At Empire's Edge (28 page)

Two uniformed guards were posted outside the fifth-floor stairway entrance, and when the woman they knew as Persus emerged, they smiled and nodded. The housekeeper wasn’t much to look at—but her sunny disposition was infectious, and all the soldiers liked her.

Successful though he had been up to that point, Verafti knew that the most difficult part of his mission lay ahead. And that was to kill Nalomy, take control of her key, and summon Hingo. Then, once Hingo revealed the identity of the mysterious third person, he, too, would die. Finally, having dealt with
that
individual, Verafti would be free to go wherever he chose! Would the plan work? The odds were against it, Verafti knew, but he preferred to take action than sit in a cell waiting to be used.

Such were the Sagathi’s thoughts as he made his way down a broad corridor and paused to retrieve some cleaning supplies from the utility closet before entering Nalomy’s quarters. That necessitated passing between two
more
guards, both of whom offered cheerful greetings to the person they knew as Persus, and she responded in kind.

 

 

Nalomy was seated next to the bottom-lit pool, reading a synopsis of Legate Usurlus’s activities from the day before, as a slave braided her hair. Bells tinkled near the formal entry-way, and Nalomy glanced up toward the door. She watched a slave enter the room, then turned her attention back to her reading as a page boy rolled a red rubber ball across the highly polished floor. Nalomy’s much-pampered dog scampered after it. The animal’s nails made clicking sounds as they fought for a purchase. The boy shouted words of encouragement when the dog lost traction and the ball came straight at Verafti. “Grab it!” the youngster instructed enthusiastically. “And roll it back!”

 

 

Verafti bent to obey, but the animal had arrived by then, and quickly took possession of the ball. “Roll it back!” the boy commanded for a second time. “He’ll chase it.”

So Verafti scooped the dog up, and was attempting to free the saliva-coated ball from the animal’s mouth, when he saw something that literally took his breath away. Because there, dangling from the animal’s collar, was a pendant identical to the ones that both Nalomy and Hingo wore around their necks! The mysterious “third person” was right there in his arms! And what had once been a virtually impossible mission suddenly stood a chance of success.

 

 

Nalomy felt the pendant vibrate against her skin, looked down, and knew that either Hingo was trying to remove his key, which was unlikely, or someone was in the process of taking the third device off her dog!

A single glance was sufficient to confirm that the slave named Persus was not only in possession of the animal but fiddling with its collar. A harmless activity unless . . . The very thought of what could potentially happen were Verafti to gain possession of all three keys sent a chill down the Procurator’s spine. Should she call for help? That seemed like a good idea given the circumstances. But what if the dog’s collar had come undone? And the slave was simply buckling it back in place? Nalomy would look like a fool. It was a chance the Procurator was willing to take as she came to her feet. “Guards! Surround that woman! But don’t get too close. And be careful. She could be dangerous.”

All of the men assigned to guard Nalomy had been chosen for their intelligence, as well as their physical attributes, and were quick to react. So quickly that Verafti was just starting to run with the collar in hand when the militiamen rushed in to surround him. But it was Nalomy, her eyes filled with anger, who prevented what could have been a horrific battle. “Stop where you are, Verafti! Or shall I blow your left hand off?”

As if to emphasize her words, Nalomy was holding on to her pendant. The device was open to reveal a red button within.

Verafti stopped, turned a full circle, and saw that there was no way to escape. None of the men was close enough to slash, all were aiming weapons at him, and the Sagathi knew Nalomy would trigger the explosive bracelet if he tried to change shapes. The situation was hopeless, so he extended the collar toward the Procurator and produced a wan smile. The voice that came out of the slave’s mouth was unexpectedly male. “Sorry about that. I believe this belongs to you.”

“Throw it,” Nalomy ordered grimly, as she came forward to catch the object. “How many people did you kill?”

“Eight?” Verafti responded lightly. “Ten? I didn’t keep track. I was pretty busy.”

