The Enigma Score (11 page)

The woman’s use of the words ‘Great Ones’ should have stopped Donatella in her tracks. Those were the words used by Crystallites to refer to the Presences, but Don simply hadn’t noticed. ‘It won’t be long before we’ll all be able to walk among the Presences much more safely. Not long at all.’ Don had raised her head, seeing herself and the woman in the mirror.

‘Oh, you think some great discovery? Some marvel?’ The woman peered at her in the mirror, her black eyes gleaming with something acquisitive and desperate.

And at that point Don had realized what she was saying and had drawn up sharply. ‘No, no discovery, no marvel, Sophron. Simply the slow accumulation of knowledge….’

Who else had she talked to?

Chase Random Hall, the Explorer King. Could anything she had said to him in the dining room of the Chapter House, during the informal time of day when everyone was on a first-name basis, could anything there have been interpreted as something threatening?

‘Randy, you ever think the day may come we’ll all be out of work?’

‘Mind your manners, silly girl. Don’t be obscene.’

‘No, I mean wouldn’t it be terrific if we found The Password?’ ‘The Password’ was the apotheosis on Jubal and had been for a hundred years. It was like ‘The Millennium’ or ‘The Second Coming,’ a terrible end said to be devoutly desired by some, the single score that would open every pass and permit free travel everywhere.

‘I think it’s a disgusting thought, one I would appreciate not having raised again in my hearing.’ Randy had been effete in his youth and was effete still, but there was no arguing with his successes. Now he smoothed his elegantly trimmed moustache and smiled at her in his best monster-eating-up-a-little-girl smile: glittering eyes in a brown, brown face with his terribly white teeth, teeth that made one weak even while they made one shiver, anticipating voracious kisses. They were inevitable, those teeth like death. ‘Do you like living dangerously, stupid child?’

‘Is it that dangerous to speculate about The Password?’ She had said it lightly. Surely she had said it lightly!

‘A little idle speculation here in the Chapter House, over drinks, perhaps not. Anything more than that, decidedly. As a moment’s thought – if you are capable of such – should have informed you. Think, silly girl. If you had The Password, there are at least twenty people I could name who would kill you to keep it quiet.’

She knew her face had changed then. Changed with horror, in memory. People who would kill! She remembered her friend Gretl Mechas. Or rather, Gretl’s body as it had been when Donatella identified it. Remembering this, she turned away. She had had enough of this conversation.

But then he had asked, ‘Would you like to go to bed with me, Donatella?’

‘I am the King Explorer’s to command,’ she had said, stiffly taking refuge in a ritual answer. This was a new gambit.

‘Not at all eager, are you?’

‘I … I have other affections, Randy.’

‘Don’t we all know it. Your affections are the talk of the House and most unworthy of you. Speaking of danger then, stupid child, what’s the news about the Mad Gap?’ And they had talked shop as she detailed her attempts to find a Password through the Gap before moving on to other things. Why had he mentioned going to bed together? Everyone knew Randy preferred men, though he would possess a woman if he thought it useful. Had he thought she might be useful? But not quite useful enough? Had he slipped when he spoke of people killing other people? Was he interested in her reaction? Or was it merely a very effective way to change the subject?

It had been an odd, a very odd conversation. With her well-schooled memory for exact words and phrases, exact tones and progressions of tones, she could play it over in her head, again and again, but it made no more sense now than it had then.

Her ruminations were interrupted by tapping at the door. Blanchet came in, dressed to the toenails in a one-piece glitter-suit with a plumed hat and multiple chains of Jubal coral around his neck. She made an appreciative sound. ‘Don’t you look marvelous.’

‘My poor best will be hardly good enough, Ma’am.’ He gave her an admiring look. ‘The outfit becomes you.’

‘So long as I don’t become the outfit.’ She laughed. ‘Having got into it, there may be some difficulty getting out. The outfit and I may be inextricable. You’d better not call me “Don” this evening. That might give our truancy away. Call me Tella. My brother always called me that.’

‘Very well, Tella. My name is Fyne Iron Blanchet, and my close friends call me Fibe. Or Fibey.’

‘Fyne Iron?’

‘Family names both. I don’t think my mother ever thought what it would sound like.’

‘Well, it sounds very … metallurgical.’

