Day broke windless and freezing cold. The sun stood in a rainbow ring
and ice crackled along the shores of Lake Stoyan. Zorkagrad lay silent
under bitter blue, as if killed. From time to time thunders drifted
across its roofs, arrivals and departures of spacecraft. They gleamed
meteoric. Sometimes, too, airships whistled by, armored vehicles
rumbled, boots slammed on pavement. About noon, one such vessel and one
such march brought Bodin Miyatovich home.
He was as glad to return unheralded. Too much work awaited him for
ceremonies–him and Dominic Flandry. But the news did go out on the
‘casts; and that was like proclaiming Solstice Feast. Folk ran from
their houses, poured in from the land, left their patrols to shout,
dance, weep, laugh, sing, embrace perfect strangers; and every church
bell pealed.
From a balcony of the Zamok he watched lights burn and bob through
twilit streets, bonfires in squares, tumult and clamor. His breath
smoked spectral under the early stars. Frost tinged his beard. “This
can’t last,” he muttered, and stepped back into the office.
When the viewdoor closed behind him, stillness fell except for chimes
now muffled. The chill he had let in remained a while. Flandry, hunched
in a chair, didn’t seem to notice.
Miyatovich gave the Terran a close regard. “You can’t go on either,” he
said. “If you don’t stop dosing yourself and let your glands and nerves
function normally, they’ll quit on you.”
Flandry nodded. “I’ll stop soon.” From caverns his eyes observed a
phonescreen.
The big gray-blond man hung up his cloak. “I’ll admit I couldn’t have
done what got done today, maybe not for weeks, maybe never, without
you,” he said. “You knew the right words, the right channels; you had
the ideas. But we are done. I can handle the rest.”
He went to stand behind his companion, laying ringers on shoulders,
gently kneading. “I’d like to hide from her death myself,” he said.
“Aye, it’s easier for me. I’d thought her lost to horror, and learned
she was lost in honor. While if you and she–Dominic, listen. I made a
chance to call my wife. She’s at our house, not our town house, a place
in the country, peace, woods, cleanness, healing. We want you there.” He
paused. “You’re a very private man, aren’t you? Well, nobody will poke
into your grief.”
“I’m not hiding,” Flandry replied in monotone. “I’m waiting. I expect a
message shortly. Then I’ll take your advice.”
“What message?”
“Interrogation results from a certain Mers–Roidhunate agent we
captured. I’ve reason to think he has some critical information.”
“Hoy?” Miyatovich’s features, tired in their own right, kindled. He cast
himself into an armchair confronting Flandry. It creaked beneath his
weight.
“I’m in a position to evaluate it better than anyone else,” the Terran
persisted. “How long does da Costa insist on keeping his ships here ‘in
case we need further help’?–Ah, yes, five standard days, I remember.
Well, I’ll doubtless need about that long at your house; I’ll be numb,
and afterward–
“I’ll take a printout in my luggage, to study when I’m able. Your job
meanwhile will be to … not suppress the report. You probably couldn’t;
besides, the Empire needs every drop of data we can wring out of what
enemy operatives we catch. But don’t let da Costa’s command scent any
special significance in the findings of this particular ‘probe job.”
The Gospodar fumbled for pipe and tobacco pouch. “Why?”
“I can’t guarantee what we’ll learn, but I have a logical suspicion–Are
you sure you can keep the Dennitzan fleet mobilized, inactive, another
couple of weeks?”
“Yes.” Miyatovich grew patient. “Maybe you don’t quite follow the
psychology, Dominic. Da Costa wants to be certain we won’t rebel. The
fact that we aren’t dispersing immediately makes him leery. He hasn’t
the power to prevent us from whatever we decide to do, but he thinks his
presence as a tripwire will deter secessionism. All right, in five
Terran days his Intelligence teams can establish it’s a bogeyman, and he
can accept my explanation that we’re staying on alert for a spell yet in
case Merseia does attack. He’ll deem us a touch paranoid, but he’ll
return to base with a clear conscience.”