As she was being carried out, she called to me. "This may work. But remember, if you make life too painful for me, I might just call down the ship anyway."
I tried to walk that line carefully. I admonished the professor to use more care with the trader than he might with a child. I pointed out that the trader seemed as frail as an infant of our race.
The professor that year was a tall, thin man from the Heatlands. His nose and brows were thick with blue keratin, which gave him a look of earnest ferocity. A day later he told me, "I'm not sure, Lord, but the star creature might be tougher than it seems. Of course, it has no strength in its ligaments, and it screeches lustily enough. But I have the impression that the pain doesn't really touch it, somehow."
I watched the next session, and I wondered. But we were wrong. That night I was informed that she had capitulated.
The marks of torture were hidden beneath her clothing, and she wore that same bland smile. I have put many to the question, and afterward, in the faces of even the strongest, there is some change, some crumbling. But I was too eager to get my hands on the neomach, and so I dismissed my suspicions.
"I cannot trust you," she said, with no trace of accusation in her voice. "The exchange must be on my terms. First I make certain warnings."
"You threaten me?" I was so startled, I could not be angry.
"No. My warnings relate to the neomach. Recall that I said it was dangerous. It will never hurt you, if you are its bonded owner, but there are dangers."
"Continue."
"First. You must always be a kind master. This machine is nothing like the simple ones you build. This machine has a voice and a mind. It is not terribly bright, but its nature is friendly and loyal, unless it is abused. As I said, it will never hurt you, but it may become sullen, and too withdrawn to be useful. Do you understand me?"
"Yes," I said, though at the time I thought she was mad.
"Second. When the neomach has budded an offspring, you must feed it only so much, and no more. My neomach is bigger than any you will raise, if you are prudent. This is vital! If you feed it more than seven thousand kilograms of carbon during its growth phase, you run grave risks."
Could it be true, that this magnificent machine could be bred like any draft animal? Possibilities crowded my mind. "Offspring?"
"Of course. The neomach was designed for use in low-tech environments. And so we come to the precautions I must take, if I wish to survive your hospitality. This is my offer: I will instruct the machine to begin a bud today, with your assistance. When it is full-grown, I will bond it to you, while standing alone by my lock. Agreed?"
"Yes," I said readily. There would be time to plan a way around her conditions, and I laughed silently at her naivete.
She instructed me to send a man to peel a square of some tough transparent substance from the neomach's belly. "Two things are required for budding," she said. "You must remove the UV shield from the budport, and the neomach's owner must give permission."
"What must you do to give permission?"
"I have already done so. Since you will not have an implant, you'll have to speak to your neomach directly, should you ever wish to bud another one."
I thought I saw a momentary slyness flicker across her face. She continued. "See. The calf is already forming."
A glistening bulge formed on the neomach's smooth belly. As I watched, it swelled into a quivering ovoid and dropped to the ground. The rupture in the parent machine healed instantly, and I could see that another clear shield lay over the spot.
"Bring it here," she said. It took three strong men to pick it up, but in a moment it lay before us.
"What sort of trick is this?" I asked. The thing was just a shiny black lump, with a small opening at the uppermost point.
"Patience, Lord. You must now feed it carbon, which it will fabricate into the necessary elements of its growth. Coal will do, you have that, correct?"
"Yes." I sent a man for a scuttleful. "Weigh it and make a note before you bring it," I said.
The trader looked at me with appraising eyes. "Very good, Lord," she said, but again I detected a mocking undertone.
***
In a day the thing was so big I ordered scaffolding erected over it, so that my men could conveniently pour coal into its hopper. Minutes later the hopper would be empty.
I sent for the trader. She looked much the same. She had been treated well enough, fed and watered. I have no taste for unnecessary cruelty, as some of my enemies do.
A man tipped the last scuttle into the thing's hopper. "Seven thousand kilos, exactly. But. .. it's still just a lump," I said.
"I commend your caution. Do not feed it for a few days, and the hopper will heal. And now to business."
Two of my best enforcers stood with us. She touched the thing, and I heard a rich, sweet chime that faded slowly. The trader beckoned me closer. "Put your hand next to mine, on the green," she said. A square of green light pulsed on the black surface, with a rhythm like a giant's heartbeat. I laid my hand on the light and felt a probing warmth. "Yes," the trader said, and drew back her hand. But nothing else happened, and a moment later the light faded. "When I speak a word, she's yours. But I must speak it beneath my own lock, and then I'll go."
I nodded; we walked across the concrete. As we approached her neomach, she spoke. "Your men must come no closer. I don't want them injured. But you may accompany me, Lord." She smiled that malicious smile again. "I must admit that I'm surprised. I expected at least one more attempt to weasel me."
"We savages have our own quaint concept of honor," I answered.
She laughed, delighted. "Oh, I can almost forgive you, Lord."
The lock extruded a ramp, and an opening occurred, so quickly that I failed to see the mechanism.
Something moved in the dark interior of the neomach, a shadowy human figure. I drew the machine pistol that I had worn today instead of the ceremonial harquebus. "Who is that?"
"There's no one aboard, Lord."
"I saw something!"
"I can't imagine what."
I had no foolhardy desire to be lured inside, where I would be on her ground, and possibly in her power. "Yes. Well, the word."
She smiled one last time, and it was almost a sad smile. "The word, Lord, is good-bye."
Across the Square the new neomach pulled itself into a black cube. On the nearest side a lock formed.
I turned back, and she stood beside her lock. She waved.
"Just the knees," I shouted, and the marksmen I had stationed high in the palace facade fired.
The bullets never touched her, seemed to ricochet from the empty air a meter before they would have struck her. One of them took a patch of skin from my calf, and I roared for the marksmen to hold.
She was inside, and immediately the great wings of the neomach cupped for takeoff. I retreated, and the neomach floated away into the sky, silently, as if it weighed no more than thistledown.
When it was gone, I went to the neomach. Nefrete stood by my new machine, her chin tilted imperiously, though her eyes were wide and haunted. It occurred to me that I should ask her to explore the machine with me. If I did not, she would be sure to feel slighted. But her strange vision still weighed on me, and then adolescent greed seized me, so that I walked past her without a glance, and stepped into the lock alone.
The interior was a small cube, three meters on a side, a dull, featureless white, lit by some hidden means. I stood in another world, still a little foggy with an acrid gas. Then the floor shifted, and I staggered. There was a shout from outside, and the lock was suddenly solid behind me.