Eyes of the Calculor (37 page)

"I do believe we have caught Fras Rangen Derris," said Martyne.

"There is a twenty-royal reward for him," said Dellar.

"Lucky us," said Martyne.

"Ten royals each"

"Correct."

All through Rochester there were raids by squads of Tiger Dragons, Espionage Constables, and even the ordinary Constable's Runners. For ninety minutes on that clear, warm, windless January day,

law enforcement in the capital of the Rochestrian Commonwealth ceased altogether while the raids netted 340 unregistered numerates and dozens more sympathizers and associates. Rangen's invisible paraline had ceased to exist.

IVIartyne sat with Dramoren in the Highliber's study amid the towers and roofs of Libris, sipping coffee and munching on macadamia nut shortbread.

"Another piece of shortbread?" asked Dramoren, holding the plate out to Martyne.

"No, thank you, Fras Highliber, I have had two already."

"Are you sure? They're by mayoral appointment."

"My training partner has me on her lean-muscle-mass diet. She would be cross if she knew I had had more than one."

"Well then, more coffee?"

"Just half a mug—but no honey."

They sat back, looking out over the roofs at the clear blue sky of summer through the open leadlight windows. A warm, gentle breeze had sprung up around noon, moderating what would otherwise have been a fairly hot day.

"Well now, I can only say that I am overwhelmed by the complete and thorough perfection of your operation," declared Dramoren, raising one foot and placing the heel firmly on the list of names on his coffee table. "Most of the finest numerates known to us are now being prepared for training as components in the Calculor. Who would have thought that Rangen's invisible paraline was not to smuggle unregistered numerates out of Rochester but to disguise them and keep them in Rochester?"

"Did you hear about the fugitive numerate who said no?" asked Martyne.

"No," replied Dramoren, although he caught himself almost immediately, and laughed.

"Highliber, humor is all about looking at things laterally, and for that reason humor is the highest and finest form of human thought. Look at any problem laterally and you have generated a new idea. I

did just that with the fugitive numerates. I am doing just that with several other potential threats to our Commonwealth."

"Oh ho, so what threats are these?"

"Some that you know of, others perhaps not."

"Name one."

"A second crew member from the flying machine."

Dramoren sat up instantly. "You—" He stared at Martyne, then allowed himself a shallow smile. "How soon can you bring him in?"

"Not so fast, Highliber. I have some observations to make first. In fact it may be more constructive not to make an arrest at all. Do you catch my meaning?"

Dramoren considered this option, settling back in his chair. "The man that was captured by the city militiamen does not speak Aus-taric, although my finest linguists have been putting in fourteen-hour days with him in an attempt to exchange languages. How is conversation with your man?"

"Who said that I had spoken with anyone?"

"Martyne?"

"Yes, Highliber?"

"Damn you."

"At once, Highliber."

"More to the point, Fras, I intend to have your authority within the Espionage Constables raised."

"I do not want a promotion, Highliber. It would cause me difficulties—"

"No, it will not. As Dragon Silver you shall have access to increased human and material resources on your own authority, rather than having to petition me directly as was the case with this morning's raids. Are you sure that you do not want any monetary reward for masterminding the operation?"

"Quite sure, Highliber."

"But why? Look, I can put a few hundred royals into a secret bank tally for you."

"No, thank you."

"I have never known anyone to refuse money before."

"Perhaps you need to know that I am beyond corruption, High-

liber. I cannot be bought, I can only be trusted." Martyne stood up. "Be pleased to remember that, Highliber, especially if you hear anything strange about myself or my actions."

Dramoren now stood up. "Nobody is truly trustworthy, Martyne, and there is nobody but myself that I trust without reservation. Nevertheless, I am very curious to see what you can do for the Commonwealth. The afternoon's compliments to you."

"And to you, Highliber."

i

ACE OF THE ENEMY

Rochester, the Rochestrian Commonwealth

V elesti had been working hard to gather a big audience for the demonstration of her self-defence guild's way of fighting. Although she had only just met Frelle Corien at an orientation tutorial, she quickly convinced her to come along. When Corien suggested that her friend from Jarbrovia might be convinced to come along as well, Velesti agreed to speak with her.

