Текст книги "Trickster"

Автор книги: Стивен Харпер

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

Lucia slid off Ben's lap. "We were just… trying to decide what we wanted to do and got distracted. Mike here is so hot, I just can't keep my hands off him."

"Isn't he just?" Carrillen slid behind both Ben and Lucia on the divan and leaned over them to run her hands down their chests. Her whiskers tickled Ben's cheek. "Maybe I can help you decide what you want to do. We can all three slip into my room and explore the possibilities. How does that sound?"

Her hands moved lower. Ben's mouth was dry and his mind raced. They had to find a way to get rid of Carrillen without arousing her suspicions, and they had to do it before Ken Jeung came up those stairs with Tour-rif-na in ten minutes.

Carrillen licked Lucia's ear once with her tongue, then Ben's. It was a raspy but strangely sensual feeling. Ben quickly took advantage of the gesture. He shuddered hard once, then gently pushed Carrillen away.

"I'm sorry, honey," he said to Lucia. "I know you wanted this, and I'm really trying, but I'm just not sure again."

"You promised," Lucia said, picking up the cue. "Mikey, we talked about it all week and you promised for my birthday we'd try it. And Carrillen here would be perfect." Lucia put out a finger and stroked one of Carrillen's ears. She closed her eyes in feline satisfaction.

"I know, I know." Ben looked miserably down at his hands. "I want to, and then I don't want to. It's Dad all over again."

Lucia made an exasperated sound. "Every time I think we're getting somewhere, you bring him up again. Dad, Dad, Dad. What is it with you? Did we flush all that therapy money down the toilet?"

"Hey," Ben flared, "I'm a lot better than I used to be. We don't sleep with the lights on anymore, right?"

"Why don't I just slip downstairs and get a drink while the two of you work this out?" Carrillen said abruptly. She gave each of their ears one more lick. "Save something for me." And then she was gone.

The moment she was out of earshot, Lucia said, "Dad? I don't even want to know."

"It worked." Ben got up and checked the hallway. Empty. Music and party sounds continued to filter up from the area below. Ben put his hand in his pocket and activated the transceiver. "There. In fifteen seconds that camera will show an empty hallway for five minutes. Let's get out of camera range so we don't seem to just disappear."

They strolled to the staircase as Ben quietly counted off the time. He had just reached fifteen when Lucia grabbed his elbow with a sharp hiss.

"He's coming early," she said.

Sure enough, Ken Jeung was heading for the stairs with Tour-rif-na. Several of her arms were around him.

As one, Ben and Lucia turned and strode quickly down the corridor. The moment they left line-of-sight of the party below, they broke into a run. Lucia reached the door across from the Palace Room, a set of picklocks already in hand. Ben resisted the impulse to tell her to hurry. It would take less than a minute for Jeung to reach the top of the stairs and then maybe another ten seconds to reach the end of the hallway. Lucia swore, then yanked off her right glove and went back to work.

"Come on, come on," she muttered. Her tiny computer stylus made a buzzing sound.

Ben thought he caught the sound of a man's laughter from the stairs. He was tensing to do something-anything-when Lucia said, "Got it!"

Without hesitation Ben dove into the room beyond, shut the door, and locked it. Lucia, he knew, would simply stroll down the hallway past Jeung and Tour-rif-na as if she had just left one of the other rooms. He hoped she remembered to grab her glove.

Ben glanced around, looking for a hiding place, and saw that the Garden Room lived up to its name. Potted shrubs, plants, and even trees were everywhere. An enormous whirlpool bath took up one corner, and an ivy-twined bed occupied another. The place was a melange of spicy smells. One door led to a room with strange plumbing facilities, and Ben assumed that was Tour-rif-na's bathroom. Another door opened into a walk-in closet filled with a variety of outfits, all for humans. There were even half a dozen human space suits. This confused Ben for a moment-did he have the wrong room? – until he remembered that Tour-rif-na didn't seem to wear clothing. These must be costumes for clients who desired them. This made the closet a bad place to hide-Jeung might decide to play spaceman.

Heart still thudding in his chest, Ben checked the bed. Plenty of space underneath. He rolled under it just as the door began to open. Forcing himself to breathe quietly, Ben watched Jeung's and Tour-rif-na's feet-she had three stumpy ones-move into the room. They were talking in low voices.

"But you tremble so," Tour-rif-na said. "I have never had someone so eager. We have an entire hour. We can enjoy ourselves."

