Vasa Luigi cleared his throat. “Actually, Dr. Durona, you wouldn’t have to travel to the far reaches of the galaxy for a place of your own. House Bharaputra could find a use for your talents and training. And perhaps even a little autonomy. Head of a department, for example. And later, who knows?—maybe even a division.”
“No. Thank you.” Rowan bit out.
The Baron shrugged. Did the Baronne look faintly relieved?
He interrupted urgently, “Baron—was it really Ryoval’s squad who took Admiral Naismith? Do you know where?”
“Well, now, that’s an interesting question,” Vasa Luigi murmured, eyeing him. “I’ve been trying to contact Ry all day, without success. I suspect that wherever Ry is, your clone-twin is also—Admiral.”
He took a deep breath. “Why do you think I am the Admiral, sir?”
“Because I met the other one. Under telling circumstances. I don’t think the real Admiral Naismith would permit his bodyguard to give him orders—do you?”
His head was aching. “What’s Ryoval doing to him?”
“Really, Vasa, this is not dinner-conversation,” reproved the Baronne. She glanced curiously at him. “Besides—why should you care?”
“ ’Miles, what have you done with your baby brother?’ ” The quote came from nowhere, fell out of his mouth. He touched his lips uncertainly. Rowan stared at him. So did Lotus.
Vasa Luigi said, “As to your question, Admiral, it turns on whether Ry has come to the same conclusions as I did. If he has—likely he’s not doing much. If he hasn’t, his methods will depend upon your clone-twin.”
“I … don’t understand.”
“Ryoval will study him. Experiment. His choice of actions will flow from his analysis of his subject’s personality.”
That didn’t sound so bad. He pictured multiple-choice tests. He frowned, bewildered.
“Ry is an artist, in his way,” continued the Baron. “He can create the most extraordinary psychological effects. I’ve seen him turn an enemy into a slave utterly devoted to his person, who will obey any order. The last man who attempted to assassinate him and had the misfortune to live ended up serving drinks at Ryoval’s private parties, and begging to offer gratification of any kind to any guest on request.”
“What did you ask for?” the Baronne inquired dryly.
“White wine. It was before your time, love. I watched, though. The man had the most haunted eyes.”
“Are you considering selling me to Ryoval?” he asked slowly.
“If he’s the highest bidder, Admiral. Your and your clone-twin’s raid upon my property—and I am still not certain you did not plan it together from first to last—was very costly to my House. And,” his eyes glinted, “personally annoying. I’ll not bother avenging myself upon a cryo-amnesic, but I do wish to shave my losses. If I sell you to Ry, you’ll be better punished than even I care to think about. Ry would be delighted to own a matched pair.” Vasa Luigi sighed. “House Ryoval will always be a minor house, I fear, as long as Ry allows his personal gratification to outweigh its profits. It’s a shame. I could do so much more with his resources.”
The girl returned, served little plates of hors d’ouvers, refreshed their drinks, some wine-and-fruit concoction, and wafted out again. Slowly. Vasa Luigi’s eyes followed her. The Baronne’s eyes narrowed, noting his gaze. Her lashes swept down, focusing on her drink, as his head turned back.
“What about … the Dendarii Mercenaries, as a bidder?” Yes! Just let Bharaputra make that offer, and the Dendarii would come knocking on his door. With a plasma cannon. High bid indeed. This game must be a short one. Bharaputra could not put him up for auction without revealing that he had him, and then, and then … what? “If nothing else, you could use their competition to force Ryoval’s bid up,” he added slyly.
“Their resources are too finite, I fear. And not here.”
“We saw them. Yesterday.”
“A mere covert ops team. No ships. No back-up. I understand they only revealed their identity at all in order to get Lilly to talk with them. But … I have reason to believe there is another player in this game. My instincts twitch, looking at you. I have the oddest urge to take a modest middleman’s profit, and let the negative bidders apply to House Ryoval.” The Baron chuckled.
Negative bidder? Oh. People with plasma cannons. He tried not to react.
Vasa Luigi continued, “Which brings us back to the original question—what is Lilly’s interest in all this? Why did Lilly set you to revive this man, Rowan? For that matter, how did Lilly obtain him, when some hundreds of other earnest searchers could not?”
“She didn’t say,” said Rowan blandly. “But I was glad for a chance to sharpen my skills. Thanks to your security guard’s excellent aim, he was quite a medical challenge.”
The conversation became medical-technical, between Lotus and Rowan, and then more desultory, as the clone-girl served them an elaborate meal. Rowan evaded as smoothly as the Baron questioned, and no one expected him to know anything. But Baron Bharaputra seemed not to be in a hurry. Clearly, he was setting up to play some land of waiting game. Afterwards the guards escorted them back to their room, which he realized at last was part of a corridor of identical chambers designed, perhaps, to house the servants of important visitors.
“Where are we?” he hissed at Rowan as soon as the door shut behind them. “Could you tell? Is this Bharaputra’s headquarters?”
“No,” said Rowan. “His main residence is still under renovation. Something about a commando raid blowing out several rooms,” she added snappishly.
He walked slowly around their chamber, but he did not take up banging on the walls again, to Rowan’s obvious relief. “It occurs to me … that there’s another way to escape besides breaking from the inside out. That’s to get someone else to break from the outside in. Tell me … would it be harder to break in and take someone held prisoner by House Bharaputra, House Fell, or House Ryoval?”
“Well … Fell would be the hardest, I suppose. He has more troops and heavy weapons. Ryoval would be the easiest. Ryoval’s really a House Minor, except he’s so old, he gets the honors of a House Major by habit.”
“So … if one wanted someone bigger and badder than Bharaputra, one might go to Fell.”
“One might.”
“And … if one knew help were on the way … it might be tactically brighter to leave said prisoner at Ryoval’s, rather than to have him shifted to some more formidible location.”
“It might,” she conceded.
“We have to get to Fell.”
“How? We can’t even get out of this room!”
“Out of the room, yes, we must get out of the room. But we might not have to get out of the house. If one of us could just get to a comconsole for a few uninterrupted minutes. Call Fell, call someone, let the world know Vasa Luigi has us. That would start things moving.”
“Call Lilly,” said Rowan sturdily. “Not Fell.”
I need Fell. Lilly can’t break into Ryoval’s. He considered the uneasy possibility that he and the Durona Group might be starting to move at cross-purposes. He wanted a favor from Fell, whom Lilly wished to escape. Still—one would not have to offer very much to interest Fell in a raid on Ryoval. A break-even in materials, and the profit in old hatred. Yeah.
He wandered into the bathroom, and stared at himself in the mirror. Who am I? A skinny, haggard, pale, odd-looking little man with desperate eyes and a tendency to convulsions. If he could even decide which one his clone-twin was, glimpsed so painfully yesterday, he could dub himself the other by process of elimination. The fellow had looked like Naismith to him. But Vasa Luigi was no fool, and Vasa Luigi was convinced of the reverse. He had to be one or the other. Why couldn’t he decide? If I am Naismith, why did my brother claim my place?