Part 17 (2/2)

Zed left. Rhani rose from the chair and went to the washroom. Her eyes ached, and she patted them with a cold towel before scrubbing her face with hot water. She combed her hair out, braided it, and then, over the intercom, told Amri to bring Tak Rafael to her room. He entered quietly: a slim, brown man with gray-green eyes.

”Domna Rhani,” he said, bowing slightly. ”It's good to have you back in Abanat.”

”Thank you,” she said. She gestured to the com-unit, knowing he preferred to sit at it. ”Please be seated.” He sat. He was wearing Yago blue, and the only bright touch about him was the red frame of his sunshades. ”I must confess that I have not had the time to read over all this year's earnings reports with the care they deserve.” She brought the stool to sit beside him at the com-unit.

”I know you're a busy woman,” he said. ”That's why you employ me.”

She smiled. ”Yes. However, if you will bring the last quarter's report on the screen -- ” he tapped out brisk instructions, and the display winked to life -- ”yes, thank you. I have a few questions....”

His response to her questions, and the ensuing discussion, took two hours. The bank was making money, certainly; however, in certain divisions investments had drastically lost money, and Rhani wanted to know why. At the conversation's close, she requested Rafael to have the Bank's Investment Committee send her a policy statement, with examples of its application from the four prior reports. And -- wondering a little at herself -- she asked Rafael almost diffidently what he could tell her about Family Dur's current investments. Cautiously, he said, ”You probably have access to more of that information than I, Domna.”

”Tell me what you know.”

”They invest mostly through the First Bank of Chabad, of course. Aside from what they have tied up in mining and refining equipment, they've invested heavily in underwater mining gear, in the diamond market on Belle, in some of the newer Abanat housing projects and hotels, and in pharmaceutical supplies.”

”These are stable investments? Nothing chancy?”

”I doubt that the Investment Committee at the First Bank of Chabad would authorize anything less.”

She grinned at him. ”I hope not.” She rose from her stool. ”Thank you for taking this trouble and time.”

He rose and bowed. ”As always, it is a pleasure to see you, Domna.”

She called Amri to escort him downstairs. In leaving, he said, rather shyly, ”You know, Domna, I recently learned that I'm not the only person in my family to have worked for yours.”

”Oh?”

”I can trace my line back five generations on Chabad, and in each generation one member of my family was employed by yours. My great-great- grandmother was an accountant for Lisa Yago.”

Alone at last, Rhani kicked off her sandals and sank onto her bed. The house was hot; the aircooling system was old, and needed to be repaired, or replaced. She let herself fall backward to the bed's cool, silky surface.

Closing her eyes, she relaxed her tense muscles: images paraded through her head, Sovka then, Sovka now, the kerit cages, Erith Allogonga's scars, white on her dark arms, Dana Ikoro, her Starcaptain....

It had been a long day. Uncharitably, she blamed Ferris Dur for that. If he had not made his offer, she would not have fought with Zed, nor found herself flying to Sovka in the middle of Abanat's heat. She touched the flat surface of her belly and tried to imagine herself pregnant. It would be simple enough to arrange; all she would have to do would be to stop taking the pills she had taken since she was thirteen, one each Standard week. She wrinkled her nose, wondering if she would like being pregnant. Some women did. The aircooling system clunked, interrupting her thought, and she made a mental note to ask Binkie to call someone to fix it.

Binkie ... slaves ... dorazine. Scowling, she opened her eyes. d.a.m.n Michel A-Rae! He was her foremost problem. If he had his way there would be no merger of two fortunes, for neither she nor Ferris Dur would have one. She remembered a book that Isobel had made her read, Nakamura's _History of Chabad_.

Nakamura, a vigorous anti-slaver, had predicted that moral indignation and rising costs would force Chabad to end the slave system and replace it by hired labor. Michel A-Rae seemed to be providing the moral indignation, she thought.

Maybe this was the beginning of the decline, and Nakamura had been right.

Slavery was not the most efficient system, she well knew. But the Chabadese adaptation of it worked, and Family Yago needed it. Yago money maintained the Net, ran the Auction, and profited from both. If slavery ended, Sovka would survive. But the Net would not. And what, Rhani thought, would Zed Yago do if the Net did not survive?

