The Emperor of Everything

Chapter 18

Chou lay in a heap, the roughly patched holes in her armor now obvious. The alloy and black plastic device clinging to her back was the corpse-walker Publius had used to animate her body during his attempt to bring them in quietly.

The killmech led them deeper into the tunnel, and they passed Moh’s body, huddled into the angle between wall and floor, as if she had died still terrified of the pit.

Publius had established a small camp, well away from the pit and its stinks. Now he sat at his portable picnic table, hunched over his lunch, studying the image in his flatscreen vid. “What did you do to my boy, Ruiz?” he asked in conversational tones. Ruiz looked over his shoulder, to see the new Yubere, standing where they had left him. His face seemed calm, but Ruiz imagined that he could see a trace of some cold abstract anguish in the dull eyes.

“Don’t worry; it’s not necessarily permanent. All I have to do is tell him the right thing, and he’ll be fine.” Ruiz’s injured shoulder was beginning to ache; he had been foolish enough to hold the pepperbox with his right hand. He already wanted to lower his hand, but Publius had no doubt instructed the killmech to seize him if his aim wavered.

“Ah? Well, that’s good news, at least. And what must I do to win your cooperation?”

“Fulfill our bargain.”

Publius made an impatient tsking sound. “Troublesome.”

Ruiz said nothing; Publius’s attitude was hardly a surprise.

Publius sighed. “Well, all right. I know when I’m bested.” His eyes glittered, and he looked as treacherous as it was possible for a human being to look. “What shall we do now?”

“Wait here for half an hour, then follow. We’ll meet you at the sub, and there we’ll put on madcollars.” Ruiz’s shoulder burned with the pain of holding the pepperbox, and he was afraid that Publius would notice his weakness.

Publius gave him a searching gaze. “You wouldn’t be planning any more tricks, would you, Ruiz?”

“If so, it’s no more than you deserve,” Ruiz said wearily. “But no. I need your help. Keep your word, help me and my slaves get off Sook, and you can proceed with your schemes here unhindered.”

Publius drummed his fingers on the table, giving an appearance of careful consideration. Finally he smiled broadly, a horrifying expression. “I’m reassured. It will be as you say. I coupled my sub to your repair chamber; my people are guarding your lock. I’ll call and let them know you’re coming — and tell them not to bother you.” He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture and returned to his lunch.

Ruiz stood for a moment, almost unwilling to believe that Publius would let them go so easily, then he turned and walked off down the tunnel, trailed by Albany.

Albany kept looking over his shoulder until they were well around the curve of the tunnel, and the lights of Publius’s camp were lost to view. “You’ve got odd friends these days,” he said.

Ruiz decided it was safe to lower his arm. The pain as he did so made him sway and miss his footing. He stumbled, but Albany caught him under the arm and kept him from falling. “You holed, Ruiz?” Albany asked.

“No,” Ruiz said. “I think I separated my shoulder a little when we killed the Moc. The painkiller’s wearing off.” He instructed the in-suit medunit to give him another ject, and he felt it begin to crawl toward his shoulder again, little clawed feet prickling over his skin.

“That’s a relief.” Behind his visor, Albany’s eyes were huge. “You got me into this. I’m depending on you to get me out of it. What was that about getting you off Sook? Take me too. I’ve had enough excitement for this century.”

“I can’t pay you until we get back to Dilvermoon.”

“That’s fine. If I ever do get back there, I’m going to have my feet welded to the steel. I’m never going to leave again.”

Ruiz smiled. “You’ve said that before.”

“This time I mean it,” said Albany.

For some reason, Ruiz felt a bit more cheerful, and it wasn’t only due to the warm touch of the painkiller.

He set off down the tunnel again at a good pace.

As they neared the lock, Ruiz raised the pepperbox again.

Albany looked at him. “Wait a bit,” he said. “Let me rig you an explosive charge inside your helmet, with a mouth switch. It’ll be easier for you to handle.”

Ruiz stopped, and wondered why he hadn’t thought to do that. Albany’s trap gear would provide explosives and a remote switch, and the armor would keep Publius’s killmech from seizing his weapon in a moment of distraction.

