Araminta walked down the side of the warehouse. Right at the end of the wall there was a small door. She pulled her cutter out, and removed the lock with a neat incision.
Inside the big enclosed space, light shone in through a row of misted glass along tin- roof's apex. There were five loosely piled pyramids of boxes on the bare concrete floor, all with the Spanish Crepes logo on the side. She ignored them and hurried back to the offices at the front. Getting inside was easy enough. The door was locked but not alarmed. Laril was too cheap for that.
There were three offices, with budget furniture and fittings, looking as if the staff had just left for the day. Araminta hurriedly pulled down the blinds and began to search the offices one by one.
Spanish Crepes had been another of Laril's rotten companies. It was supposed to be a franchise supplying Colwyn City's larger entertainment venues; with dozens of stalls and swarms of eager staff supplying quality food at reasonable prices, and paying Laril for the privilege As always it had limped along as he battled with licensing authorities, while buying stock from the cheapest suppliers he could find. Then there were subsidiaries dealing in the stalls and culinary units themselves; financed with a buyback scheme based offworld. More interlinked yet unregistered companies provided uniforms and transport. None of it had been declared to the Revenue Service.
Araminta knew about it all because he'd left a file open one day on their apartment's network. She'd never told him she knew about it; she'd even kept it from Cressida. It was to be her very last bargaining point if all legal means failed.
A thorough inventory of every desk and cupboard produced very little. Useless hardcopy of confusing receipts and agreements. Sample boxes of exotic crepe fillings. Dead pot plants. Worn culinary unit components. Electronic modules — function unknown. Three cybersphere nodes. Kubes in neat storage cassettes. A box of company aprons in trial colours. A mid-capacity management array with out of date software.
However, as she sat at what must have been Laril's desk with its ancient console and three portals, she found five cash coins in the bottom draw, underneath some carry-capsule manuals. Difficult to find, but not necessarily suspicious, so they weren't there by accident. Like everything Laril did.
She held one of the coins up, and smiled at it. Good old Laril, dependably unreliable.
Thirty minutes spent opening up one of the nodes, using a handheld interface to adapt the software configuration, registering a new company Unisphere account with money from the cash coin, and she had a very basic communication link through the management array that didn't involve her u-shadow or include her identity. No tracer program or scrutineer would be able to place her at the Spanish Crepes office.
In theory.
She laboriously typed in the Oaktier code stored in her lacuna. The tiny array screen printed up icons showing the channel being established.
Please, she prayed, be curious enough to accept the call.
The portal projected Laril's puzzled face into the air in front of her. She surprised herself by her reaction. But the sight of that awfully familiar thin brown hair, rotund cheeks and excessive stubble brought tears to her eyes. It was just so unbelievably reassuring that he remained exactly the same as always.
'Araminta? Is that you? Have you reprofiled your face?
'Don't go, she blurted. 'I need help.
'Ah. I didn't know you knew about the, er, crepes company.
'Forget about that. Can you run a check to see if anyone is eavesdropping this link?
His eyes widened in amused surprise. 'Okay. U-shadow analysing the connection route. Ah hah. The channel seems clean, but I'm not a true expert on these things. Are you all right? I've tried to call a couple of times. I was worried when your u-shadow didn't respond.
Araminta took a deep breath. 'Laril, it's me they're after.
'You?
'I'm the Second Dreamer.
'You know the Second Dreamer?
'No. I am the Second Dreamer.
'You can't be.
Araminta scowled at the screen. This was Laril true enough, always the same, and never giving her credit. 'Why not?
'For a start, you don't have gaiamotes.
'Don't need them. She explained about her previously unknown ancestry.
'You're related to Mellanie Rescorai? was all he asked when she'd finished.
'You know of her?
'Who doesn't? Especially here on Oaktier, this was her birthworld.
Definitely Laril, no one else ever irritated her at this level. 'I… she shut her eyes, drew a breath, and looked directly at his projection. 'I don't know who else to go to.
He grinned, a hand reaching up to scratch the top of his right ear. 'Wow. I'm flattered.
'You said if there was ever anything…
'Yeah. Wasn't quite thinking along these lines, though.
'I see. You can always rely on Laril to let you down. She reached for the keyboard, ready to cut the channel.
'That doesn't mean I won't help, he said in that soft caring voice he hadn't used since their first week together.
'Really?
'I loved you then, and I guess I always will.
'Thank you.
'Sorry, but—You're really the Second Dreamer?
She smirked. 'Yeah.
'And you told the Skylord to get lost?
'I don't want to go into the Void, especially not leading some-crazy Pilgrimage for a bunch of religious nutters.
'Succinctly put. Unfortunately there are bigger issues to consider.
'I know. For a start, I've got half of Ellezelin's police force in the city looking for me. And Gore said there are others, too.
'What can I do?
'I don't know. It's just sort of instinct coming to you.
'Again: flattering, in a weird kind of way. But let's face it, if anyone can advise you how to stay ahead of officialdom, it's me.
'I'm not sure even you can help me on that score. Laril, the whole city is sliding into anarchy. Ellezelin is the only authority here. I don't think I can hide for ever.
'Okay, let me think for a moment here. He patted at his forehead theatrically.
'Have you got someone now? she asked quietly.
'Yes. At least, there's someone I've started to see regularly. She's just arrived on Oaktier, for the same reason as me.
'That's good. I'm pleased.
'Thanks. And you?
'Yes. You'd probably be surprised by him, but yes.
'So I have to ask, why isn't he helping you out?
'I don't want to involve him. It's a bit much.
'Okay, that tells me what I need to know.
'What?
'Now don't take this the wrong way, but you're thinking about this is all wrong.
'How?
'Too small. Basically what I'm saying is that it's not about you.
'It's very much about me.
'No. This is about the evolution of entire cultures and species. It might even be about the fate of the galaxy if you believe the Raiel. You play a part in that, a very minor part given the nature of the events playing out here.
She started to argue, but he held up a hand.
'However, he said, 'it is pivotal, and that's where your importance lies. You have a choice, Araminta, you can either be the small person, maybe try to run and hide. Then someone will catch up with you, and depending on who they are your role will be subsumed into their agenda. Don't make the mistake of thinking any of them will leave you alone to carry on as you see best. They won't.
'And my other choice? she asked waspishly.