‘So I’ve always felt.’ He offered her his arm and they went down the lift to ground level where a city car awaited them. The gawkers were still staring up at her window. None of them seemed to notice her. ‘Shall I drive?’

‘Please. You know Splash One far better than I. It keeps growing! Every time I’ve been here before I’ve gotten myself hopelessly lost.’

He suited himself to her mood, not talking merely to make conversation but concentrating on his driving. Splash One had grown explosively in recent months, so much so that concentration was a necessity. She stared out at a city raw and gawky in its burgeoning adolescence.

Half the streets were torn up, more were barricaded, though no one paid any attention to the barricades. Stiff, square-cornered new buildings of reinforced brick thrust up beside curvilinear older ones of rammed earth, the hard burnt brown making harsh edges against soft gray. The older buildings were covered with signs offering bargains in entertainment, in used equipment, in new and used clothing, new and used furniture, apartments, rooms. Most of the staff at the military base just outside of the city had dependents housed here in Splash One, and domiciliary space was at a premium.

The newer buildings were labeled with small directories at the entrances; government offices, BDL division offices, purchasing agents, suppliers’ representatives, research labs. Every sidewalk was jammed with people; every window had one or two persons leaning out of it, waving, talking to those in the street. Some of those in the streets were engaged in trade of an unmistakable kind, and Don stared.

‘Prostitutes?’ she asked, breaking her preoccupied silence. There had never been prostitutes on Jubal. At least, none that were visible.

Blanchet nodded. ‘Recent imports. They say that somebody high up got paid off.’ He didn’t need to specify which somebody. The word among BDL employees was that the Governor had both hands out for himself, which was unnerving. PEC appointed governors were supposed to be unimpeachable, and it made one wonder how high the rot had spread.

At the end of a short side street a building loomed, gleaming like gold and culminating in a high, ornately curved dome. Crowds of people passed in and out through the monstrous doors.

‘What in Jubal is that?’ she asked, turning to peer over her shoulder.

‘Crystallite Temple.’

‘It’s
huge!’

‘It’s huge and there are about four more like it up and down the ’Soilcoast. You don’t have one in Northwest City yet?’

‘No. And I don’t look forward to having one. Where do they get the money?’

‘Pilgrims. Contributions. If you haven’t seen some of the evangelical cubes the Crystallite hierarchy sends out, you’ve missed something. Very slick, Tella. The money pours in as though it were piped. The people at the top aren’t like the ones you see running around on the streets. The assassins, fanatics, and insurgents are a scruffy lot, but those in charge of the temples are something else again. Very smooth. You ought to see them.’ His mouth compressed into a grim line.

‘Well, let’s. We’re not in any hurry, are we?’

He gave her a surprised look, but obediently brought the car to a halt and walked with her back toward the Temple yard. The paved area was scattered with small groups of pilgrims, each wearing a knot of orange ribbon to identify his status, each group led by a soberly robed guide. Blanchet inconspicuously attached himself and Donatella to the rear of one straggling group as they followed the orange ribboned ones into the enormous structure.

Donatella only with difficulty kept herself from exclaiming. Around them were towering pillars, vaulted ceilings high above, dazzling fountains of light and smoke. ‘Where do they get this kind of equipment when we’re still short of medical supplies and simple things like computers or lift machinery?’

Blanchet kissed his palm in a derisory gesture and she subsided. Obviously someone had been paid off. And why did it surprise her? She turned as Blanchet nudged her, pointing unobtrusively at three figures that had just come onto an elevated platform at the top of a broad flight of stairs. Two men, one woman. The men could have been brothers, both with extravagant manes of white hair, both tall and well built, robed in glittering, vertically striped garments and wearing high domed crowns. The combination made them appear to be about twelve feet tall. The woman, on the other hand, glittered in quite another way. Her breasts were exposed under sparkling necklaces of gems, and her draped skirt seemed to be woven of gold thread, the extensive train slithering behind her like the body of a heavy snake. She, too, was crowned and plumed.

‘Chantiforth Bins and Myrony Clospocket,’ Blanchet whispered. ‘Half brothers, I understand, with a long, slippery history. Now Supreme Pontiff and High Priest. And the High Priestess, Aphrodite Sells. The three of them are the real power behind all the Crystallites on Jubal.’