It took Albany only a moment to pat out a thin slab of explosive, wire it, and slip it under Ruiz’s helmet. “You want the switch hot, for real?” asked Albany.

“Oh yes,” said Ruiz. “I don’t want Publius to take me alive, however this turns out.”

“Whatever,” said Albany, plugging the leads into a squeeze switch. He offered it to Ruiz, who took it and bit down on it, activating the circuit.

“Let’s go,” Ruiz said through his clenched teeth. He restored the pepperbox to his boot and walked on.

When they were within a hundred meters of the tunnel’s end, Ruiz stopped. “Go first,” he said. “Tell them I’ve got a bomb in my hat, just in case Publius told them to grab me if my attention wandered.”

Albany smiled. “Would he do a thing like that?” But he trotted away springily, apparently unwearied by the night’s exertions.

Ruiz found him waiting by the lock, alone, holding his graser alertly. “Any problems?” asked Ruiz.

“No. There were some very odd-looking persons here, but I told them to get back into their boat and they went quietly.”

Ruiz stepped through into the repair chamber, and saw where Publius’s people had cut through the hemispherical shell. Several monstrous faces stared at them through the hole, but said nothing.

Ruiz palmed the sub’s lockplate and put his eye to the ident cluster. After a long moment the lock slid aside.

When they were inside, Ruiz tongued the safety selector and took the detonator out of his mouth. His jaws ached, but he felt a sudden uplift of relief.

The Gench waited in the control room, huddled in the corner, its sensory tufts clenched tight. When it recognized Ruiz, it raised its lumpy body slightly and hooted. “You have survived. I am amazed.”

“Me too,” said Ruiz. “You were wise not to let Publius in.”

“I hope never to see him again,” said the Gench.

“I wish that could be,” said Ruiz regretfully. “But we must invite him aboard, and then hope to control him.”

The Gench sank back down and became still.

“I’m not too happy about that either,” said Albany. “Why don’t we just cut and run, while we have the chance?”

“Do you know a way to get out of SeaStack now?” asked Ruiz.

Albany looked unhappy. “No. The pirate princelings are in a terrible uproar; they’re not even letting each other off-planet, at the moment. They’ve shot down a half-dozen shuttles already.”

That was bad news, Ruiz thought. And very strange news; perhaps there was more than simple greed involved. Would the pirates go so far, cripple the commerce that had made them rich, just to catch a few rogue Gencha, no matter how valuable they might be? He filed the thought away for later consideration; Publius was a more pressing problem. “Publius claims he knows a way.”

“You believe him?”

Ruiz shrugged. “He’s a slippery one, I grant you. But he’s as likely as anyone to have the power to help us, and we’ve got some leverage with him, which we don’t have with anyone else who has any power at all.”

“I guess,” Albany said, but he didn’t look very enthusiastic.

Ruiz looked at him, and felt a sudden illogical affection. For all his flaws, Albany was presently the closest thing to a friend that he possessed; he had demonstrated loyalty and faith. Without Albany, Ruiz would have already failed. “I’m sorry I got you into this.”

“Ahhh…. No, you’re not,” said Albany. But he smiled and thumped Ruiz on his good shoulder. “Listen, watching the monster at his picnic reminded me that we haven’t eaten since yesterday. Can’t fight on fumes, true? We have a few minutes before you have to bite the bullet again. Let’s see what’s here.”

Ruiz nodded.

They went back through the converted cargo bay where such a short time ago the rest of Ruiz’s assault team had waited. The small place seemed much larger, now that it was empty. Ruiz imagined that insubstantial ghosts still crowded the space, all looking at him with dead accusing eyes. He shuddered, then shrugged off the fancy — if he were to be haunted by the spirits of all those whose deaths he had caused, a stadium would hardly serve to contain them.

The private cabin all the way aft had a simple autochef, which Albany fiddled with until it produced sandwiches filled with spiced meat and chopped pickles. He passed one of these to Ruiz, and tinkered a bit more. The chef produced plastic mugs of steaming broth.

