“Their point man,” Teg said. “Patrin took care of him and we put one of my uniforms on him. It was enough to fool the Face Dancers because we didn’t let them see the face before we attacked. They didn’t have time to make a memory print.”
“You know about that?” Lucilla was startled.
“Bellonda briefed me thoroughly!”
Abruptly, Lucilla saw the further significance of what Teg said. She suppressed a swift flare of anger. “How did you let one of them get into the courtyard?”
His voice mild, Teg said: “There was rather urgent activity in here. I had to make a choice, which turned out to be the right one.”
She did not try to hide her anger. “The choice to let Duncan fend for himself?”
“To leave him in your care or let other attackers get themselves firmly entrenched inside. Patrin and I had a bad time clearing this wing. We had our hands full.” Teg glanced at Duncan. “He came through very well, thanks to our training.”
“That . . . that thing almost got him!”
“Lucilla!” Teg shook his head. “I had it timed. You two could last at least a minute out there. I knew you would throw yourself in that thing’s path and sacrifice yourself to save Duncan. Another twenty seconds.”
At Teg’s words, Duncan turned a shiny-eyed look on Lucilla. “Would you have done that?”
When Lucilla did not respond, Teg said: “She would have done that. ”
Lucilla did not deny it. She remembered now, though, the incredible speed with which Duncan had moved, the dazzling shifts of his attack.
“Battle decisions,” Teg said, looking at Lucilla.
She accepted this. As usual, Teg had made the correct choice. She knew, though, that she would have to communicate with Taraza. The prana-bindu accelerations in this ghola went beyond anything she had expected. She stiffened as Teg straightened to full alert, his gaze on the doorway behind her. Lucilla whirled.
Schwangyu stood there, Patrin behind her, another heavy lasgun over his arm. Its muzzle, Lucilla noted, was aimed at Schwangyu.
“She insisted,” Patrin said. There was an angry set to the old aide’s face. The deep lines beside his mouth pointed downward.
“There’s a trail of bodies clear out to the south pillbox,” Schwangyu said. “Your people won’t let me out there to inspect. I command you to countermand those orders immediately.”
“Not until my clean-up crews are finished,” Teg said.
“They’re still killing people out there! I can hear it!” A venomous edge had entered Schwangyu’s voice. She glared at Lucilla.
“We’re also questioning people out there,” Teg said.
Schwangyu shifted her glare to Teg. “If it’s too dangerous here then we will take the . . . the child to my quarters. Now!”
“We will not do that,” Teg said. His tone was low-key but positive.
Schwangyu stiffened with displeasure. Patrin’s knuckles went white on the stock of his lasgun. Schwangyu swung her gaze past the gun and up to Lucilla’s appraising stare. The two women looked into each other’s eyes.
Teg allowed the moment to hold for a beat, then said: “Lucilla, take Duncan into my sitting room.” He nodded toward a door behind him.
Lucilla obeyed, pointedly keeping her body between Schwangyu and Duncan the whole time.
Once behind the closed door, Duncan said: “She almost called me ‘the ghola.’ She’s really upset.”
“Schwangyu has let several things slip past her guard,” Lucilla said.
She glanced around Teg’s sitting room, her first view of this part of his quarters: the Bashar’s inner sanctum. It reminded her of her own quarters — that same mixture of orderliness and casual disarray. Reading spools lay in a clutter on a small table beside an old-fashioned chair upholstered in soft gray. The spool reader had been swung aside as though its user had just stepped out for a moment, intending to return soon. A Bashar’s black uniform jacket lay across a nearby hard chair with sewing material in a small open box atop it. The jacket’s cuff showed a carefully patched hole.
So he does his own mending.
This was an aspect of the famous Miles Teg she had not expected. If she had thought about it, she would have said Patrin would absorb such chores.