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CHAPTER ELEVEN


The shuttle docked, and Muninn led the way onto the Odinn.

I was expecting an escort, and for once today I was right. Six Iykams were waiting, their expressions the dark neutral of soldiers who’d been ordered to be polite but really, really didn’t want to. They formed a traveling box around me, and with Muninn again leading the way we headed forward. Two corridors later, he opened a hatch and motioned me inside.

And once again I came face-to-face with Sub-Director Nask.

As my father used to say, When the time comes when your worst enemy is down and out and near death, try not to gloat. I didn’t particularly like Nask, though he was hardly my worst enemy. But even if he had been, there was nothing about the setting facing me that even remotely encouraged gloating.

Nask was lying in a contour couch, a wraparound console with half a dozen glowing displays behind and above his head. Three monitor lines and two tubes led from the wraparound and disappeared beneath the temperature-regulating blanket that covered him from the neck on down. His mahogany-red face was drawn and a little pale, but his eyes were bright and alert. “Mr. Roarke,” he said. His voice was raspy, but the words were clear enough. “Thank you for accepting my invitation.”

“You’re welcome,” I said as Muninn stepped to Nask’s side and turned to face me, his expression a sort of stoic glower. Someone else who really didn’t want to be polite. “Though if you’d just asked me, your people wouldn’t have had to do any leaning. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look terrible.”

Nask managed a decent impression of a Patth smile. “I also feel terrible,” he said. He looked sideways up at Muninn, who nodded acknowledgment and made a gesture to our escort. “But the pain and weakness are comforting reminders that I’m still alive.”

“I’m glad,” I said as the Iykams disappeared out into the corridor and the hatch closed behind them. “You may not believe that, but I genuinely am.”

“Perhaps,” Nask said. “I have a question.”

I nodded, wondering uneasily where exactly this was going. The Iykams might be out of position, but if my answer was the wrong one Muninn could certainly take me apart without any of their help. “Which is . . . ?”

“Recall first that you once asked me a similar question,” he said, “stating that I was the only Patthaaunuth you knew personally who wasn’t stupid. I preface mine with the similar qualifier that you are the only human I know who isn’t a wanton and bloodthirsty murderer. So answer me this: Did you or anyone else in the Icarus Group steal my portal and attempt to kill everyone aboard the freighter?”

I took a careful breath. That was indeed the question I’d expected. “No,” I said as calmly and firmly as I could. “I wasn’t involved, and neither was anyone with Icarus.”

“How do you know?” Muninn demanded suspiciously.

“A reasonable question,” Nask agreed. “You do not appear to me to be at the head of their rankings. Could they have done this act without you?”

“I’m sure they do a lot of things without me,” I said. “But this one I’m sure of.” I braced myself. “Because I know who has it.”

People talk about an atmosphere turning electric, but I’d rarely seen one actually do so. This was one of those times. Muninn straightened up to an even more intimidating height than he’d already been born with, and Nask actually sat up a little. “Who?” the Patth asked.

“His name is Cherno,” I said. “He’s a criminal, one of Gaheen’s top regional lieutenants. Sorry, but I don’t know either of their first names.”

“Muninn?” Nask invited.

Muninn’s eyes bored into me another moment as he pulled out an info pad and got to work. “Robertine,” he said. “Robertine Cherno.” He worked at the pad some more. “Mustam Gaheen.”

“And how do you know Cherno has our Janus portal?” Nask asked.

Again, I braced myself. “Because I’ve seen it.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “We were taken there aboard one of Cherno’s yachts, then moved to an opaqued aircar and van. I know it’s within a nine-day flight of Xathru, but it could be anywhere in that sphere.”

Nask looked up at Muninn. “You will seek out this Robertine Cherno,” he said in a graveyard voice. “When you find him, you will have him killed.”

“Whoa,” I said, holding up a hand. “Let’s see if we can find another way first, shall we?”

