The Thirteenth Man (7 page)

He spotted Gaida, looking at him as if he'd brought a bad smell into the room, and across the floor he caught a glimpse of Del. No, he reminded himself, Delilah, the royal princess, daughter of a man who, if he really was conspiring with the Syndonese, seemed more enemy than king. And he couldn't ignore the possibility that Lucius might have been complicit in the assassination attempt with the hunter bot and the flying snake. Charlie didn't want to think about more lives lost in a useless little war.

A few minutes later he found himself drink in hand, chatting with a young woman who insisted on quizzing him about the conditions in a Syndonese prison camp. She'd introduced herself, but he didn't remember her name, probably because he couldn't take his mind off Del, and his gaze kept drifting her way.

“Commander Cass.” Charlie turned toward the voice as a short, fat man dressed in flowing church robes descended upon him.

Charlie bowed his head as the briefing Winston had loaded into his implants kicked in. “Archcanon Taffallo.”

“Charles—­you don't mind if I call you Charles—­of course not.” Taffallo hooked one of Charlie's arms and looked at the young woman. “You don't mind if I steal this young man, do you, my dear?”

The young woman curtsied deeply, bowing forward, and as she did so the top of her dress opened slightly, exposing some attractive cleavage. Charlie caught Taffallo eyeing it greedily as the young woman said, “Of course not, Your Eminence.”

Taffallo dragged Charlie away by his arm. “Now, young Charles, I wanted to ask your thoughts on the Syndonese negotiations. They say you know the Syndonese better than anyone.”

At finally hearing solid confirmation that someone was negotiating something with the Syndonese, Charlie tried to keep a neutral look on his face. He shrugged. “I'm afraid that
they
are exaggerating.”

“Oh come now, Charles. Don't be modest. You defeated them rather handily at Solista.”

Charlie wasn't going to admit he knew nothing of the negotiations. Maybe Taffallo would spill something. “That was luck, Your Eminence. These negotiations require a political savvy that I don't have. Perhaps you should ask Duke Cesare, or Lord Arthur.”

Taffallo raised an eyebrow. “I see you're an expert at the fine art of polite evasion. Now, that's the mark of a politician, Charles.”

As they talked, Taffallo led Charlie to a rather select group, most of whom he'd never before met, but all of whom were included in Winston's briefing. Protocol demanded that Charlie acknowledge them in order of rank.

Charlie bowed first to Martino, the handsome heir to the throne who seemed to want to make every hour of the day a party. “Your Royal Highness. I'm honored.”

Martino swayed on his feet, already a bit drunk, and barely acknowledged Charlie with a nod. He was clearly more intent on the pretty young woman hanging on his arm.

Charlie bowed next to Nadama, one of the three most powerful ­people in the Realm. “Your Grace.”

Nadama merely nodded. The Duke de Satarna rivaled Cesare for power, and the two were almost always at odds.

Charlie turned to Karlok, Duke de Tarris. “Your Grace.”

“Commander Cass.” Karlok was nowhere near as powerful as Cesare or Nadama, but he was the king's man. Lucius had bought him off by agreeing to marry one of his nieces to Karlok's third son, and to deliver her along with a nice title and a rather sizable dowry of property and estates.

Charlie finished by bowing to Dieter, Nadama's heir and the future head of House de Satarna. “Your Lordship.”

Last, he bowed to Theode. “Your Lordship.”

Dieter was tall, handsome, and Charlie had heard that, like his father, more machine than human. “Cass,” Dieter said. “So, you're the hero.”

Charlie shrugged. “I think my heroism is based little on my exploits, of which there are few, and more on the vid coverage contracted for by His Majesty following my demise, though I suspect the vid coverage would've been considerably less had His Majesty had foreknowledge of my resurrection.”

Dieter chuckled, Karlok laughed openly, while Nadama just stared. Dieter said, “At least you're not stupid.”

“Ah, but he claims to be,” Taffallo said, “when it comes to politics. Don't you, Charles? Just the simple soldier, and nothing more, is what you'd have us believe, eh?”

“Perhaps not simple,” Charlie said. “But still just a soldier.”

Theode chimed in with “Perhaps simpleton is best. Or even whore—­”

Nadama silenced him with a look.

