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The Baron Nikusha Seppanen raged down the corridor from his private apartments, flitting through patches of late afternoon sunlight that poured down from high windows. He bobbed and twisted in his suspensors with violent jerks.
He stormed past the private kitchen ---past the library, past the small reception room, and into the servants' antechamber where the evening relaxation had already set in.
The guard captain, Mazhar Edvin, squatted on a divan across the chamber, the stupor of rancid dullness in his flat face, the eerie wailing of konidu music around him. His own court sat near to do his bidding.
"Edvin!" the Baron roared.
Men scrambled.
Edvin stood, his face composed by the narcotic but with an overlay of paleness that told of his fear. The konidu music had stopped.
"My Lord Baron," Edvin said. Only the drug kept the trembling out of his voice.
The Baron scanned the faces around him, seeing the looks of frantic quiet in them. He returned his attention to Edvin and spoke in a silken tone:
"How long have you been my guard captain, Edvin?"
Edvin swallowed. "Since Dyuna, milord. Almost two years."
"And have you always anticipated dangers to my person?"
"Such as been my sole purpose, milord."
"Then where is Ram-Gurgen?" the Baron roared.
Edvin recoiled. "Milord?"
"You do not consider Ram-Gurgen a danger to my person?" Again, the voice was silken.
Edvin wet his lips with his tongue. Some of the rancid dullness left his eyes. "Ram-Gurgen's in the slave quarters, milord."
"With the women again, is he?" The Baron trembled with the effort of suppressing his anger.
"Sire, it could be he's....."
"Silence!"
The Baron advanced another step into the antechamber, noting how the men moved back, clearing a subtle space around Edvin, dissociating themselves from the object of wrath.
"Did I not command you to know just where the na-Baron was at all times?" the Baron asked. He moved one step closer. "Did I not say to you that you were to know exactly what the na-Baron was saying at all times---and to whom?" Another step. "Did I not say to you that you were to tell me whenever he went into the quarters of the slave women?"
Edvin swallowed. Sweat stood out on his forehead.
The Baron held his voice flat, nearly devoid of emphasis. "Did I not say these things to you?"
Edvin nodded.
"And did I not say to you that you were to check all slave boys sent to me and that you were to do this yourself.....personally?"
Again, Edvin nodded.
"Did you, perchance, not see the blemish on the thigh of the one sent me this evening?" the Baron asked. "Is it possible you..."
"Uncle."
The Baron whirled, stared at Ram-Gurgen standing in the doorway. The presence of his nephew here, now---the look of hurry that the young man couldn't quite hide---all revealed much. Ram-Gurgen had his own spy system focused on the Baron.
"There's a body in my chambers that I wish removed," the Baron said, and he kept his hand at the projectile weapon beneath his robes, thankful that his barrier was the best money could buy.
Ram-Gurgen glanced at the two guardsmen against the right wall and nodded. The two detached themselves, scurried out the door and down the hall towards the Baron's apartments.
Those two, is it? the Baron thought. Ah, this young monster has much to learn about the art of conspiracy!
"I assume you left matters peaceful in the slave quarters, Ram," the Baron said.
"I've been playing cheops with the slavemaster," Ram-Gurgen said, and he thought: What has gone wrong? The boy we sent to my uncle has obviously been killed. But he was perfect for the job. Even Botkin couldn't have made a better choice. The boy was perfect!
"Playing pyramid chess," the Baron said. "How nice. Did you win?"
"I---ah, yes, Uncle." And Ram-Gurgen strove to contain his disquiet.
The Baron snapped his fingers. "Edvin, do you wish to be restored to my good graces?"
"Sire, what have I done?" Edvin quavered.
"That's unimportant now," the Baron said. "Ram has beaten the slavemaster at cheops. Did you hear that?"
"Yes....Sire."
"I wish you to take these three men and go to the slavemaster," the Baron said, "Garrote the slavemaster. Bring his body to me when you've finished so that I may see that it was done properly. We cannot have such inept chess players in our employ."