“Not too bad,” said Albany, settling back with his mug in one hand and his sandwich in the other. He seemed remarkably at ease. Ruiz attributed it partly to his ignorance of Publius, partly to a mind that was more firmly tuned to the moment than his own. He couldn’t help looking forward to the uncertainties to come — and backward at the mistakes of the past.

He thought of Nisa for the first time in hours. Was she well? Had she begun to wonder if he would ever return? Only two days had passed for her, though to him those days had seemed like weeks.

“So,” said Albany. “Who are these slaves you’re taking with you? Valuable stock?”

“Somewhat,” said Ruiz.

“Ah?” Albany seemed to be waiting for Ruiz to elaborate.

Ruiz felt no inclination to do so. A silence formed, and stretched into minutes, until Albany had finished his sandwich and slurped down the last of the broth.

“Tell me,” said Albany. “Why would you burden yourself with ‘somewhat’ valuable slaves, when — as we both know — you’re going to need all your luck just to get yourself off Sook? I sense a mystery here, Ruiz.”

Ruiz shrugged.

“Come on, Ruiz. Tell me a little about these folk, while we’re waiting for the monster to arrive.”

“All right,” said Ruiz. “They’re from Pharaoh. A conjuror, a commoner, and a princess.”

“A Pharaohan conjuror? Worth a good bit, even without a troupe. Why the commoner?”

“The Guildmaster of a famous troupe, which is now dispersed.”

“I see. And the princess? What’s her claim to value?”

Ruiz fidgeted, and Albany’s sharp eyes seemed to see every evidence of his discomfort. “She’s quite beautiful,” he finally said.

Albany leaned back and snorted dismissively. “Beautiful? What of that? The pangalac worlds are full of beauty; everyone can be as beautiful as they choose to be. Beautiful? On Dilvermoon, ugliness or even simple plainness is so rare that a whore who will accept an intriguing deformity can make a fortune.” Albany shook his head and then a slightly malicious curiosity glittered in his eyes. “Oh, no. You don’t mean to tell me that you’re smitten? What a hideously quaint obsession. I hope you won’t tell me that all these folk have died, and probably me too, just because Ruiz Aw — hard Ruiz Aw, ruthless Ruiz Aw, deadly Ruiz Aw — has finally succumbed to true love? Oh, no.” He seemed genuinely incensed by the time he finished.

Ruiz glared at him. What to say? If they survived long enough to retrieve Nisa and the others, the truth would become obvious, so what point was there in lying? “Essentially, you are correct,” he said in a harsh voice.

Albany’s eyes grew very wide, as though he hadn’t truly expected this confirmation. His face was still and neutral, unnaturally so. Ruiz wondered if Albany would attack him, so odd was Albany’s expression, and he shifted his weight for defense.

But then, surprising him, Albany burst into raucous laughter. “Well then, why not? I thought I had seen sufficient strangeness to burn away all my capacity for surprise — but I was wrong. It’s not so bad a feeling, is it? I mean, you must be much more surprised than I.”

Ruiz thought about it, but concluded that in fact he wasn’t. What did that say about him? How long had he carried the seeds of the feelings that had finally taken root in his heart? Very strange, he thought.

He was uninclined to share this insight with Albany, who would either laugh at him again, or become nervous — such thoughts did not accord with Albany’s image of him as an effective slayer.

But before the silence could become strained, a chime signaled the arrival of Publius in the sub’s lock.

Ruiz looked at Albany. “Remember, Publius is a monster indeed. Nothing he says can be taken at face value. There will always be several layers of deviousness beneath anything he proposes. We’ll have to exploit our advantage swiftly, before he comes up with a way to get around us. Be on your guard — this will be much more dangerous than our trip into the stronghold.”

Albany nodded soberly, and they went back through the sub to the lock.

Ruiz allowed Albany to open the lock, while he remained out of the line of direct fire, in case Publius had already developed a scheme. But the monster-maker came in, holding a silver-mounted ebony case over his head. He was clearly fuming at Albany’s disrespectful attitude. He turned and saw Ruiz, started to take down his hands.