Nalomy allowed herself a grimace. Not only did she hate to lose valuable assets, but there was morale to consider, as well as the possibility that Cato or Usurlus would get wind of what had occurred. “Call Pasayo,” she ordered. “And Hingo, too. Order them to get up here on the double. And tell them to bring the cage. They’ll know what I mean.”

As a noncom hurried off to execute the Procurator’s orders, Nalomy turned to look at Verafti. Much to the amazement of the militiamen who were aiming their weapons at the Sagathi he morphed back into his actual form. Cloth ripped as the tunic he was wearing came apart.
“Why?”
Nalomy wanted to know, as she stood with hands on hips. “Why would you do something like that?”

“Because I’m
me
,” Verafti answered simply. “What did you expect?”

IT WAS A BEAUTIFUL DAY. THE SKY WAS BLUE, HIGH-FLYING
puffy white clouds sailed toward the east, while the snowcapped Sawtooth Mountains looked on from the west. Light glittered like gold on the surface of the lake, the air was cool and sweet, and everyone knew that a holiday lay ahead. All of which explained why so many people were out and about.

Belok was riding on Cato’s shoulders as the police officer and Phelonious left the palace and made their way along Imperial Boulevard toward Market Street and The Warrens beyond. And that, to Cato’s mind, was where Pak Nassali and Etir Lood were probably hiding. Because it seemed logical to believe that the Lir warriors had been informed of the attack on High Hold Meor and were either lying low, or had already returned home, which was a definite possibility given their capacity to fly. If that was the case, Cato would have to return to the mountains or give up. The latter was something he stubbornly refused to do. Not yet anyway. Not until every possibility of finding the killers had been exhausted. Especially now that he knew Verafti was present in the city.
Knew
but couldn’t prove. For Cato had explored all five floors of the palace and the basements below without having “felt” the shape shifter’s presence. That wasn’t absolutely definitive, of course, since Verafti could at least partially block his emotional emanations if he chose to and might be hidden away somewhere.

But that would require Procurator Nalomy’s active cooperation, and why would she provide it? How would she benefit? No, minus a clear motive for Nalomy to harbor a fugitive, it made more sense to assume that Verafti had taken on the identity of a dinner guest, or some member of the palace’s staff, and subsequently been forced to flee when Cato arrived. Hingo had promised to provide him with a head count but hadn’t done so yet. That wasn’t too surprising, given the confrontation over Alamy. Cato’s thoughts were interrupted as Belok spoke into his right ear. “We’re being followed.”

Cato wanted to look but knew better than to do so. “How many?”

“Four,” the Kelf answered matter-of-factly. “All in plain clothes.”

“That figures,” Cato replied. “The Procurator wants to keep an eye on me.”

“We could kill them,” Phelonious suggested pragmatically.

“Are you crazy?” Cato demanded incredulously, as he turned to look at the robot. “Okay, stupid question,” Cato allowed. “Of course you’re crazy. . . . Most robots are busy doing something useful! No, we’re not going to kill Nalomy’s spies. Once we arrive in The Warrens, we’ll split up. That will force the people who are following us to do likewise. And after we shake the bastards, we’ll meet at Hason Ovidius’s furniture factory. He helped me the last time I was in Solace—and I’m hoping he’ll do so again.”

“But what if they don’t? Split up that is,” Belok inquired. “What if all of them follow
you
?”

“Then I’ll have to deal with that,” Cato responded. “Just meet me at the factory.”

The threesome had turned onto Market Street by that time. There was lots of foot traffic thanks to the good weather, the time of day, and the fact that thousands of people were flooding into the city to take part in the upcoming Founder’s Day festivities. Some of the pedestrians stared at the strange threesome, but most had other things on their minds.

“And if we don’t meet you there?” Phelonious inquired pointedly. The question had a contentious quality, but when Cato turned to look at the android’s features, they were blank. That, plus the fact that robots don’t produce emotions the way flesh-and-blood beings do, left the police officer with no choice but to take what the robot said at face value. If Belok and Phelonious were something less than thrilled by the manner in which they had been co-opted, it was perfectly understandable. But Cato was in need of some additional arms and legs, even if four of them were extremely short, and he wasn’t above stretching the extent of his authority when necessary to carry out his self-assigned mission. The answer he offered to Phelonious reflected that fact. “If you don’t show up at the factory, I’ll track you down, saw your legs off, and hand you over to the city for use down in the sewers!”

