X

A Knight of Ghosts and Shadows by Poul Anderson. Chapter 17, 18, 19, 20

to go through motions, by youth and hope, by his presence beside her.

Whereas I–ah, well, I can carry on. She’d’ve wanted me to.

The door chimed. What the deuce? His guards had kept him alone among

electronic ghosts. Whoever got past them at last in person must be

authoritative and persuasive. He waved at an admit plate and to turn the

lights back on. Their brightness hurt his eyes.

A slim green form in a white kilt entered, bearing a tray where stood

teapot, cup, plates and bowls of food. “Your dinner, sir,” Chives

announced.

“I’m not hungry,” said the clockwork. “I didn’t ask for–”

“No, sir. I took the liberty.” Chives set his burden down on the desk.

“Allow me to remind you, we require your physical fitness.”

Her planet did. “Very good, Chives.” Flandry got down some soup and

black bread. The Shalmuan waited unobtrusively.

“That did help,” the man agreed. “You know, give me the proper pill and

I might sleep.”

“You–you may not wish it for the nonce, sir.”

“What?” Flandry sharpened his regard. Chives had lost composure. He

stood head lowered, tail a-droop, hands hard clasped: miserable.

“Go on,” Flandry said. “You’ve gotten me nourished. Tell me.”

The voice scissored off words: “It concerns those personnel, sir, whom

you recall the townsmen took into custody.”

“Yes. I ordered them detained, well treated, till we can check them out

individually. What of them?”

“I have discovered they include one whom I, while a fugitive,

ascertained had come to Zorkagrad several days earlier. To be frank,

sir, this merely confirmed my suspicion that such had been the case. I

must have been denounced by a party who recognized your speedster at the

port and obtained the inspectors’ record of me. This knowledge must then

have made him draw conclusions and recommend actions with respect to

Voivode Vymezal.”

“Well?”

“Needless to say, sir, I make no specific accusations. The guilt could

lie elsewhere than in the party I am thinking of.”

“Not measurably likely, among populations the size we’ve got.” Beneath

the drumhead of imposed emotionlessness, Flandry felt his body stiffen.

“Who?”

Seldom did he see Chives’ face distorted. “Lieutenant Commander Dominic

Hazeltine, sir. Your son.”

XVIII

—–

Two militiamen escorted the prisoner into the office. “You may go,”

Flandry told them.

They stared unsurely from him, standing slumped against night in a

window, to the strong young man they guarded. “Go,” Flandry repeated.

“Wait outside with my servant. I’ll call on the intercom when I want

you.”

They saluted and obeyed. Flandry and Hazeltine regarded each other,

mute, until the door had closed. The older saw an Imperial undress

uniform, still neat upon an erect frame, and a countenance half Persis’

where pride overmastered fear. The younger saw haggardness clad in a

soiled coverall.

“Well,” Flandry said at last. Hazeltine extended a hand. Flandry looked

past it. “Have a seat,” he invited. “Care for a drink?” He indicated

bottle and glasses on his desk. “I remember you like Scotch.”

“Thanks, Dad.” Hazeltine spoke as low, free of the croak in the opposite

throat. He smiled, and smiled again after they had both sat down holding

their tumblers. Raising his, he proposed, “Here’s to us. Damn few like

us, and they’re all dead.”

They had used the ancient toast often before. This time Flandry did not

respond. Hazeltine watched him a moment, grimaced, and tossed off a

swallow. Then Flandry drank.

Hazeltine leaned forward. His words shook. “Father, you don’t believe

that vapor about me. Do you?”

Flandry took out his cigarette case. “I don’t know what else to

believe.” He flipped back the lid. “Somebody who knew Chives and the

Hooligan fingered him. The date of your arrival fits in.” He chose a

cigarette. “And thinking back, I find the coincidence a trifle much that

you called my attention to Kossara Vymezal precisely when she’d reached

Terra. I was a pretty safe bet to skyhoot her off to Diomedes, where she

as an inconvenient witness and I as an inconvenient investigator could

be burked in a way that’d maximize trouble.” He puffed the tobacco into

lighting, inhaled, streamed smoke till it veiled him, and sighed: “You

were overeager. You should have waited till she’d been used at least a

Page: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23

Categories: Anderson, Poul
curiosity:
Related Post