“You’d better find me someone to kill soon,” said Kid Death. “I don’t want to get rusty.”
“You’ll kill when I tell you to,” said Chantelle. “I own your services now. Blue Block owns you.”
Kit SummerIsle smiled slowly, and there was no humor in it. Cardinal Brendan fell back a step. Chantelle held her ground, but some of the confidence went out of her face.
“A lot of people thought they owned me,” said the SummerIsle, quite calmly. “Most of them are dead now. I am my own man, and I serve you for my own reasons. I am a killer, and must go where the killing is. But at the end of the day, I’ll kill you just as happily as anyone else. I never had your Blue Block conditioning. My Family never approved of you. One of the few things they were right about.”
“Don’t concern yourself, Lord SummerIsle,” said Chantelle, her voice perfectly steady. “There will be blood and death for you, as promised. Enough perhaps to sate even your appetite. Blue Block has many enemies, and I will turn you loose on them all, in time. Now; you worked for Clan Wolfe, before the rebellion. Have you ever met Constance Wolfe?”
“We moved in the same circles. Nodded to each other in passing. Her late husband Jacob never really approved of me, even as he used me, and his dear wife was always too good and noble to have anything to do with the likes of me. If you’re asking if I’ll have any problems in killing her, the answer is no. I never have any problems killing anyone. As all the leading members of my late Family could tell you, if you had a good medium.”
In another of the private rooms, not all that far away, Robert Campbell was in a terrible state. Dressed in full formal attire, down to the compulsory gray gloves and top hat, with a silk cravat at his throat freshly tied by his gentleman’s gentleman, Baxter, Robert strode back and forth in the confined space like a tiger in its cage, burning up with frustrated nervous energy. His hands were clenched into fists, his stomach was tied in knots, and his eyes stared almost wildly. On the one hand he was desperate for the ceremony to start, so that he could get it over with, but he’d also never been more terrified of anything in his life. He’d commanded a starcruiser, had his old ship shot out from under him during the rebellion, but that had been nothing compared to this. Then, he’d only had to be afraid for himself. Now, he was more afraid for Constance. This should have been the happiest day of his life, and in a way it was, but as the ceremony drew remorselessly nearer, all he could think of was all the terrible things that could go wrong. And of his first, tragic attempt at marriage. He strode back and forth, all but wearing a trail in the thick carpeting, while Baxter hurried after him, fussing over the fit of the suit, and trying to calm the King-to-be with wise words and reassuring anecdotes, none of which Robert heard.
He was remembering his first wedding day. He still sometimes dreamed of it, and woke crying out in the night. His match with Letitia Shreck had been an arranged marriage, designed to tie Clan Campbell and Clan Shreck closer together, for various business and political reasons. He hadn’t been consulted. He’d been a very minor member of his Clan then, back when most of his Family were still alive, and the only future he dreamed of was a Captaincy in the Imperial Fleet. He never even got to meet his bride-to-be Letitia, until the day of the wedding. She seemed a pleasant sort. Robert thought he could have become quite fond of her, in time. But during the marriage ceremony, an esper scan revealed Letitia to be already pregnant, by another man. Gregor Shreck went mad with rage. He strangled Letitia, while Robert’s own Family held him back, helpless to save her. Gregor murdered Letitia, to save his Family from shame. And Robert had had to watch it, unable to do anything.
He still kept a small portrait of Letitia in his bedroom. He never loved her. But he thought he might have, given a chance. If things had gone ... differently.
And now, here he was again, preparing for marriage. Things should be different, this time. He was marrying a woman he loved, who loved him, surrounded by a whole army of people determined to see that nothing went wrong. He should have felt safe, secure; delighted at his good fortune, that such a wonderful creature as Constance Wolfe had agreed to be his wife. And he was going to be King, as well. Constitutional monarch to the whole damned Empire. Assuming the whole damned Empire wasn’t destroyed in the next few days, by the Recreated, or Shub, or the Hadenmen. His thoughts shifted to his other main worry: that he should be out there with what was left of the Fleet, commanding a ship against the Empire’s enemies, instead of participating in an overblown ceremony merely designed to divert and distract the general populace. But as with his last wedding, he got no say in the matter. And he’d had to give up his Captaincy long ago, to become head of his Family, and a man who was about to be made King was far too valuable to be allowed to risk himself in combat.
