The Devil and Deep Space (35 page)

So it had been his practice to show off four knives when the occasion called for it, but never all five at once. Not always the same four. Just never all five at one time. That way at least he could respect the spirit of the Emandisan steel, because his undoubted violation of its sanctity was due to ignorance on his part.

And he had loved Joslire, loved him still, honored Joslire in his heart and took comfort in Joslire’s knives. “The other two were not required for target practice, with respect, Dame Isola. I trust you will forgive me.”

Dame Isola looked for a moment as though she would make another remark; exposing his secret, perhaps. There was a definite light that spoke of arcane knowledge received in her clear eyes. But as she seemed on the verge of opening her mouth to make some roguish comment, the great doors at the far end of the hall opened with unexpected suddenness, and a squad of house security came through.

House–master Jepson was in the lead — the senior security man here at Chelatring Side. Andrej’s father stood up, turning to face Jepson; who bowed.

“Special envoy from Chilleau Judiciary,” Jepson said. “She demands an interview with the Koscuisko prince, on behalf of the Second Judge and the rule of Law.”

There was someone with the security squad that Andrej thought he recognized. A woman. Who was that? Glancing over to catch Jils Ivers’s eye, Andrej found her frowning at the woman, with an expression of open skepticism.

There were Fleet security troops behind the house troops. “I’m not expecting any such honor,” Andrej’s father said. “Who is this person?”

Some of the house–master’s men had materialized to either side of Andrej’s sister Zsuzsa, the Autocrat’s Proxy, and vanished into the background with her. There had been a bit of a crowd assembled to see whether Andrej would acquit himself well in response to Dame Isola’s challenge or suffer defeat; there was plenty of background into which to disappear.

The woman under escort stepped forward smartly, but she did not salute. She nodded her head, but that was all. “I am Clerk of Court at Chilleau Judiciary,” she said. “Dame Mergau Noycannir. And I hold the Writ in whose support the Writ of the Koscuisko prince is to be annexed, on direction.”

It made no sense. But Andrej recognized her now. What could possibly have brought Mergau Noycannir, of all people, to Chelatring Side?

###

Mergau Noycannir strode proudly into the great hall of the fortress place that Koscuisko’s people kept in the mountains, her sharp eye missing nothing of the power and the wealth that this place displayed with such offensive opulence.

There had been a Kospodar thula in the shipyards where she had landed. The Arakcheyek shipyards had built them on Bench contract. How could there be Kospodar thulas in private hands? In Koscuisko’s hands? Such wealth could not have been gained legally. She would have to call for an investigation. Later. Once she had become Queen of the Bench.

The great hall was the size of a maintenance hangar in stone, whose floors were carpeted with knotted wool, lighted by great windows and large fixtures in the ceiling; and it was full of people — a small crowd at the far end, people in chairs, more people standing. One person stood up as her escort neared.

The head Security man bowed. “Special envoy from Chilleau Judiciary,” the man said. He didn’t sound very respectful, to Mergau; he sounded in fact as though he didn’t exactly believe her. He should know better, Mergau told herself. He would in time. She would see to it, but for now she was so close to her prize that she could almost taste the fear and despair that she would have from Koscuisko. Soon. Very soon.

The man who had risen to his feet was looking at her with an amused expression on his face. The chair beside him had emptied. “I’m not expecting any such honor,” he said. “Who is this person?”

It was time to take control of this. Mergau stepped forward. “I am Clerk of Court at Chilleau Judiciary.” Who was he to ask? “I hold the Writ in whose support the Writ of the Koscuisko prince is to be annexed, on direction.”

The tall man shook his head. “I am the Koscuisko prince,” he said; there was a note of mild amusement in his voice that Mergau found hateful. “I hold no such Writ. You seek my son, Dame Noycannir.” Gesturing with his hand, he waited; and Andrej Koscuisko stepped forward from behind him.

Andrej Koscuisko. In his shirtsleeves, and looking at her with wary confusion. How she hated him. How she had waited for this moment.

“This man.” She pointed. “You. Andrej Koscuisko. You are required to come to Chilleau Judiciary to pursue the investigation into the death of your Captain and the subsequent discovery of mutinous conspiracy, on board of the Jurisdiction Fleet Ship
Ragnarok
. Under the provisions of Bench disciplinary codes, your Writ is annexed for the duration of the investigation. I should like to leave immediately, if you please. There is not a moment to waste.”