“My sister likes you,” Martino said, his words slurring a bit. “Thinks you're quite the heroic figure, though from the holos I've seen, that prison ship doesn't appear to have been a very heroic experience.”

At Martino's comment Dieter seemed to reassess Charlie carefully and now found him undesirable. Theode threw out another nasty little barb that Charlie ignored. Then Arthur joined them and—­clearly more at home amidst the somewhat thorny interplay of court life—­rescued Charlie.

“Forgive me,” Arthur said. “I have to drag Charlie away.”

As they walked away from the group, Arthur leaned close to Charlie and whispered, “I'm guessing Taffallo wanted to see their reaction to you. He's always angling for some advantage, though he'd be better at it if he weren't so transparent.”

Charlie couldn't imagine what advantage the man was angling for, and he could only hope his brother's interference had diverted Taffallo's attention from him.

Arthur led him to two women near the edge of the room. Charlie recognized Telka, Duchess de Vena, a plump little woman with pretty, almost childlike features; and Harrimo, Duchess de Uranna—­tall, thin, inscrutable, she reminded him of a female Winston. Arthur made the introductions.

Telka said, “Your family must have been overjoyed that you made it back alive.”

When it came to power and wealth, Telka rivaled Nadama and Cesare. And any man who thought her naïve or unsophisticated because of her appearance or stature was a damn fool. Her statement about Charlie's family was a baited trap. He said, “The only family I ever had, Your Grace, was my mother. And she died long ago.”

She smiled, and he saw a twinkle of approval in her eye. “I'm sorry, Commander.”

“Think nothing of it, Your Grace.” Charlie decided he liked the little woman.

Arthur tried to draw the two women out on the Aagerbanni situation. Telka was the wild card among the Nine. She, Cesare, and Nadama constituted the majority of the strength in the Realm. If any two of them agreed on an issue, barring intervention by a serious outside force, the Realm would have to go along. Cesare and Nadama were both lobbying for her support, but so far she remained uncommitted. And in any case, in this venue every word, movement, and expression would be carefully recorded by hidden pickups and analyzed later. Nothing serious could be discussed here.

Across the room Charlie spotted a man wearing the uniform of a Syndonese general, speaking with a fellow whom Charlie's briefing identified as Enrik Adsin, the king's chancellor. Adsin, wearing an expensive business suit, was a short, stringy little man, with an impeccably trimmed goatee, and sharp, sour features. He had a big cheesy smile on his face showing a lot of white teeth, but it didn't extend to his eyes, which made it seem more like a leer. When he saw Charlie looking his way, he leaned forward and whispered something in the general's ear, then the two turned and crossed the room to join Charlie, Arthur, and the two duchesses.

Adsin greeted the women and Arthur formally. Telka said nothing, while Harrimo nodded politely and said, “Chancellor.” The word came out wrapped in a cold chill.

“Commander Cass,” Adsin said. “We finally get a chance to meet.” He reached out and tugged at Charlie's hand to shake it.

Charlie let him do so and lied. “A pleasure to meet you, Chancellor.”

Adsin turned to the Syndonese standing next to him and said, “Let me introduce General Tantin, chief of staff to President Goutain.”

With the exception of a hook nose, Tantin appeared rather average looking. He smiled at Charlie and looked him over carefully. “Commander,” he said in a thick Syndonese accent. “Your reputation precedes you.”

They chatted for a while, none of them saying anything of substance, Adsin always displaying the big smarmy grin. Somehow he managed to talk around a mouth full of flashing white teeth. Eventually, he excused himself and escorted Tantin away, again whispering something in the general's ear.

Watching Adsin's back, Telka said, “Why is it that after I've been in the company of that man, I always feel the need to bathe?” She nodded toward Charlie's hand. “And you, Commander, should probably wash that hand.”

Harrimo's impenetrable calm broke and she chuckled. A moment later they were called to dinner, where Charlie was relieved to be seated “below the salt” amidst a group in which the verbal barbs were kept to a minimum. Later that evening, with his suite freshly swept clear of any unwanted devices or dangerous predators—­and with two of Cesare's personal guard stationed in the hall outside—­Charlie fell into an exhausted sleep.