“No,” Ruiz barked. “Hands up, and turn away from me.” He aimed a splinter gun at Publius.

Publius purpled, assumed an expression of defiant outrage. Ruiz had an impulse of terrifying power; he abruptly wanted, very badly, to kill Publius and be done with him — and with his treacheries. He would find another way to get off Sook, a way that didn’t expose them to the monster-maker’s virulence. They had the sub; they had weapons and some money; they had a Gench to sell in the SeaStack market. It would be enough; he was sure of it. His finger tightened on the splinter gun’s cool trigger, almost involuntarily.

Publius must have seen lethality in his face. He paled and turned quickly to the bulkhead. Ruiz’s finger relaxed marginally.

Albany shut and dogged the lock, took the case. He opened it carefully, after examining it with his detectors. It held two madcollars, elegant objects inlaid with gold and further adorned with large pigeon-blood rubies.

“Keep your grubby little paws off them,” said Publius.

Albany set the case down and put his graser to Publius’s kidneys. “Let’s wilt him a little, what do you say, Ruiz?”

“Maybe we will,” said Ruiz thickly. Publius seemed an avatar of all the chaotic brutal lovelessness of the universe, seemed to symbolize all the ugly realities of existence — those relentless failures of humanity that so eternally conspired against happiness and security. His hatred for the monster-maker flared up brightly. He took Publius by his collar and slammed him hard against the bulkhead, jammed his splinter gun under Publius’s ear. “Check him,” he told Albany.

Albany passed probes over Publius’s body, slowly and carefully. He removed a nerve lash from Publius’s sleeve, a stun rod from his boot, a pneumatic dart gun from a sheath at the nape of his neck. Albany continued his examination, shifting his detector frequencies in random sequences, muttering to himself. Finally he closed up his probes and nodded to Ruiz.

“He’s got sonic knives in his right forefinger and left elbow. He’s got a little pinbeam in his sternum. He’s got a transceiver in his right mastoid and a vid pickup behind his left eye. He’s got a big suicide bomb in his right buttock. That’s all I can pick up.”

“Spike him,” Ruiz ordered.

Albany raised his eyebrows, questioning. “Even the eye?”

“Yes,” said Ruiz. “Don’t worry about the meat — Publius doesn’t. He can always get more.”

Publius spluttered. “What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded. “You work for me, Ruiz Aw. This is no way to earn a bonus.”

Ruiz laughed incredulously. “Go ahead,” he told Albany.

Albany shrugged. “If you say so.” He got out a surgical laser, applied it to Publius in various spots, severing power leads, disabling sensors. When he was finished, he stepped back and leveled his big graser at the monster-maker. “All yours, Ruiz.”

Ruiz spun him around and pressed the splinter gun to Publius’s throat, angled up toward the monster-maker’s brain. “I really should kill you,” he said, and at that moment the idea appealed to him almost irresistibly.

Publius had regained his perpetual air of gracious confidence, and he smiled in what he apparently believed to be a winsome manner. “Now, now. I did nothing you wouldn’t have done, in my place.”

There was some truth in that — but that was only because Publius was Publius — or so Ruiz told himself. Yes, he’d seized the chance to commit a treachery against Publius — because he knew that Publius would be doing the same. He nodded ruefully.

“Isn’t it always the way?” Publius said.

Ruiz shook his head violently. All this musing was dangerously pointless. The universe was as it was, and he must live in it.

“Sit down,” he said, and pushed Publius toward a chair.

The monster-maker settled carefully, favoring those portions of his anatomy that Albany had treated. “What shall we do now, Ruiz? I acknowledge myself defeated — I must rely on your sense of fair play and on your desperation to be off Sook. I can still arrange it.”

“How do I know?”

Publius shrugged expressively. “Who else can help you? And I’m willing to wear the collars with you. If that isn’t sufficient guarantee of my faithfulness, there’s the matter of my puppet. At the moment, your life is only slightly less valuable to me than my own.”

