A Matter of Oaths (28 page)

The corridor led to an octagonal courtyard, a sunny
water-garden surrounded on all sides by shaded walkways. There were three more
corridors beyond the walkways, and nothing to tempt him up any of them. There
was also a seat where he could sit and watch the fountain; it was as good a
place as any to be found. He did not want his intentions to be mistaken, and he
certainly did not want to give the New Emperor’s security staff any reason to
think he was dangerous; it was too important that he get a hearing. If he
waited here until they came for him — and they would, once his absence from the
tour party had been discovered and the guards in the Throne Room had been
questioned — he might intrigue them enough for them to listen.

It was thirty minutes before anybody came, just one woman
with curly grey hair, short, plump, Joshim’s age or a little younger. Dressed
in black and silver that echoed the livery of the guards in the Throne Room,
she wore a flash-sword at her belt, but she was not a guard. Joshim studied her
with interest, wondering who had taken his bait.

“You like the garden,” she said with a hint of amusement. Her
voice had the soft accent that he associated with Rafe and he flinched
momentarily. She did not miss it.

“Something wrong?” she asked.

“Your voice reminds me of somebody,” he told her.

“And you bear a close resemblance to somebody else.” She sat
down beside him.

“So I’ve discovered, although I don’t know who.”

“Don’t you?” She patently did not believe him. “That didn’t
stop you taking advantage of it.”

“I have a need to be here,” Joshim said mildly. “A need to
talk to the Emperor.”

“Have you?” the woman said dangerously. “Have you indeed,
Webmaster Joshim?”

They had worked quickly to discover his identity. “May I
know your name?” he asked.

“Yulenda.” She watched him closely for a reaction, as if he
might recognize it. “If you have a need to talk to the Emperor,” she continued,
“why are you sitting here?”

“Would I have found him if I’d looked?”

Yulenda laughed, genuinely amused. “No. And you won’t find
him by asking to see him either. Not until I’ve heard what you’ve got to say.”

Joshim searched her face. Not an honest face, because it hid
a great deal, but a face he trusted instinctively.

“It’s about the Old Emperor and the Guild and somebody
called Yuellin Buhklir,” he said, making his decision.

“Is it?” She stood up abruptly. “Then it’s nothing we should
discuss out here. Come to my office to talk.”

“The name means something to you,” Joshim realized, alarmed
by the strength of her reaction.

“Among other things, he was my cousin. And a very good
friend.”

“It’s an interesting story,” Yulenda said thoughtfully. “Do
you have any proof that your Rafe is the same person as Lin?”

“I’ve Rafe’s record and Yuellin’s in my infocorder.” Joshim
set it on the desk in front of him. “If the bio-locks are compared with each
other, and with his medical records if they still exist…”

“I’ll have it done now.” Yulenda clipped the infocorder to
her belt. “You have a personal interest in this, don’t you?” she added
shrewdly.

Joshim nodded. He had not tried to keep his feelings out of
his story, was not surprised that she had detected them. “If the bio-locks
match, what will you do?”

“I’m going to take your story to my superior. He’ll make
that decision.” She paused to study Joshim’s face and smiled, the first time
she had done so. “If you’re telling the truth — and I’d like to believe you are
— your face is one hell of a coincidence. And if you’re not telling the truth,
it was done by one hell of a good surgeon. It isn’t a perfect match, but it’s
damn close.”

“Who
do
I look
like? Somebody Yuellin knew?”

He had the answer before she spoke. Yuellin’s lover. Rafe
had not seen Joshim’s face in the arthane trance; he had seen the face he had
been struggling to see. If they had only realized that then, Joshim thought
bitterly, it would have unlocked the rest of his memory and they would not have
needed to make that catastrophic visit to Central…

“You look like my superior,” Yulenda was saying. “He may
want to talk to you and Commander Rallya himself, so I’ll have her collected
and brought here, when you tell me where to find her.”

“The Archives,” Joshim said automatically. “Trying to find
out who you are. And Yuellin’s lover.” How much of Rafe’s love for him had been
an echo of his love for the stranger who shared his face? Gods, as if that
mattered now, when there was no guarantee that he was even alive…Let us get him
back safely, Joshim prayed, before we start dividing him between us.

