Merovingen - Fever Season Part 24

"Heaven on earth," Magruder said dryly. Then, having given the recognition sign, set the plan in motion. "Brought Baritz's boat. Him an' Ruin al-Banna, back there, 11 wanna invite y'all to their party." Keep the accent heavy, keep talking while the alert code that had followed the recognition signal sank in.

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fauet Morris It must have, because Magruder was told to wait while someone else was fetched to talk to him.

Which he didn't. He got into his own rented boat and left Ruin al-Banna to do the rest. The ride back from Megary seemed to take forever, in the small skiff whose pilot had taken a rich bribe to make the run to Megary and back to the Grand at Foundry, where Magruder had hired the boat. Chance could feel the pilot's nervousness, with the slavers' enclave still close behind and Magruder closer; he could nearly see the man's back twitch in antic.i.p.ation of foul play.

Like Magruder's own muscles were twitching. Ruin al-Banna had done his part like clockwork; the gunpowder and the other necessities-ceramics, metals, saltpeter-soaked cord and instructions-were now safely in the hands of the Sword operatives based out of Megary. Not that there was anything safe about giving that much explosive to the kind of men that served the Sword here in Merovingen.

Magruder could only hope that Ruin al-Banna got the job done. The plan was . . . one of Magruder's better ones; if not brilliant, then at least serviceable. There was going to be one h.e.l.l of a show tomorrow night, climaxing in the sky over the Signeury, if Magruder had done the math right and al-Banna followed his instructions to the letter. Instant Karma, you bet.

It was risky, but so was reaction, or inaction. Magruder needed to take the initiative, the upper hand. If this worked, losef Kalugin would have his wrist slapped for decreeing the census. If it didn't, at least some of the traitors who'd wormed their way in among the Sword would be flushed.

Magruder needed, as much as anything else, to find out whom he could trust among the riffraff he'd inherited from Romanov. What was going on out at Megary? If the plan aborted, or word leaked, Magnider would have a lead on Romanov's killer.

It wasn't that he minded Romanov being murdered, but he minded like h.e.l.l not having time to give the d.a.m.ned order. And he minded more not knowing from what quarter the a.s.sa.s.sin had come. He knew the Sword didn't have a corner on violence, much less a.s.sa.s.sination, in Merovingen, but he INSTANT KARMA243.

didn't know much more than that about Romanov's death. And since he was living with the opposition under deep cover, he needed to know who his enemies were; whether he was in bed with any of them.

Figuratively speaking, of course. Since he knew one of his enemies, and was in bed with that one, literally: Tatiana Kalugin.

Come on, son; you've been over all of that a dozen times, he told himself as the launch headed sluggishly toward the Grand. Tatiana couldn't have been responsible for Romanov's death. Not the way she'd almost bought the farm at the 24th Eve Ball-would have, maybe, if Magruder hadn't saved her.

So that left only the rest of her family, the Boregys to boot, and half of ambulatory Merovingen. For all anyone could prove, Michael Chamoun was seeing warnings where none existed. For all Magruder knew, Romanov's death was just a nasty coincidence--a robbery attempt that got out of hand, random violence. Any of the Detfish's crew had plenty of reason to dislike Romanov; there were factions among the Sword, here as well as at home in Nev Hettek.

And now Magruder was without Romanov's guidance, such as it had shown itself to be. Whatever else Romanov was, he'd been an expert on Merovingen. Without him, Magruder was having to play everything by ear-to improvise, to operate in a theater of the unknown.

And like this trip to Megary, made in person because there wasn't anyone Chance could trust, the unknown was becoming increasingly dangerous. Therefore, the plan. If you don't know the rules, Magruder always said, then change the game.

Cardinal Ito was a man who cleaned up his own messes. It wasn't like him to tell tales out of school, or to go outside his own power structure for help. But this was an unusual circ.u.mstance, and permission, of a sort, must be sought outside the College for the executive action Ito wished to order.

