Sometimes someone spoke to Blessed. Always he replied courteously but coolly, cultivating an image of distance that, tempered by warmth in private, might lead some to think they had wormed their ways into his confidence. Those would be the people he used.
As he spoke with an executive who seemed to think she could further his education and her career in private, he caught a snatch of conversation. He froze. The words did not register. They did not matter. Only the voice mattered. There was something frighteningly familiar about it. Something that raised the hair on the back of his neck. Yet he could not identify it.
He spotted the man. "Who is that?" he asked his companion.
"Nikla Ogdehvan. He and his wife do something mysterious for the House. Probably something sinister. They come and go and nobody knows where or when they'll turn up again."
Subtle stress on wife. Why? Marriage was uncommon and quaint but not socially unacceptable. "Thank you. Excuse me, please."
The woman's lips tightened but she did not protest.
It took minutes of drifting. Once he had his target fixed he listened intently, not to words but to tone and rhythm. The man spoke seldom, but when he did everyone listened. There was a hard edge beneath his gentleness. No one knew what he did. No one wanted to find out.
Half an hour later, when he received the summons from his mother, Blessed knew exactly what Nikla Ogdehvan did for the House.
Linas Maserang, Myth Worgemuth, and a third man Waited with Valerena. Valerena said, "Myth tells me you've got everything figured out. With a mind like yours, you might be useful."
Was that sarcasm? "I presume something dramatic has happened to make you bunch up with so many witnesses around."
Valerena scowled. "Word just came. Father's Voyager arrived today." Exasperation. "Those morons up there didn't figure it out till a few minutes ago. They wouldn't have noticed if that damned Guardship hadn't challenged him."
"May I see the data, Mother?"
Maserang said, "Help yourself." His sarcasm was thick. He indicated his personal Information Center.
"Just scroll the message from station."
Irked, Maserang did so.
Blessed read. "Four hours twenty-three minutes since breakaway. Not enough time to dock and make the descent."
Valerena snapped, "Of course not! He's up there lying low. It says that right there."
"What we see Grandfather doing and what he's really doing aren't the same things, Mother. I submit that he intended to be noticed."
"Nonsense," Maserang said. "Why?"
"Because this is my grandfather's Other, who has been exchanged already, coming in to make the switch again."
"Don't let your imagination carry you away. It couldn't have been managed without our agents noticing."
"Neither you nor your agents have noticed that Lupo Provik is out on your veranda, among the invited guests, masquerading as Nikla Ogdehvan. And he's been on Prime for a week."
Dead silence. Stricken silence. Death might have drawn a talon through that room.
Maserang's Info Center buzzed. Irritated, he muttered, "I told them I didn't want to be disturbed."
The silence turned toward disbelief. Valerena said, "Amuse yourself at someone else's expense, Blessed. I no longer find your humor tolerable."
Maserang said, "You'd better take this, Val."
She went and snarled at the comm. She erected a privacy screen a moment after she started, though, so that Blessed did not know why she was growling.
She was deathly calm when she came back. "That was my father's pet artifact."
Blessed moved toward the door. "I'll go irritate someone else, Mother."
She screeched something obscene. He did not listen. He went out to see how life was treating Lupo Provik.
— 27 —
Timmerbach raged and wailed and scurried around, but not once did he lose control of Glorious Spent. He was a wonder. He railed against his deities, his employers, Canon, the Guardships, the Web itself, without prejudice—while occasionally pausing to give his techs advice in a calm voice. He sounded crazy most of the time but was just a man trying to save his ship and maybe his life.
Jo looked into the screen portraying the aft view. IV Trajana loomed ever larger.
One of the bridge crew beckoned Timmerbach. They muttered. Then the Chief jumped back and complained all the louder. "Commander, we're not going to make that anchor point. We'll come up several seconds short. We'll hang on till these bastards bump us off, though. May they get hung up and never find a way down."
Jo recalled stories of ships found caught on the Web, apparently unable to get back off.
Glorious Spent shuddered and jumped as though kicked. Warning lights went mad. Jo grabbed Haget and a stanchion. Alarms shrieked and hooted. Timmerbach yelled, "Kick it off! Kick it off now!"
And pray the systems had not been damaged.
Real Space. Starspace. The sense of having been relieved of a vast pressure. It took her several seconds to understand why.
The dread was gone.
She and Haget realized they were still in contact. She jerked away. "My apologies, sir."
"None needed, Sergeant. Chief. We're off the Web prematurely. Have you calculated the schedule delays?"
Timmerbach exhaled slowly, controlling his temper. "We were close to the anchor when we broke away, Commander. Assuming our numbers are good, we'll be in starspace four days. We'll pick up another strand and be gone."
Jo did not listen closely. She was trying to keep an eye on Cholot and to watch for the monster star raging somewhere nearby, and for the school of stars in which it swam. Guardships' soldiers seldom got to see such sights.
Haget said, "Thank you, Chief. We'll get out of your way now."
Jo's communicator beeped. She raised a hand to stall Haget. "Klass?" the comm whispered. "Vadja. Seeker is on the move. Headed your way."
"Got you. Klass out. Commander, Colonel Vadja says Seeker is headed for the bridge."
Timmerbach heard. "That's all I need. A goddamned creepy-crawlie... Keep it away from me."
"Chief, I have no intention of allowing an alien near the controls of a Canon ship. Klass. Get everyone up here."
"Yes, sir." As she summoned Degas and AnyKaat, she checked the exterior screens. Amazing that something as terrible as the dread or as big as IV Trajana could pass unnoticed in starspace.
"Astounding, isn't it?" Haget said. "Chief, we'll wait for it in the passageway. Lock up behind us. Sergeant, check with Vadja. See if it's still coming."
She did. It was. "Why?" she wondered aloud.
Haget shrugged. He made sure the bridge hatch was secured, stood at an easy rest. "That business makes you appreciate the problems of operating a small ship, doesn't it?"
"Yes." Surprise. That was too human a remark for Haget. Jo assumed a stance aping his.
"Here it comes."
Seeker of the Lost Children looked taller and more regal. Jo battled an urge to kneel.
The impulse went as suddenly as it had come. It was replaced by a desire to step aside. "It's trying to manipulate me," she said.
"Stand fast."
The thing slowed, halted. Era Vadja appeared behind it, then Degas and AnyKaat. Those two had brought sidearms.
Haget said, "Passengers are not permitted in this part of the Traveler. Please return to passengers' country."
Seeker did not move. Jo tried to stand outside herself while emotions and urges not her own tugged at her. She did not yield.
Haget repeated his admonition. He added, "Canon law forbids your presence on the operating bridge of any carrier not operated by your own species."