“You’d better warn whoever approaches Rallya to be careful,”
he remembered to warn Yulenda. “She’s ready for trouble. One of Julur’s agents
was following us this morning. That’s why we split up.”

“Tall woman, with you when you entered the palace?” When
Joshim nodded, Yulenda frowned. “She’s mine. When we’ve time, I’d like to know
how you spotted her. It shouldn’t happen, at least not when she’s trailing
amateurs. But Rallya’s right to be careful. Braniya and her people are very
thorough. Too much interest in Lin’s history will bring somebody around to ask
why.”

* * *

Rallya dismissed the Court Record (300-325/5008) from her
screen and called up the next in the sequence, cursing under her breath at the
procession of old and worthless news. Aristos getting born and dying, making
alliances and breaking them, winning court appointments and losing them…
Everything, in fact, except the one item she was searching for, the appointment
of a regent for the underage heir to Buhklir.

Getting the date of Yuellin’s succession had been simple;
his obituary gave it, and the name of his cousin, and the names of the aristos
who had attended his memorial rites. But there was no indication that one of
the aristos had meant more to him than the others, that any of them had
attended out of more than duty, in spite of the glowing words of the
death-notice.
Held in deep affection at
court
and
sorely missed
… Rallya
snorted derisively; after she was dead, they would tell similar lies about her.

She had just started to scan the next Court Record when
there was a quiet tap on the door of her carrel. As she turned to look, the
door opened and a stranger stepped inside without waiting to be invited.

“Excuse me, Commander. I must ask you to come with me,” he
said politely.

“Not without knowing who you are,” Rallya said flatly. “And
why.” There was no getting past him to the door, and her ears told her that he
had at least one companion outside; they did not intend to lose her again. She
wondered anxiously what had happened to Joshim and, in passing, how they had
found her.

“Emperor’s security police, ma’am. That’s all I can tell you
here.”

Which Emperor? she asked herself sourly, as if she did not
know. “Prove it,” she challenged him.

“My identification, ma’am.”

Rallya took the proffered card, handed it back after a close
inspection. “Picture looks like you,” she conceded. “And the card looks
impressive. It could be the real thing.” She was willing to bet that it was
close enough to convince anybody who came in response to a call for help. And
though it seemed that they wanted to take her away without attracting
attention, if she refused to move they might find it worthwhile taking her out
unconscious or dead. In neither of those states would she have any chance to
escape. So let him think that she believed him, that she would go with him
meekly.

“Just let me finish up here…” she suggested.

“No need for that, ma’am. One of my colleagues will tidy up
after we’re gone.”

To make sure that there was no record of the material she
had been consulting, no doubt, in case there were questions asked after her
disappearance. Rallya stood up slowly, deliberately favouring her hip. If they
had not been fully briefed, they might believe that she was lame, an advantage
that she could use later.

“I’ll have to search you, ma’am. Orders,” he said
apologetically.

Rallya smiled wintrily. “I understand.” She cooperated in
silence during the search, turning around clumsily when asked.

“This way, ma’am,” he said when he was satisfied that she
was unarmed.

He had two companions outside. One of them slipped into the
carrel that Rallya had just vacated, the other took up position behind her. Her
original captor walked beside her, slowing his pace to accommodate her limp. It
was a short walk to the entrance down the dimly lit exhibition hall with its
displays of ancient documents. As they stepped outside, the intensity of the
light made them all blink. Rallya took her chance before her captors recovered,
swerved away from them down the broad gentle steps to the plaza below, pushing
through the crowds of tourists, seeking shelter in their numbers.

“Police! Stop her!”

The shot that Rallya expected did not come. Held off by fear
of hitting someone else in the crowd? One of the tourists made a half-hearted
grab for her; she kicked him on the knee and left him clutching that instead. The
next one might not be so easy to dissuade… She grabbed the nearest person that
was smaller than her and too slow to get out of her way, wrapped an arm around
his throat and jabbed two fingers into his back, praying he was scared enough
to take them for a weapon.

