{At last Eonan told Kossara about a person in the mountain community
Salmenbrok who could give her some useful tidings. If she liked, he
would take her and Trohdwyr on his gravsled–he didn’t trust her vehicle
in these airs–and introduce them. More he would not yet say. They
accepted eagerly.
Aloft he shifted course. “I bespoke one in Salmenbrok because I feared
spies overhearing,” he explained. “The truth is, they are four in a cave
whom we will visit. I have asked them about you, and they will have you
as guests while you explore each other’s intents.”
She thought in unease that when the Diomedean went back, she and her
companion would be left flightless, having brought no gravbelts along.
The ychan got the same realization and growled. She plucked up the nerve
to shush him and say, “Fine.”
The two men and two women she met were not her kind. Racial types,
accents, manners, their very gaits belied it. Eonan talked to them and
her passionately, as if they really were Dennitzans who had come to
prepare the liberation of his folk. She bided in chill and tension,
speaking little and nothing to contradict, until he departed. Then she
turned on them and cried, “What’s this about?” Her hand rested on her
sidearm. Trohdwyr bulked close, ready to attack with pistol, knife,
tail, foot-claws if they threatened her.
Steve Johnson smiled, spread empty fingers, and replied, “Of course
you’re puzzled. Please come inside where it’s warmer and we’ll tell
you.” The rest behaved in equally friendly wise.
Their story was simple in outline. They too were Imperial subjects, from
Esperance. That planet wasn’t immensely remote from here. True to its
pacifistic tradition, it had stayed neutral during the succession fight,
declaring it would pledge allegiance to whoever gave the Empire peace
and law again. (Kossara nodded. She had heard of Esperance.) But this
policy required a certain amount of armed might and a great deal of
politicking and intriguing abroad, to prevent forcible recruitment by
some or other pretender. The Esperancians thus got into the habit of
taking a more active role than hitherto. Conditions remained
sufficiently turbulent after Hans was crowned to keep the habit in tune.
When their Intelligence heard rumors of Ythrian attempts to foment
revolution on Diomedes, their government was immediately concerned.
Esperance was near the border of Empire and Domain. Agents were smuggled
onto Diomedes to spy out the truth–discreetly, since God alone knew
what the effect of premature revelations might be. Johnson’s party was
such a band.
“Predecessors of ours learned Dennitzans were responsible,” he said.
“Not Avalonian humans serving Ythri, but Dennitzan humans serving their
war lord!”
“No!” Kossara interrupted, horrified. “That isn’t true! And he’s not a
war lord!”
“It was what the natives claimed, Mademoiselle Vymezal,” the
Asian-looking woman said mildly. “We decided to try posing as
Dennitzans. Our project had learned enough about the underground–names
of various members, for instance–that it seemed possible, granted the
autochthons couldn’t spot the difference. Their reaction to us does
indicate they … well, they have reason to believe Dennitzans are
sparking their movement. We’ve been, ah, leading them on, collecting
information without actually helping them develop paramilitary
capabilities. When Eonan told us an important Dennitzan had arrived,
openly but with hints she could be more than a straightforward
scientist–naturally, we grew interested.”
“Well, you’ve been fooled,” burst from Kossara. “I’m here to, to
disprove those exact same charges against us. The Gospodar, our head of
state, he’s my uncle and he sent me as his personal agent. I should
know, shouldn’t I? And I tell you, he’s loyal. We are!”
“Why doesn’t he proclaim it?” Johnson asked.
“Oh, he is making official representations. But what are they worth?
Across four hundred light-years–We need proof. We need to learn who’s
been blackening us and why.” Kossara paused for a sad smile. “I don’t
pretend I can find out much. I’m here as a, a forerunner, a scout. Maybe
that special Navy team working out of Thursday Landing–have you heard
about them?–maybe they’ll exonerate us without our doing anything.
Maybe they already have. The commander didn’t act suspicious of me.”
Johnson patted her hand. “I believe you’re honest, Mademoiselle,” he