obtained the story–or part of the story–behind the Starkad affair. You
are either very capable, Dominic Flandry, or else very lucky, and I
wonder if there may not be a destiny in you.”
The term he used was obscure, probably archaic, and the man had to guess
its meaning from context and cognation. Fate? Mana? Odd phrasing for a
scientist.
“In return,” Ydwyr finished, “I will do what I can to protect you.” With
the bleak honesty of his class: “I do not promise to succeed.”
“Do you think, sir … I might ever be released?” Flandry asked.
“No. Not with the information you hold. Or not without so deep a memory
wiping that no real personality would remain. But you should find life
tolerable in my service.”
If you find my service worthwhile, Flandry realized, and if higher-ups
don’t overrule you when they learn about me. “I have no doubt I shall,
sir. Uh, maybe I can begin with a suggestion, for you to pass on to the
qanryf if you see fit.”
Ydwyr waited.
“I heard the lords speaking about, uh, ordering that the man who hired
me–Leon Ammon–” might as well give him the name, it’ll be in Rax’s
dispatch “–that he be eliminated, to eliminate knowledge of Wayland
from the last Terrans. I’d suggest going slow and cautious there. You
know how alarmed and alerted they must be, sir, even on sleepy old
Irumclaw Base, when I haven’t reported in. It’d be risky passing on an
order to your agents, let alone having them act. Best wait awhile.
Besides, I don’t know myself how many others Ammon told. I should think
your operatives ought to make certain they’ve identified everyone who
may be in on the secret, before striking.
“And there’s no hurry, sir. Ammon hasn’t any ship of his own, nor dare
he hire one of the few civilian craft around. Look how easy it was to
subvert the interplanetary ferrier we used, without ever telling him
what a treasure was at stake. Oh, you haven’t heard that detail yet,
have you, sir? It’s part of how I was trapped.
“Ammon will have to try discovering what went wrong; then killing those
who betrayed him, or those he can find or thinks he’s found; and making
sure they don’t kill him first; and locating another likely-looking
scoutship pilot, and sounding him out over months, and waiting for
assignment rotation to put him on the route passing nearest Wayland,
and–Well, don’t you see, sir, nothing’s going to happen that you need
bother about for more than a year? If you want to be ultra-cautious, I
suppose you can post a warcraft in the Mimirian System; I can tell you
the coordinates, though frankly, I think you’d be wasting your effort.
But mainly, sir, your side has everything to lose and nothing to gain by
moving fast against Ammon.”
“Khraich.” Ydwyr rubbed palm across chin, a sandpapery sound–under the
storm-noise–despite his lack of beard. “Your points are well taken.
Yes, I believe I will recommend that course to Morioch. And, while my
authority in naval affairs is theoretically beneath his, in practice–”
His glance turned keen. “I take for granted, Dominic Flandry, you speak
less in the hope of ingratiating yourself with me than in the hope of
keeping events on Irumclaw in abeyance until you can escape.”
“Uh–uh, well, sir–”
Ydwyr chuckled. “Don’t answer. I too was a young male, once. I do trust
you won’t be so foolish as to try a break. If you accomplished it, the
planet would soon kill you. If you failed, I would have no choice but to
turn you over to Morioch’s inquisitors.”
XIII
—-
The airbus was sturdier and more powerful than most, to withstand
violent weather. But the sky simmered quiet beneath its high gray cloud
deck when Flandry went to the Domrath.
That was several of Talwin’s eighteen-hour days after he had arrived.
Ydwyr had assigned the humans a room in the building that housed his
scientific team. They shared the mess there. The Merseian civilians were
cordial and interested in them. The two species ate each other’s food
and drank each other’s ale with, usually, enjoyment as well as