Publius sighed. “I’m open to suggestions, Ruiz.”
Ruiz sipped at the lilac liquor. “It’s a matter that requires serious thought. Let me return to my own lodgings and I’ll consider.”
Publius smiled and shook his head. “Don’t be silly, Ruiz. I can’t let you out of my control now — you’re gravid with dangerous information. I’ll have a suite prepared for you here, and you’re welcome to brainstorm to your heart’s content, or at least until tomorrow.” His expression darkened and he directed a worried look at the puppet. “The pirate lords are growing restive; who knows how much longer they’ll delay moving against Yubere. They don’t know exactly how he’s connected with the secret, and of course it’s difficult for them to make any sort of concerted effort… but they’re working themselves up to it.”
Something about this last bothered Ruiz. “What makes you think your Yubere would do better against the lords than the real one would?”
“Perceptive question, Ruiz,” said Publius, sounding a bit displeased. “I don’t know why I even try to fool you. Well, I’ll say only that I can call on resources that the real Yubere cannot — and don’t ask me to elaborate.”
Ruiz felt strangely weakened, out of control, bewildered — he could only dimly perceive the mechanisms so obviously grinding away beneath the surface Publius had presented to him. As he considered this, he grew resentful. He looked at the monster-maker and only with great difficulty did he conceal the disgust that flooded through him.
“Well,” he finally said. He made his voice light and fixed a disarming smile on his face. “I hope you’ll put me up in decent style, Emperor Publius. We who are about to die could use a good night’s sleep.”
Chapter 13
Corean took her assassin back to the Jolly Roger in silence. Marmo, who had waited for her in Yubere’s negotiation facility, spoke to her only in monosyllables, and if she hadn’t believed that Marmo had long ago worn out his store of such human emotions, Corean might have thought Remint had frightened the old cyborg.
When they reached their rooms, Lensh seemed openly distressed by the slayer’s ominous presence; his feline features constantly wavered between cringing disapproval and outrage.
She found Yubere’s brother more than a little intimidating herself, so much so that she couldn’t be very irritated with the reactions of the others.
She directed Remint to a corner ottoman, where he sat quietly, staring into space, a machine waiting for its instructions.
Her most urgent need then was a bath. Perhaps she only imagined it, but she still smelled the subtle Gench taint she had noticed in Yubere’s stronghold, as if those alien molecules were clinging to her with unnatural tenacity.
She lingered in the warm bath, thinking aimless thoughts. She noticed the slight dryness of her perfect skin, her need for a manicure. After a while she rubbed a soapy sponge across her breasts, and she became aware of a dull sexual ache. She had, after all, been away from her various erotic pets for several days now; her growing frustration was natural enough. Perhaps she would send out for a brace of joyfolk later; the Jolly Roger kept several well-regarded catering firms under contract. She considered summoning Lensh to service her immediately, but as a lover he was uninteresting. Like most folk with substantial feline DNA adulteration, Lensh tended to mate in a brief, brutal, matter-of-fact manner — which at the moment held no appeal for Corean.
For a moment she considered the slayer — how would it be to lie in such inhumanly strong arms? She dismissed the notion with a tiny shiver. She was feeling unadventurous tonight — unusual for her.
Something turned her thoughts to Ruiz Aw. A perversely wishful mood came over her, so that she lay back in a swirl of sweet-scented heat, and remembered how much she had once lusted for Ruiz Aw’s handsome flesh.
She cupped her hands around her small breasts, and stroked her thumbs across the soap-slick points of her nipples. After the Moc had almost killed Ruiz, she had sent him to the rooms where she was keeping the Pharaohan woman. Those rooms were equipped with the standard surveillance cameras, of course, and she recalled the times she had watched the two of them rutting in the woman’s silk-covered bed.
Corean slid her hands down her belly, and her fingers moved in a languid rhythm. Ruiz Aw had been lovely to watch, and the woman too — Corean had looked forward so much to having them… until the woman had half killed a valuable property, until Ruiz Aw had stolen her boat and cargo. She had desired them both fiercely. She had put off the moment of consummation, so that the anticipation might sweeten her pleasure. She had waited just a bit too long.
But they’d been so pretty, Ruiz and the Pharaohan — the two bodies entwined, pleasing each other in all the ways a man and woman could.
Images of their artful couplings filled her memory, and her fingers moved more quickly.
For all her rage, she still wanted him. If by some miracle Remint had at that instant brought Ruiz into her bathroom, she would have made him satisfy her, over and over. She arched her back, so that her pelvis rose from the water. She threw her head back, and felt the first clenching spasms begin.
She thought: and then, when Ruiz Aw’s strength was all gone, she would make him die.
She came, shuddering with the culmination of that joyful fantasy.
Later, composed and cold with determination, Corean went in to instruct her slayer in his task.
“Listen, Remint,” she said. “There is a man called Ruiz Aw who is my enemy. He is a dangerous man with dangerous knowledge. We believe he is still here in SeaStack. It is your job to seek him out and render him helpless. You must adhere to these priorities: Ideally, you will bring him to me alive. Failing that, you must kill him and bring me his head or other indisputable evidence of his death. Do you understand?”
Remint nodded once, a sharp decisive gesture. The intensity of his attention was almost unnerving, Corean thought. But she continued. “There are other and somewhat less urgent elements to your task. Three slaves belonging to me were stolen by Ruiz Aw. I want them back, if recapturing them will not jeopardize your most important task: the capture or killing of Ruiz Aw.”
She waited for a fairly long time, before she realized that he wasn’t going to ask any questions unprompted.
“What do you need to know to begin your work?” she asked.
It was as if some powerful engine started spinning behind his stony eyes; they flared with purpose and, to her surprise, something approximating intelligence. “First,” he said. “Tell me everything you know or surmise about this man.”
Ruiz paced slowly back and forth across the thick carpet in the suite Publius had conducted him to. “I keep it for impressing merchant princes,” Publius had said with an expansive gesture that took in the various luxurious appointments. “Call if you need anything.” He had waited a moment for a response, then shrugged and left.
Ruiz had hardly noticed; he was too busy trying to think of some way to ensure his continued existence. How could he avoid doing Publius’s dirty work? He attempted to review his alternatives, but was depressed to discover that he could find none. Publius had him, and somehow he was certain that Publius wasn’t bluffing when he said he didn’t care anymore about the scrap of information Ruiz held against him. Escape from Publius seemed unlikely. After all, Publius had great respect for his violent skills; presumably he had taken adequate precautions against any attempt Ruiz might make to fly the coop.
For hours, Ruiz wrestled with the problem. Obviously Publius did not intend for him to long survive his mission — that much Ruiz could take for granted. But what possible leverage could he develop to use against Publius?