Koscuisko looked confused. But he was alone; he had no choice. “I don’t know that the Captain is dead,” he said, but it was a weak attempt. He might think that he was challenging her, standing there in the middle of a target range with his arms folded. But he could not deny her evidence. “Still less that there is any such mutiny, Dame. If Chilleau Judiciary truly means to annex my Writ, I am very much surprised.”

Whether he were surprised or not was not material. He would learn soon enough not to take such a tone with her if he did not wish to suffer the consequences.

Mergau advanced on Koscuisko where he stood, past Koscuisko’s father, to confront him face–to–face. There were security troops at this house, but she had brought Fleet resources with her, and Koscuisko would have no choice but to go with her once she had made her case.

Where were Koscuisko’s own Security, the Security he would have brought with him from the
Ragnarok
, his Security slaves? She wanted those people. She wanted to make Koscuisko kill them one by one, in fearful agony; and that would be the start of Koscuisko’s punishment. But just the start. They were bond–involuntary; they could not disobey a direct legal order. Koscuisko would be forced to give the order. They would even subdue Koscuisko himself if she said the word.

“You force me to a disagreeable display.” She meant there to be no chance of misunderstanding. They would all see. Koscuisko would be left entirely without recourse. “Since you insist. Here is the Record. You of all people understand the implications of this evidence.”

Putting the Record down on the empty seat of the chair that Koscuisko’s father had vacated, she set the Record to scroll through her evidence. The space between the chair and the far wall had been cleared; Koscuisko had apparently been showing off his combat skills of one sort or another. The images that the Record projected were clear and sharply focused in the air.

Murat Spodinne. Taller Archops, Lek Kerenko.

Smish Smath. Current assignment Jurisdiction Fleet Ship
Ragnarok
, skill class code mission engineer Wolnadi prime. Suspicion of conspiracy to commit illegal and insurrectionary acts. Confession as accused and execution in due form.

The Record broadcast the official language of confession and condemnation, but Koscuisko was not listening. “Explain to me, Noycannir,” Koscuisko said. “How can Verlaine have sent you to bring me back to Chilleau Judiciary for whatever purpose. Having previously sent Specialist Ivers to me with fully executed documents for relief of Writ?”

Taller Archops. Skill class code weaponer Wolnadi four, current assignment Jurisdiction Fleet Ship
Ragnarok
, suspicion of conspiracy to commit murder of senior Command Branch officer, insurrectionary assassination in the first tier. Confession as accused and execution in due form.

Noycannir stared. What was Koscuisko talking about? Relief of Writ? Verlaine would never do that. Verlaine hated Koscuisko as much as she did; Koscuisko had disdained and humiliated Verlaine personally and professionally before Fleet and the public alike, at Port Burkhayden. And if anyone had heard hints of a relief of Writ, someone would have told her about it. There would have been gossip.

“You confuse me, Koscuisko, and I suspect you seek to evade your sworn duty. No matter. We will clear it up soon enough once we arrive at Chilleau Judiciary. I trust your kit is packed. Be so good as to summon your Security and we can be on our way.”

Murat Spodinne. Confession denied at the Eighth Level, obtained at the Ninth Level under the provisions of emergency legal code subsection suspicion of mutiny. Conspiracy to commit murder and mutinous intent. Conspiracy to undermine the Judicial order. Confession as accused and execution in due form.

The pre–interrogation pictures, the identity validation shots, were focused a few eighth’s distance from the chair, displayed in a format large enough for the assembled crowd to see them. Mergau was taking no chances.

But Koscuisko was not moving.

“Tell her that,” Koscuisko said, and pointed. Mergau’s vision blurred with fury: Bench specialist Jils Ivers. That bitch. Ivers had never liked her; she would say anything Koscuisko wanted her to, just to discountenance Mergau. “Tell her that the documents she carries are illusory. I’m waiting.”

“No, I’m waiting, Koscuisko.” She didn’t care what any eight Bench specialists said. Bench specialists supported the Bench. They would have to defer to her, now, because she had the power to shake the entire Jurisdiction to its foundation, and she would. “Aren’t you listening? You know these people, How can you pretend to deny the evidence of your own senses?”

