"A truth which we need to learn."
"Oh, we will, buddy," Jack promised darkly. "Trust me. We will."
CHAPTER 18
The next morning, Alison had just finished dressing when Dumbarton and Mrishpaw arrived at her door. "They're ready for you," Dumbarton said.
"What, no breakfast?" Alison asked.
"They've got something there," Dumbarton said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder as the Brummga scooped up her bag of disguised burglar equipment. "Come on, come on—they're waiting."
They went back upstairs, across the main foyer, and up a wide staircase to a second-floor balcony. From there they walked down a nicely furnished corridor, then up another set of stairs, and finally to a domed chamber the size of a small conference room, only much more nicely furnished.
As Dumbarton had said, Neverlin and Frost were waiting for her. They were seated in comfortable chairs beside a line of five safes, looking rather like spectators at some sporting event. Along the side wall a small breakfast buffet had been laid out, with both hot and cold food. The aromas rising from it made Alison's stomach growl.
And over in the far corner, seated in a chair that looked rather like a throne, was an old, wrinkled, glowering Brummga.
"Morning, Kayna," Frost greeted her with a sort of gruff politeness. "Ready to start?"
"As soon as I've eaten something," Alison told him, nodding over at the old Brummga. "Who's your friend?"
An instant later, a hard blow across her shoulder blades sent her sprawling flat onto the thick carpet. "Hey!" she yelped, rolling back up into a sitting position and glaring up at the two mercenaries behind her. "What was that—?"
She broke off, throwing herself into a diving roll that barely managed to get her out of the way as Mrishpaw swiped at her again.
"Mrishpaw—stand down!" Frost snapped.
But the other ignored him. Taking a long step toward Alison, he raised his hand for another try. "Patri, call him off," Neverlin said quietly. "We need her alive and unharmed."
There was no order that Alison could hear. But to her relief, Mrishpaw jerked to a halt. Fora moment he glowered down at her, then stepped back to Dumbarton's side. Breathing hard, Alison turned her head to look at the old Brummga.
He was gazing back at her from his throne, his face expressionless. "Does it have learned respect?" he rumbled.
Alison took a careful breath. "I humbly crave the pardon of the Patri Chookoock," she said.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Frost stir a little at the subtle edge of sarcasm beneath the words. Fortunately, the Patri Chookoock didn't seem to hear it. "You may can stand," he said.
"Thank you." Keeping a wary eye on Mrishpaw, Alison got her feet under her and stood up. Jack had told her about his casual mistreatment here at the Chookoock estate. She should have been ready for some of the same.
"Now; shall we try it again?" Neverlin asked. "Are you ready to begin?"
Alison glanced sideways at the Patri. "I will begin at your pleasure," she said. "May I humbly suggest that I'll do better if I'm allowed to eat first?"
"You may indeed so suggest." Neverlin turned to the Patri. "Patri?"
"It were is better," the Patri rumbled. "Allow it to eat."
Neverlin gestured to the buffet. "Go ahead."
"Thank you," Alison said, bowing to each of the three in turn before crossing over to the food. It irritated her no end to have to play this kind of humility game, especially in front of a creature who made his money buying and selling living beings.
But the very first thing her father had taught her was not to let emotion get in the way of the job. If it took a little groveling to get what she wanted out of these people, she could handle that.
She ate a quick breakfast, making sure to thank the Patri twice more between bites, and then set to work.
The safes were tricky, though not quite as bad as the ones she'd opened aboard ship, and it took the entire day to get them open. But by the time the sun was sinking behind the white wall, even Neverlin was convinced. "Excellent," he said as he peered into the last of the empty safes and then closed the door again. "You were right, Colonel—she does seem to have some talent in this area."
"Or at least some very good equipment," Frost said.
"Either serves our purposes." Neverlin turned to the old Brummga. "Patri?"
For a long moment the Patri continued to stare at Alison, as he'd done pretty much nonstop the entire day. "It may try."
"Excellent," Neverlin said. "Colonel?"
Frost gestured, and Dumbarton and Mrishpaw detached themselves from a section of the wall near the door. "Escort her back to her room," he ordered them. "Instruct the slaves to give her whatever she wants for dinner." He shifted his attention to Alison. "You'll start first thing in the morning," he added. "I suggest you go to bed early and get yourself a good night's sleep."
His eyes narrowed in silent warning. "You'll need it."
With their entire day having been spent in the testing room, Taneem hadn't had a chance to eat anything since the previous evening. Alison made sure to order a large dinner, then left the K'da hiding under the bed while she had herself a quick bath to soothe away her tension.
She was dried and dressed by the time the meal arrived, brought in again by Shoofteelee. The young Wistawk was polite enough, but there was none of the simmering hope and enthusiasm he'd shown the previous evening. He accepted her thanks for the food, told her he'd overheard nothing new from Neverlin or Frost, and left.
After they'd eaten—with Taneem reluctantly but gratefully taking most of the food—Alison settled down for that good night's sleep Neverlin had recommended.
She'd been asleep just over two hours when a sudden hissing roar in her ear jerked her awake.
"What is it?" Taneem whispered anxiously.
"It's all right," Alison whispered back, forcing her muscles to relax. Ever since Neverlin had taken Virgil Morgan's shoulder bag from her she'd been waiting for him to open it. She'd therefore gone to bed each of the past two nights with the receiver from the bugged picture nestled in her ear.
Apparently, the moment had come.
The brief roar of paper rubbing against paper faded away, to be replaced by the sound of familiar human voices. "—know what you expect to find in there," Frost was saying. "Or why you even care about Morgan anymore. We've got the girl, and she's at least as good as he is."
"The question is whether we have her, or whether she has us," Neverlin said pointedly. "I don't like the fact that we can't pull up a single clue as to who she really is."
"Which argues that she's exactly what she claims to be," Frost countered. "Only an especially good professional thief would be able to keep her data and stats out of the system."
There was a tickling on Alison's neck as Taneem slid around her skin, angling for a spot where she could hear better. She ended up with her triangular dragon's head stretched partway across Alison's own face, her ear just below the receiver.
"Maybe," Neverlin said. "Well, well, well."
"What is it?" Frost asked.
"It seems our master safecracker Virgil Morgan has been thinking about changing specialties."
"To what?"
There was a faint crinkling of paper. "To blackmail."
"Yes, I saw those pictures," Frost said. "I couldn't quite make out what was happening."
"Obviously, neither could Morgan," Neverlin said. "Or else he was smart enough to know the police wouldn't be able to figure them out either. I wonder where he got them."
"What are they?" Frost asked.
"Pictures placing me at a little problem we had a few years back on—well, as a matter of fact, right there on Semaline," Neverlin said. There was another shuffling of papers. "All these other papers are from the same thing. Interesting."