She sat up abruptly on the bed. She did not want to think about her brother, not now. Padding barefoot to the bedroom door, she slid it shut. Then, stepping from her jumpsuit, she curled naked on the bed and poured herself a gla.s.s of wine. A drop of sweat formed between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and glided to her navel, making her shudder. On Chabad, even sweating was a luxury. She gazed at her own body, wondering where Dana was now: in his room, perhaps, talking to Amri, or listening to the music of -- what was that name? -- Vittorio Stratta.

Her nerves jittered with s.e.xual tension. The rapport between them had sprung out of nowhere. It was always that way for her. She remembered back two months, to the brief affair she had had with the young acrobat, and before that, to the love-time she had spent with Clare Brion. That had been lighthearted loving, swift, tender and fun.

She had never loved a slave. Wine gla.s.s in hand, she paced. She didn't even know if he wanted her. She traced, with her own hand, the path of his hand on her face. Surely, he did. She could call him, make him sit and talk with her; she could command him into bed, even. Her mouth twitched with laughter. Much good that would do. She wondered how she looked to him. Too short, too tall, too skinny?

She wondered if he was good in bed.

She heard his voice in her mind. ”Yes, Rhani-ka. No, Rhani-ka.” Slave manners, incongruous coming from a Starcaptain. It surprised her how swiftly he had learned them, until she recalled who had taught him. Zed had hated Clare; hated the nights when she had not come home, hated it even more when she brought Clare to share her bed. He hadn't met the acrobat. If she took Dana as bedmate, Zed would say nothing to her; he would take his anger out on Dana. That would be insufferable. Rhani scowled. This was insufferable, or soon would be. She could free him. Then Zed would not touch him.

But if she freed him, he would be gone off Chabad as fast as he could go, out of Sector Sardonyx, out of her life.

She didn't want that either.

She shrugged into a robe, yanking the sash tight, as if by constricting her breathing she could shut off her thoughts. She palmed the door open.

”Binkie!” He entered. ”I want this letter to go out to all Family Yago a.s.sociates immediately.”

”_To Whomever, from Domna Rhani Yago: Family Yago would appreciate knowing whatever can be known about an Enchantean family surnamed U_-_Ellen.

Thank you, very sincerely, Domna Rhani Yago_.” He tapped it out. She watched the message flit across the screen. ”Thank you, Bink. Send that out, and when that is done, please set up a file for me with all the material we have received to date on Michel A-Rae.”

Zed ate dinner in the kitchen.

Dana wandered in, saw him there, and left at once, with a swift, ”Excuse me.” Zed watched him walk. His body was beginning to regain some of its confidence; it had resumed that Hyper glide. Zed smiled to himself. It might be amusing, he thought, to spend some time taking it away.

”Is there more wine?” he asked. Corrios poured it for him. No, he would not do that. He had promised Rhani to leave Dana alone, and anyway he had other things to do, and not a lot of time. He pushed back from the chair. Climbing to his room, he showered and dressed. He tied his hair back with a silver clip, and reached into his closet for his cloak. It was dark blue apton on the outside and kerit fur on the inside, and it was trimmed in silver braid.

He went to say good night to Rhani. She was in bed, tray of food beside her. She had not put her hair back in its braid. It rippled over the pillows, s.h.i.+ning like water. Bending over her, he brushed the soft strands with his lips.

Rhani tugged at the ruffles on his s.h.i.+rt to straighten them. ”Zed-ka, you look fine,” she said.

”Thank you. Why did I let you talk me into this? I'll be back early.”

She said, ”Don't leave so early that Imre will think you rude.”

”I won't.”

”Give him and the others my regards and regrets.”

He gazed at her levelly. ”No special message for Ferris?”

”No,” she said. ”Anything I have to say to him, I can say myself.”

At the front door, Zed reminded Corrios to keep the door double-locked and the alarms on. He crossed the street to the park. Looking back, he saw the house looming like a castle through the trees, light s.h.i.+ning through the slits in the curtains. There was no one in the park tonight; no lovers coupling in the wet stems, no children playing in the early darkness. It seemed ominous.

He zigged and zagged, taking a diagonal path through the small streets, till he reached the Kyneth mansion on the Promenade. It was a bigger house than the Yago house: the Kyneths liked large families. The door fronting on the Promenade was wide open. Two slaves flanked it. They bowed as Zed walked between them into the foyer of the house. Another slave took his cloak. Through the doors into the main hall he saw the ma.s.sed backs of the guests. Voices shrieked.

Just like the tourists, he thought. Zed squared his shoulders.

The crowd splintered. Imre Kyneth walked out of the crush, hands outstretched in welcome. ”Zed, good evening! So pleased you could be here.”

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