Ben grimaced. Thank heavens the floor under the bed was carpeted and free of dust. If he had to spend an hour down here, at least he wouldn't get sore from a wooden floor or have to suppress a sneeze every few seconds. Now he only had to hope the new copycat would work. He didn't feel the same confidence he had shown Kendi. There had been no way to field-test the thing, and it was a rare event for anything electronic to hit the ground running. There were always bugs. Ben had spent hours going over the thing, looking for potential problems, but it was impossible to know for certain if it would work or not until he actually tried it.

Jeung spoke again, his voice too low and husky for Ben to catch the words, and a shirt dropped to the floor. Jeung's feet kicked their shoes off and he stepped out of his trousers. A few moments later, Ben presumed he was naked.

"What is this around your neck, my fine one?" Tour-rif-na said.

"I can't take that off," Jeung said.

"But I am afraid. What metal is the chain?"

"Silver."

Tour-rif-na made a small hissing noise. "The oils I secrete for pleasure react badly to that metal. Together, oil and silver will permanently discolor your skin and mine. If you cannot remove it, perhaps we should find another soul who-"

"No," Jeung replied quickly. "The door is locked, isn't it?"

"Indeed."

"Then it should be all right." With a slight clink, both silver chain and small, cylindrical key dropped onto the pile of clothing mere centimeters from Ben's right hand. Ben let out a noiseless sigh. Gretchen had done a good job persuading Tour-rif-na to play her part in their "bet." He prayed the copycat would let him do his.

"You wish to use the bath?" Tour-rif-na said.

Ben waited until he heard splashing and quiet moans from the direction of the whirlpool before snaking a hand out and grabbing Jeung's key. He eased the copycat out of his pocket and touched its data port to the key.

Nothing happened.

More splashing, and Jeung let out a harsh gasp. "What did you do?"

"Do you wish that I do it again?"

Ben clamped his lips together and pressed the key to the data port again. Still nothing. A crick started in his neck from holding his head off the floor. God, what had he overlooked? Whatever it was, he had to find a way to fix it under the bed without being noticed by Jeung. Ben set the key down– – and realized he was trying to download the codes into the transceiver instead of the copycat. In the dim light under the bed he had gotten them mixed up. Cursing himself, he drew the copycat from his pocket. With stopped breath, he tried again.

Red lights flicked on the copycat, then flashed green. Download complete. Ben heaved a noiseless sigh of relief that went all the way down to the soles of his feet. He listened a moment to ensure the splashing in the tub was continuing apace before setting the key back on the pile of Jeung's clothing. Strange smells wafted toward him, and he figured they must be the oils Tour-rif-na secreted. Ben settled back under the bed to wait him out, trying to keep pictures of Jeung and Tour-rif-na out of his head.

A soft chime sounded, and Gretchen woke slowly and languidly. Every muscle in her body felt completely relaxed, as if she had just had a good workout followed by a hot soak and a thorough massage. Zem was still wrapped gently around her in a soft cocoon of safety. Gretchen closed her eyes, supposing she should feel guilty but refusing to do so. After everything she had been through in the last six months, she deserved an hour of sensual delight and relaxation. Then the cocoon abruptly vanished as Zem unfolded.

"Apologies," Zem said. "but your time is nearly over."

Gretchen bolted upright, suddenly remembering she wasn't quite done with the evening. "What time is it?"

"Ten minutes before eight o'clock," Zem replied.

Gretchen scrambled to her feet. "I'm really thirsty. Is there-?"

"There is a bar near the door. Help yourself to whatever you like. Did I do something to upset you?"

"No, not at all," Gretchen said. She grabbed a small glass from the bar, wiped it with a napkin, and half-filled the glass with sparkling water, careful to hold the glass at the bottom. "Zem, that was wonderful. Perhaps I'll… come back."

"I will be here for the foreseeable future," Zem replied, "and please let Lady Kellyn know you enjoyed yourself."

"I will," Gretchen said, suddenly shy. "I will."