Mergau could destroy it all with a single word: forgery. Bench specialists weren’t stupid. If they wanted to save their skins and protect their privileges, they would learn quickly enough to take their orders from her.

Lek Kerenko. Skill class code primary helm navigator Wolnadi three, current assignment Jurisdiction Fleet Ship
Ragnarok
, suspicion of conspiracy to commit murder and mutiny by indirection, failure to refer incriminating evidence to proper authorities. Expiration without confession of a Bond.

Koscuisko started to speak, but he was forestalled.

“I know
that
person.” It was a young woman’s voice. Mergau turned her head, startled, shocked; there was a young woman standing beside Koscuisko’s father, and she was pointing. “We saw him at dinner last night, very handsome. He’s Sarvaw.”

“The Serene Proximity is right,” Koscuisko said, pointing at the image displayed large behind him, holding out one hand with an expansive and contemptuous gesture. “Lek isn’t dead. And hasn’t confessed any such thing, because it isn’t true. Nor are Smish or Murat or Taller. Noycannir. What have you done?”

How could he ask such a thing?

Was he so stupid that he could not understand that she, and she alone, had dared to forge the Record?

Then a Security troop stepped out of the crowd that was gathered there watching, and bowed; and the impact of what Koscuisko had said hit home. The Malcontent had lied to her. Koscuisko had switched Security teams.

She’d forged the Record for nothing: these people were alive. They were worse than alive. They were here. They were visibly present for everybody to see, so everybody knew. After everything that she had done. Everybody knew that this was not a true Record. Andrej Koscuisko would not come with her to Chilleau Judiciary.

“Mister Stildyne,” Koscuisko said. “Secure this supposed Record, if you please. House–master Jepson. If you would assist my people in taking Dame Noycannir into custody — ”

With a scream of frustrated rage that had been building for nine years Mergau drew her glasknife and sprang at him, hearing his cry of startled agony as the knife went home and shattered in his body. Flooding the wound with neurotoxin. Incapacitating him — if not killing him outright — and she had another glasknife.

She was a dead woman here and now.

Yet if she could not have the vengeance that she sought she could still take Koscuisko down to death with her, and die happy at last.

###

Listening in horror to the insane claims that Noycannir made, Andrej Koscuisko clutched at whispered voices in the wind to find an anchor and hold fast. If he was swept away he would be lost.

Evidence of mutiny on board of the
Ragnarok
, and he had seen no such evidence, but it was all too likely to be true. The ship had been treated shabbily by Fleet all along, but it had gotten worse with Lowden gone. There could be mutiny, and it was his duty to root it out and punish it.

These were his people. He couldn’t quite grasp what it was that was wrong with the evidence that he was hearing, but he knew that those were his people, and it was up to him to execute the vengeance of the Bench. Tenth Level Command Termination. His own people.

People to whom he owed his life, if not his soul. He couldn’t think. He took hold of the first thing that occurred to him and threw it at Noycannir as hard as he could manage to push her away and shut her up.

“How can Verlaine have sent you to bring me back to Chilleau Judiciary, having previously sent fully executed documents for relief of Writ?”

He could no longer be made to punish people, any people, let alone the
Ragnarok
’s crew. He was separated from the crew of the
Ragnarok
by Judicial decree. Jils Ivers had the documents. They had not been transmitted, no, but she had them and they were fully executed. But did that still mean that his people were to be tortured, even if he was not to be the person who did it?

How could he bear to let any ordinary butcher mutilate the bodies of people to whom he owed so much in love and duty and good lordship?

Noycannir simply sneered. “We will clear it up soon enough once we arrive at Chilleau Judiciary. Be so kind as to summon your Security and we can be on our way.”

Andrej’s panic deepened. Could it have been some kind of a joke on Verlaine’s part, after all? No. It could not have been a joke. Verlaine had sent Jils Ivers. Not even the First Secretary would dare deploy a Bench specialist on a mission of petty vengeance, just to make a spiteful joke. Raising his hand to point at Ivers in the crowd, Andrej struggled to keep his voice level; if he should show Noycannir the slightest trace of weakness he was lost, he was certain of it.