So he went straight to the top. It was the only way. And 244.

Janet Mom*

losef Kalugin was the only authority Ito Tremaine Boregy was answerable to-beyond the ultimate authority of karma.

In losef Kalugin's Signeury offices, the flick of his cardinal's ring at a worried secretary gained him instant admission to losef s presence.

The Kaiugin patriarch took one look at his Collegiate visitor, checked his appointment book to make sure the meeting hadn't been scheduled, and told his secretary, that he wasn't to be disturbed until further notice.

Then Kalugin opened the doors to the balcony, letting in the rising mists of night, and stepped outside without a worcT, motioning Ito to follow.

"What brings you here. Cardinal, in person?" -said the wolfish old ruler of Merovingen, with a show of yellow teeth.

"I felt the need to ... consult with you, Your Excellency," said Ito mildly, knowing that his presence here spoke urgently enough.

"Yes. About what?" asked the Revenantist patriarch carefully.

"The College has a student whom it wishes to expel . . . permanently."

"So? Is this all?" losef Kalugin's voice sounded in no way relieved. His guard was up; he was looking for the catastrophe; or, if there was none, for the trap. "Who is this student? Or should I not ask?"

"Ca.s.siopeia Boregy's new husband. And when I say ex-pei, I mean from more than just the College. He is an evil influence. In his heart he carries seeds of destruction-as you well know."

"Ah, I see. You mean permanently." Kalugin turned from Ito and leaned his hands on the guardrail, looking out over the Signuery and the mists beyond, rising so thick that they nearly masked the Justiciary and the bridge connecting it to the Signeury itself.

"I do. And we know-the College has its ways of knowing-that you might have . . . dealt . . . with this Chamoun previously, and decided to content yourself with sending a message in the form of one, ah, Romanov . . .

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instead. So we wish to know whether this office has any objection to . . ."

"To Chamoun's karmic debt being paid in full?" losef Kalugin supplied. And turned back to face Ito again.

"To the College making its own determination on the fitness of this student, yes." It didn't do to say things in a more straightforward manner. It didn't do to even allude to irrevocable actions taken temporally by a spiritual college whose putative concern was the immortal soul. Normally, the College would have dispensed such karma without consulting a secular authority. And Kalugin knew it.

But this was a special case, because for some reason, losef Kalugin had blessed the union of Ca.s.siopeia Boregy and Michael Chamoun; blessed it perhaps because of Tatiana's interest in Chamoun's patron, Magruder, but blessed it none-theless. Ito needed to know that the reasons were not tactical- that if the College dispensed with the problem Michael Chamoun represented, it would not be guilty of interfering in Kalugin's own plans.

If Chamoun were some agent of Kalugin's, some carefully inserted spy sent into the nest of Merovingen's enemies by losef Kalugin himself, Ito needed to know that now.

"We favor this boy, as you have guessed." Kalugin's eyes were deep in shadow; Ito couldn't read them.. But Ito could read the tone: even losef Kalugin walked carefully around the College. "So does your .family, Ito Tremaine Boregy. But do what you must; just don't botch things. Nothing public, nothing clumsy, nothing that will shame either Vega's house ... or Chance Magruder. Not publicly, at least."

"I will do only what karma decrees," said Ito with a tongue suddenly thick and unwieldy. So there was something. Something special about Chamoun. Some place that the Nev Hetteker and his patron fit into losef's plans.

"If karma could decree that all my children stop fighting among themselves," said losef Kalugin; "or that one be declarable the obvious winner, most competent and deserving, I would be exceedingly grateful to the College." Sarcasm dripped from the patriarch's tongue. "Be careful, Ito, 246.

Janet Morris that you don't lose more than you gain with this. I do not forbid or decree the actions of the College, but 1 must warn you: these are difficult times, and any misstep can come back to haunt us. Do nothing thai will compromise yourself, your station, or the College."