She let herself out of Zem's room. The corridor was empty. Gretchen stood there a moment, as if lost in thought but actually trying to hear sounds from the Garden Room where Jeung had gone with Tour-rif-na. Nothing. The doors were probably sound-proofed. Gretchen stood there as long as she dared-Ben's fake photo would have long since vanished from the security system, and loitering on camera might arouse suspicion. Finally Gretchen walked slowly away, still holding the glass. She had only gone a few steps across the plush hall carpet when the Garden Room door opened and Ken Jeung emerged with Tour-rif-na. Gretchen ignored them as she continued up the hallway, though she knew they were coming behind her. She could smell Tour-rif-na's earthy scent. When Gretchen reached the landing to the marble staircase, she made a tiny gasp of annoyance and bent awkwardly. Jeung and Tour-rif-na caught up with her.

"Hey, could you hold this a second?" Gretchen said to Jeung, and thrust her glass into his hand. Jeung took it reflexively and Gretchen pretended to adjust her shoe. Then she thanked him and took the glass back, again careful to hold it by the bottom. Jeung nodded, said good-bye to Tour-rif-na, and trotted down the staircase. Out of the corner of her eye, Gretchen saw Ben emerge from the Garden Room. This was actually the riskiest part of the game. It was possible the computer or the person in charge of the security cameras would notice that Jeung had not gone into the Garden Room with a friend. Ben moved quickly but not hurriedly down the hall. Tour-rif-na turned to Gretchen.

"He removed the chain," she said as Ben passed behind her and down the stairs. "I believe that means you will win the bet."

"It does," Gretchen said, "but only if I can trick him into doing two more things. So if you see him again, don't mention the chain to him." Gretchen gave her a fifty-freemark coin.

"I will not," Tour-rif-na said. "But I hope you will let me know the outcome. I am very curious about this part of human culture."

Gretchen laughed. "I'll definitely keep you posted."

Tour-rif-na said she had to ready herself for another client and went back to her room. Gretchen looked down at the party below just in time to see Ben exit with Lucia on his arm. That was everyone. Gretchen wrapped the little glass in the napkin, slipped it into her pocket, and headed for the door. Just before departing, she stopped at the pudgy maitre d's podium.

"I had a fine time with Zem," she said. "Worth every freemark and more."

"I will tell Lady Kellyn," he said. "And we hope to see you again, madam."

Gretchen exited the brothel into the swirling noise of FunSec and caught up with Ben and Lucia a few blocks later. She gave Lucia the glass.

"There should be a good thumbprint on it," she said. "The security in that place is a joke. Ben walked right out of Tour-rif-na's room and security never even noticed."

"They aren't expecting major trouble, especially in the pleasure rooms," Ben said with a shrug. "Why spend the money for high-power security when you don't need it?"

"So how'd you like being under Jeung's bed?" Gretchen asked. "Get any jollies?"

Ben flushed. "Hardly. And they spent the whole time in the hot tub."

"How was your hour, Gretchen?" Lucia asked sweetly.

"Fine." Gretchen's tone was short.

"Just fine?" Lucia pressed. "No jollies of your own?"

"I said it was fine. Leave it, all right?"

"We should let Kendi know we got the key and the print," Ben interjected diplomatically. "That's where the real jollies are."

"One jolly down," Gretchen agreed, "three jollies to go."

The main door slid open, and Martina leaped to her feet. Delta Maura entered the room, her face wreathed in smiles.

"Greet the Dream, Alpha," she said. Her dark green robe and wimple rustled as she moved, and Martina noticed the white keycard hanging from her belt. "I have fine news for you!"

"What time is it?" Martina asked. A while after she had finished sketching, she had felt tired and had gone to bed. When she woke up, a meal of ham steak, one tiny baked potato, unsweetened tea, and a salad had been waiting for her in the dumbwaiter. How long had she been asleep? A few hours? All night? She couldn't tell. The holographic window was no help-it showed the same sun-drenched valley. There had to be a time display somewhere on the computer, but it had either been disabled or hidden so carefully that Martina, who was no hacker, couldn't find it.

"Measuring time is a human concern, Alpha," Maura said in a slight admonishment. "The Dream is eternal, and your dependence on breaking time down into hours and minutes is one of the impurities that Vik stained us with. The Chosen need to rise above that to become one of the Enlightened, as Irfan Qasad did."

"Are you one of the Enlightened, then?"

A serene smile. "Not yet. I'm only a Delta. But I have enough experience now to begin counseling Alphas like yourself. Enough of that, then-I said I have news for you."

"What would that be?" Martina was a slave, and knew she was supposed to show proper respect to someone who was either her owner or someone who was higher up in the hierarchy, but Delta Maura had said there were no owners here, and Martina allowed a certain amount of sarcasm creep into her voice.