“Why?” Nask countered.

“For starters, because he has some heavy-hitters of his own on the payroll,” I said. “Not to mention at least one high-priced assassin. You try a frontal assault, and a lot of people will get killed, including a lot of your Iykams.”

“The Iykams’ job is to serve the Patth, wherever and however the Patth choose,” Muninn said stiffly.

“Very commendable,” I said. “Also very wasteful if there are better ways. Did I also mention that it’s a big Spiral and that we have no idea where Cherno and the portal are?”

“You said we,” Nask reminded me. “Was Selene also aboard?”

“Okay, maybe we have some idea,” I conceded. “The area around the hangar on Cherno’s planet included a mix of fir trees and Vyssiluyan pampas grass, with water and algae nearby, which we assume was a pond or lake and not a river. Nearby species included humans, Doolies, and Mastanni, plus other odors too faint to identify. Cherno’s mansion had scents of hyacinth and masala chai, and his garage had Craean lubricating oil for his cars.”

I’d been keeping an eye on Muninn while I rattled off the information, and was mildly amused to see the growing disbelief in his expression. Apparently Nask hadn’t gotten around to telling his minions about Selene’s remarkable abilities.

No, I realized suddenly. Not a minion. Given his position beside Nask, the dismissal of the Iykam guard, his competence at unarmed combat . . . 

“By the way, I see you’ve picked up a new pair of Expediters,” I added, looking back at Nask. “I hope neither of them wants to kill me this time.”

“That depends,” Nask said coolly. “If you’re telling the truth about your involvement in the Janus theft, then no, you have nothing to fear. If you’re lying . . . ”

He stopped, leaving the rest of the threat unspoken. But it wasn’t like I couldn’t connect that particular pair of dots. “I’m not lying,” I assured him. “And while I won’t presume to tell you that I’m as upset as you are about the theft, I am on your side as far as getting it back is concerned.”

“Really,” Nask said, his tone saying he didn’t believe that for a minute. “Now you drift into untruth territory.”

“Actually, I don’t,” I said. “Back when I was a bounty hunter I watched a lot of targets being poached from one hunter by another. I lost a couple that way myself once or twice. It seldom seemed right, and it never seemed fair.”

Muninn gave a snort. “Even children over five know life isn’t fair.”

“Actually, children as young as two know it,” I said. “As my father used to say, A child’s first word is usually not Mama or Dada, but Mine. Don’t expect that priority to ever change.

“Yet it changed for you,” Nask said.

I shrugged. “Having your arm shot off can do things to your view of life.”

“In my experience, it usually just makes you more bitter,” Muninn rumbled.

“You want something less naïvely altruistic?” I asked, feeling a stirring of annoyance. I’d never yet met an Expediter who I really got along with, and Muninn and his buddy were falling right into that pattern. “Fine. Sub-Director Nask had the perfect opportunity to sabotage the Icarus Group’s portal on Fidelio and he didn’t. As far as I’m concerned, that earned him the right to the one he took.”

“Aside from the fact there was little you could do to stop us?” Nask asked with a faint smile.

“We have the chance now,” I said bluntly. “Cherno’s already offered us the portal.”

For a moment both of them were silent. “Yet you tell me where it is,” Nask said at last.

“The description I gave you is hardly definitive,” I said. “Oh, and I also have a sketch of the mountains visible through his office window, which I can give you before I leave. But that’s not going to help you much, either.”

“Yes,” Nask murmured. His brief surge of energy had passed, and he again sagged in his bed. “Let us leave that aside for the moment. Why are you traveling with a hired assassin?”

“That was Cherno’s price for giving us the portal,” I said. “Piper came aboard on Xathru—”

“Who?” Muninn cut in.

“Right,” I said, scowling to myself. “I keep forgetting. A woman named Piper was brought to the Ruth, but before we lifted she was quietly swapped out for a woman calling herself Nikki.”