Ruiz studied the collars, lying in their open case. “I’m impressed by your docility,” he said sardonically.

“Well, you’re definitely the better man, at present.” Publius spoke in a voice of mild reason.

Ruiz looked at Albany. “Fetch the old collars,” he said.

Albany nodded, smiling conspiratorially, and went aft.

The faintest hint of alarm showed in Publius’s smooth face, and Ruiz enjoyed it disproportionately. He allowed no trace of this wicked delight to show on his face.

Albany returned, bearing the madcollars that Ruiz and the Gench had worn.

Ruiz reached out and took the collar the Gench had worn. “You’re right,” he said to Publius. “We must be allies for a while. To show you that I’m reconciled to this, I’ll take the collar your Gench wore — your delicate nostrils won’t have to be offended by the stink.”

The alarm in Publius’s face increased. “Oh, no,” he said. “I won’t hear of it. I’ve brought a much finer pair, far better suited to such stylish gentlemen as we two are.”

“Put it on him,” said Ruiz.

Publius recoiled, sinking as deeply into the chair as he could. “Don’t you trust me in even the tiniest detail?”

“No.”

Publius groaned with frustration. “You’re a hard man, Ruiz.” Albany snapped the collar round his neck, and Ruiz fancied that Publius’s confidence had eroded, just a little. He found it a vastly satisfying notion. He donned the Gench’s collar, wrinkling his nose against the stench that clung strongly to the metal and plastic of the collar.

Albany handed the controller to Publius, who took it with shaking fingers. Ruiz wondered if perhaps his former collar had been fitted with some additional trap that Publius now feared. Or perhaps it was just that he was discomfitted by the turn of events, which had apparently robbed him of some crucial element of the next betrayal he had designed.

“Activate it, Emperor Publius,” Ruiz said, holding up his own controller.

“Ruiz…” began Publius in a soft reasonable voice.

“Do it now,” said Ruiz. “Or I’ll kill you and have done.”

Publius opened his mouth, shut it, nodded. They both triggered their controllers, and the collars locked on.

Ruiz clipped the controller to its loop on his collar, and holstered his splinter gun. “Now,” he said, “don’t you feel better?” He felt the easing of a vast weight; he began to hope that he could deal successfully with the monster-maker.

“Oh, certainly,” said Publius glumly. “Certainly.”

Back in the shadows, the young Gench stirred, attracting Publius’s attention. “How did you persuade it to take its collar off?” Publius asked, peering at the alien.

“It was easy,” Ruiz answered. “I told it stories about you.”

Publius adopted a sorrowful smile. “Now you’re being facetious, Ruiz. Treat me with dignity, at least.”

“All right. Go to the comm and tell your sub to withdraw. Please.”

Publius rose heavily and went to the comm board. He instructed his people; Ruiz could detect no obviously devious orders, which meant nothing. Publius turned back to Ruiz. “Now what?”

Ruiz was somewhat taken aback by the lack of bluster in Publius — it seemed an unnatural condition, as strange as if the sun should one morning rise in the west. “Now we go to fetch my slaves.”

The young Gench trundled forward. “Will you set me free? You said you would, if it was possible.”

Ruiz shook his head regretfully. “I’m sorry. I may have further need of your services.” He looked speculatively at Publius.

Publius paled. “The creature is untrained; already you may have done irreparable damage to my Yubere. And….” Publius’s hand went to his collar, and he became even paler. “And, I will destroy us both, if you attempt to alter my mind.”

Ruiz sighed. He had no realistic hope that the young Gench could alter Publius in any but a severely destructive manner — certainly a form of mission-imperative that would leave Publius fully in command of his wits would be far beyond the Gench’s undeveloped skills. He would have enjoyed tormenting Publius longer, but if the monster-maker continued to believe that Ruiz’s collar was still gimmicked, he might be moved to do something desperate and unexpected. “Let me set you at ease,” he said. “We discovered the monomol layer on the Gench’s collar, and removed it, before we were able to convince it that it would best serve its own interests by aiding us.”

Publius lifted his head, an abrupt predatory movement. “How can I know if any of this is true?”

