From far above, in vast recapitulation of his tweedling bagpipe in the duel, the ancient triumph music of the Shver pealed out, brass and drum and shrilling hydraulisynth, electronic echo of the bloody Shver past. The crowd of witnesses shouted, screeched, keened, and tooted in shock as the bulky Shver leaped off their balconies, floating down with elephantine grace, brandishing the same type of swords. Dane saw that every clan was represented, all by Shver of the highest caste.
The Deathguard halted, frozen in a posture of pure menace, ready for anything as the Shver from above landed between them and the Terrans. Dane could hear the click of their magboots fastening to the deck. The eldest Shauv hoomed and rumbled at the Deathguard; Dane caught only one phrase, but it made his skin prickle.
"This is of the Path and the Conquest to Come."
Dane translated rapidly to himself, and realized what had been left out of the ancient phrase: "The Blood."
A frisson gripped his spine as he realized what had happened: the Shver had spoken to the outcasts, not welcoming them back—they were no longer of the Blood—but acknowledging that they too walked the Shver path.
"This is of the Path," said the lead Guard, whose face was invisible in its black cowl. "And the Conquest to Come."
Abruptly, the other members of the Deathguard relaxed. They did not step back, but their menace subsided. After a moment the Eldest Shauv sheathed her sword, followed instantly by high-caste Shver and Deathguard alike.
Now the restaurant was falling free. Dane noticed the klinti, however, did not allow themselves to float up into free-fall disorientation. They knew there would be acceleration again, if the Movable Feast were not to plummet through the inside surface of the habitat and out into space.
In confirmation of his thought, Flindyk’s wrist communicator bleeped suddenly and then shrieked in a high voice:
NECESSARY DECELERATION AT BOTTOM WILL EXCEED TWO GEE IN NINETY SECONDS!
Flyndik paled. At the rate they were accelerating toward the inner surface, the braking needed to stop them would shortly exceed even the 1.6 gee Shver enjoyed. Dane stared at Gabby: that acceleration was dangerous for Kanddoyds.
Suddenly the fat man sat back in his carapace, the reflections on it of the light tubes favored by Kanddoyd writhing like bright snakes as its surface flexed slightly against his weight. He raised his wineglass to them as he gave a great sigh.
"I salute you, Terrans," he hissed, and raised the goblet to his lips.
Without warning, a flick of his wrist sent the wine bulleting out of the glass straight at Rael’s head. It was a deadly assault, Dane knew, for the normal human reaction to such an attack was to draw breath to prepare for combat—an action appropriate on a planet, but one that would choke and drown you quickly in free fall.
But just as quickly Jellico launched himself forward from the planter he’d been braced against, diving between Rael and Flindyk with one cupped hand extended. His hand shot across the path of the bulleting wine bubble and gently pulled it into a different vector with a graceful sweep, using its surface tension to gently divert it without bursting it into a deadly cloud of choking microdrops. The wine bubble shot past Rael’s head, ruffling her hair before it burst against a column. Several klinti lunged out of the vicinity as a Kanddoyd servitor appeared almost instantly with a vacuum canister to remove the danger.
Flindyk looked into the empty goblet. His old, wrinkled face was set in lines of bitterness. "All right," he said, looking up at Jellico, now anchored on the deck next to Rael. "You win—though see what it’ll get you."
A vast creaking thrum announced the return of gees as the restaurant began to decelerate, and Flindyk’s breathing became harsher and the acceleration began to flatten out his huge bulk, compressing his lungs. But his comlink was silent—he would survive.
"It’ll get your debts cleared," came a new voice, dry and dispassionate.
Everyone looked up to see Captain-Legate Ross standing there, formidable in his neat black-and-silver tunic, a blaster strapped to his side. At his shoulder stood the lictor of the Monitors, the Shauv of Clan Norl. And on Ross’s other side an ancient Kanddoyd decorated with lacelike patterns of silver—Elder Councillor Doydatakk, the highest Kanddoyd official.
"Flynn von Dieck, you are under arrest for breaking the Concord," the
Elder Councillor said in a reedy voice. "Lictor, please take the administrator into your custody. Cancel all his commands, and secure his comlinks."
"That’s it," Jellico said, as all around them noise broke out—discussions, questions, arguments, pleading, defending.
Dane watched the captain reach out a hand, and after a moment Rael Cofort slid her palm against his, and their fingers intertwined, gripping tightly.
Cofort didn’t speak. Jellico said, "Come on, let’s go home."
23
Rael Cofort watched Karl Kosti bounce through the outer lock, an anticipatory grin on his craggy face. She continued on her way to the galley, and watched Frank Mura happily checking off the latest delivery of supplies.
"What’s with Karl?" she asked. "He looks like someone just gave him a couple of planets for his own."
Frank looked up, a quick smile in his eyes. "Few days ago, while you were up at the Spin Axis, those three wranglers off that Deneb ship came and apologized—and ever since then he’s been using his rec hours to go off with them to that Shver gym to try to kill each other."
Rael laughed. "Well, everyone to their own hobbies, I guess." She continued on her way through the Solar Queen, hugging her good news to herself as she went.
Everywhere she saw crew members busy with tasks. It had been that way in the days since the confrontation with Flindyk. On the surface, they were happy enough, and busy; underneath, she knew, the fate of the Ariadne was on everyone’s mind, but no one talked about it.
What could they say? The Starvenger papers had been surrendered back to Trade, and the Ariadne's owners traced. Heirs had been found; complicated messages had been zinging back and forth across the starlanes.
Rip Shannon bounded by, tape spools in his hand. He gave her a cheery nod and she said, "The cargo masters still gone?"
Rip gave a nod. "At least Tapadakk wants to deal again."
"Tapadakk." Rael considered this. "I thought he was part of Flindyk’s network?"
Rip caught himself on the up-ladder and floated in midair. "Apparently he wasn’t part of Sphere Eleven, but whether he knew about it or not, Jan says no one except him will ever really know the truth. Tapadakk was certainly full of apologies for ’misunderstandings’ and ’false rumors’—which is about as open as any Kanddoyd gets. The thing is, he’s the best for Terran traders, so apparently we’re stuck going through him."
"I’d think Jan and Dane would use moral superiority to boost our cause a little."
Rip laughed. "Oh, I think they will. Only the way Van Ryke put it was: ’Maybe if we rub his mandibles in it for a little while, he’ll deal decently enough.’ "
Rael laughed as well. "Did Tooe go with them?"
Rip nodded. "Everywhere Dane goes."
Rael moved aside, and Rip bounded up toward the control deck.
Rael continued on. The door to the captain’s cabin was open, but he was not there. Queex saw her and squawked, and she stepped in to set his cage rocking.