Trickster

were already gone. Well, he would see about that. What was the point of having money and power if you didn't use it?

'You must come,' Qiwele was saying. He lowered his voice, though they were patently alone. 'I'm good friends with the ringleader, and-'

It was Edsard's turn to be impressed. 'You know Valeta Kalopolis?'

'I didn't mention that? Our families have been friends for a long time. I'm sure I can arrange tickets for you and your family at the opening performance. They'll be waiting at the box office for you. I insist!'

Relief and excitement flooded over Edsard. The Emporium! 'That would be marvelous, Mr. Qiwele. I'm in your debt.'

'It would be my pleasure, Mr. Roon. In fact… ' Qiwele's voice trailed off for a moment, and Edsard leaned forward, eager to hear what might come next. 'You know the Emporium uses bleachers? With no reserved seats?'

'Yes,' Edsard said. 'Part of the charm.'

'You've been so kind,' Qiwele murmured. 'And for a fellow enthusiast of your caliber, I might be able to arrange… well, perhaps I shouldn't say, in case it can't be done.'

Edsard tried not to squirm. 'What? You can't leave me hanging like that. Tell me!'

'No, no. I shouldn't get your hopes up.'

It was on the tip of Edsard's tongue to shout, to order Qiwele to tell. This was the Emporium, for god's sake. Who did Qiwele think he was, jerking him, Edsard Roon, around like this? But he bit the inside of his cheek. Shouting orders at a guest was not only rude, it probably wouldn't work. He forced himself to keep his voice calm.

'Tell,' he said. 'After all, I showed you my Wimpale.'

Qiwele paused for an agonizingly long time. 'I just don't want to make you think this is a guarantee when I can only promise to do my best.'

'What? What?' Edsard demanded.

'I'm thinking,' Qiwele said slowly, 'that I could have a word with Valeta. Arrange something special.' Qiwele rubbed his nose. 'Tell you what. As I said, I will arrange for tickets to be left at the box office. When you and your family arrive, be sure you sit in seat A7. Your wife and children may sit where they like, but you, my friend, must sit in seat A7. I will try to ensure it remains vacant, but I can't control everything, so you'll want to arrive in plenty of time.'

'What exactly are you arranging, Mr. Qiwele?'

Qiwele gave a maddening smile. 'A surprise, Mr. Roon. And nothing in the world will make me spoil it for you. The opening performance is in three days, and seating starts at seven o'clock. Seat A7. It'll be a dream come true, Mr. Roon. An absolute dream.'

After a hearty handshake and a polite good-bye, Qiwele left. Roon stared after him feeling like a child who has been handed an enormous present and told he couldn't open it for three days.

Then his com-link chimed.

One, two, three, four, five, six, and turn. One, two, three, four, five, six, and turn. Isaac Todd paced and paced and paced again. There was frigging nothing to do. He was tired of reading, bored with the mini-sim games, and sick, sick, sick of being in these tiny quarters with no frigging windows. He had nothing but a bed, a chair, a tiny bathroom, and a combination bookdisk reader and mini-sim player. That was it. He didn't even have a change of clothes, had to stand around naked while he washed out his stuff in the sink and hung it up to dry. Who the hell did Harenn think she was, anyway? She had no right, no right to keep him here, let alone stick him with needles.

Todd shuddered and paused in his pacing. The needles. Just thinking about them made him sweat. And then there were the nightmares. He could never remember exactly what they were, or even actually having them, for that matter. All he knew was that three times in four when he woke up in the morning, he was shaking with the memory of fear, the sheets soaked and cold. Harenn was doing it to him somehow, he was sure of it.

At least the vomiting thing had stopped.

Harenn. Damned bitch. He hadn't done anything illegal to her. The kids he had made were his, his to keep or to sell. Besides, Harenn and the other women should have been glad for what he did. The kids were all genetic freaks. He had disposed of each one of them, ensuring their mothers didn't have to raise them and earning a tidy profit for himself. In the meantime, the freaks were put to good use. Everybody won. Especially Isaac, who got a steady stream of new sex partners, a good income from the results, and the thrill of outsmarting a bunch of women stupid enough to fall for him.

But now he sat in an inhumanly tiny cell with nothing to do, and that burned him. Inactivity chafed like sand in his clothes. He wanted to act, get out there and do something. Anything.

Well, not quite anything. He had been putting off the one thing he could do, setting it aside until he could work out some details. Said details had come together yesterday afternoon, but still Todd had avoided acting. So much would depend on how fast he could talk.

With a deep breath, Isaac Todd twisted his left ring finger. It came off. From the base of the finger he pulled a short antenna. Then he pressed the nail. A tiny holographic display popped up. Todd swallowed, then whispered a command to it. A few moments later, the display morphed into a head-and-shoulders view of a man.

'Isaac Todd,' he said, mouth almost completely dry. 'Reporting in, Mr. Roon.'

'It's been over two weeks, Mr. Todd. Where are you? I was just about to go to bed.'

'I've been captured by the Children of Irfan.'

Mr. Roon's expression didn't change, but Todd noticed his neck muscles stiffen. 'The Children? Are you on Belleroph-no, you can't be. What is your location?'

'I'm on a ship docked at SA Station. I don't know the name of it-they haven't mentioned it within my hearing.'

'Start from the beginning, Mr. Todd,' Mr. Roon said tensely, 'and tell me everything.'

Todd explained and Mr. Roon listened.

'So you allowed yourself to be captured, is that it?' Mr. Roon said when he was done. 'And then you let them drug you and make you blab everything you know.'

'We can turn this into an advantage, sir,' Todd said. He thrust the hand that wasn't holding the communicator into his pocket so it wouldn't shake. 'The Father in charge-I haven't caught his name, either-said he wants to steal away his family. Mr. Roon, he's still Silent.'

Roon didn't answer right away, so Todd plunged on. 'He once said something about going into the Dream. I also get the idea that at least one other person on this ship is also still Silent. There may be more, sir.'

'And?' Mr. Roon said at last. 'I have the feeling that this is going somewhere.'

'If we play this right,' Todd replied, 'we could grab all of them.'

'Of course we can grab all of them. Your signal has already told me where you are. I can simply flood the ship with security troops. We'd get the Silent-and you.'

Todd didn't miss the implied threat. 'I think that would be a mistake, sir.'

'Oh?'

'It would be hard to keep something like that a secret,' he explained. 'The moment security forces show up, the Children will shout for help and probably dump everything they know about the Collection into public-access networks-and into the Dream. I would, under those circumstances.'

'To what end?' Mr. Roon countered.

'Partly to tick you off and partly because it would put every Silent in the galaxy on their guard, making the Collection harder to expand. The Children themselves would also come looking to rescue their people, and the groups we… liberated our Silent from would want their property back, so you can be sure they'd kick up a fuss. SA Station would be inundated with people trying to destroy the Collection, and someone might even declare war against SA itself. If the Collection's existence became public knowledge at this stage, the whole thing would be ruined.'

'You have a point,' Mr. Roon conceded grudgingly. 'So what do you propose we do?'

'Nothing. That's the beauty of it. If they want to get the Father's relatives, they'll have to come to us. All you have to do is wait for them. I can feed you information from the inside, let you know when they're planning to move. The moment they try something'-Todd snapped his fingers-'you'll have them. All of them.'

Mr. Roon thought for a long moment. Todd held his breath. If Mr. Roon decided to dump Todd's plan and