“Give him this, Albany.” Ruiz took out the record cube he’d made during his conversation with the young Gench and tossed it to Albany.

Publius manipulated the cube expertly. The light from the tiny screen flickered on his face, which twisted and trembled with concentration.

Ruiz listened to the small sound of his own voice.

Eventually Publius seemed to be satisfied that Ruiz was telling the truth, and switched off the cube. He smiled, confident again. “I’m reassured, Ruiz.”

Ruiz detected a deep foundation of contempt beneath Publius’s words. “Good. All I want is to get off Sook. Play fair with me, and you’ll get your puppet back. Try to cheat me again, and I’m likely to thwart you, out of simple spite. Remember, neither of us are men who customarily tell everything they know, so restrain your ego, force yourself to practice caution.”

“Just as you say, Ruiz.” Publius returned to his chair, face smooth and pleasant.

The Gench edged into the brighter light. “Why cannot you let me go then? The monster-maker is subdued and cooperative.”

Publius laughed. “Because Ruiz Aw is no better than I am. His promises mean nothing more than mine; he is no more merciful, no more just. You are doomed to disappointment, young Gench, if you trust this man.”

“So far he has proven trustworthy,” it said. “And he did not promise me my freedom, only said that he would do what he could. It would have been easy for him to lie to me, as you would have done.”

The sounds of Publius’s sub cutting loose from the repair bubble came through the hull. Ruiz felt a sudden impulse, which he resisted for a while. But it grew stronger. Somehow, he felt that it would be an unforgivable affront to the sources of his luck, whatever they might be, to do exactly as Publius would surely have done in his place. And he might still need a great deal of luck.

Another consideration occurred to him. Here was the only Gench who could restore the false Yubere’s functionality. Should Publius somehow regain control of the young Gench, he would no longer need Ruiz and his code-phrase.

“All right,” he said to the Gench. “You may go. You probably shouldn’t attempt to use the tram — the transport device you’ll find at the end of the tunnel — it contains dangerous mechanisms. But Gencha are good climbers, right?”

“Correct,” it said in its whispery uninflected voice. It lifted a foot, to display a pattern of rubbery sucker pads.

“Then you must climb down the walls of the pit, avoiding the tram rail and the other tunnels, which may house unfriendly beings. Can you do this? It is very far down to the level where your race dwells.”

“I can do this,” it said. “I can rest, or even sleep on a vertical face — we are thus adapted.”

Ruiz nodded at Albany, who conducted the Gench to the lock and saw it on its way.

Publius sat silently, but a sneer trembled on his mouth. Ruiz knew what Publius was thinking: that the Gench was still his, since he would soon control the enclave that had belonged to Yubere. Ruiz didn’t care. His act of cautious mercy had, oddly enough, made him feel better. And already the air in the sub smelled cleaner.

Ruiz went to the control panel, activated the sonar, and watched the green dot of Publius’s sub rising away from the stackwall. He heard the lock clang shut again, and the clatter as Albany dogged it tight.

Albany returned, cast their own vessel off from the stackwall, leaving the repair bubble in place to protect the tunnel from flooding. “Course?” he asked.

Ruiz gave the coordinates for the Diamond Bob Pens, and Albany punched them into the autopilot. The sub shuddered and began its slow rise to the surface.

“Now,” Ruiz said. “Let’s talk about your pirate friend.”

Publius raised his hands, made a warding gesture. “Would you winkle all my secrets from me?”

A great weariness was stealing over Ruiz. He hadn’t slept for days, he felt, abruptly, slow and vulnerable. He wondered if he still had enough of his strength left to deal with Publius. “Don’t start,” he said. “I want to know everything, now. If you haven’t yet worked out the details of our escape from Sook, then now is the time to begin scheming.” Besides, Ruiz thought, any time and energy Publius spent on such a scheme would reduce the time and energy he could devote to tricking Ruiz.

Publius rubbed his chin. “You’re determined then to leave Sook?”

“Yes, yes. Have I not said this too many times to count?”

