Part 7 (1/2)

But by dinnertime, she had finished deciphering the report. She ate with Zed in the small dining alcove on the first floor. It looked into the garden.

The moon was gibbous, and brilliant overhead; by its light, the dragoncats moved silently, weaving feral patterns among the shadows and beneath the trees.

”There's something going on at Gemit,” she said.

”They ran out of gold,” suggested Zed.

”No. I wouldn't want that -- I think. No, it's internal. One of their researchers has come up with a new twist in the refining process. It will halve the time it takes to separate the pure metal from the ore, but the initial outlay of money to equip is enormous. The Dur accountants think it's a waste of money and refused to authorize the funds. The head of the research department resigned in protest. They're fighting.”

”How nice for them,” said Zed.

”Maybe,” Rhani said, ”that's what Ferris Dur wants to talk with me about.”

”To ask your advice?”

Rhani grinned. ”Not likely, no.”

”What possible interest would _you_ have in the Gemit mines? Open interest, that is.”

”Maybe he wants to trade,” Rhani said. ”I get an executive power struggle; he gets a cageful of dead kerits.”

”You think he knows about that?” Zed speared the last bits of meat from his plate and pushed it from him. Amri took it.

”He must. I'm sure he has spies in Sovka, just as I do in Gemit. Not good ones,” she added, ”I hope.” She turned in the chair. ”Amri, tell Immeld to make egg tarts for tomorrow's breakfast.”

”Yes, Rhani-ka,” called the girl, and Zed smiled. He was a glutton for Immeld's egg custard tarts.

”You know,” Rhani went on, ”if the Hype cops do chase all the runners out of Sector Sardonyx, we'll have to make arrangements to use another drug, one of the dorazine derivatives, for the Net. We might even be able to buy the patent from whoever owns it.”

”None of them works very well,” said Zed.

”But they're better than nothing.”

Zed managed to look both thoughtful and doubtful. ”The best of them is pentathine.”

”I'll tell Binkie to find out who owns the patent.”

”But I think you overestimate Michel A-Rae.”

Rhani brandished her fork at him. ”You said he was a fanatic, dedicated!”

”He is. But the Hype drug cops have to cover eight sectors, and there are a lot of illegal drugs in the Living Worlds. He can't spend all his time and funds concentrating on dorazine. He's been at his job a few months, and while he may have shut down traffic here, it's got to be thriving elsewhere. The other sector worlds aren't going to like that, and pretty soon one or more of them is going to complain.”

Rhani shook her head. ”Obsessives don't think like that, Zed-ka. He'll keep on until he's circ.u.mvented or stopped.”

”He's being paid to do a job. Eventually he'll have to do it,” Zed argued.

Rhani spread her hands. She was not going to argue about obsessions with her brother: the only ones he understood were his own. ”Maybe,” she temporized.

”I will certainly think about what you say.”

Dana Ikoro sat in the kitchen, wondering what they were talking about, and -- he thought -- going a little mad.

After Zed had sent him from the terrace, it had taken him half an hour to stop shaking. During that time, he hid in his room. When he felt strong enough to move, he went into the garden, like a dog seeking a hole to hide in. He met Timithos, a st.u.r.dy, dark man with dirt under his nails and hair burned pale as straw by the sun. When Dana spoke with him, he simply smiled and did not speak.

The dragoncats came by to sniff at him; Dana found a string and dragged it for them, and they consented to some regal play, but they grew bored before he did.

The inactivity made him itch. He wanted to ask permission to visit the hangar behind the house, but to do that he would have to seek out Zed. He also started to walk through the front gate, just for the h.e.l.l of it, but a vestige of sense held him back.

Finally Cara took pity on him. ”Come,” she said and brought him to the kitchen. Cutting vegetables did not make him feel better, but at least it gave him something to do. He had begun to comprehend Immeld's constant curiosity about Zed and Rhani's talk. During their meal, the slaves gathered in the kitchen to eat. Amri ate first, since she served the meal. Dana wondered what would happen if, in the middle of the meal, he screamed.

He decided he was not yet crazy enough to want to find out.

”Here,” said Immeld, thrusting a dish between his hands. His fingers closed automatically. He glanced down; it was sherbet topped with nuts.

”Why are you giving me this?” he said.

”Because I'm sick of you hanging around,” she said. ”Go spoon it into those gla.s.s bowls over there.”

He did as he was told. Binkie, seated on a stool, smiled a private, ironic smile.

”Now what?” Dana said.

”Now take it into the alcove,” said Cara. ”What are you, a moron? That's dessert.”

”Oh,” Dana said. ”Right.” He wondered what Rhani would say to see him march out with the dishes. He wondered if Zed would comment. Sweet mother, he told himself, it's nothing, you're simply going to serve a meal! He walked from kitchen to alcove and set the first dish in front of Rhani, the second in front of Zed. The Net commander didn't bother to look up. Relieved, Dana returned to the kitchen. Timithos had come in, a dragoncat at his heels. Immeld gave him food in a brown, covered pot. He smiled at them all, murmured something incomprehensible, and left.

Binkie said, ”That man's a fool. He can barely talk. He won't even sleep in the house.”

Amri said, ”The garden's nice at night.”

”Would you sleep there?”

”I can't. I have my work to do.”

”Yes. Well, Timithos likes his work too much.”

Amri said, ”What's wrong with that? I like my work.”

”You would.” ”Don't torment the child,” said Cara. Immeld banged the lid on a cook- pot, frowning.

”Don't you like your work?” asked Amri.

Binkie said, ”It has its advantages.”

Immeld said, ”What are they talking about tonight?”

”About the mines at Gemit,” said Amri, ”and about dorazine.”

”The shortage,” said Immeld.