The Sardonyx Net (9 page)

Binkie said, “Nine days to a week, five weeks to a month, ten months to the year. Every fifth year they add two days to the last month of the year.”
 

Immeld said, “And they don't celebrate birthdays at all on Chabad. I miss not having a birthday. I used to get two: Standard birthday and—”
 

“Immey!” said Cara. She frowned at the younger woman. “We don't discuss the past.”
 

Immeld shrugged. “I do miss it,” she said stubbornly.
 

Dana nodded. Most colony planets used two time standards: the year/month/day as it was measured on the planet, and Standard, which was the old calendar of Earth. On some planets this meant that people had two birthdays to celebrate, since maturity was defined on most worlds by the Standard age of fourteen. Some colonies did away with all birthdays: you were simply informed when you reached fourteen Standard. On Pellin, there was a small ceremony.
 

Immeld said, “Rhani and Zed always go to Abanat for the Auction. Rhani always takes one of the house slaves with her to the city. One besides Binkie, that is; he goes every year. Timithos won't go; he hates to leave his garden.”
 

“How many people live here?” Dana asked.
 

“We four,” said Immeld, “and Timithos. And them, of course, and now you. What were you bought for?”
 

“I don't know,” said Dana. “They didn't tell me.”
 

A bell rang, two-toned,
ping-pong
. Binkie stepped to a speaker grid in the wall. “Yes, Rhani-ka.” The others fell silent. Rhani's voice was a jumble, too low to hear. Binkie murmured, “Yes, Rhani-ka.” He turned from the speaker to look at Dana. “She wants you.”
 

Dana swallowed hastily. “Where do I go?”
 

Amri said, “I'll take you. I have to get the tray.” He followed her up the marble staircase. Along the second-story landing, Dana counted seven doors. Amri stopped at the third one. She tapped, and grinned up at Dana. “You don't have to be scared of her,” she said encouragingly. “She's very nice.”
 

“Come in,” called Rhani. Dana obeyed. The room was light and airy. The rug was white, the curtains were white, the walls were blue. Rhani wore blue. She sat in a cream-colored chair whose rounded back and arms flowed about her like a mantle. Zed stood behind her, one hand brushing Rhani's hair. Dana faced them. His heart began to pound.
 

Amri took the tray off the footstool. “Do you want more, Rhani-ka?” she asked.
 

“Thank you, no,” said Rhani. She smiled at the child, then turned to gaze at her Starcaptain. He looked steadily back at her. After a moment, she recognized the thing that was wrong with his eyes. She twisted in her chair to look at Zed. “Zed-ka—”
 

Zed nodded. “When you want me, call. I'm in my room.” He went out the terrace doors. As if pulled by a magnet, Dana Ikoro's head turned to watch him go.
 

She said, “Zed says you are a drug runner.”
 

His attention snapped back to her. “I was,” he said.
 

“A dorazine smuggler.”
 

He said, “That's not quite right. I was attempting to smuggle dorazine. My cargo was jacked. I'm not a dorazine smuggler.”
 

“But you made a deal to do it.”
 

“Yes.”
 

He was stiff, and overpolite. Part of that was fear, she knew, and part shame, and part uncertainty, and a good part pride. She understood all those, and approved of them all, except the first. Pride made a slave work, and shame and uncertainty kept him obedient. Unlike Zed, she saw very little value in fear.
 

And if pride turned to rebellion, and shame to sullenness, well, there was always dorazine.
 

“Come here,” she said. She pointed to the footstool. Stiffbacked but still graceful, he sat on it. “Binkie will have told you that on Chabad, the past is past. But you know, I think, that there is a dorazine shortage on Chabad. This is of major concern to Family Yago. We buy most of the dorazine that runners sell to the dealers in Abanat. It goes to the Net, and also to the prisons of Belle, Enchanter, Sabado, and Ley. We use it also at our kerit farm in Sovka. The other Families and industries on Chabad that are not controlled by the Four Families buy their dorazine separately.” He was relaxing; all the words were putting him at ease. He had a mobile, expressive face; as he listened to her, his dark eyebrows drew together. “I want to ask you some questions about the dorazine trade. I know from my dealer that dorazine is made and processed out of sector, by a concern that everyone calls The Pharmacy.”
 

