graduation certificate – though Gan Oliver had been born in Dalar ken Halvar, and Hatch doubted that the man had seen either the Ebrell Islands or a whaling ship in his entire life.
'So,' said Gan Oliver, when Hatch was brought into his presence. 'Did my son say what I wanted you for?'
Manfred Gan Oliver did not speak in his native Dub, which was just as well, as Hatch had only the merest smattering of the Ebrell Island tongue. Like his son, Gan Oliver spoke in the Code Seven of the Nexus Ninetongue, which was the language in which all members of the Free Corps conducted their daily dealings.
The Code Seven Commonspeech was a tolerably smooth-voiced tongue, but Manfred Gan Oliver positively barked it as he sat on guard behind his desk, a very thog in his muscled belligerence, his strong-jawed suspicion.
'Young Lupus,' said Hatch, 'he called me out of House Jodorunda on pretext of wanting to speak to me about Son'sholoma Gezira, but I've no heard so much as a word from him on the subject since.'
'That,' said Gan Oliver heavily, 'is because it's myself who wants to do the talking. About Gezira, I mean. Who was with you in House Jodorunda when Lupus called?'
'Lupus didn't go into the house,' said Hatch carefully. 'I was in there talking with my brother. About Son'sholoma Gezira – I think I told Lupus as much.'
'Your brother!' said Gan Oliver, sounding surprised. 'You were talking about Gezira with your brother! Has the Gezira boy converted him, then?'
'Oboro Bakendra,' said Hatch, 'still remains a loyal priest of Temple Isherzan. It'll take a lot more than Son'sholoma's preachings to convert my brother from the worship of the Great God Mokaragash.'
'Yet it would seem,' said Gan Oliver, 'that Gezira's teachings of the Nu have converted many already.'
'What makes you say so?' said Hatch.
'Why, haven't you heard? Rumor says this Nu-chala nonsense has been running rife amongst the Yara for the better part of a three-month.'
'I had not heard,' said Hatch.
This was scarcely surprising. In the last three months Hatch had been too busy with study, examinations and his personal problems to pay much heed to gossip. Furthermore, though he was a captain of Dalar ken Halvar's Imperial Guard, he had long ago received a dispensation from the Silver Emperor allowing him to absent himself from routine security briefings and the like while he prepared for his examinations. Of late, he had made full use of that dispensation.
'There is even talk,' said Gan Oliver, 'that this Nu-nonsense will lead to revolution amongst the Yara. Certainly there have been incidents.'
'Incidents?' said Hatch.
'A killing at the silver mines. One of the supervisors. An officer of the Imperial Guard, vanished, believed dead. A few other things.'
'I have been out of touch,' said Hatch, admitting ignorance in frank and painless confession.
'But now you know,' said Gan Oliver. 'So your duty is plain.
You must kill the Gezira boy before he does more damage with his nonsense.'
'Kill him?' said Hatch, startled by Gan Oliver's bluntness.
True, Gan Oliver had a reputation for being a blunt and straightforward man, but even so… usually questions of murder were approached with a little more delicacy.
'Of course you must kill him,' said Gan Oliver. 'You're the emperor's chosen killer, everyone knows that. So go to your emperor, get his permission, then cut down Gezira.'
'If the emperor requires me to do such a thing,' said Hatch, with all due formality, 'then the emperor will inform me of his wishes.'
'Aaagh!' said Gan Oliver, and hawked, and spat thick phlegm into his wastepaper basket, which bore a heavy burden of rubbish originally sourced in the Combat College. 'Our great lord Plandruk Qinplaqus has been sunk in one of his glooms for the better part of a year. He hears no business and starts none. You must act, Hatch. He listens to you. He trusts you.'
'Perhaps,' said Hatch, studying Gan Oliver by lantern light.
'But right now I have other things to attend to.'
'Other things?' said Gan Oliver.
'I am in contention for the instructorship,' said Hatch.
'That naturally takes priority for the moment.'
'You're being derelict in your duty,' said Gan Oliver. 'This talk of the Nu, it's a Nexus thing, it came straight out of the Combat College. You're a Startrooper of the Stormforce. So – '
'If I have a duty to discharge in the city of Dalar ken Halvar,' said Hatch, coldly, 'then the emperor will inform me of that duty. I am the emperor's soldier, the emperor's slave, training in the Combat College under the terms of the agreement between the Silver Emperor and that College. It is not for me to arrange the affairs of Dalar ken Halvar in accordance with the concerns of the Nexus. Furthermore, to be specific, it is not for me to arrogate to myself the imperial privilege of organizing selective murder.'
Manfred Gan Oliver muttered something under his breath. Hatch thought he caught the words 'lawyer', 'arrogant bastard' and 'Frangoni madman', but he could not be sure of it. Hatch presumed that Gan Oliver was trying to provoke him, but he was in no mood to be provoked. His earlier clash with his brother Oboro Bakendra had freshly awakened him to the dangers of anger, so now he was exercising a studied self-control.
'Hatch,' said Gan Oliver, drumming his fingers on his desk, 'I know you're fighting for the instructorship, but – but really, Hatch, we could have a revolution on our hands. Soon! And the emperor – the emperor does nothing.'
'So I must act,' said Hatch, probing for Gan Oliver's purpose, seeking to test his resolve.
'You must act,' agreed Gan Oliver.
'Then free me for action,' said Hatch. 'I don't want the instructorship as such, only the money it would bring. I'm up to my neck in debt, and drowning. Give me three hundred scorpions and I'll walk away from the competition. What's more, I'll seek a death certificate for Son'sholoma, and when I've got it I'll execute him personally.'
'It's a deal,' said Gan Oliver promptly.
'Good,' said Hatch, amazed at the swiftness of Gan Oliver's response. 'You – you're very quick to do business.'
'The Brick has had practice at doing such business,' said Gan Oliver. 'You don't think it's an accident that Ebrell Islanders have held the instructorship in unbroken succession for so long.
Do you? Well, in any case – it's a deal. If.'
'If?' said Hatch.
'If you can persuade your sister away from this nonsense of marriage.'
'Marriage?' said Hatch, pretending innocence.
'Oh, come on!' said Gan Oliver, slamming one his meaty hands on his desk. 'You don't think me such a fool as all that, do you?
You've known about it for months. You must have! That mad purple bitch, that sister of yours, she's tempted my son to a proposal of marriage. I want it stopped!'
Hatch took considerable offence at hearing his sister referred to as a mad purple bitch. He might call her that himself on occasion, but such was a brother's privilege. The words were unseemly in the mouth of a stranger like Gan Oliver. But Hatch suppressed every evidence of offence and said:
'If you want the marriage stopped, then encompass my sister's envanishment. She's mortgaged and can't redeem the mortgage, so she's easily bought. So buy her and vanish her.'
Hatch did not necessarily want any such thing to happen to his sister, but made the suggestion in order to probe for the truth of Gan Oliver's intentions.
'You think I haven't thought of that?' said Gan Oliver, taking Hatch's suggestion at face value. 'You think my son hasn't thought of me thinking as much? He's sworn he'll kill me if the woman leaves the city. Or if she otherwise vanishes. He'll hold me responsible however it seems to happen.'
'So what did you say when he told you that?' said Hatch.
'I smacked his head, of course,' said Gan Oliver. 'If he wasn't so busy with his examinations I'd have broken his jaw. But – Hatch, the boy's serious. He means it! If the woman goes, he'll – he'll do something I wouldn't like to