“Interesting,” Nask said. “Muninn, I take it you know Roarke’s current passenger?”

“I’ve never met her, but I know her reputation,” he said. “Her name is Nicole Schlichting, and she’s—”

Nicole Schlichting?” I echoed, a sudden knot forming in the pit of my stomach. “We have Nicole Schlichting aboard our ship?”

“I take it you know her, too?” Nask asked.

I swallowed hard. Nicole Schlichting was half legend and half watchword among both criminals and bounty hunters. Virtually nothing was known of her: not her face, her voice, her origins, her associates, or where she currently made her home. She was a ghost, able to find and get to her target through even the tightest security. She’d killed dozens or hundreds or thousands, depending on which rumors you believed. She was smart, dependable, ruthless, and she never, ever—

“And she never misses,” I murmured. “She told me that herself. Damn it all. And I never put it together.” I focused again on Muninn. “You’re absolutely sure it’s her? I thought no one knew what she looks like.”

We do,” Muninn said, “Rather, the Patthaaunuth do. And yes, you were seen with her after her near-miss on Vesperin,” He was eyeing me curiously, I noted, as if wondering at my reaction to her name.

Maybe he didn’t put as much stock in the rumors as the rest of us. Or maybe the Patth had come to an agreement with her, and as one of their agents Muninn had that same immunity.

Immunity . . . 

“Your part of the bargain was to bring her to Niskea?” Nask asked.

With an effort I dragged my mind away from Nicole Schlichting and her unerring eye. “Our part was to take her wherever she or Cherno wanted,” I said. “So far our travels all seem pretty random, or at least unfocused.”

“Not to the Yellowdune ruins in Niskea’s northern continent?” he pressed.

“Actually—” I broke off as a minor mystery suddenly came clear. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” I said. “You’re overseeing the Patth search of Yellowdune for the other end of your portal.”

“It seemed to me that finding that end of our Janus would be the quickest way to retrieve our stolen property,” Nask said.

“Definitely worth trying,” I agreed. “That explains all the tension at Lucias Four, too. You’re hitting as many planets on your list as you have resources for.”

“Indeed.” Nask offered a faint smile. “I should perhaps mention that your recent visit there has damaged Arbitor Uvif’s standing considerably.”

“That was not my intent,” I assured him. “All I wanted was the StarrComm facility. If I’d known you had such a tight lock on the planet I’d have chosen somewhere else.”

“No apologies needed,” he said. “Uvif has always had a higher opinion of himself than he merits. But you speak of our list. I assume the Icarus Group has a similar list of their own?”

“I’m sure they do,” I said. “So far they haven’t shared it with us. Our current list came from some fast research by Gaheen’s people after we told Cherno the same thing. Mostly the same thing, anyway.”

“Mostly?”

“He wanted us to activate the portal. I told him it could only be activated from the other half of the dyad.”

Nask looked up at Muninn. “Our understanding of the physics was that the portals in a Janus dyad were identical.”

“As far as I know, they are,” I agreed. “But Selene pitched him an impressive song and dance about master/slave tech, and Cherno didn’t really have a choice but to accept it.”

“Why would she do that?” Nask said.

I looked him straight in the eye. “Because she smelled your scent inside,” I said. “We’ve known Cherno stole it from you since the beginning of this job. That’s why we’ve been stalling him off.”

“Because you care so much about the Patthaaunuth and Patthaaunuth possessions?” Muninn sneered.

“In truth, he does,” Nask said thoughtfully. “Within his personal parameters of fairness and justice. Where then does that leave us?”

I focused on the medical wraparound. Horribly injured during Cherno’s bloody hijacking, possibly having skated very close to death, Nask was nevertheless here overseeing his people’s efforts to find the other end of their stolen portal. Or, if that didn’t work, to maybe find a new and unrelated one they could call their own.

Maybe even a portal like the original Icarus.

“Tell me how Jordan McKell found the original portal,” I said. “I assume you know.”