“That's right,” he said.
 

“Is it true that no one knows the location of The Pharmacy?”
 

“I've never heard anyone name a sector,” he said, hesitantly. “They send their shipments out in roborockets which go to drop points in all eight sectors. They have agents who contact the runners for them. I don't know how the agents get their instructions, but I've heard they come without a sector designation. That's what the agents say.”
 

She could see that he was unsure of what he could tell her, and was trying to be precise. “Is dorazine sold elsewhere, besides Chabad?”
 

“Buyers from other sectors send runners to Chabad for one or two loads, sometimes. But comine's cheaper. It's expensive to be addicted to dorazine.” His face tightened. “That's what your brother thought I was, at first: a runner picking up a one-shot load.”
 

Rhani said gently, “That doesn't matter.” She touched his hand lightly. “You know, you're mine now. You're not Zed's property. Dorazine comes to Chabad. How does it come in? The officials in Port city check incoming ships, and they're supposed to turn you over to the Hype cops if they catch you with contraband.” She smiled as she said it. She knew the Port officials had trouble taking the Code seriously.
 

“Runners don't come to Port, or to the moon at all. We—they—Jump from the Hype to spacetime normal near the planet. They land on Chabad—or if there's, say, a captain and crew, the captain takes the bubble and the crew keeps the ship in orbit—and fly a bubble to Abanat.”
 

“Who was your dealer in Abanat?”
 

He half-grinned. It changed his rather severe face attractively. “I never had one. I was bluffing.” His yellow-ivory skin was not very ruddy, but it grew perceptibly whiter. “I tried a bluff on the wrong person,” he said painfully.
 

She said, “Do you know anything about Michel A-Rae?”
 

“No, Rhani-ka. I'm sorry.”
 

“Did you eat?”
 

“Yes, Rhani-ka.”
 

“Is your room comfortable?”
 

“Yes, Rhani-ka.”
 

“Have you had a chance to see the estate?”
 

He shook his head.
 

“Come.” She beckoned him to follow her. She opened the glass doors and stepped out to the terrace. “Don't look at the sun!” But he was already shading his eyes, focusing away from that brutal pinpoint to the green lawn. The shadows looked like cut-outs in the brilliant light. She beckoned him to the wall. He laid both hands on the brick.
 

“It reminds me of a place I lived when I was a child,” he said.
 

“What world was that on?” she asked.
 

“Pellin.” He gazed at the rolling westward slope of hills. “This is beautiful.”
 

“I think so. It was built by my Grandmother Orrin. Family Yago was the first Family to live away from Abanat. Now all the Families have private estates in the hills, but this is the oldest. I try to keep it green.”
 

“I'd heard Chabad was a dry world.”
 

“It is,” said Rhani. She pointed at the trees. “This estate is tiny. It's a pocket of green on a hill. The water to keep it green is piped here from Abanat. The green ends at a wall. You can't see the wall through the trees, but it's there. Outside the wall, the land is waterless. The gate is that way.” She jerked her thumb back toward the front of the house. “No one will stop you from walking through it, but if you do, you'll either return or die. The heat will kill you in half a day, and it's a three-day walk to Abanat.”
 

“Has anyone tried it?”
 

Rhani said, “Everyone tries.” It wasn't really true. But she hoped he believed her; she hoped he would not try it. Unhappily, she remembered the time two years back when Binkie
had
tried it. She wanted to warn Dana. But if she said Zed's name aloud, his face would go tight. She was sure of it.
 