“There’s no need to be hostile,” Phelonious replied. “I was curious, that’s all.”

“Think of the next few days as an opportunity to perform a public service and thereby make up for your various crimes,” Cato retorted, as he and his companions entered the maze of streets, alleys, and passageways that constituted The Warrens. “Okay,” Cato said. “This is where we split up. One hour. . . . That’s how much time I’m allowing you. Don’t let me down,” he added sternly.

So saying, Cato lifted Belok down off his shoulders and turned to say good-bye to Phelonious, only to discover the robot gone. That brought a grin to the policeman’s face as Belok scuttled away, and a river of flesh carried Cato forward.

 

 

“Damn it to hell!” Agent Thona exclaimed, as the three beings split up. He was a balding man, with flinty eyes and a weak jaw. His clothes consisted of a sweat-stained tunic, a broad leather belt, and a pair of baggy pants. It was just the sort of everyday working uniform that many of the crafts-men who swirled around him wore. Except for the fact that their hands were callused and his weren’t, they were semi-illiterate while he had been schooled on one of the Empire’s inner worlds, and they were struggling to make a living while his paychecks were piling up in a bank account on Corin. “Intalo! Follow the robot! Brum! Go after the Kelf! Narris and I will follow Cato. And keep those com units on! You’ll be sorry if I call and you fail to answer.”

The men nodded, slipped into the crowd, and disappeared. The chase was on.

 

 

Because Cato was a cop, he was used to following people rather than being followed. Still, having been dumped by some very talented criminals in his time, Cato knew that one of the most important factors to consider was speed. People who were being followed, or believed that they were, had a natural tendency to move quickly in hopes of shaking their pursuers. But, by pushing, shoving, and otherwise forcing their way through a crowd, criminals were frequently the cause of the very disturbance that gave them away.

So as Cato sought to evade the two men who were following him, he was careful to maintain the same pace as those around him, both as a means to convey the impression that he was ignorant of the tail and to reduce his overall visibility.

In the meantime the empath sifted through the kaleidoscope of emotions that ebbed and flowed around him, searching for those that might be directed his way. Because while some emotions were passive, as was the case with the woman in front of him, others had “direction,” meaning that some thought forms shot away from their creators like multicolored arrows, often striking the person or thing to which they were connected, such as the momentary anger that one member of the crowd “sent” toward the pedicab operator who was in the way.

It was a very inexact science, and one that was frequently fruitless, given the emotional stew generated by all of the minds in range. But when successful, the strategy could provide Cato with what amounted to a sixth sense, a way to keep track of the people who were following him and, more than that, gauge what they might do next.

So as Cato took an impulsive right-hand turn into a narrow passageway, he was able to “identify” one of his pursuers. The emotion came in via a sudden and heartfelt spike of annoyance that momentarily overrode all other emotional input. Cato responded by readying some money. Then, as he passed between a series of clothing stalls, he was quickly able to acquire a disguise of robe and cap by paying twice what they were worth, rather than haggling over the price as was the usual custom.

Finally, it was a simple matter to don the cap, belt the generously proportioned robe around his middle, and wait for his tail to pass him by.

 

 

Agent Thona couldn’t get too close to his subject without giving himself away, which meant there were moments when Cato was lost from sight. Such interludes were brief, however, and to be expected, so when Cato went around a bend, Thona wasn’t especially worried. Not until he and Narris rounded the same curve to discover that Cato had disappeared! The question, and one they had no way to answer, was whether the off-worlder had
intentionally
given them the slip or unknowingly done so by turning into a dimly lit passageway.

Thona swore under his breath and began to run. Narris was right on his heels. A woman fell as Thona shouldered her aside. Fruit spilled into the passageway as Narris knocked a basket over, and neither one of the government agents took notice of the man in the white skullcap and gray robe when they raced past him, their eyes searching for someone who looked entirely different.