 

CHAPTER 6

FRIENDS INDEED

C
harlie started each day with Add, Ell, and Roacka pounding on him for a few hours in a gym in the basement of the palace. His first morning on Turnlee, Roacka wanted to work knives: plast knives, power knives, even old-­fashioned steel knives; knife fighting, knife throwing—­Charlie was surprised they didn't do knife swallowing. Del showed up to watch, applauding whenever Charlie got the best of his opponent—­which wasn't too often. Still, Charlie knew he'd have to put up with a bit of ribbing from Add and Ell about her. Dieter showed up near the end of the workout, clearly didn't approve of Del's presence, and managed to drag her away in short order.

“Enough,” Winston said, bringing everything to a stop. Somehow he managed to cow even Add and Ell.

“Eh, Chamberlain,” Roacka said. “We're having a good workout with the lad.”

Winston shook his head. “That'll have to wait. I bring orders from His Grace. Charles, please come with me.”

It felt as if Winston was dragging him away for a spanking. He stripped off his sparring suit and quickly joined Winston, who took him by the arm and led him back toward their apartments. Winston leaned close to Charlie's ear. “In a little over an hour and a half you're to meet with the king.”

Charlie's eyebrows rose involuntarily. “An audience with Lucius?”

Winston made a point of saying, “No. There'll be no
audience
with the king. This is informal and unofficial, an encounter that will happen purely by accident. At half past ten you'll be strolling in the Winter Garden. At half past ten His Majesty will be strolling in the Winter Garden. The two of you will meet, purely by coincidence. You'll chat briefly, and then you'll part. We have barely more than an hour in which to clean you up, brief you, and get you to the Winter Garden, so let's not waste any time.”

“A
h! Commander Cass! Fancy meeting you here.”

“Your Majesty,” Charlie said, pretending surprise. He bowed deeply from the waist.

Lucius dismissed Charlie's bow with the wave of a hand. “Tut, tut, Commander. No need for such formalities here.”

Lucius was accompanied by Adsin. The chancellor acknowledged Charlie with a nod, and again he wore a cheesy grin. Charlie recalled that Arthur thought Adsin was responsible for the hunter bot and the flying snake in his room.

“Come,” Lucius said. “Walk with Us a bit.” The
Us
clearly did not include Adsin, and was instead the majestic plural.

Adsin dropped to the rear, leaving Charlie on Lucius's left. Charlie wasn't sure if he liked having Adsin at his back.

“You're a lucky man, Commander,” Lucius said. “Luck seems to accompany you, and my generals tell me that luck is important for a military man.”

“Perhaps if I'd had more luck, Your Majesty, I wouldn't have spent so much time in a Syndonese prison camp.”

“Ah, that.” Lucius stopped to admire a large, yellow flower. “Do you blame me for that, Commander?”

“No, Your Majesty,” Charlie lied. “Of course not.”

“Then it's the war itself. You blame me for that?”

Charlie chose his words carefully. “It's not my place to judge, Your Majesty, therefore I do not blame. But if I may presume to ask, what did the war accomplish?”

Lucius looked up from the flower. “We defeated the Syndonese, did we not?”

“Yes, and what did that buy us?”

Lucius was at a loss. “Why—­we won.”

“But what did we win? What did we gain?”

Adsin intervened. “Your Majesty, I think I begin to understand this young man. In fact, the war accomplished nothing. At great expense we held a war, defeated the enemy, then returned to the status quo, our situation unchanged. And I believe Commander Cass's concern is less with the expense and more with the fact that we paid for the goods without receiving them.” Adsin smiled at Charlie, a truly friendly smile, as if he and Charlie were kindred souls and understood one another completely, which left Charlie feeling a bit unclean. He recalled Telka's comments at the reception.

Lucius smiled also. “So, Commander, in our next war you would have us conquer territories, annex states, or something of that nature?”

“Is there going to be a next war, Your Majesty?”

“We would hope not, Commander. But let's be realistic. War, or sometimes merely the threat of war, is one of the most powerful tools in the diplomat's kit, is it not?”

“I'm no diplomat, Your Majesty, so such concepts are beyond me. I'm a soldier, plain and simple. And yet—­perhaps
because
of that—­I'd have there be no next war.”