“Of course I know,” Nask said. “Don’t you?”

“As you pointed out earlier, I’m hardly at the top of the group’s pecking order,” I said. “Let’s start with where they found it.”

Nask hesitated, then gave a small shrug. “It can hardly be considered a secret anymore. An archeological group found it in a set of ruins on Meima.”

“The Trandosh dig, I assume,” I said, nodding. That particular set of ruins were midway down Cherno’s list.

“Yes,” Nask confirmed. “I’m told they originally thought it to be a stardrive that would outstrip even the Talariac’s capabilities. Only later did they realize its true nature.”

“And were probably as flummoxed by it as you were.”

“The Patthaaunuth already had some inklings,” he said evasively. “Why do you ask?”

“Curiosity,” I said. “I hate working on a puzzle when I know someone’s got some of the pieces in his pocket.”

“As you seem to also have,” Nask said. “Would you care to share them with me?”

“As my father used to say, Speculation is like a pleasant aroma you can’t quite pin down and that nine times out of ten will lead you in the wrong direction.

“Very true,” Nask said. “Just the same, I would like to hear it.”

“Oh, come on—let’s be sporting about this,” I chided. “You’ve got the same data I do, and a hell of a lot more resources.”

“You have the Icarus Group.”

When they’re willing to talk to me,” I said. “Which is usually only when they need something.”

Muninn took a step toward me. “Roarke—”

“That’s all right, Muninn,” Nask said. “Mr. Roarke is right to be discreet. I also genuinely believe he would prefer the Patthaaunuth have the portal than the criminals Gaheen and Cherno.”

“I would,” I confirmed, a swirl of thoughts and plans joining all the speculation already whizzing around my brain. “In fact, I’ll go further. If you’ll grant me a favor, I’ll do everything in my power to get Cherno’s portal back to you.”

“You said he’d offered it to the Icarus Group,” Nask said.

“So he did,” I said. “Like I said, let’s be sporting.”

Again, the room filled with silence as the Patth sub-director and his Expediter studied me. “Very well,” Nask said at last. “I accept. What is this favor?”

I took a careful breath. “I need a million commarks.”

I hadn’t yet had a chance to see Muninn truly surprised. The facial expression alone was worth the price of admission. “A million—? Are you out of your mind?”

“Agreed,” Nask said calmly.

Muninn looked down at him, treating me to a nice reprise of the facial show. “Sub-Director—”

“Mr. Roarke isn’t betraying his people for money,” Nask said, his eyes on me. “Whatever this need, it will be connected to his promise.”

“And if all that high-minded talk of fairness was just smoke rings?” Muninn persisted. “And there are protocols that need to be followed for transferring a sum that large.”

“As for the first, remind me to someday tell you about Brandywine,” Nask said. “As for the second, there will be no questions. You’ll draw the necessary bank checks from my personal account before Mr. Roarke leaves the Odinn. Do understand, Mr. Roarke, that I don’t particularly like humans in general or you in particular.”

“I feel the same way toward you and the Patth,” I said evenly. “But I think there are some areas where we can find common ground. Brandywine was one. This is another.”

“We shall soon find out,” Nask said.

“We shall,” I agreed. “One last thing. Do you have a mail drop or other number in case I need to contact you?”

“If there’s need for communication, Sub-Director Nask will contact you,” Muninn put in.

“And if Sub-Director Nask doesn’t realize we need to talk?” I asked.

“Roarke—”

“Calmness, Muninn,” Nask interrupted mildly. “Mr. Roarke is right. You can call this number, and the message will get to me.” He rattled off the standard eighteen digits of a StarrComm number. “I trust you won’t need to write that down?”

“No, sir, I’ve got it,” I assured him. Years of memorizing StarrComm contact information for people who also didn’t want such things written down had honed my memory skills considerably. “Thank you.”