The mother dragoncat wandered onto the terrace. Scenting a stranger, it froze, growling its odd musical growl. The fur on its back and tail rose. “Stop that!” commanded Rhani. She held out a hand. “Come here, Isis.” The cat glided to her. Dana stood very still. “Friend, Isis. Friend.” She stroked the cat until its fluffed fur went down. “Hold out your hand.” Dana held his hand out, palm up. The cat sniffed it. “This is Isis. She's the oldest. I let her stay in the house a lot; she's stiff, and partially blind. But she can still smell. She's mother to Thoth, Horus, and Typhon.”
 

Isis's tail switched lazily back and forth. She rubbed her head on Dana's thigh. “What is she?” he said.
 

“A dragoncat.
Felis draco
; bred in the Enchanter labs. Dragoncats are twice as smart as the best guard dogs. Now that she knows you, she'll tell the other three how you smell so that when they meet you they won't tear you into little bits and pieces.”
 

“How can she do that?”
 

“The labs breed them with rudimentary, species-selective telepathy. They're expensive.”
 

“I'll bet,” he said, stroking Isis's triangular head.
 

Rhani said, “When my brother told me about you last night, he suggested you become my pilot. Can you do that?”
 

He said, “I was trained for it.”
 

“Good. I don't spend my life in constant travel, though. I may ask you to do other things.”
 

He smiled. He had a good smile. “I'll make a poor cook or secretary, Rhani-ka.”
 

“I'll remember that,” she promised.
 

A door slid open from the other bedroom. Zed stepped onto the terrace. Rhani felt Dana stiffen beside her. The dragoncat stopped purring. Her tail twitched. Slowly she backed away from him, fur rising. “Isis, no,” Rhani said. He must smell of fear, she thought.
 

Zed said, “Did you get answers to your questions, Rhani-ka?” He looked at Dana. Reassuringly, Rhani laid a hand on Dana's bare arm.
 

He started from her touch as if her hand were made of ice, or acid.
 

“Yes,” she said. “Dana was very useful. I agree with you. He'll make a good pilot.”
 

“I'm glad you think so,” Zed said. “Go downstairs,” he said to Dana.
 

With a constrained, almost clumsy bow, Dana left the terrace. Rhani heard the sound of the sliding bedroom door. She gazed at the lovely patterns of the cool falling water, hands bunched in her pockets, back to her brother.
 

“Rhani-ka.”
 

She would not turn.
 

“Rhani, I'm sorry.” Now she turned. “I said he was yours, yours he shall be.” He made a face, a small-boy look, rueful and contrite. She reached to take his hand.
 

She could not stay angry with him. She never could. Her anger hurt him too much. “Let me tell you what he said,” she offered.
 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Four

 

 

It soon became apparent to Rhani that there was nothing about Dana Ikoro she could say that her brother did not already know. Nevertheless, he listened patiently to her summary of the conversation. At the end of it, he said, “What are you looking for, Rhani-ka?”
 

She paced slowly around the bedroom. “I'm not sure,” she said. “Chabad has to have dorazine, Zed-ka. I can't believe that
nothing's
coming in. If I could just reach Sherrix.... Maybe she's gone underground.”
 

“Too bad you can't use a direct line,” said Zed. The problem with direct-line calls, of course, was that the computer kept records of them. They could be traced; with the right equipment, they could be overheard. “She might have had to leave Chabad unexpectedly.”
 

“Frightened off by the Hype cops!” Rhani said. She scowled. “I wish I could think of something that would frighten off Michel A-Rae.”
 

Zed said, “I suspect he's well protected, Rhani. Do you know what district Sherrix works from?”
 

“Hyper district,” Rhani said. “How about some nasty accident? A broken leg?”
 

“I might be able to help.”
 

“What?” Rhani said. “Break Michel A-Rae's leg?”
 

Zed frowned. “Rhani-ka—”
 

Quickly, she said, “I'm teasing you, Zed-ka. You can help me reach Sherrix?”
 

He nodded. “Or find out where she is. You need someone who can walk through the Hyper district and not be out of place, someone who can ask questions without seeming to, someone who knows Hyper custom—”