeah?” He held his breath, hoping she’d say how much she missed him. How much she wanted him.
“Back in the terminal, you’d said you knew what the Raptus did with your whole body and soul. When did you learn this information, and who used it on you?”
He exhaled, feeling crumpled. Rory was right, though, it was his turn. In lowered tones, he explained what had happened after Semaphore while they boarded the plane and settled into their seats. Chet found that he couldn’t describe Aureate’s death with Clementina sitting in the aisle seat with only Rory sittin
g between them.
Clementina seemed to twig to his reluctance. “Of course we decided to raid your little ship. You were traveling with Flame, Chet Baikson. Wholly unfit to be guardians of such a stupendous magical item.”
Chet felt as if his body had turned to ice—he was numb all over—and his hands curled into fists. “There was no need to assault us like that.”
Her eyes were cold. “I’ll have you know one of your friends killed my nephew in the galley. He didn’t survive the explosion.”
“You people struck first.” Chet glared at Clementina. Though he was fairly certain of the answer, he had to eliminate his final variable. “Aureate was just pissing over the balcony. She was no threat to you.”
“Who?” Clementina squinted as if squeezing her memory. “I do seem to recall some kind of accusation when we were yelling at one another over the railing, but I honestly don’t know what it was.”
Rory waved her hands as if trying to clear the air between them. “Chet, instead of being so cryptic and passive aggressive, it might help to simply say what you are accusing Clementina and her people of doing.”
“Fine advice from a spy.” Chet realized his arms were crossed over his chest. “The fact is, Professor, you had the opportunity, method and motivation to murder Aureate. My... my friend. She was pushed into the water just as you were boarding. I tried to save her, but...” He looked away.
“I did no such thing. Nor, to my knowledge, did any of my people.” Clementina shrugged, unconcerned. It was clear the death of a Flame was of no interest to her. She certainly seemed to lack the passion of cold-blooded killing.
“Do you also deny murdering Professor Tibbets?”
This time Clementina looked deeply affronted. “You think I killed Veyaon? I did no such thing! You must believe me. Veyaon was harmless—even for a Literati—and he was one of my favorite colleagues. Chet Baikson, you are a horrible person to believe I could ever harm him!”
Her reaction seemed genuine. “Sorry, Professor.”
She harrumphed and settled back into her seat, still scowling.
The Artifact of Foex Page 27