"The quite notorious Mayor Glasken once stayed here," said Corien suavely, tapping a plaque beside the main doors of Villiers College.

"Ah yes, I have met him," replied Velesti casually.

Corien swallowed. "Ah, indeed? When and where?"

"An important diplomatic reception, some time ago. I was a lot younger."

Corien cast a suspicious glance at her.

"What was he like?"

"He was a big, fit man, around fifty. He had an eye for the ladies, especially ladies with substantial but shapely bottoms and breasts."

"All of that is public knowledge." Corien laughed as they made for the stairs. "What else?"

"Glasken had a pointy waxed beard, and while bowing to an important official's wife he dipped it into her cleavage. She seized

his head and pushed his face into the very same cleavage, saying 'If you like them so much take a really good look!' He was a trifle misunderstood, but a dirty old man nevertheless."

Corien put a hand to her face. That sounded very much like the man who had struck her now-elderly uncle with a bag of stolen coins three decades ago. More than anything else, the words "dirty old man" convinced Corien that at least something of what Velesti had said was true. Most tales of the legendary Mayor of Kalgoorlie painted him as a great and romantic adventurer, but thanks to her uncle, Glasken was known as nothing more than a tasteless lecher in the Meziar family. Velesti's Glasken definitely sounded more like the Glasken of reality.

They walked down the residency wing's upper corridor. Corien rapped at Samondel's door.

"Waiting, please," called a voice from inside, then the latch clacked and the door was pulled open.

Samondel stood before them wearing a long promenade jacket over a calf-length skirt, with lace-up sandals on her feet. Her hands were demurely clasped before her, and her hair had been braided into a single plait that hung over her right shoulder and reached down to her knees. Her violet eyes were huge and winsome in the dim light.

Velesti gave a gasp of astonishment and scrambled behind Corien. Corien cast a puzzled glance back at Velesti, then looked back to the equally puzzled Samondel.

"Frelle Samondel, the afternoon's compliments," said Corien. "May I introduce Frelle Velesti Disore?"

"Frelle Disore, afternoon's compliments," said Samondel cautiously.

Corien stepped to one side and drew Velesti forward by the arm.

"Frelle Velesti is in our applied theology tutorial group. She is in the Dragon Librarian Service, and has just enrolled at the university to further her career. She ... is also a little timid around strangers."

Corien was not sure whether that had been the cause of Velesti's reaction, but it did seem like a diplomatic thing to say.

"Er, greetings—and the afternoon's compliments!" said Velesti, slowly regaining her composure.

"Our first Applied Theology tutorial is at four p.m.," said Corien.

"Time, I have remembered," said Samondel. "Now is not time, also."

"Ah, but Frelle Velesti has a demonstration for a new guild she is establishing. It is on the cloister lawns, very soon."

"Ah, religious readings?" asked Samondel.

"Well, no. This guild is to help female students, ah—"

"To improve their confidence," interjected Velesti.

Samondel reached out and took Velesti by the hand.

"Is wonderful and worthy, Frelle. Believe in confidence, girls, having plenty."

"I'm sure you do," responded Velesti.

"Without confidence, long journey here, is impossible. Alone, I have traveled."

"I have no doubt of it," said Velesti.

"Shall come along, friendly faces in crowd, for you. Corien and I. Yes?"

"Look, this type of confidence development may come as something of a shock," warned Velesti.

"Oh, but learning, my purpose, here is."

The main cloisters of the university were three sides of a square, but with a curved stone amphitheater for the fourth side. There were thirty or so girls and a scattering of male students on the stone steps and as many again watching from the covered cloisters. Velesti watched as Samondel and Corien took seats near the front of the amphitheater. Martyne arrived just as they were seated.

"Time to start, Fras, are you ready?" said Velesti.

"Yes, Frelle. What about you? You look a trifle nervous."

Velesti had a great number of things on her mind, and was uncharacteristically ill at ease.

"Martyne, do you think they will laugh at me?" she whispered behind her hand.

"Laugh? Why?"

"Well, I feel so foolish, like, being a girl. . ." Her voice faded.

