“Yes,” she said, looking down. “They have.”
“And how do you feel about staying?” Ruiz asked this with a sudden trembling uncertainty, though he strove to keep his voice calm. Suppose she wanted to stay?
She tilted her head and looked up at him. “I must explain something to you, Ruiz. On Pharaoh, I lived for the pleasures of the flesh; I kept slaves whose sole purpose was to bed me expertly, on the nights when I couldn’t find anyone more exciting.”
His heart grew heavy and he looked away.
“But,” she continued, “things are different now. Had the Sharers come to me then, I’d have gone gladly to them. Now, no. I have you.” She laid her hand against his cheek. “I do, don’t I?”
“Yes,” he said gratefully.
“They explained to me, Ruiz. I would never be with you again in the way we are now. Our bodies would go to other minds, and our minds to other bodies. I would lose you, wouldn’t I?”
“In a way. But you would be safe here — Corean would never find you.”
She drew back from him slightly. “You want me to consider this seriously?”
He nodded.
Nisa sighed and stood up. She walked to the autochef and operated it expertly. When she came back, she carried two beakers of a pale yellow wine. “Here,” she said, offering one to Ruiz.
She sat and sipped her wine for five minutes, staring at the wall, ignoring Ruiz.
Finally she turned to him and spoke in a careful voice. “Let me ask you: If we escape Sook, will you take me with you to your home? Will you let me be your companion, for as long as we both are satisfied with each other’s company?”
Her face seemed utterly composed.
“Yes,” he answered. He felt a sudden uncomplicated joy.
“Then I do not wish to stay here.” A lovely intimate smile curved her mouth.
“You understand that there are many dangers yet? That we may be captured by Corean, or by other enemies?”
“Of course,” she said, a little scornful. “Do you think me so unobservant? I have noticed that you attract difficulties. Still… you’ve so far survived them, which must mean something.”
“Perhaps. Well then, here is the proposal I will make to the Sharers.”
He told her his idea. First she was puzzled. When he explained it so that she grasped its essence, she shivered. “It’s so strange, Ruiz. So strange. Can you trust them to act honorably?”
“I hope so. I’ve already done so, in fact; they’re listening to us right now.”
“Oh.”
They sat together in comfortable silence for a few minutes. “I’ve noticed something,” she said. “You haven’t called them Fuckheads in a while.”
Hemerthe stood before them. “You realize, of course, that we had already considered this possibility. In a way, you offer us nothing that we could not take without your permission.”
“That’s not entirely true,” said Ruiz. “Your Gench will have told you that my mind is heavily self-circuited. Many areas of memory are locked down; if you simply take a copy of my mind and clone a body to hold it, you’ll be faced with the same difficulty you now have. You wish my willing participation, or so you claim.”
Hemerthe drew a deep breath. “Then let me see if I have this right. You two will permit us to take an impression of your total personality matrices, and will freely donate clonable cells. You, Ruiz will undertake to unlock the inaccessible areas of your mind, so that your replicant will be completely open to us.”
“I make no guarantees that my replicant will be any happier about staying,” said Ruiz.
“I understand. We’re not worried. It’s the self-protective aspects of your mind that we were most concerned about — otherwise you’re perfect. But what do you demand in exchange?”
“When the procedure is complete, you’ll release us: Nisa, Dolmaero, Molnekh, and me. You will provide us a boat in good operating condition and personal weapons. You will remove the mission-imperative from my mind. You will buy the slave Flomel from me at a fair market price — and he’s valuable, a conjuror from Pharaoh. Finally, you’ll give my friends a datasoak, so that they can learn the pangalac trade language. They speak only Pharaohan now, which would sabotage any chance they might have to survive in SeaStack, if something happens to me.”
Hemerthe laughed. “It seems you value yourself highly, Ruiz Aw. But apparently you trust us to keep our bargains.”
Ruiz shrugged, feeling a sickly helplessness. “I can find no alternative to trust. I’m afraid I’ve grown unresourceful in my old age.”
Hemerthe patted his shoulder. “No. Your instincts are still sound. We will agree to your terms; they are small things to us.”
Gradually, Ruiz began to feel a bit better. After a long while, he asked, from a rare urge to make polite conversation: “How long before the new Ruiz and the new Nisa will walk in Deepheart?”
Hemerthe grew animated and prideful. “Oh, we have the best tech this side of Dilvermoon. We grow the cells in dispersion, and then use nanomanipulators to construct the body, cell by cell. None of that primitive embryo-acceleration for us. How long? A week, ten days at the most. A few days more to embed the personality.”
This information gave Ruiz an odd chill. “Then I must leave immediately.”
The four of them stood on the landing, in the steamy SeaStack sunlight. Tied fore and aft to the mooring rings was a low sleek boat, powered by a silent magnetic propulsor. Its cockpit was covered by an armorglass bubble, now raised.
Dolmaero studied the boat with puzzled eyes. “I confess, Ruiz, I find this latest development even more astonishing than your capture of Corean’s airboat. How in the world did you win our freedom?”
Ruiz shrugged uncomfortably. “I sold a bit of myself. And a bit of Nisa. And all of Flomel.” In the safety pocket of his new unisuit was a cylinder of Dilvermoon currency, fourteen hundred paper-thin indium wafers. An energy tube was strapped to his forearm under the sleeve, operated by implanted muscle sensors. He wore a splinter gun at his belt, carried a tiny pepperbox graser tucked into each of his high boots. Here and there about his clothing he had hidden other weapons: knives, a stun rod, a monoline garrote.
“Which part of you and Nisa did you sell,” asked Dolmaero.
“A part that doesn’t show,” Ruiz answered shortly. Nisa squeezed his hand.
“Ah.” Dolmaero drew back slightly, as if in apprehension. “Well, the new language you bought for us is a remarkable thing. I find myself thinking thoughts that had never occurred to me before.”
“Me too,” said Molnekh. “It’s not a comfortable feeling, Ruiz Aw — but I suppose you had a good reason?”
Ruiz turned to Molnekh. “If somehow I should be unable to interpret for you, how would you manage?”
Molnekh rubbed his chin. “I hate to even consider the notion. We yokels, here on this weird world without Ruiz Aw’s protection? No, I can’t imagine such a disaster.”
“Nor I,” said Dolmaero.
Ruiz smiled. “Well, time to go,” he said. He stepped down to the speedboat’s deck. The boat rocked, sending ripples across the still black waters of the moorage. “Come,” he said, raising his hand to help Nisa aboard. “Let’s get moving, before the Sharers change their minds.”
When Dolmaero and Molnekh were seated in the aft bench, and Nisa was secured beside Ruiz, he pressed the toggle that lowered the bubble. The control slate lit, and a faint hum came from the propulsor. He touched another switch, and the mooring lines retracted.
He took the yoke and the boat powered away from the landing, leaving a frothing silver wake.
When they were outside, heading into the twisting channels, Nisa shivered, looking back at the carved gateposts. “It’s such an odd feeling, Ruiz. To think that our second selves will live forever in Deepheart, doing things that I cannot quite imagine…. It’s upsetting and yet… we two will live forever, in a way.”