SERPENT’S REACH BY C.J. Cherryh

Itavvy nodded.

“Ser Itavvy, after today, an identity will be established, one ser Merek Sed. He will be a very wealthy man, with properties on several worlds, with trade license, and an account in intercomp, a number I shall give you. You will be that individual. He will be a creator. of art. I shall purchase art for the decoration of my house . . . and so will ser Isan Tel. Be discreet at first, ser Itavvy. Too ostentatious a display of your new wealth would raise fatal questions. But if you are clever—Merek Sed can retire in great comfort. You have family, ser Itavvy?”

He nodded again, breathing with difficulty. “Wife. A daughter.”

“They also can be built into Merek Sed’s identity. Untraceable. Only you and I know how he was born. Once off Istra, utterly safe. I will put your wife and daughter into those records too, and give you their new citizen numbers . . . at a price.”

“What—price?”

“Loyalty. To me. Discretion. Absolute.” She tore off a sheet from a notepad and picked up a pen, wrote three numbers. “The first is a number by which you can contact me. Do so tomorrow. The second is the citizen number of ser Merek Sed. The third is an account number which will provide you an earnest of things to come. Use only cash-machines, no credit purchases . . . don’t patronise the same store repeatedly. Create no patterns and don’t let others know how much your fortunes have improved. Recall that if you’re suspected, the consequences to me are mere annoyance; to you . . . rather more serious. For your family also. I can defend myself from my annoyances. But I fear that they would devour others, ser Itavvy.” She held up the paper.

He took it.

“The delivery,” she said, “of the guards for my house . . . today?”

“Yes.”

“And all equipage with them?”

“Yes. That can be arranged. We have warehouse access.”

“And the transfer of the azi to the Tel estate?”

“Will begin today, sera. I could suggest an abbreviated training, if only the use of arms is required, and not specialised security—“

“Hastening the program?”

“Hastening it by half, Kontrin.”

“Acceptable.”

“If the authorisations to clear the papers on the others could be given—”

“Not from this terminal, ser, but if you’ll check after your delivery’ to my house, number 47A, if you’ll kindly make a note of that, you may find that certain problems have vanished. And the Tel estate access is South Road 3. You have all that?”

“Yes, sera.”

She smiled. “Thank you, ser Itavvy. Payment will clear at delivery. And a further matter: should you ever notice on your housecomp a call from ser Tel in person . . . check the Sed account at once. There’ll be passage for Sed and family, to ISPAK and elsewhere. It would be wise at that point to use it. I do take care of my agents, ser, if it’s ever necessary.”

“Sera,” he breathed.

“We’re agreed, then.” She rose, offered her chitin-sheathed hand with deliberation, knowing how betas hated contact with it. Itavvy took it with gingerly pleasure, rising.

“Jim,” she said softly then, drew him with her, out of the office.

And in the foyer she looked back. Itavvy had not come out of his office . . . would not perhaps, for a small space. She took Jim’s arm. “All right?” she asked.

Jim nodded. Upset, she thought, how not? But he shored no signs of worse disturbance. She pressed his arm, let it go, led the way to the door.

The car still waited. She looked right and left, walked out into the heat. The filtered light coming down the huge well to the pavement was not screened enough: the ventilation was insufficient. When they reached the car, Merry opened the door with a look of vast relief and started the air-conditioning at once. He was drenched with sweat, his blond hair plastered about his face.

“Everything all right?” she asked, letting Jim in.

“At the house . . . quiet. No trouble.”

Raen closed the door, looked back yet again at Jim. He looked none the worse for the experience, even here, where he might have given way in private. He seemed quite composed, quite—she thought with disturbance—as composed as the faces which had looked up at them from the cells, silent, incapable of tears.

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141

Leave a Reply 0

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *