The Sardonyx Net (33 page)

Zed glared at him, and Dana thought for a moment that he would end up being the focus of Zed's evident rage. But the Net commander nodded. “You are probably right,” he said. He was still watching the spot within the swirling mélange of color where the black-clad cops stood.
 

Aliza Kyneth, who had listened to the entire exchange, said, “Rhani, I admire your calm.”
 

Rhani smiled. “Isobel always said I was too excitable.”
 

Aliza Kyneth said, “Isobel would have been proud of you this morning.” She turned her back on A-Rae. “That man is irritating, but an insect.”
 

“An insect with a sting,” Rhani said.
 

“Perhaps,” Aliza said. She beckoned. “Walk with me, Rhani. I have something to ask you.”
 

“Certainly, Aliza,” Rhani said. She withdrew her arm from Zed's. “Excuse me, Zed-ka.”
 

Dana hesitated, unsure if he should follow Rhani and Aliza, or not. He turned to ask Zed what to do. “Zed-ka, shall I—” But Zed was not listening. His eyes were fixed on a point some fifteen meters away.
 

Dana wondered if he were contemplating what he wanted to do to Michel A-Rae. The Net commander seemed welded to the stone underfoot.
 

Suddenly he moved, slicing through the mass of tourists as if they weren't there. A murmur of resentment marked his passage. Dana went after him. “Excuse him,” he said. “Excuse me. Excuse us.” It took him a few moments to maneuver his way through the packed crowd. When he finally broke free, he realized he was a meter from the platforms. Ahead of him, Zed stared upward, deaf to a spatter of speculative comments.
 

Dana looked up.
 

A woman slave stood gazing quietly over the throng. Her hair was long, loose, and reddish, like gilded chestnut in the light. She was slender, and not very tall. Her eyes were brown. She looked, Dana saw with incredulity, very much like Rhani. Her spare, neat, triangular face was Rhani's, and the set of her eyes was Rhani's, and the sharp line of her cheekbones was Rhani's. She stood like Rhani, head a little to one side, feet parallel and apart. She appeared to be Rhani's height. Dana tore his eyes from her to look at the screen. DARIEN RIIS. AGE: TWENTY-SIX. COMPUTER TECHNICIAN. CONTRACT: FOUR YEARS. DORAZINE DOSAGE: 1.25. She was ten years younger than Rhani.
 

Zed's fingers clamped like steel claws on Dana's upper arm. “Where's Binkie?”
 

“I don't know, Zed-ka.”
 

Zed let him go; Dana caught his breath. “Find him,” ordered the Net commander. “Go find him.”
 

Dana looked around. Binkie had been at his elbow, as had Amri. Where the hell had they gone? Zed was staring at the woman again. Dana plowed away from him, looking from side to side, trying to remember where they had been standing before, trying to retrace his steps. He wondered where Rhani was, and how she would find them in the press. All the faces about him seemed equally vacant, equally unfamiliar. He felt panic fluttering in his nerves, and forced it away. He would find Binkie only by staying calm.
 

Hands clutched him. It was Amri, bright-eyed, beaming delight. Someone had given her a butterfly. She opened her cupped palms to let light touch it; the wings flapped slowly. “Do you know where Binkie is, kitten?” he said.
 

“Over there, by that platform. He told me to get lost.” She giggled.
 

“That wasn't kind of him.”
 

“He's talking to someone,” said Amri, “and he doesn't want me to listen.” She said with dignity, “I don't listen to people that I don't even
know
.”
 

A high-pitched bell signaled a rest period. Chairs mushroomed up out of the platforms behind the slaves. Most sat. Some, too drugged to care, did not. “Wait here,” said Dana. He pushed toward the platform till he saw Binkie. “Binkie!” he shouted. The secretary was talking earnestly to someone with short hair and what looked to be a pressure bandage on one arm. He maneuvered to them. As he reached them, the stranger—woman, he thought—looked at him and melted back into the crowd. Binkie whirled, snarling.
 

“What the hell!”
 

“Sorry,” Dana said, “but I have no choice. Zed wants you yesterday.”
 