‘Are they the power behind the assassinations, too? And the terrorism?’

‘They claim not. Though they say they “understand” the frustration that leads their followers to commit such acts.’

On the high platform the glittering woman called out a short phrase, which brought the congregation to immediate silence. She had a voice like a knife, as cutting as a shard of crystal.

Don watched for a short time as the three sparkling figures began a ritual that was obviously familiar to most of those in the audience who were cheerfully bellowing the responses. ‘I’ve seen enough,’ she murmured. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

They returned to the car, unspeaking, and continued the interrupted trip, passing the farmer’s market, a bustling enclave of trucks, mule wagons, booths stacked high with produce, milling vendors, customers, and sightseers, all in one swirling, noisy throng. Across from the market were the fish stalls, a long line of booths fronting the enclosed ponds of the local fish farms, smelling richly of the sea. Beyond the ponds stood the tilting masts of the merchant fleet. Don remarked at the number of ships. ‘There are more private boats than BDL has!’

Blanchet nodded solemnly. ‘BDL isn’t the sole power in Splash One and Two anymore. At least that’s the inside word. More than half the traffic last year was noncommercial. Military, a lot of it. Plus all the pilgrims the Crystallites bring in. And they’ve added some staff to the Governor’s office.’

Don started to say, ‘That’s silly, he doesn’t do anything,’ then thought better of it. Her friend Link had been attached to the Governor’s office. She contented herself by asking, ‘Why?’

‘Because of the Jut Massacre.’

That was six years ago!’

‘Well, you know how long it takes the Planetary Exploitation Council to move.’

‘I wasn’t aware that the PEC moved at all. I thought they merely existed, like the Core Stars.’ It was safe to say that, she thought. Lots of people said things like that.

‘The story is that the Jut Massacre moved them. Somebody up there had a son or grandson among the slain, and it made them take the Crystallites seriously. You know they’re reopening the question of native sentience.’

It was safer for her to say nothing at all. ‘Look at that building,’ she marveled. ‘It’s all of six stories tall. It’s a fortress!’ The huge gray structure looked like a monolith, almost windowless, surrounded by high, crenelated walls.

‘You’ve seen it before, but probably not from this angle. It used to have an open square in front of it, right at the eastern edge of town. It’s the BDL Headquarters. Behind it is the Tripsingers’ citadel, and the Governor’s official residence is adjacent, there.’ He indicated a palatial, terraced edifice set among gardens. ‘The reason they’ve added to the Governor’s staff is to take care of this upcoming PEC inquiry. And they’ve beefed up the military in case of further threats from the Crystallite rank and file, though what earthly use we have for this many troopers is anybody’s guess. In the process they’ve made Jubal the garrison planet for the entire system. Everyone assumes someone bribed someone, because the base on Serendipity has been closed and transferred here. And the military have brought their spouses and kids and intimate friends. All of whom need housing and services and food. The town is a mess.’

‘It certainly is,’ she agreed.

‘Splash Two isn’t any better, from what I hear. Nor are any of the smaller cities. Population of the ’Soilcoast cities is supposed to be in excess of two million. Since we haven’t the resources to build up, we’re spreading out. I’m told at this rate of growth, deepsoil space will run out in a few years. The farmers are already screaming at the cost of land, and we need all the farmlands to feed the people. The whole thing doesn’t make sense.’

‘Amazing,’ she murmured, shaking her head. ‘Simply amazing. I think of Northwest City as fairly urban until I come down here. We’re really cushioned from all this growth up there, and I can’t say I’m not glad. What’s that ruckus down there?’

‘Hmm. There’s a Crystallite street demonstration going on. Well, you’ve seen the temple. Might as well see the other side of it. Hear the singing?’

She heard the tuneless wailing, not something that either an Explorer or Tripsinger would have considered singing. ‘What are they up to?’

‘I’ll drive slowly enough that you can see, but put your mask in your lap and don’t stare at them. These are the shock troops, and they aren’t averse to civil disorder. They throw things at people who look like they might be enjoying themselves. As far as they’re concerned, anyone enjoying himself on Jubal is bound to be a heretic!’ The car moved smoothly down the avenue, and Don watched the mob from the corners of her eyes.