Meals were usually brought on a tray by a servant, under the watchful eye of a couple of stunner-armed guards. He’d tried everything he could think of short of breaking his cover to suborn them, in their brief snatches of conversation. They’d just smiled at him. He was dubious of his ability to outrun a stunner-beam, but at the next opportunity, he resolved to try. He hadn’t had a chance to try anything lever. He was ready to try something stupid. Surprise sometimes worked… .
The lock clicked. He spun, poised to dart forward. “Rowan, get up!” he hissed. “I’m going to try for it.”
“Oh, hell,” she moaned, emerging. Without faith, brow-beaten, she rose and trudged around the bed to stand by his side. “Stunning hurts, you know. And then you throw up. You’ll probably have convulsions.”
“Yes. I know.”
“But at least it’ll shut you up for a while,” she muttered under her breath.
He rose on the balls of his feet. Then sank back again as the servant entered. Oh, my. What’s this? There was suddenly a new player in he game, and his mind locked into over-drive. Rowan, watching him or his announced bolt, looked up too, and her eyes widened.
It was the clone-girl Lilly—Lilly Junior, he supposed he must think of her—in her brown-and-pink silk house-servant’s uniform, a long wrap skirt and spangled jacket. Straight-backed, she carried their meal tray, and set it down on the table across the room. Incomprehensibly, the guard nodded at her and withdrew, closing the door behind him.
She began to lay out their meal, servant-fashion; Rowan approached her, lips parted.
He saw a dozen possibilities, instantly; also that this chance might ever come again. There was no way, in his debilitated state, that he could overpower the girl himself. What about that sedative Rowan had threatened him with? Could Rowan get the drop on her? Rowan was not good at catching oblique hints, and terrible at following cryptic orders. She’d want explanations. She’d want to argue. He could only try.
“Goodness you two look alike,” he chirped brightly, glaring at Rowan. She gave him a look of exasperated bafflement, which she converted to a smile as the girl turned toward them. “How is it that we rate, uh, such a high-born servant, milady?”
Lilly’s smooth hand touched her chest. “I am not my lady,” she lid, in a tone that suggested he must be a complete fool. Not without reason. “But you …” She looked searchingly at Rowan. “I don’t understand you.”
“Did the Baronne send you?” Miles asked.
“No. But I told the guards your food was drugged, and the Baronne sent me to stay and watch you eat it,” she added, somewhat off-the-cuff.
“Is that, uh, true?” he asked.
“No.” She tossed her head, making her long hair swing, and dropped him from her attention to focus hungrily upon Rowan. “Who are you?”
“She is the Baronne’s sister,” he said instantly. “Daughter to your lady’s mother. Did you know you were named after your, uh, grandmother?”
“… Grandmother?”
“Tell her about the Durona Group, Rowan,” he said urgently.
“Give me a chance to speak, then, why don’t you,” Rowan said through her teeth, smiling.
“Does she know what she is? Ask her if she knows what she is,” he demanded, then stuffed his knuckle into his mouth and bit it. The girl hadn’t come for him. She’d come for Rowan. He had to let Rowan take this one.
“Well,” Rowan glanced at the closed door, and back to the girl, “The Duronas are a group of thirty-six cloned siblings. We live under the protection of House Fell. Our mother—the first Durona—is named Lilly, too. She was very sad when Lotus—the Baronne—left us. Lotus used to be my … older sister, you see. You must be my sister too, then. Has Lotus told you why she had you? Are you to be her daughter? Her heir?”
“I am to be united with my lady,” said the girl. There was a faint defiance in her tone, but her fascination with Rowan was obvious. “I wondered … if you were to take my place.” Jealousy? Madness.
Rowan’s eyes darkened in muted horror. “Do you understand just what that means? What a clone-brain transplant is? She will take your body, Lilly, and you will be nowhere.”
“Yes. I know. It’s my destiny.” She tossed her head again, flipping her hair back from her face. Her tone was one of conviction. But her eyes … was there the faintest question, in her eyes?
“So much alike, you two,” he murmured, circling them in suppressed anxiety. Smiling. “I’ll bet you could exchange clothes with each other, and no one could tell the difference.” Rowan’s quick glance told him yes, she’d caught it, but thought he was pushing it too hard. “Naw,” he went on, pursing his lips and tilting his head, “I don’t think so. The girl’s too fat. Don’t you think she’s too fat, Rowan?”
“I am not fat!” said Lilly Junior indignantly.
“Rowan’s clothes would never fit you.”
“You’re wrong,” said Rowan, giving up and letting herself be pushed into fast-forward. “He’s an idiot. Let’s prove it, Lilly.” She began to peel out of her jacket, blouse, trousers.
Slowly, very curiously, the girl took off her jacket and skirt, and took up Rowan’s outfit. Rowan did not yet touch Lilly’s silks, laid out neatly on the bed.
“Oh, that looks nice,” said Rowan. She nodded toward the bathroom. “You should go look at yourself.”
“I was wrong,” Miles admitted nobly, steering the girl toward the bathroom. No time to plot, no way to give orders. He’d have to utterly rely on Rowan’s … initiative. “Actually, Rowan’s clothes look quite good on you. Imagine yourself as a Durona surgeon. They’re all doctors there, did you know? You could be a doctor too… .” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rowan tear the bands from her hair and shake it loose, and grab for the silks. He let the door shut behind him and Lilly, and aimed her at the mirror. He turned on the water, to mask the sound of Rowan’s knock on the outer door, of the guard opening it, of her retreat, hair swinging down across her face… .
Lilly stared into the long mirror. She glanced at him by her side in it, waving his hand as if to introduce her to herself, then down at the top of his head by her shoulder. He grabbed a cup and took a gulp of water, to clear his throat for action. How long could he keep the girl distracted in here? He didn’t think he could successfully sap her on the skull, and he was not completely certain which item in Rowan’s medical satchel, sitting on the countertop, was the threatened sedative.
To his surprise, she spoke first. “You’re the one who came for me, aren’t you. For all us clones.”
“Uh …” The disastrous Dendarii raid on Bharaputra’s? Had she been one of the rescuees? What was she doing back here, then? “Excuse me. I’ve been dead, lately, and my brain isn’t working too well. Cryo-amnesia. It might have been me, but you might have met my clone-twin.”
“You have clone-sibs too?”
“At least one. My … brother.”
“You were really dead?” She sounded faintly disbelieving.
He pulled up his gray knit shirt and displayed his scars.
“Oh,” she said, impressed. “I guess you were.”
“Rowan put me back together. She’s very good.” No, don’t draw her attention to the missing Rowan. “You could be just as good, I’ll bet, if you tried. If you were trained.”
“What was it like? Being dead?” Her eyes were suddenly intent upon his face.
He shrugged his shirt back down. “Dull. Really boring. A blank. I don’t remember anything. I don’t remember dying—” His breath caught… . the projectile weapon’s muzzle, bright with flame … hischest bursting outward, terrible pain … He inhaled, and leaned against the counter, legs suddenly weak. “Lonely. You wouldn’t like it. I guarantee.” He took her warm hand. “Being alive is much better. Being alive is, is …” He needed something to stand on. He scrambled up on the counter instead, crouching eye to eye with her at last. He twined her hair in his hand, tilted his head, and kissed her, just a brief press of the lips. “You can tell you’re alive when somebody touches you back.”