"Dreamer Roon has consented to address you and the other Alphas." Delta Maura clasped her gloved hands in excitement. "Isn't that wonderful news?"

"I suppose," Martina replied uncertainly.

"You suppose?" Delta Maura said in obvious shock. "Dreamer Roon himself, the first Enlightened one to touch the Dream since Irfan Qasad, and you only suppose it's wonderful?"

Martina decided on the spot it would be best to play along. Slaves survived best by blending in, and, Delta Maura's words notwithstanding, Martina still wore shackles.

"Oh, it's wonderful news," she said, putting an awed look on her face. "I was just… startled that he would do such thing. Talk to us Alphas, I mean. He wrote that very interesting book about the history of the Dream, didn't he?"

"You read it, then?"

"Part of it," Martina said. "He certainly has some fascinating theories."

"Fact, not theories," Maura chided gently. "Dreamer Roon doesn't need to postulate. He knows."

"Of course. Please forgive me. I'm still learning."

Delta Maura smiled her serene smile. "And we will teach you. Now into the tub. You must cleanse yourself before being admitted to the Dreamer's presence."

After a long bath-Delta Maura stood by to ensure Martina scrubbed every inch of skin-Delta Maura dressed her in a hooded yellow tunic, loose trousers, gloves, and sandals. Martina's head was spinning with questions. Who had taken her away from DrimCom? If she wasn't supposed to be a slave, why couldn't she walk away free? What was the difference between an Alpha and a Delta? What did Enlightened mean in this place? Why did everyone wear gloves? But she kept her mouth shut. A lifetime of enslavement had taught her that, Silent or not, slaves were sometimes only given enough information to do their jobs, and asking too many questions could result in an angry owner who inflicted pain. Best to wait and see what she could learn by keeping eyes and ears open.

Once Martina was dressed, Delta Maura opened the door with her keycard. She hustled Martina out of the room and into a red-carpeted corridor faced with several other doors.

"Put up your hood and keep your eyes on the floor," Delta Maura instructed, "so that you don't meet the Dreamer's gaze by accident. Your impurity would taint his cleanliness."

Martina did as instructed, though it meant keeping a hand on Delta Maura's arm. The unfamiliar gloves still felt strange, muffling. Soft clothing and low voices rustled around her, and Martina became aware that she was part of a procession of people making their way down the corridor. She tried to sneak looks at her surroundings, but the hood allowed only a limited range of vision. All she could see was a circle of floor. The space around her widened enough to echo, then closed in again. The floor alternated between carpet, tile, and metal. Eventually, Delta Maura guided Martina into a kneeling position on a thin floor mat. She knelt, settling her loose clothes around her, and heard more rustlings as Delta Maura and the others apparently did the same. All Martina saw was the yellow fabric of her own trousers. The faint smell of incense hung in the air. Martina listened carefully. The noises around her were subdued, but she got the sense that between forty and fifty people occupied the room. Were they all Alphas paired with a Delta? Martina didn't know, but figured it was a good guess, which meant that there were probably twenty-odd Alphas in the group. All stolen from their owners? Or were any of them here voluntarily? The questions kept piling up.

Martina supposed she should be frightened or frustrated, but she had been sold four times now, and in many ways this was just another change in ownership. Eventually someone would tell her what was going on and she would be given work to do. Delta Maura, despite her strangeness, had so far been unfailingly polite and kind, if uninformative, the food was plentiful, her quarters luxurious. It was proving a pretty good position so far.

After a while, a hush settled over the room and Martina heard footsteps approaching. A voice from somewhere in front of her said, "Welcome, Alphas, and greet the Dream! I am Dreamer Edsard Roon, and I am here to help you find your Enlightenment!"

His voice was rich and powerful. Martina was itching to look up and see what he looked like, but she had been ordered to keep her eyes down.

"You have been rescued from your oppressors, the ones who corrupted and tainted you, the ones who prevent you from achieving true Enlightenment in the Dream. I know you are confused and uncertain, but everything will be explained in time. This is a place of love and trust, and you have nothing to fear here. Irfan has guided you here, and we shall guide you to Enlightenment."

He continued on for quite some time about how special they all were, all Chosen by Irfan Qasad, all above mere humanity. Martina supposed that meant everyone here was human-no aliens. Another scrap of information for the mix.