But I already have, you old fool. Wh do vou think I'm here? "We will proceed as karma dictates," said Ito unhappily, having been put on notice that, if anything should go wrong, the College would take any ensuing blame-or scandal-alone, with no help from the Signeury.

"Now, if that is all?" losef Kalugin wanted to end the audience. The not-quite-respectful prompt made Ito even more nervous as he began his farewells, blessing Kalugin'and his family and the stones of the Signeury as he went.

Only when Ito was back at the College, after he'd climbed the familiar steps and was seated in his deep dark sanctum with his prelates washing his feet in warm water and attending to his before-dinner drinks, did it occur to the Cardinal that losef Kalugin might be bold enough to use the Chamoun matter against the College-whether it succeeded, or even if it failed. Ito should have thought of it before, but he hadn't. He'd been too worried about the young man named Michael Chamoun, who held true memories of the alien sharrh in his oft-reborn soul. Memories that would have remained forever dormant if Ito Boregy, in an attempt to acquire the boy as -a p.a.w.n, hadn't used illicit techniques to awaken them.

When Ito called for his favorite boy and his thorn switches, everyone in the College dorm below the rank of acolyte scurried for cover.

There was nothing worse than a cardinal who felt the need of discipline. When Ito had finished having himself whipped, the prelates would beat the novices, and the novices would beat the choir boys, and the choir boys would beat the cooks. . . .

It was going to be a long night at the Revenantist College. And m the midst of it, a single acolyte slipped unnoticed out the water-gate, bound for Merovingen-below on a mission INSTANT KARMA.

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of mayhem so foul and so important that Ito sweated under the whip even as it began.

Tattana Kalugin had eyes and ears everywhere in Merovingen, including her father's office. Thus she was already gone when Magruder arrived at the emba.s.sy, having left him a note that she'd be back.

And she would. But now, wrapped in a heavy cioak and standing at the Boregy high-door, where the wind was fierce, she had more important things to deal with. At the sight of her, the servants scurried and sc.r.a.ped.

It was not often a Kalugin came unannounced to Boregy House, unless it was her eel of a brother, Anastasi.

"No, no, don't bother Vega," she told a worried Boregy retainer. "It's Ca.s.siopeia I've come to see-a woman's matter."

There was too much silence in this house. The household was unwilling to believe the fiction Tatiana had concocted. She didn't care if they did or not; she didn't care if Vega bit his nails to the elbow because his patron's enemy had come to his house to see his daughter.

Tatiana had her reasons. So she told the worried Vega Boregy when he came down the stairs, arms outstretched to greet her, saying how glad he was to see her and asking what he could do for her.

"Nothing, as I've said. It's Ca.s.sie I wish to see. About the census-you know her husband's working for us diligently in the matter of the census. Ca.s.siopeia may be of service also. And she may already have earned a commendation. Now, Vega, if you'll take me to her . . ."

"She's up with Gregory-with her grandfather."

"Ah," said Tatiana, not able to resist the opportunity. "And is he awake, your father?" Gregory spent long periods of time comatose or sleeping, no one outside the family quite knew which. When he was awake, control of Boregy House was unconditionally his. No wonder Vega looked so pale beneath his black hair.

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Janet Morris "Awake. Alive and well," said Vega with just a hint of challenge in his smile.

Long ago, there had been an attack by unknown persons on Boregy House; the old man's infirmity was whispered to be a result of that attack, but not even that fact could be determined for certain by outsiders. As Boregy House's sympathies could not be.

Which was why Tatiana had come here: perhaps Anastasi, her brother, had Vega's ear, but now there was Michael Chamoun, Chance's young protege, and Ca.s.sie, And so much at stake. Any ill befalling Chamoun could destroy the new emba.s.sy more completely than earthquake, lightning, or the sinking of the entire Spur into the ca.n.a.ls.