Binkie cursed with unmistakable venom. “Where is he?” he asked, more quietly. Dana pointed. They slogged back, collecting Amri, who was patiently waiting for them. Binkie looked to see what Zed was gazing at. His head went back, and stayed there. He stood, open-mouthed.
 

Zed said, “Buy her.”
 

“But—”
 

“You carry the household credit disc. Buy her.” Fumbling the disc in haste from his pocket, Binkie inserted it in the slot. Zed said, “Stay here. Overtop all bids for her. You understand, Binkie?” His fingers curled like claws at his sides.
 

“Yes, Zed-ka.”
 

Some of the tension drained from Zed's face and hands. He turned on Dana. “Where's my sister?”
 

Dana stammered, and then caught himself. “Walking—there.” Through the crush he caught a glimpse of Aliza Kyneth's dress and flying red hair.
 

Zed squinted into the sunlight. “Ah. I see. With Aliza. Go to her.”
 

Dana went to Rhani's side. She had a quizzical look on her face, as if she had just tasted something new and wasn't sure she liked it. “Aliza, I'll help if I can,” she was saying.
 

“Thank you,” Aliza said affectionately. “That's all I ask.” She lifted her chin. “Now I must find Imre. He will be looking for me.” She strode regally away, a whale among minnows.
 

“Take my arm,” Rhani said. Dana linked his arm through hers. She was quivering with laughter. She pressed her hip to his; the little joining made him shudder. “Imagine—Aliza wants me to help her arrange a surprise party!”
 

“Why is that funny?” Dana said, puzzled.
 

“Because I hate parties. Aliza says she wants this one to be a party even I will enjoy. It's for Imre's birthday. Where's my brother got to?”
 

For a moment Dana had almost forgotten Zed. Bleakly he answered, “Buying a slave.”
 

“Buying a slave? For the household?” Rhani frowned. “Why?”
 

“Come.” He brought her to the platform on which Darien Riis stood.
 

“Zed-ka, why are you ...?” The question trailed into silence as Rhani looked up.
 

Zed said, without turning, “Her name is Darien.”
 

A bell rang. The slaves stirred in reflex. The buyers in the square shifted, talking loudly. The bidding on this lot had ended. The slaves moved into line like the figures on an ancient clock. Darien Riis, age twenty-six, property of Family Yago, disappeared through a door. Zed said, “Let's go.” He took Rhani's hand and drew it through his arm, as had Aliza Kyneth.
 

Dana said softly to Binkie, “What happens now?”
 

The secretary said, “She'll be tattooed and delivered to the house tomorrow morning.”
 

Like a package, Dana thought.
 

Zed said, “Binkie. Call the Barracks when we reach the house. Tell them to keep her until we have left Abanat. I don't want to see her until we're back at the estate.”
 

“Yes, Zed-ka,” said Binkie.
 

At the edge of Auction Place, the crowd thinned out. Dana moved up to walk at Rhani's right shoulder. Her arm brushed his, by accident, it seemed. She began, “Zed-ka, why....”
 

Zed's left hand sprang upward in an abrupt gesture of denial. It silenced her. The Net commander drew a deep breath. “Don't ask,” he said.
 

Rhani bit her lip. The Boulevard was clear before them: they were out of the square. In the distance a bell rang. Dana looked back, but could not see. He held his hands up to shield out the light.
 

A new lot of slaves was being shepherded through the vaultlike doors.
 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Twelve

 

 

They were almost to the steps of the house when Dana saw someone he knew. At first he could not put name to face. She was half-turned away from him.... Then she turned around, and he saw her clearly.
 

It was Tori Lamonica.
 

Her brown-gold hair was short; the last time he'd seen her it had been long. Hands in her pockets, moving with graceful strides, she was traveling away from him, walking north. She wore lavender and black, and her Starcaptain's medallion gleamed through the lace of her shirt front. Gold hoops dangled from her ears. She was frowning, not looking his way, and for one wild moment, Dana drew breath to shout at her.... But they had reached the steps, and Rhani was looking at him.
 