“Back away, or I kill him!” she shouted harshly.

The crowd moved back reluctantly, clearing a wide circle
around her and her hostage.

“Stay where I can see you!” she ordered her one-time
captors. Not that they cared about the boy’s life, but they had a role to play
and the presence of the crowd would make them obey. She hoped.

“It’s a bluff! She hasn’t got a gun!” the one who had
searched her shouted.

“You missed the knife in my boot!” Rallya yelled back. If
there had been such a knife, only a contortionist could have removed it on the
run, but the crowd was so scared they would believe anything and Julur’s agents
had not had clear sight of her since she broke away from them.

“You can’t get away!” he threatened, a bolt-beamer now in
plain sight.

“Am I trying to?” Rallya said scornfully. “I’m going to wait
here until the
real
police come to
see what’s happening. I assume somebody’s had the sense to call them.”

The boy in her arms was trembling; belatedly she realized
that she was throttling him and she relaxed her hold just enough to let him
breathe. No point in saving herself to face a murder charge.

The hum of an aircar cut through the angry murmuring of the
crowd. Reinforcements for the enemy or support for her? By the look on the
faces of Julur’s people, by their sudden inclination to slip away out of sight,
it was nobody that they welcomed.

“Emperor’s security police! Nobody move!”

The announcement broadcast across the plaza was enough to
sway the crowd. Julur’s agents found their way blocked, the beamers wrenched
from their hands, everyone a hero now that no real risk was involved. Rallya
let her captive go, judging the crowd might take it upon themselves to force
her if she did not. He ran for the dubious shelter of his friends’ arms, as if
she might change her mind if he lingered too long in her vicinity.

“Commander Rallya?” The woman who stepped out of the aircar
was the woman Joshim had spotted that morning. “You’re wanted at the Palace. Your
colleague is waiting for you there.”

Rallya rubbed at her hip, which was taking its revenge for
the unexpected exercise, and watched Julur’s agents being hustled into the
aircar. How in hell had Joshim got himself into the palace?

“If I ask you for proof, you’ll only show me another of
those fancy identity cards,” she told the woman tartly. “Well, I suppose you
can’t all be on the same damned side.”

The resemblance was impossible, Rallya decided, watching
Joshim and Lord Dhur study each other. Face, height, build — all so close, they
could be twins. What were the odds against such a coincidence? Not just of
their appearance, but of their role in Rafe’s life? She shivered; she was too
old to start believing that it was not a coincidence. Far too damn old.

“It’s disturbing,” Dhur said into the uneasy silence. “I
almost didn’t believe Yulenda. Having lived with this face so long, to see it
on somebody else…”

Their voices were not the same, Rallya heard with relief;
that one difference made the similarities less intense.

“You have something else in common,” she reminded them,
calling their attention to the reason they were there.

“Somebody very precious to both of us,” Dhur agreed.

“And currently very precious to the Old Emperor,” Rallya
said sharply. “If the little scut is still alive.”

“He is,” Dhur said, with an irritating and totally unfounded
confidence. “If Julur found a reason to keep him alive for ten years, he won’t
kill him wantonly now.” He gestured around the room to which they had been
brought. “Please, sit down. You weren’t hurt at the Archives earlier, Commander
Rallya? You seem to be limping quite badly.”

Now she knew who had honed the edge on Rafe’s tongue, Rallya
thought as she seated herself with icy precision opposite Dhur, disciplining
herself not to favour her hip.

“Nothing was damaged at the Archives earlier. Except the
secrecy I’d hoped for,” she admitted grudgingly.

“I think not even that,” Yulenda put in. “I sent a team to
clean out Rhalan’s nest as soon as the bio-locks proved Lin was still alive; we
netted Rhalan himself on the plaza. And a F’sair diplomatic courier was
involved in an unfortunate accident at the shuttleport an hour ago; while he
was receiving medical care, the contents of a certain unmarked message capsule
were edited. It will be several days before Braniya realizes I’ve taken Rhalan
out of circulation and asks herself why.”