If Chamoun were a.s.sa.s.sinated by the College, and word reached Magruder, and through him Karl Fon, it might be just the pretext Fon needed to declare Fon's sort of war on Merovingen. Even if war didn't result, Fon might easily call back his new amba.s.sador, since the whole trade agreement was predicated on the merger of Boregy Shipping and Nev Hettek's Chamoun Shipping. And then Magruder, and all the opportunities he represented, would be gone like a thief in the night.

Tatiana couldn't risk it. Nor could she confront the College directly, or go against her father's (admittedly vague) permission in this matter. Nor would she dare tell Magruder what she'd learned: she'd have to tell him how; she'd be forced to explicate her motives. And she didn't want Magruder going up against the College.

So using Magruder to stop the College's attempt on Chamoun was out of the question. That left only unorthodox avenues of procedure, and Tatiana had chosen an audacious one.

"Your daughter," she reminded Vega, who was still staring at her owlishly. Tatiana had cultivated a rude manner; it was not flattering, but it was an effective tool. "Take me to her, now. I haven't time to stand around charting with you, Vega, until my brother shows up and it becomes a threesome. Unless that's what you want? Perhaps a political debate this evening. . . ?"

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"1 ... m'sera Secretary, you cannot go up there. My father isn't- I'll have Ca.s.sie sent down to you. If you'll wait in the green room?"

The green room, where a servant led her, was a reception room for guests to eye with envy. It was meant to cow. Its ceiling was high and its gilding excessive. Tatiana hated giit. She was a prisoner of pomp and circ.u.mstance; she knew it for a curse, not a privilege.

High position must be guarded; she was always in danger of losing grace, face, power. Every material item in her care had upkeep, valuation, maintenance. The pure wealth of Kalugin power had made Tatiana vulnerable. She had so much to lose; she'd made so many enemies; there was no way to judge whether her work was good enough, her mind quick enough, her skills honed enough to make her equal to the tasks before her. As she got older, she became more practiced, yes, but more skilled? She wasn't sure. She'd been bolder in her youth, more optimistic.

Once she'd thought she could remake the world; when she'd held those dreams, she'd always a.s.sumed that by now, facing her fourth decade, she'd have done it: be recognized as a power on her own; be respected for more than her bloodline; be fulfilled and happy. She was none of those. She was uncertain and frightened.

She'd tasted failure too often; and success, when it came these days, was only a relief, not a reason to celebrate. She was expected to succeed; she was a Kalugin. Someday, the unstable perch on which she rested would bend or break. By then, she had to have a safety net in place-even a safety net such as Magruder's amba.s.sadorial ties to Nev Hettek was better than no safety net at all. She had to find a way to weather the storms coming, storms she could smell in the new odor wafting up from the ca.n.a.ls.

Had to. Or she'd lose Merovingen to her brother, Anastasi; or to Mikhail-even that was possible. She was fighting for life, watching power pa.s.s her by as her father grew closer and closer to retirement age-or to death.

When Ca.s.sie Boregy finally arrived, preceded by three 250.

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servants with a pastry tray and tea in vermeil pots, Tatiana was sunk in thought.

She didn't notice servants; they were all around her every day. She didn't notice Ca.s.siopeia Boregy until the girl blurted out, "M'sera Secretary Kalugin, I'm so excited that you picked Michael to help with the census. So honored! Even daddy's proud, he just can't admit it." And the girl was pumping her hand, all youth and expectation.

Yet Tatiana could see through the gloss to the fear, the uncertainty that Ca.s.sie's father must have put there. The eyes behind the smile said, What do you want? My father says you're not to be trusted. He acts like you're an enemy in this house, yet you can't be, can you? Have I done something wrong? Please don't let me do anything wrong.

"Shoo the servants, child," said Tatiana, and Ca.s.sie Boregy's face went white.

When the girl had obeyed, Tatiana drew her toward the window and opened it. "Look out there. Your husband is out there somewhere, on an errand for me." She put her arm fleetingly around the younger woman's shoulders because, if not until now, then at this moment Ca.s.sie was a true Merovingen woman of high estate: in politics up to her neck.