“I’ll expect to hear from you in due time,” Nask said. “Until then, best of fortune in your hunt. Muninn, please escort him back to the Badlands and his ship.”

“Thank you in turn, Sub-Director,” I said, giving him a small bow. “I wish you a speedy recovery.”

“Thank you,” Nask said. “And may we exact an equally speedy vengeance upon those who murdered my people.”

I swallowed. “Yes. Indeed.”

* * *

My biggest fear on the way down was that Nask would call ahead and order Huginn to do something vague but nasty with Selene, if only to safeguard the million commarks now tucked away in my wallet. To my relief, I arrived at the Ruth to find Selene already aboard and Huginn long gone.

“How is Sub-Director Nask?” she asked after we’d both expressed our relief that the other was unharmed and retreated to the dayroom.

“Banged up pretty badly,” I said, wincing at the memory. “He was apparently aboard the transport when Cherno’s men hit it, and only survived because they thought he was already dead. I’ll have to remember to get that whole story next time we meet.” I cocked an eyebrow at her. “You knew it was Nask, didn’t you? You smelled him on Huginn and Muninn.”

She nodded. “I didn’t want them to know I could do that.” Her pupils went rueful. “And I knew that if Nask was asking for you, and if they were Expediters, there was probably no way to get out of it.”

“True on all counts,” I agreed. “Though I spent several bad minutes after recognizing the Odinn wondering if Nask was dead and his successor was looking for a scapegoat. I trust you got through to the admiral?”

“I did,” she said. “And Huginn kept his word about letting me make the call in privacy.”

“Given the Patth ability to tap into StarrComm’s system, not sure how much of a sacrifice that was on his part,” I said. “Okay. Go.”

“The admiral is not at all happy with how this is going,” Selene said. “He furthermore pointed out that once Cherno gets the portal working he has no reason to keep us alive.”

“Known that one for a while,” I agreed. “Just means we need to keep him needing us until we’re ready to bail.”

“That was what I told him,” Selene said. “I also told him about Cherno’s six-week timeline and suggested he try to find a likely target for Nikki and figure out where that target would be at that time. That might narrow down the possibilities.”

“Sounds reasonable,” I said. “Especially since her half-million commark fee puts her skills out of reach of most locals. Someone big or famous or powerful, then.”

“That was the admiral’s conclusion, too,” Selene said. “He also warned that even if her fee eliminates local politicians or troublemakers the potential target list will likely be longer than the roster of possibilities for Cherno’s mystery planet. But he promised to try.”

“Good,” I said. “Speaking of mysteries, Muninn also told me that our friend Piper is in fact Nicole Schlichting.”

Selene’s pupils went wide with surprise and dread. “The Nicole Schlichting?”

“That’s what he says,” I said. “Now that I think about it, I really ought to have picked up on it earlier. The half-million commark fee, the never-miss boast—they should have clued me in that we weren’t talking about a run-of-the-road assassin.”

“And the part about not targeting people who’ve hired her?”

I shrugged. “That was a new one on me, but why not? It’s also not the sort of thing you talk about in public. I’m pretty sure her clients and prospective clients are fully aware of it, though.”

“Very likely,” Selene said, some of the anxiety in her pupils giving way to thoughtfulness. “But then why tell you?”

“Why let us see her face in the first place?” I countered. “Why offer me details about her that might help me figure out who she is? I don’t have answers to any of those.”

“And why is an Expediter able to identify her when InterSpiral Law Enforcement can’t?”

“All good questions,” I agreed. “Hopefully, we’ll be able to get some answers down the road.”

“Yes,” Selene murmured. “Though you know, that half-million commark protection guarantee might not be a bad idea. Announcing that such a payment will keep a person safe from her would probably bring in billions from people with rich enemies and bad consciences.”

“True,” I said. “On the other hand, that half million isn’t just a retainer. You have to also hire her to kill someone.”

“People with bad consciences usually have someone they want dead.”

