"A course, th‘ mon's dinkydow," Alex said. "Afore he gies't' be th‘ only channel't' th‘ Emperor on his throne, th' Emp'll roll his wee head. Consider some lads ae th‘ past. Bismarck. Yezov. Himmler. Kissinger. Jhones.
"Th‘ only one gray em'nence whae dinnae fall i' Rich'lieu. Poyndex i‘ a cap'ble lad, but he's noo a Rich'lieu."
But all that would lie in the future. At present, he'd been fairly effective in isolating the Eternal Emperor. Now, considering mat Poyndex was already a turncoat, having headed Mercury Corps during the Interregnum and then lifted to the privy council by the conspirators before he double-crossed them to the Emperor...
"Ah hae plans," Alex finished, "t‘ mess wi' th‘ heads ae both Poyndex an' m‘ frien', th‘ Emp.
"F th‘ lines ae th' poem, They hunted till darkness coom on, but thae foun‘/Nae a button, or feather, or mark/By which thae c'd tell that thae stood i' th‘ groun'/Whae th‘ Baker had met wi' th‘ Snark."
Sten eyed his friend. He knew that Alex would only get more specific if directly ordered to. Let Kilgour run his own mission.
"How'll you get to him?" Sten said. "As far as I know, the bastard barely budges out of Arundel, unless he's traveling with the Emperor."
Alex grinned.
"Ah hae made tight frien's wi‘ wee Marr an' Senn. E'en though they're retired, an‘ on th' oots wi‘ th'
Emp, thae still hae been't‘ Arundel a bit. Th' new Arundel. Which they say, knowin‘ th' architect i‘ charge, was built exact like th' old one. An‘ they knew e'ery crook an' nanny ae th‘ braw stonepile long afore you wandered i' th‘ scene wi' y'r wee maps an‘ overlays."
Sten frowned. Arundel was the Emperor's citadel on Prime, styled like a triple-scale copy of the Earth castle, and with extensive works and gardens added around it and command bunkers and living quarters tunneled far underneath. It had been destroyed as one of the opening shots of the Tahn war, in a futile attempt to kill the Emperor. After the Emperor's return, it had been rebuilt.
Then he got it, remembering that layered map and his own term as conscientious head of the Imperial bodyguard. And he remembered a certain prison break some months afterward, a prison break from Arundel's dungeons.
Sten nodded.
"Take it away, Alex," he said. "What kind of backup do you need?"
"Ah dinnae need but whae Ah hae. M‘ snip thae Wild's loaned me. M' pilot. Ah'll hae transport waitin‘ ae Prime. Frae there, it'll be one in, twa oot i' th‘ motto."
Alex saluted, quite precisely, as if he and Sten were back in the service. Sten puzzled, stood, came to attention, and returned it. It was a very crisp, very military farewell.
And Kilgour was gone.
Alex was telling only some of the truth. He had considered that his scheme against Poyndex could succeed best as a solo run. But there was more to it than that.
The back of his neck still crawled.
He savored each day, each minute, because he had the feeling it could well be the last. He had put his house—his huge estates and castles on Edinburgh, assuming they were yet unburnt by the Emperor's revenge—in order.
Now he was ready.
At least, he thought, i‘ Ah'm answerin't m' weird, Ah'll noo take wee Sten wi‘ me.
He shut the mood and the thought off.
Dinnae be gloomin't aroun‘ ae i' y'r some braw Norsemen. Back on Earth, aeons gone, we listen't‘t' their keenin‘ an' slipped behind ‘em an' slit their weasands.
Go oot wi‘ a smile, lad.
He was at the door to his own compartments. As he palmed the doorswitch and it slid open, he heard a giggle.
The first woman he saw was Marl.
Oh dear, he thought. Ah'd recked th‘ lass was gie'in' me th‘ look back whae Ah wae trainin' her, an‘ th' Laird knows she's a fine woman, haein‘ strength i' her bones an‘ a brain i' her skull. M‘ type, exactly, an' Ah did hae plans f'r th‘ twa ae us.
But wee Hotsco made her moves first, and Alex, kindhearted thug that he was, hadn't quite known what, if anything, to say to Marl, assuming he'd been right about the mutual attraction, not egotistical, and so he'd sort of stayed clear of the Counter-intelligence Division he'd setup.
Marl, he noted, as the door slid shut behind him, was looking especially gorgeous, in a sleek wrap of a skirt, a frothed blouse, and a wrap laid to one side.
As was Hotsco, who was wearing one of Alex's shirts and a dab of perfume behind each ear.
Oh dear, he thought. This'll noo be splendifer'us.
"Ladies," he managed.
Marl and Hotsco looked at each other and laughed. Alex noted an empty bottle in an ice bucket nearby.
"I would guess," Hotsco said, "that our hero there is wondering what he should be doing."
"Ah'm nьnkint," Alex managed, "Ah'll be needin't a wee drink."
Hotsco got up and got him a drink from the compartment's bar. Stregg. Iced.
"Your friend Marl showed up a couple of hours ago. She's been telling me stories about spying and that. And we've been... talking."
Hotsco's tongue came out... moistened her lips.
"It turns out... that we have some common interests," she said. "Besides you, I mean."
"Oh dear."
It was Marl's turn to laugh.
"With Sten dead," she said, "there's not much in the way of CI to do. The Bhor have everything well in hand. And since I'm Head of Section, I gave myself a talking-to. Told myself I was working too hard, and deserved a break."
Alex shot back the stregg and, while his esophagus returned from hyperspace, poured himself another.
"Marl came here," Hotsco said. "And I invited her in. She's quite a woman, you know."
"Ah ken," Alex said, now with a note of suspicion.
"Her world has some... interesting social customs. Very interesting," Hotsco purred. "Ones that both of us would be intrigued with."
"Oh dear."
"You're repeating yourself, Alex."
Marl and Hotsco were both trying—with little success—to keep straight faces.
"I thought that she might want to come with us to Prime," Hotsco said. "It's a very long passage, you know. She thought that was a wonderful idea. So I helped her pack. She's ready to travel. Isn't that exciting?"
Alex recovered.
"Aye. Aye. Y're welcome't‘ go, wee Marl. Ah think y're daft, thinkin' goin‘ int' th‘ belly ae th' beast is a holiday, but y're welcome."
Marl walked up, and sedately kissed him on the cheek, in thanks.
"When's the ETD?"
"Ah thought," Alex said, "we'll lift ae once. Hotsco's ship's fueled an‘ ready."
"Do we have to leave now?" Hotsco wondered. "I talked to Marr and Senn... and they're sending in a wonderful farewell meal. Perhaps in the morning shift?"
"Why then?" Alex asked.
Hotsco walked to the huge, circular bed and sprawled across it. It had been originally built, it was surmised, for one of the
Emperor's favorite's pleasure. She stretched and rolled, a smooth, lithe kitten.
"Why," she purred, "there's so much more mom here. A lot more than on my ship. Even if we put the bunks together in my cabin. Isn't there, Marl?"
And all Alex could manage was yet another "Oh dear."
CHAPTER THIRTY
"DOWN WITH THE Emperor!" the woman screamed, her mouth ragged with hate.
"Death to the slayer of the Manabi!" another being shouted—its display organ swollen to bursting.
"Kill the great blasphemer!" a huge bear of a man bellowed. "Kill him."
The three were among fifty agitators working the crowd to a fever pitch. Not that it needed it. Some twenty thousand angry beings were spread out in front of the Parliament building.