Ram-Gurgen went pale, took a step forward. "But, Uncle, I...."
"Later, Ram," the Baron said, and waved a hand. "Later."
The two guards who'd gone to the Baron's quarters for the slave boy's body staggered past the antechamber door with their load sagging between them, their arms trailing. The Baron watched until they were out of sight.
Edvin stepped up beside the Baron. "Do you wish me to kill the slavemaster now, m'Lord?"
"Now," the Baron said. "And when you've finished, add those two who just passed to your list. I don't like the way they carried that body. One should do such things neatly. I'll wish to see their corpses, too."
Edvin said, "Milord, is anything that I've..."
"Do as your master has bidden!” Ram-Gergen admonished. And he thought: All I can hope for now is to save my own skin!
Good! The Baron thought. He yet knows how to cut his losses. And the Baron smiled inwardly at himself, thinking: The lad knows too, what’ll please me and be most apt to stay my wrath from falling upon him. He knows I must preserve him. Who else do I have to could take the rains I must someday leave? I’ve got no other as capable. But he must learn! And I must preserve myself while he’s learning.
Ed in signaled men to assist him, led them out the door.
“Would you accompany me to my chambers, Ram?” The Baron asked.
”I am yours to command,” Ram-Gurgen said. He bowed, thinking: I’m caught.
”After you,” the Baron said, and he gestured to the door.
Ram-Gergen indicated his fear by only the barest hesitation. Have I failed utterly? He asked himself. Will. He slip a poisoned blade into my back—-slowly, through the shield? Does he have an alternative successor?
Let him experience this moment of terror, the Baron thought as he walked along behind his nephew. He will succeed me, but at a time of my choosing. I’ll no t have him throwing away what I’ve built!
Ram-Gergen tried not to walk too swiftly. He felt the skin crawling on his back as if his body itself wondered when the blow would come. His muscles alternately tensed and relaxed.
”Have you heard the latest word from. Dyuna?” The Baron asked.
”I have not, Uncle.”
Ram-Gergen forced himself not to look back. He turned down the hall out of the servants’ wing.
”They’ve got a new prophet.or religious leader of some kind among the Szganys,” the Baron said. “They call him Niaeb’D’d. Very funny, really. It means ‘the Mouse.’ I’ve told German to let them have their religion. It’ll keep them occupied.”
”That’s very interesting, Uncle,” Ram-Gergen said. He turned into the private corridor to his uncle’s quarters, wondering: Why does he talk about religion? Is it some subtle hint to me?
“Yes, isn’t it?” the Baron said.
They came into the Baron’s apartments through the reception salon to the bedchamber. Subtle signs of a struggle greeted them here—-a suspension lamp displaced, a bed cushion on the floor, a soother-reel spilled open across a bed stand.
”It was a clever plan,” the Baron said. He kept his body shield to maximum, stopped, facing his nephew. “But not clever enough. Tell me, Ram, why didn’t you strike me down yourself? You’ve had opportunity enough..”
Ram-Gergen found a suspension chair, accomplished a mental shrug as he sat down in it without being asked.
I must be bold now, he thought.
”You taught me that my own hands must stay clean,” he said.
”Yes, yes,” the Baron said. “When you face the Sultan, you must be able to say truthfully that you didn’t do the deed. The witch at the Sultan’s elbow will hear your words and know their truth or falsehood. Yes, I warned you about that.”
”Then why haven’t you ever bought a Bala Garrasaid for yourself, Uncle?” Ram-Gergen asked. “With a Truthsayer at your side…”
”You know my tastes!” The Baron snapped.
Ram-Gergen studied his uncle, said: “Still, one would be valuable for….”
”I trust them not!” the Baron snarled. “And quit trying to change the subject!”
Ram-Gurgen spoke mildly. “As you wish, Uncle.”
”I remember a time in the arena several years ago,” the Baron said. “It seemed there that day a slave had been sent to kill you. Is that truly how it was?”
”It’s been so long ago, Uncle. After all, I….”