“I suppose,” I conceded. “Maybe she’s saving a public announcement and cash-grab for her retirement party. Anything else from the admiral?”

“He gave me the Icarus Group’s list of ruins that might match those of the Erymant Temple.” Pulling out her info pad, she handed it over. “Tell me what you see.”

I ran my eye down the list. Niskea, Kiva, Jondervais, Lucias Four . . . 

I frowned, running it again. Niskea, Kiva, Jondervais, Lucias Four . . . 

I looked up at Selene. “Meima,” I said. “It’s on Cherno’s list, but not the admiral’s.”

“I noticed that, too,” Selene said. “An accidental oversight, do you think?”

I snorted. “With detail-obsessive Admiral Sir Graym-Barker? Not likely.” I handed the info pad back. “Even more interestingly, Nask told me that the Icarus—McKell’s original portal—was discovered in a dig on Meima. Coincidence?”

“With alien portals? Not likely,” Selene said, a touch of humor in her pupils. “Maybe that’s the reason the admiral left Meima off the list. Because they already found a portal there.”

“Maybe,” I said. “On the other hand, there were two Geminis on Fidelio, and right next to each other, too. Who says there can’t be two on Meima?”

“True,” Selene said, watching me closely as the humor faded from her pupils. “But Geminis are single-route portals. The Icarus is full-range. If the—what do we call them, Gregory, the ones who built the portals? We have to call them something.

“I suppose we could go with the Builders,” I said. “Or we could try for something catchier, like maybe the Portalines?”

“Or the Icari?”

I mentally tasted the word. Not only was it catchy and classical sounding, but McKell would probably hate it. “Sounds good,” I said. “Icari it is.”

“All right,” Selene said. “So if the Icari had a full-range portal already there, why would they also need a Gemini?”

“Good question,” I agreed. “Maybe because the Geminis are single-routes?”

Some puzzlement rose into her pupils. “I don’t follow.”

“Not sure I do, either,” I conceded. “But here’s how I see it.”

I paused, frowning, as my phone vibed. Who on Niskea even had my number? I keyed it on. “Roarke.”

“This is Nikki,” Nikki’s familiar voice came.

I scowled. No, not just Nikki. Nicole Schlichting.

But that was a conversation for another day. “Hi,” I said as casually as I could. “How’s the shopping trip going?”

“It’s going fine,” she said. “I just called to tell you I’m going to be longer than I originally expected.”

“How much longer?”

“Possibly as long as five days.”

I hissed silently. Her three-day side trip had already threatened to gouge a big divot out of our already tight schedule. Throwing in two more days would shred it completely.

Unless I was right about Meima, which would make the delay mostly irrelevant. But again, a conversation for another day. “You sure you can’t get what you need somewhere else?”

“Like I told you earlier, an artist like Bonno can take up to five days for a custom job,” she said. “Maybe even six, but probably only five. I just called to say this would be a good time for you to go do your touristing bit.”

“I thought you wanted us to stay here.”

“That was before Bonno decided it would be five days,” she said with exaggerated patience. “Like I said, an artist. Just be back before the reservation runs out on the pad or you’ll lose it.”

“Understood,” I said. “Any good restaurants to recommend?”

“Do I look like a food critic?” she shot back. “Just be back in five or you’ll buy yourselves a little slice of barbequed hell.”

“Got it,” I said. “We’ll see you soon.”

“Count on it,” she said. The phone made a double click and went dead.

I lowered the phone and looked at Selene. “You heard?”

She nodded. “She said that Bonno could take up to five days for the job.”

“Right.”

“But before she left, she told us Franck never needs more than three days.”

“Right again,” I said. “So: new names and new numbers. Thoughts?”

“I think it’s obvious,” Selene said quietly. “She’s trying to send us a message.”

I nodded. “Which means she’s in trouble.”

“Yes,” Selene said. “And needs us to come rescue her.”


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