“Do sit down, Robert, I’m getting tired just watching you.” Adrienne spoke calmly from her seat in a corner of the room. “Save some of that energy for your wedding night. There’s really nothing for you to worry about. The ceremony’s been planned and rehearsed down to the last detail, the Elves are strip-searching and body-probing anyone who even coughs funny, and Toby Shreck’s in charge of the holo coverage, so you can be sure you’ll look good in the live broadcast. Now please sit down, before you wear your wedding suit out from the inside.”
Robert growled something indecipherable, even to himself, and threw himself onto the nearest chair, folding his arms tightly across his chest, as though he could hold his nerves in check by sheer force. Baxter started to fuss with the suit again, but received such a glare that he quickly decided to give Robert’s shoes a polish they didn’t need instead. Robert looked at himself in the mirror on the wall, and growled again, even louder.
“Do I have to wear this bloody top hat? It doesn’t suit me.”
“A top hat rarely suits anyone, sir,” said Baxter, still concentrating on the shoes. “But it is an essential part of the ensemble; a style handed down to us from centuries past. And style, after all, doesn’t have to make sense. That’s how you know it’s style. But don’t worry, after the immediate ceremony, one removes the hat and carries it under one’s arm, so that one may place one’s gloves in it.”
“I can take the gloves off?”
“Oh, of course, sir. This was covered in the rehearsals. One couldn’t greet one’s guests afterwards with gloved hands. That wouldn’t be at all proper.”
Robert looked at Adrienne. “Who makes up all this shit?”
“Don’t look at me, dear. I never ever understood fashion, even when my late husband Finlay was a grand master at it. Some of the outfits he wore were so colorful the images are still imprinted permanently on walls all over the city, like the ghosts of styles past.”
Robert smiled slightly, in spite of himself. “Why do you always refer to Finlay as your late husband? He’s been dead some time now.”
“Oh, I don’t know, dear. I suppose I just like the sound of it.”
Outside the room, the sheer din of the continuing preparations grew a little louder, if anything, and Robert’s face went cold and hard again.
“What is it that’s troubling you, Robert?” said Adrienne. “You’re not having cold feet about marrying Constance, are you?”
“No! No, she’s the only thing in this whole damned mess that I am sure about. I love Constance, with all my heart. I never got the chance to love Letitia. But every time I think of this wedding, of standing before the Cardinal and taking my vows, all I can see is Letitia’s dead face ...”
“That isn’t going to happen this time! Everyone wants this wedding to go ahead. Everyone.”
“I know that! That’s another part of the problem. Everyone wants this marriage, wants us to be King and Queen, and it feels like I don’t have any say in the matter anymore. I want Constance as my wife, but ... I never wanted to be King. Hell, I never even wanted to be the Campbell. But both have been thrust upon me, and I couldn’t say no. I know my duty. But ... Am I putting Constance at risk by marrying her? You know my history; most of my Family are dead, Letitia is dead ... Am I a jinx, Addie?”
“Now you really are being silly, Robert. Everybody’s lost loved ones in the last few years. Forget Letitia. That’s the past. The times and the people that made her death possible are gone. Constance is in no danger from anyone here. You forget the past and concentrate on your future with Constance. I’m sure you’re going to be very happy together, and the two of you can do a lot of good for the Empire as King and Queen.”
Robert sighed, and reluctantly unclenched his arms. “It all seems so sensible and obvious, when I hear you say it. It’s just nerves, I suppose. This is supposed to be the most important day of my life, after all. But then, I suppose everyone feels that way about their wedding.”
“Not me,” said Adrienne. “My marriage to Finlay was arranged by my father, who never liked me. They wouldn’t even let me meet Finlay till the day of the wedding, and once I’d seen and talked to him, I knew why. I was already running for the door when one of my uncles tackled me and brought me down. I must be the only bride to give her vows in an armlock.”
“But don’t you ever miss Finlay, now he’s gone? I can’t say I ever liked the man, but he did a lot of good, in his own way.”