”No evasions, please,” the Baron said, and the tightness of his voice exposed the rein on his anger.
Ram-Gergen looked at his uncle, thinking: He knows, else he wouldn’t ask.
“It was a sham, Uncle. I arranged it to discredit your slavemaster.”
”Very clever,” the Baron said. “Brave, too. That slave-gladiator almost took you, didn’t he?”
”Yes.”
”If you had finesse and subtlety to match such courage, you’d be truly formidable.” The Baron shook his head from side to side. And as he had done many times since that awful day on Dyuna, he found himself regretting the loss of Yakov, the Technopath. There’d been a man of delicate, devilish subtlety. It hadn’t saved him, though. Again, the Baron shook his head. Fate was sometimes inscrutable.
Ram-Gergen glanced around the bedchamber, studying the signs of the struggle, wondering how his uncle had overcome the slave they’d so carefully prepared.
“How did I best him?”the Baron asked. “Ah-h-he, now, Ram—-let me keep some weapons to protect me in my old age. It’s better we use this time to cut a deal.”
Ram-Gergen stared at him. A deal! He means to keep me as his heir for certain, then. Or else why deal? One makes deals with equals or near-equals?
“What kind of deal, Uncle?” And Ram-Gergen felt proud that his voice stayed calm and reasonable, betraying none of the elation that filled him.
The Baron, too, noted the control. He nodded. “You’re good material, Ram. I don’t waste good material. You persist, however, in refusing to learn may true value to you. You are obstinate. You doo not see why I should be preserved as someone of the utmost value to you. This….” He gestured at the evidence of the struggle in the bedchamber. “This was foolishness and I do not reward foolishness.”
Get to the point, you old fool! Ram-Gergen thought.
”You think of me as an old fool,” the Baron said. “I must cure you of that.”
”You speak of a making a deal.”
”Ah, the impatience of youth,” the Baron said. “Well, this is the substance of it, then: You will cease these foolish attempts on my life. And I, when you are ready for it, will step aside in your favor. I will retire to an advisory position, leaving you in the seat of power.”
”Retire, Uncle?”
”You still think me the fool,” the Baron said, “and this but confirms it, eh? You think I’m begging you! Step carefully, Ram. This old fool saw through the shielded needle you’d planted in that slave boy’s thigh. Right where I’d put my hand upon it, yes? The smallest pressure an d—-snick! A poison needle in the old fool’s palm. Ah-h-he, Ram….”
The Baron shook his head, thinking: It would’ve worked, too, if Boykin hadn’t warned me. Well, let the lad believe I saw the plot on my own. In a way, I did. I was the one who saved Boykin from the wreckage of Dyuna. And this lad needs greater respect for my prowess.
Ram-Gergen remained silent, struggling with himself. Is he being truthful? Does he really mean to retire? Why not? I’m sure to succeed him someday if I move cautiously. He can’t live forever. Maybe it was foolish to try accelerating the process.
“You spoke of cutting a deal,” Ram-Gurgen said. “What pledge do we give to bind it?”
”How can we trust each other, eh?” the Baron asked. “Well, Ram, as for you: I’m setting Eugene Boykin to watch over you. I trust Botkin’s technopathic talents in this. Do you understand me? And as for me, you’ll have to take me on faith. But I can’t live forever, can I, Ram? And maybe you should begin to suspect now that there’re things I know which you should know.”
”I give my pledge and what do you give me?” Ram-Gergen asked.
”Your life,” the Baron said.
Again, Ram-Gurgen studied his uncle. He sets Botkin over me! What would he say if I told him Botkin planned the trick with the gladiator that cost him his slavemaster? He’d likely say that I was lying in the attempt to discredit Botkin? Now, the good Eugene is a Technopath and has anticipated this moment.
“Have we a deal, or not?” the Baron asked.
”We have a deal, naturally.”
And Ram-Gurgen thought: Botkin! He plays both ends against the center—-is that it? Has he moved to my uncle’s camp because I didn’t counsel with him over the slave boy attempt?
