Casimir finished his phone call. He looked at her with somber eyes.
"You'd better make yourself scarce," Sula said. "They might be going after all of you."
"That's what Sergius told me," he said.
"Or maybe," Sula's eyes narrowed, "they're after you, and they went to the Two Sticks thinking you'd be there."
"Or they might be after you," Casimir said, "and Julien and I are both incidental."
"That hadn't occurred to me," she said.
Casimir began to draw on his clothing. "This looks bad," he said. "But maybe you'll get what you want."
She looked at him.
"War," he explained, "between us and the Naxids."
"That_ had_ occurred to me," she said.
It had occurred to her the previous night, in fact, while she gazed at raindrops coursing down the window. Which was why, that morning, she'd gone to a public comm unit. She wore a worker's coveralls and the blonde wig and a wide-brimmed hat pulled down over her face, and she'd taken the hat off her head and put it over the unit's camera before she manually punched in the code that would connect her to the Legion of Diligence informer line.
"I want to give some information," she said. "An anarchist cell is meeting tonight in a restaurant called the Two Sticks, off Harmony Square. They are planning sabotage. The meeting is set for twenty-four and one, in a private room. Don't tell the local police, because they're corrupt and would warn the saboteurs."
She'd used the Earth accent that had once amused Caro Sula. She walked away from the comm without removing her hat from the camera pickup.
She must have been convincing because Julien was now under arrest.
"How shall I contact you?" Sula asked Casimir.
He adjusted his trousers, then gave her a code.
Sula nodded. "Got it."
He gave her a quizzical look. "You don't need to write it down?"
"I compose a mental algorithm that will allow me to remember the number," she said. "It's what I do with everyone's numbers."
He blinked. "Clever trick," he said.
She kissed him. "Yes," she said. "A very clever trick."
The next day the Naxids went berserk. Someone with a rifle went onto a building overlooking the Axtattle Parkway, the main highway that connected Zanshaa City with the Naxids' landing field at Wi-hun. The sniper waited for a convoy of Naxid vehicles to go by, then shot the driver of the first vehicle. Because the vehicles were using the automated lanes, the vehicle cruised on under computer control with a dead driver behind the controls. Then the sniper shot the next driver, and the next.
By the time the Naxids got things sorted out at least eight Naxids were dead, and more wounded. By way of retaliation they decided to shoot fifty-one hostages for every dead Naxid. Sula had no idea how they decided on fifty-one.
Casimir, who heard the news before anyone else, called Sula shortly after dawn to tell her to stay off the streets, and she spent the day in the apartment with a book of mathematical puzzles. Casimir called again after nightfall. "Can we meet?" he asked.
"Is it safe to go out?"
"The police have finished rounding up new hostages to replace the ones they shot today, and they're back to processing ration cards. But just in case I'll send a car."
She told him to pick her up at the local train stop. The car was a dark Hunhao sedan with one of the Torminel bodyguards at the controls. He took her to a small residential street on the edge of a Cree neighborhood – she saw Cree males on the streets exercising their quadruped females, who bounded about them like large puppies.
Casimir was in the apartment of a smiling, elderly couple who apparently did very well for themselves renting out their spare room as a safe house. The room was spacious and comfortable, with flower pots on the window sills, fringed throw rugs, the scent of potpourri, family pictures on the walls, and a macrame border around the wall video. The remains of Casimir's dinner sat on a tray along with a half-empty bottle of sparkling wine.
Sula kissed him hello, and put her arms around him. His flesh was warm. His cologne had a pleasant earthy scent.
"I think we've got a false alarm," Casimir said. "The Legion doesn't seem to be after me. Or Sergius, or anyone but Julien. There haven't been any raids. No inquiries. Nobody's been seen doing surveillance."
"That may change if Julien talks," Sula said.
Casimir drew back. His face hardened. It was as if she'd just challenged the manhood of the whole Riverside Clique.
"Julien won't talk," he said. "He's a good boy."
"You don't know what they're going to do to him. The Naxids are serious. We can't count on anything."
Casimir's lips gave a scornful twitch. "Julien grew up with Sergius Bakshi beating the crap out of him twice a week – and not for any reason, either, just for the sheer hell of it. You think Julien's going to be scared of the Naxids after that?"
Sula considered Sergius Bakshi's dead predator eyes and large pale listless hands and thought that Casimir had a point.
"So they won't get a confession from Julien. There's still Veronika."
Casimir shook his head. "Veronika doesn't know anything." He gave her a pointed look. "She doesn't know about you."
"But she knows Julien was expecting the two of us for dinner. And the Naxids will have seen that Julien was sitting at a table set for four."
Casimir shrugged. "They'll have my name and half of yours. They'll have a file on me and nothing on you. You're not in any danger."
"It's not me I'm worried about," Sula said.
He looked at her for a moment, then softened. "I'm being careful," he said in a subdued voice. He glanced around at the room. "I'm here, aren't I? In this little room, running my criminal empire by remote control."
Sula grinned at him. He grinned back. "Would you like something to eat or drink?" he asked.
"Whatever kind of soft drink they have would be fine."
He carried out his dinner tray. Sula toured the room, tidied a few of Casimir's belongings that had been carelessly laid down, then took off her shoes and sat on the floor. Casimir returned with two bottles of Citrine Fling. He seemed surprised to find Sula on the floor but joined her without comment. He handed her a bottle and touched it with his own. The resinous material made a light thud rather than a crystal ringing sound. He made a face.
"Here's to our exciting evening," he said.
"We'll have to make all the excitement ourselves," Sula said.
His eyes glittered. "Absolutely." He took a sip of his drink, then gave her a reflective look. "I know even less about Lady Sula than I do about Gredel."
She looked at him. "What do you want to know?"
There was a troubled look in his eye. "That story about your parents being executed. I suppose that was something that you said to get close to me."
Sula shook her head. "My parents were executed when I was young. Flayed."
He was surprised. "Really?"
"You can look it up if you want to. I'm in the military because it's the only job I'm permitted."
"But you're still a Peer."
"Yes. But as Peers go, I'm poor. All the family's wealth and property were confiscated." She looked at him. "You've probably got scads more money than I do."
And, she thought, _you're not the first high-class criminal I've slept with, either._
Casimir was even more surprised. "I've never met a whole lot of Peers, but you always get the impression they're rolling in it."
"I'd like to have enough to roll in." She laughed, took a sip of her Fling. "Tell me. If they don't find Julien guilty of anything, what happens to him?"
"The Legion? They'll try to scare the piss out of him, then let him go."
Sula considered this. "Are the Naxids letting anyone go at all? Or does everyone they pick up for any reason join the hostage population in the lockups?"
He looked at her and ran a pensive thumb down his jaw. "I hadn't thought of that."