“I missed him when he was alive, once. I didn’t aim carefully enough.”
There was a polite knock at the door, and Baxter went to answer it, a gun suddenly appearing in his hand from nowhere. Weapons were forbidden to everyone here except designated security, but a gentleman’s gentleman had many duties, and Baxter took them all very seriously. He eased the door open just wide enough to see out, gun at the ready but hidden from sight, and then he relaxed a little and made the disrupter disappear again. There was a short murmured conversation, and then Baxter swung the door open and stood back, allowing the masked figure of the Unknown Clone to enter. Robert and Adrienne immediately rose to greet him, polite smiles on their faces, as Baxter shut and locked the door again.
One of the many political deals involved in putting the wedding ceremony together had involved a long argument over who should be Robert’s best man. It was a station of some prestige, after all. Robert no longer had any close members of his Family left to stand at his side, so technically speaking, the position was up for grabs, and a great many people wanted it, for a great many reasons. And as in so many other matters, Robert didn’t get a say. Eventually the clone underground made the best deal, or made the most noise, and the politically significant figure of the Unknown Clone was selected as Robert’s official best man. Robert had never even exchanged a dozen words with the enigmatic masked figure, but he thought of all the possible alternatives, and decided he could have fared much worse, and kept his mouth firmly shut.
“Good of you to look in,” he said politely, as the masked man loomed over him. He put out a hand, and the Unknown Clone took it in a firm grip that lasted just a little longer than politeness demanded.
“I thought we should talk, before the ceremony,” said the Unknown Clone, the voice behind the featureless leather mask distorted by an electronic filter. “Evangeline and I put a lot of effort into ensuring that I was selected as best man.”
Robert frowned slightly, confused. Like everyone else, he had no idea who was behind the leather mask, but as far as he knew he’d never had much to do with clones. He wasn’t bigoted; he just never moved in those kinds of circles. And then he caught his breath as the Unknown Clone slowly raised his hands and removed the mask, revealing the very familiar features of Finlay Campbell.
“Good God!” said Robert, falling back a pace.
“Bloody hell!” said Adrienne, rising to her feet.
Baxter remained calm and unmoved, as befitted a gentleman’s gentleman, but even he couldn’t prevent one eyebrow rising.
“You’re supposed to be dead,” said Robert. “Hell; I even paid for your funeral!”
“I know,” said Finlay. “I was there. Watching, from a safe distance. Nice ceremony, I thought. Not much of a crowd, but more than I deserved. Good of you to take care of things, Robert.”
Robert Campbell shrugged uncomfortably. “We were Family. You’d have done the same for me.”
“Yes,” said Finlay. “That’s why I’m here, now. It’s only right that someone from the old Family should be your best man.”
He put out a hand again, but Robert ignored it, pulling Finlay forward into an embrace.
“Oh shit,” said Adrienne feelingly, as the two men separated and stood back. “Does this mean I’m still married to you, you bastard?”
Finlay grinned. “Probably not. Finlay Campbell is dead and laid to rest in his Family crypt, and I’m just as happy to leave it that way. I have a new life now, without all the ... complications from my old one. Let the dead rest in peace. I’ve only revealed my identity to you so that Robert would know he had proper Family support on his big day.” He nodded to Robert. “You’ve come a long way. Done well. The old Family would have been proud of you.”
“You could come back,” said Robert. “Once I’m King, I’m sure I could get you a Pardon for Gregor’s murder. And you have far more right to be the Campbell than I ever had.”
“I never wanted it,” said Finlay. “Let Finlay Campbell rest in peace. I never liked him much anyway.”
“Finally, we have something in common,” said Adrienne, and everyone laughed. “I take it Evangeline knows about this?”
“Of course. Who do you think arranged for me to become the Unknown Clone?” He hefted the leather mask in his hand. “I seem to have spent most of my life hiding behind one bloody mask or another. One more is no big deal. At least this one stands for something that matters.” He grinned at Robert. “You and Constance have lots of kids. We need to rebuild the Clan.”
And then he put his mask back on, and the Unknown Clone bowed once, respectfully, to Robert, before leaving the private room. Robert shook his head slowly, and Adrienne sat back onto her chair.