“You haven’t said anything about my setting Botkin to watch you,” the Baron said.
Ram-Gurgen betrayed anger by a flaring of nostrils. The name of Botkin had been a danger signal in the Seppanen family for so many years—-and now it had a new meaning: still dangerous!
”Botkin’s a dangerous toy,” Ram-Gurgen said.
”Toy! How dare you call him that! I know what I have in Botkin and how to control it. Botkin has deep emotions, Ram. It’s the man without emotions who is the one to fear. But deep emotions—-ah, now those can be bent to your will.”
”Uncle, I fail to understand you.”
”Yes, that’s plain enough.”
Only a flicker of eyelids betrayed the passages of resentment through Ram-Gurgen.
”And you do not understand Botkin,” the Baron said.
Nor do you! Ram-Gurgen thought.
”Who does Botkin blame for his present circumstances?” the Baron asked. “Me? Of course. But he was a Seppanen tool and bested me for years until the Imperium took a hand. That’s how he sees it. His hat for me is a casual thing now. He believes he can best me any time. Believing this, he is bested. For I direct his attention where I want it—-against the Imperium.”
Tensions of a new understanding drew tight lines across Ram-Gurgen’s forehead, thinned his mouth. “Against the Sultan?”
Let my dear nephew try the taste of that, the Baron thought. Let him say to himself: “The Sultan Ram-Gurgen Seppanen!” Let him ask himself how much that’s worth. Surely it must be worth the life of one old uncle who could make that dream come to pass!
Slowly, Ram-Gergen wet his lips with his tongue. Could it be true what the old fool was saying? There was more here than there seemed to be.
”And what has Botkin to do with this?” Ram-Gurgen asked.
”He thinks he uses us to wreak his revenge upon the Sultan.”
”And when that’s done?”
”He does not think beyond his revenge. Botkin’s a man who must serve others, and doesn’t even know this about himself.”
”I’ve learned much from Botkin,” Ram-Gurgen agreed, and felt the truth of the words as he spoke them. ‘But the more I learn, the more I feel we must dispose of him——and soon!”
”You don’t like the idea of his watching you?”
”Botkin watches everyone.”
”And he may enthrone you. Botkin is subtle. He is dangerous and devious. But I’ll not yet withhold the antidote from him. A sword is dangerous too, Ram. We have the scabbard for this one, though. The poison’s in him. When we withdraw the antidote, death will sheathe him.”
”In a way, it’s like the arena,” Ram-Gergen said. “Feints within feints within feints. You watch to see which way the gladiator leans, which way he looks, how he holds his knife.”
He nodded to himself, seeing these words pleased his uncle, but thinking: Yes! Like the arena! And the cutting edge is the brain!“
“Now you see how you need me,” the Baron said. “I’m yet of use, Ram.”
A sword to be wielded until he’s too blunt for use, Ram-Gurgen thought.“
” Yes, Uncle, “ he said.
“And now,” the Baron said, “we’ll go down to the slave quarters, we two. And I’ll watch while you, with your bare hands, kill all the women in the pleasure wing.”
”Uncle!”
”There will be other women, Ram. But I’ve said that you do not make a mistake so casually with me.”
Ram-Gurgen’s face darkened. “Uncle, you….”146Please respect copyright.PENANAcV4QaUIIYx
"You will accept your punishment and learn something from it," the Baron said.
Ram-Gurgen met the gloating stare in his uncle's eyes. And I must remember this night, he thought. And in remembering it, I must remember other nights.
"You will not refuse," the Baron said.146Please respect copyright.PENANAWdLLBbu23N
What could you do if I refused, old man? Ram-Gurgen asked himself. But he knew there might be some other punishment, maybe a subtler one, a more brutal lever to bend him.146Please respect copyright.PENANACcaKFTUkJB
"I know you, Ram," the Baron said. "You won't refuse."
Okay, Ram-Gurgen thought. I need you now. I see that. The bargain's made. But I'll always need you. And---someday....146Please respect copyright.PENANAm7JG1zpbHY
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