The Revelation Space Collection

‘She is dead, in so far as I understand the term. She has been dead for more than thirty years. But she has not changed at all since the moment of her death. There has been no decay, no evidence of the usual morbid processes. And yet there cannot be a vacuum in there, or she could not have breathed.’

‘I don’t understand. Did she die in this thing?’

‘It was her palanquin, Mr Clavain. She was in it when I killed her.’

‘You killed her?’

H slid the little plate closed, obscuring the window. ‘I used a type of weapon designed by Canopy assassins for the specific purpose of murdering hermetics. They call it a crabber. It attaches a device to the side of the palanquin that bores through the armour while at the same time maintaining perfect hermetic integrity. There can be unpleasant things inside palanquins, you see, especially when the occupants suspect they may be the targets of assassination attempts. Subject-specific nerve gas, that sort of thing.’

‘Go on,’ Clavain said .

‘When the crabber reaches the interior it injects a slug which detonates with sufficient force to kill any organism inside, but not enough to shatter the window or any other weak point. We employed something similar against tank crews on Sky’s Edge, so I had some familiarity with the principles involved.’

‘If the crabber worked,’ he said, ‘there shouldn’t be a body inside.’

‘Quite right, Mr Clavain, there shouldn’t. Believe me, I know — I’ve seen what it looks like when these things do work.’

‘But you did kill her.’

‘I did something to her; what, I’m not quite sure. I could not examine the palanquin until several hours after the crabber had done its work, since we had the Mademoiselle’s allies to deal with as well. When I did look through the window I expected to see nothing except the usual dripping red smear on the other side of the glass. But her body was nearly intact. There were wounds, quite evident wounds which would normally have been fatal in their own right, but over the next few hours I watched them heal. The clothes as well — the damage undid itself. She has been like this ever since. More than thirty years, Mr Clavain.’

‘It isn’t possible.’

‘Did you notice the way you seemed to be viewing her body as if through a layer of shifting water? The way she shimmered and warped? It was no optical illusion. There is something in there with her. I wonder how much of what we can see was ever human.’

‘You’re talking as if she was some kind of alien.’

‘I think there was something alien about her. Beyond that, I would not care to speculate.’

H led him out of the room. Clavain risked one rearward glance at the palanquin, a glance that chilled him. H obviously kept it here because there was nothing else to be done with it. The corpse could not be destroyed, might even be dangerous in other hands. So she remained entombed here, in the building she had once inhabited.

‘I have to ask…’ Clavain began.

‘Yes?’

‘Why did you kill her?’

His host closed the door behind them. There was a palpable feeling of relief. Clavain had the distinct impression that even H did not greatly relish visits to the Mademoiselle.

‘I killed her, Mr Clavain, for the very simple and obvious reason that she had something I wanted.’

‘Which was?’

‘I’m not entirely sure. But I think it was the same thing Skade was after.’

TWENTY-TWO

Xavier was working on Storm Bird’s hull when the two peculiar visitors arrived at the repair shop. He checked on the monkeys, satisfying himself that they could be trusted to get on with things by themselves for a few minutes. He wondered who Antoinette had pissed off now. Like her father, she was pretty good at not pissing off the right people. That was how Jim Bax had stayed in business.

‘Mr Gregor Consodine?’ asked a man, standing up from a seat in the waiting area.

‘I’m not Gregor Consodine.’

‘I’m sorry. I thought this was…’

‘It is. I’m just minding things while he’s off in Vancouver for a couple of days. Xavier Liu.’ He beamed helpfully. ‘How may I be of assistance?’

‘We are looking for Antoinette Bax,’ the man said.

‘Are you?’

‘It’s a matter of some urgency. I gather that’s her ship parked in your service well.’

The back of Xavier’s neck bristled. ‘And you’d be… ?’

‘I am called Mr Clock.’

Mr Clock’s face was an exercise in anatomy. Xavier could see the bones beneath the skin. Mr Clock looked like a man very close to death, and yet he moved with the light step of a ballet dancer or mime artiste.

But it was the other one that really bothered him. Xavier’s first careless glance at the visitors had revealed two men, one tall and thin like a storybook undertaker, the other short and wide, built like a professional wrestler. The more squat man had his head down and was thumbing through a brochure on the coffee table. Between his feet was a featureless black box the size of a toolkit.

Xavier looked at his own hands.

‘My colleague is Mr Pink.’

Mr Pink looked up. Xavier did his best to conceal a moment of surprise. The other man was a pig, not a baseline human at all. He had a smooth rounded brow beneath which little dark eyes studied Xavier. His nose was small and upturned. Xavier had seen humans with stranger faces, but that was not the point. Mr Pink never had been human.

‘Hello,’ the pig said, and then turned his attention back to his reading matter.

‘You haven’t answered my question,’ Clock said.

‘Your question?’

‘Concerning the ship. It does belong to Antoinette Bax, doesn’t it?’

‘I was just told to do some hull work on it. That’s all I know.’ Clock smiled and nodded. He stepped back to the office door and closed it. Mr Pink turned over a page and chuckled at something in the brochure. ‘That’s not quite the truth, is it, Mr Liu?’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Have a seat, Mr Liu.’ Clock gestured at one of the chairs. ‘Please, take the weight off your feet. We need to have a little talk, you and me.’

‘I really need to get back to my monkeys.’

‘I’m sure they won’t get up to any mischief in your absence. Now.’ Clock gestured again and the pig looked up and fixed his gaze on Xavier. Xavier sunk down into the seat, weighing his options. ‘Concerning Miss Bax. Traffic records, freely available traffic records, indicate that her vessel is the one currently parked in the service bay, the one you are working on. You are aware of this, aren’t you?’

‘I might be.’

‘Please, Mr Liu, there’s really no point in being evasive. The data we have amassed points to a very close working relationship between yourself and Miss Bax. You are perfectly aware that Storm Bird belongs to her. As a matter of fact, you know Storm Bird very well indeed, isn’t that true?’

‘What is this about?’

‘We’d like to have a little word with Miss Bax herself, if that isn’t too much trouble.’

‘I can’t help you there.’

Clock raised one fine, barely present eyebrow. ‘No?’

‘If you want to speak to her, you’ll have to find her yourselves.’

‘Very well. I hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but…’ Clock looked at the pig. The pig put down the brochure