“That pale, nervous Anglishman you’ve got stowed away in Engineering-yes, I know where he is-give him the telemetry from your passage through the Pinhole and he can reconfigure your sensors to reveal the spiderweb trapping us.”
Beyond a slight nostril flare, Kosho showed no reaction. But Gretchen could feel the woman’s entire body stiffen from across the room, and the answering surge of pleasure in the Prince. What a foul dog he is, she thought, watching the two of them as from a great distance.
“Helsdon is not wholly himself-”
“All the better,” Xochitl snapped, “near-mad as he is may prove to your advantage! I am taking Anderssen here into the artifact, Chu-sa, while you find us a way out of this hole. Is that perfectly clear?”
“ Hai, Gensui.”
Anderssen felt an enormous surge of delight, like golden honey welling up within her, suffusing her arms, legs-even her thoughts-with anticipation.
Two hours later, Kosho looked up at a soft tapping at the door to her private office. “Enter.”
The door slid open and Green Hummingbird stepped in, his feet bare, attired in a simple Fleet undershirt and off-duty trousers. Without his usual cloak and hood, he seemed surprisingly small-until one met his dusky green eyes and then his true stature asserted itself.
“ Chu-sa Kosho,” he said politely. “A word with you, if I may.”
“I believe,” she said, rising and stepping to the door, “that you were confined to the brig, by order of the Prince Imperial himself.”
No one was in the corridor, though Susan was unpleasantly aware that nearly every centimeter of the Naniwa was under surveillance by some kind of recording device.
The old Nahuatl nodded. “I am. Thank you for your concern for my comfort. Your hospitality has been most adequate, but I am on my way to pay respects to the Esteemed One and shall not keep you further.”
With that, he made a polite bow and then slipped out the door again. Kosho stared after him, wondering if she should summon the marine ready squad, have the nauallis clapped in chains and then, perhaps, locked in a room for which there was no key. But then, she thought, starting to feel rising amusement at the thought of seeing the Prince’s face when the escape was discovered, he would wrinkle his way out of that, too. I wonder… Another thought brought her up short. Does Hummingbird believe he will cheat death, too, in the end?
Juggling the possibilities in her mind, Kosho came to the unpleasant conclusion that letting the nauallis go about his business without interference was less dangerous than following the Prince’s orders. Particularly since she was quite certain that Hummingbird knew what he was doing, even if she couldn’t stand him personally. However, she thought, I do need to keep an eye on the future.
Susan then went to her console and tapped open a channel to the brig. The marine officer on duty responded immediately, his young face intent and dutiful.
“ Heicho Adamsky, has someone thought to provide the prisoner in cell one with something to eat?”
Then while she waited for the alarms to sound, most of her attention was on the supply manifests Thai-i Goroemon had forwarded up from Logistics for her review. They were desperately low on every kind of munitions, and only marginally better off for parts, meds, and food. Six months of supplies left, eh? Only if you don’t get a quarter of your stowage vented by a penetrator.
Some time later, the tramp freighter Moulins maneuvered out of the rear cargo hold under its own power. The ship had been hurriedly resupplied with water, food, and other perishables. Reaction mass for the engines had been topped off and Prince Xochitl, his remaining Jaguar Knight, Doctor Anderssen, and a handful of marines borrowed from the Naniwa were on board. In the cramped Command space, Captain Locke and his pilot were watching the external cameras and docking control status with a weather eye. The Prince and his bodyguard had appropriated the Navigator and Comm officer’s seats and were glowering at the backs of the Europeans during the delicate maneuver.
Gretchen watched them all from the hatchway while the ship was decoupling, then left them all to stew and banged downdeck to the cargo area where all of their luggage had been piled by the middies from the Naniwa. Her duffle had disappeared, to her disgust, under an enormous quantity of marine gear.
And, she thought, rather morosely, here I am again on this damned tiny ship with these fanatics.
Locke had accepted this new commission without protest, having apparently spent his time in the brig playing cards and smoking a succession of foul Novo French cigarettes. Now free of the battle-cruiser and at the helm of his own ship again, his hostility towards the Prince and the Fleet marines cluttering up his decks was banked, but simmering. Lojtnant Piet was doing less well at hiding his antipathy, but Xochitl apparently did not care, showing not the slightest awareness of their anger.
They’ll find a way to get along, Anderssen thought cheerfully, dragging olive-gray duffels aside. “There’s my-oh, what the hell are you doing in there?”
Beneath the pile of luggage, with his head resting on Gretchen’s field pack, Green Hummingbird had made himself a bit of a nest using a pair of folding kitchen tables. As she moved aside the last of the ammunition crates with a grunt, his lips fluttered with a soft snore.
“Does the Prince know you’ve come along, Crow?” Anderssen pinched his brown old ear as hard as she could. The old Nahuatl opened one eye, squinting at her, then sat up carefully and eased out of the tiny space under the tables.
Briskly chafing his wrists and ankles, he observed: “ Tlatocapilli Xochitl is noted for his admirable qualities in battle, not for his legendary acumen. Chu-sa Kosho, on the other hand, is beginning to understand how to operate in the wide world, as befits a gifted student with an excellent master.”
Gretchen shook her head, retrieving her pack. She began digging through the compartments, confirming that everything she’d stowed was still in place and undamaged. “Why did they send him then? They knew what was out here, right?”
Hummingbird shrugged. “I believe he was judged the most expendable of the Emperor’s sons.”
“More so than the one that’s always on the 3-v? Tezozomoc the Glorious?” Anderssen was appalled.
“Not all stone flakes the right way,” the old man replied, pulling on a pair of boots he’d lifted from one of the other duffels. “What use is a pretty piece of flint if it cannot take an edge?”
“And Tezozomoc can?”
Hummingbird did not reply, instead he dug around in the bottom of his gear and came up with a plastic container filled with cheesecloth. Holding the jar up, the old Nahuatl turned it this way and that, checking the contents. Then he turned back the lid, smelling the small egg-sized rounds inside.
“Lady of Light!” Gretchen coughed, eyes smarting. “Those are strong! Is that opium? What the devil are you doing with a basket of knuckles?”
He smiled serenely at her, tucking the container inside a field jacket he’d stolen from someone, somewhere. “My traveling companion needs a little coaxing to leave his shipping container.”
Anderssen shook her head in dismay. “You know, Crow, I had a friend who had a fascination for doing archaeology in the ancient home of the Chichimecas. It was always dangerous, uncomfortable work. The land is harsh, the people were poor, running contraband was the only way to make money. All social hierarchies began and ended with some pilli in his fortified house surrounded by an army of goons. Not the kind of lord who likes strangers-particularly inquisitive ones-to come knocking around.
“But Harriet especially liked taking a gaggle of impressionable students out to do big ground surveys and to excavate just enough of an old city to intrigue the historical agencies, who would then give her more money and permits to do whatever she wanted so they could learn the next bit of the story she was telling. I think the reason she did it was because the challenge of facing sudden death and coming home with the bacon got her out of bed in the morning.