A Circus of Hells by Poul Anderson. Part five

sharp-edge boy.” He stroked his chins. “You thought about maybe

resigning your commission? I could use a sharp-edge boy. You know I pay

good. Right?”

“I’ll know that when I’ve counted the bundle,” Flandry said. He inhaled

the tobacco into lighting and rolled smoke around his palate.

The gross bulk wallowed forward in its chair. The bald countenance

hardened. “What about the agent who got to Djana?” Ammon demanded. “And

what about her?”

“Ah, yes,” Flandry answered. “You owe her a tidy bit, you realize.”

“What? After she–”

“After she, having been trapped because of your misguided sense of

economy, obtained for you the information that you’ve been infiltrated,

yes, dear heart, you are in her debt.” Flandry smiled like a tiger.

“Naturally, I didn’t mention the incident in my official report. I can

always put my corps on the trail of those Merseian agents without

compromising myself, as for example by sending an anonymous tip.

However, I felt you might prefer to deal with them yourself. Among other

inducements, they’ve probably also corrupted members of your esteemed

competitor associations. You might well obtain facts useful in your

business relationships. I’m confident your interrogators are

persuasive.”

“They are,” Ammon said. “Who is the spy?”

Djana started to speak. Flandry forestalled her with a reminding

gesture. “The information is the property of this young lady. She’s

willing to negotiate terms for its transfer. I am her agent.”

Sweat studded Ammon’s visage. “Pay her–when she tried to sell me out?”

“My client Djana will be leaving Irumclaw by the first available ship.

Incidentally, I’m booking passage on the same one. She needs funds for

her ticket, plus a reasonable stake at her destination, whatever it may

be.”

Ammon spat a vileness. The Gorzunian sensed rage and bunched his shaggy

body for attack.

Flandry streamed smoke out his nose. “As her agent,” he went mildly on,

“I’ve taken the normal precautions to assure that any actions to her

detriment will prove unprofitable. You may as well relax and enjoy this,

Leon. It’ll be expensive at best, and the rate goes up if you use too

much of our valuable time. I repeat, you can take an adequate return out

of the hide of that master spy, when you’ve purchased the name.”

Ammon waved his goon back. Hatred thickening his voice, he settled down

to dicker.

No liners plied this far out. The Cha-Rina was a tramp freighter with a

few extra accommodations modifiable for various races. She offered

little in the way of luxuries. Flandry and Djana brought along what

pleasant items they were able to find in Old Town’s stores. No other

humans were aboard, and apart from the skipper, who spent her free hours

in the composition of a caterwauling sonata, the Cynthian crew spoke

scant Anglic. So they had privacy.

Their first few days of travel were pure hedonism. To sleep out the

nightwatch, lie abed till the clock said noon, loaf about and eat,

drink, read, watch a projected show, play handball, listen to music,

make love in comfort–before everything else, to have no dangers and no

duties–seemed ample splendor. But the ship approached Ysabeau, itself

richly endowed with cities and a transfer point for everywhere else in

the bustling impersonal vastness of the Empire; and they had said

nothing yet about the future.

“Captain’s dinner,” Flandry decreed. While he stood over the cook, and

ended preparing most of the delicacies himself, Djana ornamented their

cabin with what cloths and furs she could find. Thereafter she spent a

long while ornamenting herself. For dress she chose the thinnest,

fluffiest blue gown she owned. Flandry returned, slipped into

red-and-gold mufti, and popped the cork on the first champagne bottle.

They dined, and drank, and chatted, and laughed through a couple of

hours. He pretended not to see that she was forcing her mirth. The

moment when he must notice came soon enough.

He poured brandy, lounged back, sniffed and sipped. “Aahh! Almost as

tasty as you, my love.”

She regarded him across the tiny, white-clothed table. Behind her a

viewscreen gave on crystal dark and a magnificence of stars. The ship

shivered and hummed ever so faintly, the air was fragrant with odors

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