“I could offer alternatives,” Publius said brightly. “Wealth beyond your imagination, a secure stronghold in SeaStack, a new body. Many other desirable things. Later, when the crisis among the pirate lords has abated, you’d find it easy to get offworld, if you still wanted to go.”

“Please, don’t incite me to rage, Publius. In my present state of mind, it might be fatal to both of us. Tell me all about your plan, or let us make one.”

Publius shook his head doubtfully. “Do you insist?”

“I do.”

“All right. All right. Do you know Ivant Tildoreamors?”

“By reputation.” Tildoreamors was one of the bloodier pirate lords, head of a very old family of corsairs, the members of which had troubled the pangalac worlds for many centuries. To him was attributed a single-minded rapacity that was unusual even in SeaStack, where everyone who survived and prospered must be accounted some sort of monster.

“Ah? Well, Ivant owes me a large favor, and I happen to know one of his great secrets, which I now share with you. Ivant maintains a launch ring a hundred kilometers eastward down the coast, and one of his shuttles presently waits there.”

Ruiz was skeptical. “East are the FireBarrens. The Blades of Namp allow no infidels to penetrate the Barrens.”

“True, in general. However, Ivant supplies the Blades with their sacrament.”

“I see. And how will we get there?”

“We’ll take a barge, of course.”

“Come now, Publius. No bargers in their right minds would go east.”

Publius looked pleased with himself; perhaps he enjoyed revealing to Ruiz that he had actually formulated a plan to get them offplanet — an exemplary case of deviousness, when he had obviously never intended that Ruiz survive his visit to Yubere’s stronghold. “You’re wrong, Ruiz — for once. One barge goes east, twice a year. And the solstice is near.”

Ruiz felt a queasy apprehension. “Elaborate.”

“Oh, you’ve guessed what I mean. The Immolators even now prepare for the voyage. We have only to don the appropriate robes, tear our hair, dirty our faces, practice our wailing a bit, and we’ll fit right in. My guess is that the pirates will never think to check the Immolators — after all, they go to die, either in the abattoirs of the Blades or among the fires of the Barrens.”

“And how do you propose we avoid a similar end?”

“Simple! We wear Tildoreamors’s livery under our Immolator robes; when we reach the Barrens, we’ll doff the robes and announce ourselves as Ivant’s emissaries. We’ll carry a few kilos of ganja as tokens of our identity, and deliver the weed to the mullahs. The Blades will conduct us to the shuttle, and we’ll be gone!”

Ruiz considered. If Publius were telling the truth, the plan seemed feasible, if uncomfortable. The prospect of sailing several hundred kilometers on a leaky old tub — penned up with several hundred suicidal fanatics — was hardly an appealing one — but compared to the difficulties they had already survived, it seemed not too terrible. I’ve led an eccentric life for far too long, he thought.

He allowed himself to think of Nisa and their pending reunion. An involuntary smile crossed his face.

Publius smiled back, apparently mistaking his expression for approbation. “You like it, eh? I thought you would.”

Ruiz frowned. What an odd world Publius must inhabit. To all appearances, the monster-maker had forgotten that he had gone to vast lengths to ensure that he would never need to tell Ruiz of this plan. Did he now expect Ruiz to forget those treacheries and deal with Publius as if he were an ally? Perhaps Publius hoped that the force of his remarkable personality, diligently applied, would cause Ruiz to neglect some essential precaution — but if so the monster-maker would be disappointed. Ruiz could never forget that Publius possessed an unusually supple mind, even if it was an obscenely twisted one.

“It seems at least possible,” said Ruiz ambiguously. “Much depends on whether you’re telling the truth in all particulars — and we both know how unlikely that is.”

Publius assumed an injured look, prompting Ruiz to a bark of almost-hysterical laughter, which he quickly subdued. It wouldn’t do to display any weakness before the monster-maker. At present Ruiz held the greater leverage; he was more willing to die than Publius. As soon as Publius divined Ruiz’s devotion to Nisa, the balance would shift again.

But he was still looking forward to seeing her again, with an almost-unbearable intensity.