Silence fell for a moment. "Still," Seg looked up at Bros, "you'd like to treat me like that. Wouldn't you?"
Bros raised his brows.
"What makes you say that?"
Seg looked condescending.
"I'm not stupid, Bros. Far from it, in fact. I'm a brilliant scientist. I know that because I know who my competition are and they're so smart it takes my breath away. I'm a better than average musician, and coming from a Sondee that's saying something. And I probably pull in more credits in a year than the whole bunch of you put together could in two. So where do you people get off looking down on me?" He was sitting up straight now, his eyes bright, his ear whorls flushed with color.
"Hey," Bros said, holding up his hands, palms out, "calm down. Why are you yelling at me?"
"Because you're here and you're guilty." He scowled, at least, Bros assumed he was scowling. "So I'm socially tone-deaf, so what? I'm young. And I'm not human-I'm not as bad as this with Sondee." He paused. "Not usually. If it's that important I'm sure I can learn what I need to know. In the meantime, I just thought I'd point out that you haven't got all that much to be smug about."
Bros sat down beside him and studied his young charge, one finger stroking his upper lip.
"I didn't realize I was being smug," he said quietly.
Seg slumped in his chair again.
"You don't want me here."
Bros nodded. "You're right, I don't. But not because I look down on you. It's because I'm fully aware of what a valuable citizen you really are, Seg." His eyes narrowed "Even though I checked it myself, I still can't believe Clenst would put you in the line of fire like this."
"I insisted," Seg said quickly. "I felt responsible for the loss of our work. I made them see that I should go."
"I still don't like it," Bros said. "It divides my attention. You may be brilliant… no, I'll be honest, you are brilliant, but this isn't your line of work. How would you feel if somebody forced themselves on you as an assistant during a crucial experiment, without training?"
Seg wilted with guilt.
"You've been useful so far," Bros conceded. "But I don't believe in tempting the gods of luck. We've had too much good luck so far, and I'm afraid you may be the straw that broke the camel's back."
Seg looked interested.
"What camel?" he asked. "Like the ones with silver bells?"
Chapter Fifteen
"Clan-Lord?"
"Speak," Belazir didn't raise his eyes from the screen he studied.
"Your contact on Rohan has confirmed that he has found shipping for us and has given us an ETA for a vessel named Wyal."
Belazir nodded thoughtfully. "How long?" he asked.
"Two hours, Clan-Lord," the young Kolnari hesitated.
Belazir noted it and said again, "Speak."
"The… captains name… is Joat Simeon-Hap."
Belazir's blazing eyes rose from the screen like some merciless sun. The crewman's pupils expanded in fear and he visibly shuddered, but held his place. Belazir bared his teeth in a parody of a grin. His body began to quiver slightly in arousal.
No. It is a joke. That scumvermin dares! Ciety had been arrogant from the first, confident that he was irreplaceable. Even the Yoered Family would draw the line at the sort of dealings Ciety had agreed to, and he thought that made him the master. He dared to taunt Belazir with unsatisfiable desires.
"Simeon?" he breathed. "Ciety dares to taunt me with that name?"
"Get him," he said, glaring into the other's eyes. "Ciety and his doxy, and bring them to me."
The young crewman stared at him like a bird fascinated by a snake.
"Go!" Belazir roared, and the crewman fled with a clatter of boots.
Belazir sat down slowly, his golden eyes wide, staring at scenes that never had taken place. Scenes that soothed and pleasured him. In his mind he saw Channa Hap kneeling, her spirit broken, offering up to him the male child she'd borne him. He sat in a thronelike chair looking coldly down upon her bent head and gently informed her that as a male it must be castrated and made a slave. Licking his lips, he imagined Channa flat on her belly, clasping his ankle and kissing his feet, her tears leaving streaks on the polished ebony of his skin as she begged for mercy for her child.
Next, he imagined Simeon's voice, begging to be allowed to serve the Kolnar, pleading with him not to be left in the dark. And then there was Amos.
He grinned. Yes. There was Amos.
"Zerach, take some troops and prepare our guest, the Benisur, for departure."
Behind him a brawny scarred woman smiled and rose, beckoning to two troopers in powered armor to follow her. They genuflected to the ship's joss behind the command seat and left with a tread that shook the deck.
Karak cleared his throat and his father's eyes fell on him like an accusation.
"You wish to speak, my son?"
"What of the Benisur's scumvermin companions?" Karak asked.
Belazir made a little moue and shrugged, his eyes wandered back to his screen. He gestured idly with two fingers.
"See to them," he said.
Karak rose and bowed to his father, then forced himself to leave the bridge calmly.
Belazir smiled like a man suppressing laughter. Then he too rose.
"Kiriss."
"Clan-Lord?"
"You have the bridge. I will be in my quarters if I am needed."
"Yes, Clan-Lord."
As soon as he was clear of the bridge Karak lengthened his stride. By the time he was near Soamosa's prison he was running. He stopped just before the turning to the brig to calm his breathing. Then he approached the guards outside her door at a measured walk.
"I am to take the scumvermin girl to the Clan-Lord," he said coldly. "She will not be coming back, so you are to report to your unit commander for reassignment."
"No one has informed us of this, Petite-Heir." The woman guard stared at him, obliquely contemptuous.
He gritted his teeth at the title; officially he should be Magna-Heir, as his fathers only living son, although Belazir had never found the "time" for the ceremony. Enough, I renounce him.
"I am informing you. Just as I shall inform your unit commander that you are desperately in need of a punishment drill." He paused long enough to watch her struggle through her resentment.
"Does the Petite-Heir require an escort?" the other guard asked.
Karak narrowed his eyes as he studied the man, not certain whether the trooper was sincere or joking.
"Fearsome as she is," he drawled sarcastically, "I doubt the prisoner will try to overwhelm me. We have her beloved Benisur in our clutches, you must remember, to insure her good behavior." He looked at the door and waved his hand in one of his father's casual, dismissive gestures. "Go," he said, bored with them.
They saluted and moved crisply off, contempt and resentment leaving an almost visible wake behind them.
Karak watched them until they disappeared around the corner, and waited until he could no longer hear their footsteps. Then he keyed open the lock on Soamosa's door and entered her cell.
She rose with a startled gasp, then frowned when she saw it was him.
"You frightened me," she said a bit crossly. Then she rushed to him and threw her arms around his massive chest. "But I am glad to see you." She smiled up at him, waiting for his kiss.
He looked down at her, tenderly cradling her blond head in his big hand, and sighed for sheer delight in her sweet innocence; leaning down to award the kiss she expected. Then he held her against him, gently stroking her bright, soft hair.
"I have come to take you away," he said.