"This is about . . . Michael?" Ca.s.sie's tone was hushed with foreboding and shock.

"It is. We think Cardinal Ito might be very upset. We think your husband should be careful. We think you should tell him so."

"I told Michael we should tell Daddy what happened. I told him. He wouldn't listen." Ca.s.sie's face worked with conflicting emotions. "You know what happened, then?"

Tatiana didn't tell her no.

"It's so wonderful, and everyone's acting as if it was an awful thing. To remember a past life-I wish I could. Michael's promised to teach me, to show me, but Ito made him swear not to, so it's hard. ..." Ca.s.sie's hand flew up to cover her mouth. Above it, her eyes went wide.

It must have been the look on Tatiana's face as the pieces clicked: "Oh, no." Ca.s.sie whispered. "You didn't know, then. I'm sorry. Oh, I'm sorry. Promise you won't tell-"

The girl was backing away, panicking, and Tatiana had to grab her arm and squeeze. "Shush, girl! Don't be a fool! If 1 were your husband's enemy, would 1 have risked coming here personally, where your father was bound to find out? Do these things: Tell your grandfather, if he's still awake, what happened to Michael at the College, as well as what I've said to you. If your father asks, tell him only that 1 advised you that your husband's life is in danger-that we have good information that there may be an attempt on his life, but that, nevertheless, we expect him to keep on with his commission as officer of the census. Nothing more, do you understand?"

"Yes, yes. But is it enough? Will Michael be-"

"Karma, my dear. We don't know the future, any of us. But we help make it, every day. You do what I say, and make sure that if your father inquires, you tell him enough to grant m'ser Chamoun a bodyguard. Or order one yourself. You're a woman of a great house. Act like one, not like a child."

"I will. I promise I will," said Ca.s.sie as Tatiana let her go and strode to the couch to get her wrap.

"Tea?" said the child to the woman as Tatiana brushed past her. "A pastry, m'sera Secretary?"

When Tatiana strode out the door, Ca.s.sie Boregy was still holding the vermeil teapot in her hands helplessly, and her huge eyes were sparkling far too brightly.

Michael Chamoun was down in Merovingen-below, on Grandside near Fishmarket, looking for someone named Alvarez, who was said to be of Nev Hettek descent. Chamoun had separated from his three Nev Hetteker teammates, all handpicked by Magruder because they weren't Sword of G.o.d.

The night was veritably steaming as the warmer waters of the ca.n.a.l met the chill evening air and gave off a sulfurous 252.

Janet Morris mist. Here deep in the belly of poverty, picking his way akmg a quay slimy with fish guts and b.l.o.o.d.y fins, Chamoun was buoyed by the sense of mission that had been with him, like an ineluctable tide, ever since he'd found out he'd once been 'Mickey,' once fought the sharrh to the death. Sometimes he felt the power of the vision more strongly; sometimes it was like a half-remembered dream. But tonight it warmed him against the cold and he fancied it even armored him against the mayhem of the dockside.

So he wasn't worried about having parted company with his teammates. They had so very much of Merovingen-below to cover, they couldn't stomp around like a street gang or a group of slavers on the make. They couldn't skulk, either, or shrink from the rougher areas. They were on a commission from the highest levels of government. It should be enough protection.

The real reason, Chance Magruder had explained to him, that the Sword was going along with this census-taking, was more than the simple one of it being impolitic to refuse Tatiana Kaiugirv, or her father. Chamoun's job was to register as many Nev Hettekers as possible-twice. The ensuing extra green cards, some of them made out in a.s.sumed names, would make subsequent Sword infiltrations easier by providing false ident.i.ties and covers. Some of these fisher folk and poleboaters and barmaids had agreed to sign two forms, to go twice to the Nev Hettek emba.s.sy (after shaving or dying their hair or changing their clothes) in return for a bit of the emba.s.sy's petty cash. Others, less trustworthy, didn't know they were being used; they knew only they were called back a second time, to fill out duplicate forms or correct errors.