"Why is today different?"

"There are some very pretty girls watching, and some youths as well. I look, well, different. They might laugh."

"Gasp yes, laugh no," said Martyne. "Nevertheless, if any youth does laugh I shall haul him out here to demonstrate a few of the more painful armlocks. Come on, brave and deadly Frelle, let us start your guild."

They walked out onto the lawn, and the students began applauding. They both bowed to those on the amphitheater seats. Samondel and Corien clapped enthusiastically, then sat forward and gave Ve-lesti both their full attention and wide smiles.

"I am Frelle Velesti Disore, Dragon Blue Librarian, and student of this university. Some time ago I was most brutally attacked in my home city, and as a result I have been taught certain arts to prevent this ever happening again. I now wish to teach other women and girls, such as yourselves, to use these arts so as to walk the streets and roads of this commonwealth without fear. This man is Fras Martyne Camderine, an edutor in theology in this university. Without further talk, I propose to demonstrate some techniques to you. Sen-sei, shall we begain?"

"Will you just look at her friend!" hissed Corien.

"Face, eyes, are showing kind soul," said Samondel.

"Never mind his soul, look at the rest of him."

"What arts are to demonstrate? Removing boots, they are."

"I'd like to remove more than his boots."

Velesti and Martyne took off their boots while the girls looked on attentively, Martyne then removed his tunic. There was a loud and collective gasp of surprise from the audience as Martyne stood before them, dressed only in black drawstring trousers. Edutors in theology were not supposed to look anything remotely like Martyne. He was heavily muscled rather than massively built. His abdomen looked like a quite a workable washerboard, and his pectorals cast shadows down his chest in the summer sunlight. It was also more than obvious that the ostentatiously padded shoulders of his tunic had not been padded

at all. There was a bandage on his left forearm. Samondel's huge violet eyes were stretched wide, in spite of the bright sunlight.

"Imagine being in bed with him!" whispered Corien.

By now Velesti had removed her jacket, and as she slipped off her shirt Corien and Samondel involuntarily joined in the even louder collective gasp.

"Why did they gasp?" hissed Velesti anxiously to Martyne.

"Maybe they like that thing you are wearing," Martyne whispered back.

"The old language term is 'sports bra'; it does not translate easily."

"You may have started a new fashion trend."

The audience's surprise was not so much from the sight of the sleek, black symmetry of the first sports bra to be seen in two thousand years, as the sight of Velesti's upper torso. White silk stretched over a sculpture of heavy wire rope was the only comparison that Samondel could think of as she watched.

"Just imagine the two of them in bed together!" whispered Corien to the dumbfounded Samondel.

"Is self-confidence demonstration? Mistaken, perhaps?"

Martyne held an arm up for attention.

"Now I want you to think of me as a shadowboy, and of Frelle Velesti as a student for whom my attentions are unwelcome."

"Your attentions would be welcome to me\" called a girl behind Corien.

Everyone laughed. Velesti and Martyne blushed.

Martyne strode confidently up to Velesti and reached out for her. Velesti snaked her arm around his, stepping in close to him to lock his arm against her back as she doubled him over and brought a knee up to his face.

"The weakest girl's leg is stronger than the strongest man's arm," declared Velesti. "Had I followed through, he would not be getting up for a long time."

The audience clapped. Velesti released Martyne. He now attacked with a knife, overhand. Velesti cross-blocked with both arms,

twisted his arm, and doubled him over again before bending his wrist and forcing him to drop the knife.

"At this point you can obviously knee him in the stomach," Velesti pointed out.

The audience applauded again. After several more practical demonstrations, the pair declared that they would now demonstrate free-form sparring. They bowed, then Martyne said "Hajime!"

Velesti and Martyne circled each other, their hands held out and their steps as smooth as those of the dancers of the Rochestrian Mayoral Ballet. Samondel could barely follow the first exchange of blows and blocks, but the whack of flesh on flesh came across very distinctly. There were kicks right up to head level, spinning back kicks, dodges, feints, and several blows that actually did get past the defenses of both fighters. Presently Martyne called "Yame!" The pair bowed to each other, then to the audience.