Lucius sighed heavily. “We all would have there be no next war, but we often have no choice, do we? Thank you for the insight, Commander. It's been most enjoyable chatting with you.”

Lucius turned away from Charlie and continued walking. Adsin rushed to catch up.

And Charlie simply stood there, replaying the scene.

A
s Charlie left the garden, he still wondered what that little meeting had been all about. Perhaps Lucius was just curious about him since they'd never met. Or maybe he was reconsidering the minor title he was supposedly going to bestow on Charlie.

As soon as he stepped into the palace he was accosted by Rierma. “Charles, my boy. You know, since you've returned from the dead we've not had a chance to truly chat. Come with me.”

One didn't just happen to run into one of the Nine, any more than one might happen to run into the king in the Winter Garden. Rierma, with his personal guard at his heels, chatted amiably as he led Charlie through the palace. Charlie knew Rierma almost as well as he knew Cesare; his first years in the navy had been on one of Rierma's ships, and Rierma had been a frequent visitor to Farlight. The benign nonsense the old duke spewed as they walked was the face he put on for all who didn't know him well. But when they entered the wing of the palace that housed Rierma and his retinue, the captain of his guard, a man named Silas, stepped into place behind the bodyguards accompanying them. Rierma nodded at the man.

Rierma's chatter ended abruptly as they walked into a sitting room in his personal suites, where Sig and the captain of her guard awaited them. Charlie had also spent time on one of the Duchess de Plutarr's ships, and her presence confirmed Charlie's belief that there was nothing coincidental about this meeting. With the doors to the palace proper closed behind them, Silas stepped up to Charlie and asked politely, “Commander, may I search you?”

Charlie glanced at Sig and the little woman showed nothing on her face. He cocked an eyebrow at Silas, and Rierma said, “No insult meant, Charles. But who knows what sort of listening devices might have been planted on you without your knowledge?”

Charlie nodded his permission, and the guard captain patted him down with some sort of scanning device. Silas announced, “He's clean.” Then he searched himself, the two guards, and lastly Rierma. Apparently, they'd adopted a standard procedure of searching anyone who'd been outside Rierma's suites, no matter how briefly. Silas finished by telling Rierma, “We've recently re-­swept the entire suite, and for insurance, we're jamming.”

Silas dismissed the two guards, leaving Charlie, Rierma, Sig, and their guard captains. “Now we can talk,” Rierma announced. “Something to drink, Charles?”

Charlie declined. Rierma poured an amber liquid into a glass while Sig introduced her guard captain: Talcott. Charlie didn't know Sig as well as Rierma, but when she inquired about his health, then made a few comments on the weather, he politely interrupted her. “Forgive me, Your Grace. Ordinarily we might begin with some small talk, then slowly work our way around to the really serious stuff. But after such a dramatic entrance to these suites, don't you think small talk is somewhat anticlimactic?”

She threw her head back and laughed. She was a pinch-­faced little woman, and he'd never before seen her laugh so heartily. “You are your father's son.”

Charlie had had years of experience ignoring such baited comments. “May I ask why I'm here?”

Rierma swirled the drink in his glass. “I've known you a long time, watched you grow up, even helped raise you a bit here and there.”

Sig said, “I don't know you as well as Rierma, but I recall that you were a good spacer—­smarter than most—­and he says you're a man of honor. We wish to consult you on a matter of some delicacy.”

“And that matter is?”

“I warned you he'd not vacillate,” Rierma said. Rierma looked at Charlie, and all pretense at cheerfulness disappeared. “Sig and I . . . are somewhat uncomfortable with the situation here at Almsburg. We're concerned for our safety.”

Silas said, “Pelletier and Roacka, per Cesare's orders, briefed us all on the attempt on your life. And I'm told Arthur suspects Adsin.”

Charlie now understood. “But that was a mixture of carelessness and gullibility on my part. Now that we're forewarned there should be no issue.”

Sig shook her head. “You're not that stupid, Commander, so I must assume you're cautious.”

Charlie smiled at her. “When one treads a path among kings and dukes and duchesses, caution is a survival trait.”

