Crown of Slaves

Which was a pity, in many ways, he reflected. Because since no one would ever guess, none of them would appreciate the steel-nerved courage-and total confidence in her chosen marksman-required for someone to do what she had just done.

Even as the thought flashed through his mind and the corpse catapulted away, Palane dove to the floor of the terrace herself. Her com was in her hand before she landed, already barking out orders.

Rozsak's eyes ranged the terrace. Everybody was now on the floor, shielded by the terrace's low retaining wall, except for one particularly determined holorecorder crew. His eyes met the hard gaze of Anton Zilwicki.

Rozsak didn't have any trouble at all interpreting that gaze. That's it, Rozsak. Don't even THINK about taking it any further.

The Solarian Captain gave Zilwicki a minute little nod. Then, a second later, found himself matching gazes with Jeremy X. The head of the Ballroom was on the terrace floor not far from Zilwicki, his hand pulser gripped in his hand.

To the holorecorder viewers, it would simply look like the natural reaction of an experienced gunman. But Rozsak didn't misunderstand the meaning of that flat-eyed stare-nor the fact that while Jeremy's weapon wasn't directly pointed at him, it wasn't pointed all that far away, either.

He gave Jeremy the same tiny nod. Yes, yes, yes. That's it. This black op is over.

In truth, he was glad of it himself. As cold-blooded as he was, even Rozsak would have found it difficult to order Palane's murder. But it was all a moot point, anyway. Watanapongse had been correct: Palane was by no means the only person who had figured out the truth behind Stein's killing. Only a lunatic would start a private war with the likes of Anton Zilwicki and Jeremy X-even leaving aside Victor Cachat.

Cachat wasn't there. Rozsak hadn't expected him to be, since the Havenite agent was doing his best to keep his own involvement in the affair as much of a secret as possible.

He was startled to hear Berry speak calmly. He'd expected the girl to be in something of a state of shock. He was even more startled by the half-whispered words themselves. They carried to his ear quite clearly, even under the shouts of the crowd and the cries of alarm rising from the media crews.

'Victor's keeping guard over the former Mesans who decided to stay. Not the settlement-they're safe enough- but the ones who came in to surrender individually. For the moment, they're all being kept in the old barracks.'

Half-propped on an elbow, Rozsak looked down at her. The back of Berry's head was resting on the terrace floor, her eyes fixed on him. It was a gaze far more hostile than he'd ever have expected to encounter from the girl.

'Didn't think of that, did you?' she whispered, icily. 'The retaliation that angry ex-slaves might visit, after the killing of someone they think is a liberator of sorts.'

He hadn't thought of it. Startled, he glanced at Palane, still on the floor barking commands into her com. It was an act, he knew-by now, the Scrags would be dead and the cover-up well under way-but it was a very good one. He had no doubt at all that the media would be fooled. To all appearances, Palane was organizing a manhunt.

'Thandi thought of it, though,' Berry whispered. The underlying contempt in her tone was not disguised at all.

And even the girl knows. Rozsak realized in that moment that a teenaged queen- to-be already had what amounted to a staff as good as his own-and probably even more trusting. Odd, really, given the disparate elements it was made of.

He sighed softly. 'I'm glad to be done with it,' he whispered, trusting in his scrambling equipment to keep the words from being recorded by anyone. Half-protesting: 'Damnation, Your Highness, somebody had to pay for Stein.'

She said nothing. He forced himself to meet her eyes again. Berry's gaze was no longer hostile so much as…

Royal. Imperious, even.

'You and Thandi Palane are quits, Captain Rozsak,' she commanded.

* * *

'-got them, kaja. They put up a fight, so there's not much left. Scrags, by the look of the remains. Two of them.'

'Don't touch anything,' Palane snapped into the com. 'We don't have much of a forensic capability, but I want the media to get recordings while the scene of the crime is still undisturbed by investigators.'

She rose to her feet, glanced down at Cassetti's corpse, and stalked toward the crowd of reporters.

'It's over,' she announced.

'Who was it?' cried out one of them. 'Mesan agents?'

'Don't know. I doubt if we ever will. There were two assassins and they put up a fight. The unit who took them out are special commandos, not cops. They didn't leave much, it seems.' Thandi shook her head. 'You'll be allowed to record whatever there is. The unit commander tells me she thinks they were holdovers from Templeton's gang. Whether they were operating on orders or just trying to get revenge… who knows?'

And nobody ever will, Rozsak thought with satisfaction. The Erewhonese, he was quite sure, had already erased any evidence that two Scrags had been captured on the space station. The same two Scrags that Thandi's Amazons had just blown away, after one of the Amazons shot Cassetti. It was a nicely planned, well-executed operation.

Nobody? Well… except for the ones who mattered.

'Quits, Captain,' Berry repeated.

'Yes. My word on it.'

He meant it too. Very, very sincerely. Everybody on the terrace was rising to their feet, holstering whatever weapons they might have drawn. Everybody except Jeremy X, who was still prone on the floor and still had his hand pulser in his grip.

True, it was not pointed at Rozsak. Not exactly. But the Ballroom leader's gaze was pinpointed on the captain. That flat-eyed, empty, killer's stare.

'My word on it,' he said again.

Epilogue

Michael Winton-Serisburg smiled. 'So she lost, huh?'

His daughter Ruth nodded. ' 'Lost' is hardly the word. She got smeared. Flattened. Nobody agreed with her-not even me. But I will say she put up one hell of a fight. And-Berry's a lot slyer than most people think-she got what she wanted out of it in the end, I'm pretty sure.'

Judith, Ruth's mother, had a smile on her face also. But it was a distracted sort of smile, since she was preoccupied examining the thousands of ex-slaves spilling through all the streets in Torch's main city to watch the coronation. 'I assume she made sure the whole populace knew about the brawl.'

Her daughter gave her a hey, no kidding sort of a look. 'That was my job,' she said, a bit smugly. 'Well. Captain Zilwicki helped.'

Her father's smile widened. 'Indeed. That was before the vote, yes? So by the time the entire populace was able to express their opinion on whether they wanted a constitutional monarchy, they all knew that their prospective Queen had been waging a battle royal to have herself referred to as 'Your Mousety.' With 'Your Incisorship' as'-he choked down a laugh-'the 'compromise' she was willing to settle for.'

'Yup,' said Ruth. 'Like I said, she got smeared. But the vote in favor of the constitutional monarchy was ninety- three percent-and she did manage to hold the line on the royal 'We.' She just flat refused, pointing out that nobody could make her use the expression. And since she's the only one who can, that made it a moot point. She said it made her feel fat already, with her eighteenth birthday just behind her.'