"We will instruct you in the Laws of Atash," Roon continued. "The first-that the Chosen must remove themselves from impure human society-was fulfilled when we brought you here. The second-that you must dedicate yourselves to purity of thought and deed-you will hear about later today. A demonstration of the third law will occur during this instruction, when you will learn the value of confessing your impurities to the Enlightened. To fulfill the fourth law, you must obey the Enlightened and all those designated as your superiors. They have been there ahead of you and know the way. Trust them. They know what they are doing and will help you join them one day."

He droned on, and Martina found herself only half-listening. She needed to go to the bathroom and she felt hungry, despite the fact that she had just eaten. She wanted something starchy and sweet-cookies or perhaps cake. Her knees began to ache from kneeling on the thin mat, but when she started to shift position and sit down, a firm hand landed on her arm in a clear warning to remain still.

"Only Irfan Qasad escaped the foul taint of Daniel Vik," Roon was saying, "but that taint can be erased, and you will learn to enter the Dream freely, without use of drugs or trances, as Irfan did, and as I have learned to do."

That caught Martina's attention. Her ability to enter the Dream was enough to make her valuable, but she wasn't a high-class power. It usually took her an hour or more of self-induced trancing and a heavy dose of her drug cocktail to enter the Dream, and after the Despair there had been days when she couldn't enter it at all. She had heard that there were techniques the Silent could learn that would allow them to enter the Dream without drugs and with minimal trancing, but she had never met anyone who could do it.

Unfortunately, Roon didn't explain further. "You will come to see that this place is your birthright, that you belong here among those who love you and will take care of your every need. Go with the Dream, Alphas, and good day."

Martina wondered if she should applaud. The room, however, remained silent, and she didn't move. Her knees were in active pain now. Footsteps moved away from the front of the chamber, and after a moment, a collective sigh went through the audience. Martina took that as a sign that she could move, and she shifted into a sitting position. No one stopped her. The relief was heavenly, though her bladder ached.

"You may remove your hood now, Alpha," Delta Maura said beside her. "Dreamer Roon has left the room."

Martina pushed her hood back and blinked at the room. It was a large, rounded chamber set up like a small stadium, with tiered platforms leading down to a raised stage, the place where Roon had presumably been standing. Martina was sitting on the third tier, which put her at a level with the stage. The tiers were filled with, as she had surmised, about three dozen people. Half were dressed in yellow tunics like Martina's-Alphas-and half were dressed in dark green robes like Maura's-Deltas. The robed women wore wimples and the men wore hoods. Everyone wore gloves. Martina didn't see any non-humans, and low voices echoed softly as people talked among themselves.

An Alpha on the tier just above and behind Maura's pushed back his hood and a spasm gripped Martina's heart. The Alpha had dark skin and tightly curled black hair and a face etched with depression and sorrow, but his eyes-his eyes were a bright, startling blue. Martina stared. The Alpha stretched, and the green-robed man next to him murmured something in his ear.

Martina's heart pounded. It couldn't be. Could it? No one but her brother had eyes like that, and even though she hadn't seen them in fifteen years, Martina recognized them with utter certainty. She was about to call out when a hand grabbed her arm.

"Wasn't that wonderful?" Delta Maura said. "He's such an inspiration."

"Delta Maura, who is that?" Martina asked, pointing at the Alpha. He hadn't looked her way. "May I speak to him?"

Delta Maura shook her head. "Earning a name is part of becoming a Gamma, so you would call him 'Alpha.' The name he came here with is meaningless, as is yours. There is not time to speak just now-you're scheduled for confessional purification. We can't have those N-waves interfering with your personal growth, dear."

Martina considered dashing over to him, Delta Maura or no, but a lifetime of conditioned obedience interfered. An order was to be obeyed. Reluctantly, Martina got to her feet. Then she put a fist to her mouth and coughed loudly. Several people, including the Alpha, looked her way. Martina looked straight at him.

The Alpha's blue eyes widened in disbelief. Martina? he mouthed. Martina gave a tiny nod in return as tears filled her own eyes. He was her brother. After fifteen years, a part of her family was being returned to her.

"Do you need some water, dear?" Delta Maura asked at her elbow.

"No, thank you," Martina said, barely keeping her tone even.

"Then it's time to go."

As Delta Maura firmly led Martina out of the audience chamber, Martina silently decided that this place was looking better and better. She was sure once she explained what was going on that she would be allowed to speak with him. Dreamer Roon had said this was a place of love, and that meant they had to let her see her brother. They had to.

Didn't they?