“Charles, my boy,” Rierma said. “I'll bet you could hold your own among the best courtiers. But there is more than merely security at issue here. Lucius is up to something sneaky, and he's about to do something. He's not a subtle man, and rather transparent to those of us who've known him long. We fear for the Realm, our duchies, and our personal safeties.”

Sig said, “And I didn't like seeing Tantin there the other night. Adsin and that Syndonese officer have been thick as thieves, and I don't trust either of them.”

Rierma turned to pour himself another drink, saying, “I find it surprising that even Lucius trusts that snake, but then our king has never been terribly perceptive. Flatter him the right way and he'll believe anything.”

Charlie glanced at Silas and Talcott, was surprised to see that the two guard captains showed no discomfort at a discussion bordering on treason. “Do you think Tantin is working on his own, without Goutain's knowledge?”

Sig shook her head. “No. Tantin's a bootlicker, and his presence here is too visible. If he was sneaking around behind Goutain's back, he'd be far more discreet.”

“And let's not forget Nadama,” Rierma said. “He's playing some game as well, something far more serious than getting Dieter married off to Delilah.”

Charlie waited for Rierma to say more but nothing came. The silence stretched out uncomfortably as they waited for him. Rierma was a friend, both to him and House de Maris. Sig he knew not well, but Arthur attested to the fact that she was a friend. So he felt he had no choice but to trust them.

“We can do little to protect the Realm from Lucius's machinations,” Charlie said. “And the best protection for your duchies is if you yourselves are free to see to their welfare. Now, if I were a cautious man, and the captain of the guard responsible for the welfare of my liege,” he looked pointedly at Talcott and Silas, “I might wish to have a stronger, more personally loyal response close at hand, a response that could react quickly and be at my side in seconds.”

Talcott was a short, slightly plump little man. “My guard contingent is not inconsiderable.”

“Nor mine,” Silas said.

“But your guard contingents are not marines in powered combat armor and heavy combat kit. And having such, close at hand, rather than a thirty-­minute high-­G drop away, might make all the difference in the world.”

Silas shook his head. “His Majesty will never allow us to maintain armed troops on the premises.”

Charlie looked pointedly at Talcott, then Silas. “You both know Roacka?”

Both men nodded.

“I suggest you talk to him.”

Talcott's eyes narrowed and Silas nodded again.

Charlie realized then that he'd have to bring Major Pelletier in on this. He'd been reluctant to do so because he didn't know the head of Cesare's household guard well, but had no choice now. He resolved to brief the man immediately.

“Furthermore,” he said, “should some difficulty arise, I suggest we act in unison. And the only way to accomplish that is to have only one commanding officer.” He smiled. “And that should be me.”

A
dd cut high with her saber. Charlie ducked beneath her blade, saw an opening, charged in and buried his shoulder in her solar plexus. A
woof
escaped her lips as he lifted her off her feet and dropped her on her back on the floor, his shoulder still buried in her abdomen. But he'd forgotten her knee, which managed to find its way into his groin, and as he landed on top of her he took as much injury as he dealt. They rolled away from each other, both of them groaning and gasping for breath.

“Well done, little brother,” Ell cried. “A tie. That's the best you've ever done against her.”

Charlie had progressed to the point where he was besting Ell one out of every three or four matches, which was just not acceptable as far as Add was concerned. So Add, the best of the three, had personally taken over his instruction with a certain amount of derision directed at poor Ell. Add was not a pleasant taskmaster, as his groin would attest.

Ell flicked a switch on her control and Charlie relaxed as his sparring suit killed the pain feed. Ell stood over Add. “Sister,” she said as Add continued to gasp for air. “Are you in pain? Charlie's such a poor student, he couldn't have hurt you.”

Add's reply was “Harruuggghhh.”

“What did you say, darling sister? I didn't quite understand you.”

“Hurrpain gurrfeed.”

“What's that? Oh,
pain feed
. I didn't realize it was still on. I thought you didn't need such things against poor opponents such as Charlie or me. Let me see.” Ell looked carefully at the control. “Which button is yours?” She considered the box carefully as Add continued to groan, then finally pressed a switch. Add let out a sigh, then relaxed and lay still on the floor. As Charlie climbed to his feet Ell looked his way and winked, then grinned evilly.