The street was very quiet; most people were still at the Auction. Above, Corrios drew back the doors. Amri, carrying her solar-winged butterfly, seemed the only one of them who was not subdued. Binkie went immediately toward the slaves' hall. Rhani went upstairs. Dana went to his room. His head hurt from the glare of the sun—he could not believe he had actually seen Tori Lamonica out there. What the hell was she doing on Chabad? he wondered. She had to have sold his dorazine weeks ago. Had the proximity of A-Rae's cops kept her from getting offplanet? Could she have stayed for other reasons? He tried to remember what he knew about her, her amusements and habits—but Hypers did not talk about each other much. About the only thing he could remember Russell saying of her was that she jacked cargoes, was a superb pilot, and played an ancient Terran game called “Go.”
 

Rhani's voice saying his name brought him out of reverie abruptly. “Dana, come to my room, please.”
 

“Yes, Rhani-ka.” He went upstairs. She was sitting at the com-unit. Dana glanced at the door to make sure that it was tightly shut, and bending, touched his lips to the crisp, clean silk of her hair.
 

She said, so softly that he barely heard it, “Have you ever heard of Cherillys' Law?”
 

He scowled. The name was familiar...."I think so, but I don't remember what it is,” he said.
 

“It's also called Bradley's Hypothesis.” She recited, “
For every bit of organized matter, organic and inorganic, within a given macroscopic universe, there is one exact molecular duplicate within that universe
.”
 

“Yes,” Dana said. “Now I remember. It depended on some very theoretical mathematical models, and it was never proved.”
 

Still softly she said, “In ancient times on Old Earth they believed it was bad luck to meet your double. It meant you were going to die soon.”
 

Dana scowled. “Rhani, you know that's nonsense.” He grabbed the back of the chair and leaned on it until it turned. “Where did you encounter Bradley's Hypothesis?”
 

She shrugged. Her cheeks were flushed. “I don't know. I must have read it somewhere.” She stood up suddenly. “Don't hang over me,” she said sharply, and he gave her room to pace. After a while she said, “When I came back from Sovka, I was lonely. Zed was on Nexus; I was trapped with Isobel, learning to be Domna Rhani Yago. I read a lot in those months.” She thrust her hands in her pockets and hunched her shoulders. “Zed and I—we used to pretend we were twins. When Isobel separated us, I felt as if I were being pulled apart, as if there were two of me, one in here—"she tapped her chest—"one somewhere else, free. I never thought I'd meet her.”
 

Her melancholy irritated him. “That woman's not your twin,” he said. “Her name's Darien Riis, not Rhani; she's not from Chabad; she's a computer technician; and her eyes aren't gold, they're brown.” He paused. “And anyway, she's not free.”
 

Sudden mischief lit Rhani's eyes. “My dear, the resemblance is striking, oh my yes!” She laughed. “You're right. I'm being stupid.”
 

Dana wondered if he dared tell her about Tori Lamonica. “Her hair's redder than yours, too.”
 

“I know,” Rhani said. “She doesn't look like me. But—you couldn't know this—she looks like what I used to look like. My hair was redder when I was younger.” She rubbed her chin. “Zed's fascination with her—disturbs me.” With evident pain, she said, “He wouldn't talk to me the whole way home.”
 

“At all?”
 

She nodded. Suddenly she came back to the com-unit keyboard. She punched a set of symbols, and the screen printed out: RECORDS OF THE YAGO NET: CURRENT YEAR: HOLDING. She sat on the chair and keyed in further instructions. The screen said: CARGO ROSTER: HUMAN. There was a pause, and then the screen flashed, in bright green letters, IDENTIFY.
 

She pressed her thumb to the screen.
 

Dana said, “Are those the Net records?”
 

She nodded. “They're only accessible to authorized persons. Me, Zed, the Net staff, the Barracks staff, the Clinic—”
 

Dana said, “That's a lot of people.” He remembered what his first computer instructor had said: “
Anything that anyone can put into a computer, someone else can find. All you need is the time to look
.” “I suppose I'm there, too.”
 

“Yes,” she said, “you are.” The screen began to fill with words. Dana read them over Rhani's shoulder. DARIEN RIIS; SX: F; AGE: 26; PROFESSION: COMTECH; LENGTH OF CONTRACT: 4 YRS; PLANET OF ORIGIN: ENCHANTER; DORAZINE DOSAGE: 1.25 TID: CRM STATUS REGIS: 79R. Rhani frowned and touched a key. The green letters did not change.