I forced a smile. "Got seventy thousand neumarks on you?"
Reaching across the table, she squeezed my hand reassuringly. "We'll figure something out," she said. "Thanks for telling me."
She stood up. "I'd better get to the shower and then practice my curtsies.
I'll see you later." Collecting her carrybag from the closet, she returned to her room.
I turned back to my breakfast. On one level, it was something of a relief to have the dark secret out in the open at last, to have someone whose opinions I
cared about still accept me despite it all.
But neither the soul-cleansing nor Rhonda's compassion in any way changed the basic situation. And the food, delicious barely five minutes ago, now tasted like sand. The arched doorway facing us was far more impressive than the actual exterior of the Palace. And for a good reason: it was the entrance to King Peter's royal reception room, the place where he held public audiences and from which he did his broadcasts to the entire colony when such was deemed necessary.
All this came from Suzenne, who had also assured us that the two uniformed guards flanking the archway would momentarily be getting the word from inside that the king was ready. At which point they would pull open the heavy wooden doors and admit us.
Us consisting of Rhonda, Suzenne, and me.
"Stop fidgeting," Rhonda murmured in my ear.
"I am not fidgeting," I insisted, rubbing my fingertips restlessly against my leg and throwing baleful glances at the door we'd entered the anteroom though. Kulasawa was supposedly on her way; but Jimmy and Bilko had both disappeared somewhere into the city and no one knew where to find them. When this was all over, assuming King Peter didn't throw me in the dungeon for the impertinence of wasting his time with only half a crew, I was going to strangle both of them.
"Scholar Kulasawa's just coming into the Palace," Suzenne said softly, her phone to her ear. "Oh, and we've found Jimmy—he was with one of our musicians.
They're bringing him straight over."
Which still left Bilko unaccounted for. Predictably. "Any chance Jimmy will actually be here before those doors open?"
"Probably not," Suzenne said, smiling as she consulted her watch. "But don't worry about it. This is just an informal introductory meeting—anything formal we decide to do will happen this evening or tomorrow. He isn't going to be upset if you're not all here."
She drifted away, turning her back to us as she spoke quietly into the phone.
"Then why are you trying so hard to find him?" I muttered under my breath. I turned to Rhonda to detail what I intended to do to Bilko when he finally surfaced—
And paused. Rhonda was staring at Suzenne's back, a suddenly tight look on her face. "Relax," I told her. "I'm the nervous one in this group, remember?"
"Something's wrong here, Jake," she said slowly, her voice barely audible.
"Something having to do with Jimmy."
I felt my heart seize up. Jimmy was our musicmaster, a vital ingredient for getting the Sergei Rock back home. "You think he's in danger?"
"I don't know," she said, her eyes focused on infinity. "It's something that's been nagging at me ever since last night."
I looked over at the guards flanking the doorway. The way their uniforms were cut, I couldn't tell whether they were armed or not. "What time last night?
After we got to the city?"
"No, before that," Rhonda said, her forehead creasing a little harder. "It was on the flight over here; but it started before that..."
Abruptly, she looked up at me. "It was when we first met Suzenne," she hissed.
"When you introduced Jimmy as our musicmaster. She never asked what a musicmaster was."
I played the whole scene back in my mind. Rhonda was right. "Could she have asked someone during the flight?"
"No," Rhonda said, shaking her head microscopically. "I was sitting next to her, remember? Jake, they didn't have musicmasters until fifty years ago."
"I know," I said, a sudden tightness in my stomach. "I think I even mentioned to Suzenne that it was hard to explain."
"So why didn't she ask about it?" Rhonda persisted. "Either she's not very curious... or else she already knew."
I looked over at Suzenne, still on the phone. "But that's impossible," I murmured. "If someone else had found the Freedom's Peace, we'd have heard about it."
Rhonda shivered. "Only," she said, "if they made it home again."
I swallowed hard. "That new species of flapblacks Bilko spotted hanging around the asteroid. The InReds." "I was just wondering that," Rhonda murmured. "Suzenne and the others might not even realize the previous transport or transports hadn't made it back alive."
"Maybe it's time for a few direct questions," I suggested.
"You sure you want to hear the answers?"
"No," I admitted. "But I'd better ask them anyway." Squaring my shoulders, I took a step toward Suzenne—
And at that moment, the two guards suddenly came to life. Stepping to the center of the double doors, they each took one of the handles and pulled.
Suzenne was beside us before the doors even started to open. "All right, here we go," she said. "Remember, don't be nervous. Ah—Scholar. Good; you made it."
I turned my head to see Kulasawa step into line between Suzenne and Rhonda.
Her outfit was a surprise: a flowing-line jacket-blouse of a rich-looking brocade over a contrasting flare skirt. It made our transport-crew uniforms look positively shabby, I thought with vague resentment, and I wondered briefly why in the worlds a scholar would bring such an outfit on a trip between Angorki and Parex. But then, unlike the rest of us, she'd known what the Sergei Rock's true destination was. "Where are the others?" she muttered to Suzenne.
"Not here," Suzenne said. "Don't worry about it. Everyone; here we go."
We walked forward in unison, crossing the rest of the foyer and stepping between the open doors.
My first impression of the room was that its tone fit the outer building much more than it did the ornate doorway leading into it. More like an expansive office than the way I would have envisioned a throne room, it was dominated by a
large desk near the back wall. A few meters to our right, a semicircular couch that could comfortably seat eight people was positioned around a low circular table on which was a carafe and several glasses. Scattered around the room were a few free-standing lamps and sculptures on pedestals; on the walls were some paintings and textureds, tastefully arranged and spaced. Off to the left, almost looking like an afterthought, was a high-backed throne that had apparently been carved out of a single block of pale, blue-green stone.
And seated there waiting for us was King Peter.
He was a bit older than I'd expected—somewhere in his eighties, I guessed—clean shaven instead of with the bushy beard I'd sort of expected every self-respecting monarch automatically came equipped with. His clothing was also something of a disappointment: no crown and royal robes, but merely a subdued white suit with gold buttons and trim. Kulasawa's outfit, I thought uneasily, was going to make him look a little shabby, too.
"Welcome to the Freedom's Peace," he said, rising to his feet as we turned to face him. "I'm King Peter, titular ruler of this world. I trust you've been properly looked after?"
"Yes, sir, we have," I said, suddenly realizing to my chagrin that Suzenne hadn't given us any pointers in protocol. "I mean, Your Highness—"
" 'Sir' will suffice, Captain Smith," he assured me, stepping up and offering me his hand. "I'm pleased to meet you." "Thank you, sir," I managed, shaking his hand. "I'm pleased to meet you, too."
He smiled. "Actually, a simple 'Peter' will do, if you're so inclined," he said in a conspiratorial tone. "The citizens here like the idea of having a monarch, but we all have too much common sense to take the idea too seriously."