Linnea Sinclair Wintert

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Hebbs had agreed to an uncontrolled bay? Mack tried not to let his surprise
show on his face. Hebbs saw Cirrus as her domain, that he knew. And she
resented Fleet s presence there. Of that, he had no doubt. It put a damper on
what she believed was best for Cirrus a free-for-all trading environment and
gaming palace, where the likes of Johnna Hebbs could reign, receive
admiration, bestow favors, and play one rim trader against another:
politically, economically, and emotionally.
In previous meetings she d made it clear she welcomed the shrine for the
trade and tourists it would bring. But an uncontrolled bay
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No. She couldn t have agreed to that. He thought again of Rigo s words. Hebbs
would agree if he did. She was passing responsibility. It would be Mack s job
to keep Cirrus One safe so that Hebbs s tourists could continue to line
Cirrus s coffers.
He damned her greed, and her shortsightedness.
Admiral. Rigo was frowning, clearly not happy with Mack s silence. Do you
want to be remembered in history as the man who defied Lady Kiasidira? As if
to underscore his words, he reached into the folds of his robe and drew out of
small sliver of crystal, about two fingers in width and length. A faint purple
mist glistened around the shard.
A faint smile touched the magefather s lips as he shoved the crystal back
into his robe pocket.
Mack sat back in his chair, counted to ten. He needed the time to think, to
make sure he wasn t being skillfully maneuvered into an extremely
untenable and dangerous position as training warred with faith.
Everything he knew, everything he was, told him that an unrestricted-access
docking bay on a station that housed a Fleet HQ was a disaster waiting to
happen. An uncontrolled bay on any station was wrong. Simply, unequivocally
wrong.
And violated, he truly believed, everything the Lady Goddess had taught the
Khalar.
But Magefather Rigo s touch made crystal glow, albeit ever so faintly. Not a
pinpoint glow, like the sham rune sellers with their miniature lightpens
tucked up their sleeves. But an overall misting haze, like a faint lavender
fog.
There was no denying who and what Rigo was.
Therefore, Mack could not deny his request. Not unless he wanted to be logged
into the annals of history as the man who ignored a direct request from the
consort of Lady Kiasidira.
That would hardly qualify me as a god,he thought wryly, remembering Gillie s
comment at lunch. But more of a devil. One of the damned, like a hideous
mogra, a creature spawned from the sludge of the Black Swamp.
Let me think on it a little longer, he told Rigo. And hoped Make It Right
Makarian wasn t about to make one of the biggest mistakes in his life.
I will pray for the Lady to guide you, Rigo said as he stepped to the door.
It slid sideways. In fact, even now I can hear her sweet voice in my mind,
saying
Oh, shit. Gillie stood in the doorway, one hand hovering over the palm pad
on the right.
Rigo looked down. Gillie looked up. Mack, standing behind his desk, couldn t
see the magefather s expression, but Gillie s was one of surprise. Then her
eyes narrowed and he heard her unexpected soft chuckle.
A thousand pardons. Magefather.
Yes. Yes, child. Blessings.
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Mack waited for Gillie to step back or for Rigo to squeeze by her. But
neither moved for a few seconds. Then the rotund man backed up abruptly.
Sorry. Did I startle you? Gillie swept one hand toward the corridor.
Please.
Rigo seemed to shake himself, then, head held high, he strode through the
doorway.
Gillie folded her arms across her chest, watched him go.
I need a drink, Mack said, trying to draw her attention back to him.
Something about Magefather Rigo clearly bothered her. No, angered her. He d
seen a brief flash in her eyes when she d faced him.
It didn t make sense. She might not follow the Lady, but she was Tridivinian.
She was also, he knew, remembering their earlier conversations, no more
pleased with the publicity surrounding recent events than he was.
At least Gillie s understanding of regulations and security segued perfectly
with his.
Devil s Breath, neat, with a twist. Her face relaxed into a smile. Main
shift ended forty minutes ago.
Had it? He glanced at the time stamp on his screen. Damn. And he d told her
to meet him in the atrium. She must have been waiting across from his office
that whole time.
He tabbed off his deskcomp. Magefather Rigo didn t tell me he was coming by.
I m really sorry.
That s okay. The parrots and I had a wonderful conversation. She took his
offered hand.
He asked about repairs as they headed down the corridor. He wanted to take
her to Maguire s. Besides the club, it was his favorite. Comfortable,
unpretentious, and a tad tacky, it boasted an unusual collection of antique
buttons in various framed shadow boxes on its walls. It was one of the
station s original bars and so had an enviable outer-wall location. Like the
club, it had large viewports, albeit only three. Unlike the club, it had
well-worn Cavellian soft-tile floors in an off-hued light brown, a tarnished
ceiling with a few notable laser-pistol scorches, and not one unblemished
table in its large, semicircular interior.
The bushy-haired bartender s name was Murphy. Mack caught his friendly nod as
he ushered Gillie to a table. He keyed in their order on the tabletop menu and
leaned back in his chair. And asked the question he still hadn t forgotten,
even with the magefather s unexpected visit. Seen any more of Tobias?
Gillie gave him a quizzical half smile. No. Are you going to send him to
check up on me again?
Is that what you thought?
You tell me why I found him poking around in my bay. Then you come in, not a
few minutes later, on his tail. I wasn t born yesterday, Mack.
Honest, I didn t. I have no idea why he was there. He didn t, but since
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lunch he d wrestled with the suspicion that she and Tobias were guilty of
something. And since lunch, she d been thinking that he had Tobias spying on
her. He s been working on some system glitches . . . Because of that [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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