In Clavain’s experience, it was the less comforting possibility that generally turned out to be the case. It was the way the universe worked.
Little was said on the ascent. Clavain was still convinced that he had to escape from H and continue his defection. Equally, however, what H had revealed to him so far had forced him to accept that his own understanding of the whole affair was far from complete.
Skade was not just working for her own ends, or even for the ends of a cabal of faceless Conjoiners. She was in all likelihood working for the Mademoiselle, who had always desired influence within the Mother Nest. And the Mademoiselle herself was an unknown, a figure entirely outside Clavain’s experience. And yet, like H, she had evidently had some profound interest in the alien grub and his technology, enough that she had brought the creature to the Chateau and learned how to communicate with him. She was dead, it was true, but perhaps Skade had become such a willing agent of hers that one might as well think of Skade and the Mademoiselle as inseparable now.
Whatever Clavain had imagined he was dealing with, it was bigger — and it went back further — than he had ever imagined.
But it changes nothing , he thought. The crucial matter was still the acquisition of the hell-class weapons. Whoever was running Skade wanted those weapons more than anything. And so I have to get them instead. The elevator rattled to a halt. H opened the trelliswork door and led Clavain through another series of marbled corridors until they reached what appeared to be an absurdly spacious hotel room. A low, ornately plaster-moulded ceiling receded into middle distance, and various items of furniture and ornamentation were stationed here and there, much like items in a sculptural installation: the tilted black wedge of a grand piano; a grandfather clock in the middle of the room, as if caught in the act of gliding from wall to wall; a number of black pillars supporting obscure alabaster busts; a pair of lion- footed settees in dark scarlet velvet; and three golden armchairs as large as thrones. Two of the three armchairs were occupied. In one sat a pig dressed like H in a simple black gown and trousers. Clavain frowned, realising — though he could not be absolutely certain — that the pig was Scorpio, the prisoner he had last seen in the Mother Nest. In the other sat Xavier, the young mechanic Clavain had met in Carousel New Copenhagen. The odd juxtaposition made Clavain’s head ache as he tried to construct some plausible scenario for how the two came to be together, here. ‘Are introductions necessary?’ H asked. ‘I don’t think so, but just to be on the safe side — Mr Clavain, meet Scorpio and Xavier Liu.’ He nodded first at Xavier. ‘How are you feeling now?’ ‘I’m all right,’ Xavier said. ‘Mr Liu suffered heart failure. He was attacked with a taser weapon aboard Antoinette Bax’s spacecraft Storm Bird . The voltage setting would have dropped a hamadryad, let alone a human.’ ‘Attacked?’ Clavain said, feeling it was polite to say something. ‘By an agent of the Ferrisville Convention. Oh, don’t worry, the individual involved won’t be doing that again. Or much else, as it happens.’ ‘Have you killed him?’ Xavier asked. ‘Not as such, no.’ H turned to Clavain. ‘Xavier’s lucky to be alive, but he’ll be fine.’ ‘And Antoinette?’ Clavain asked. ‘She’ll be fine, too. A few cuts and bruises, nothing too serious. She’ll be along shortly.’ Clavain sat down in the vacant yellow chair, opposite Scorpio. ‘I don’t pretend to understand why Xavier and Antoinette are here. But you…’ ‘It’s a long story,’ Scorpio said. ‘I’m not going anywhere. Why not start at the beginning? Shouldn’t you be in custody?’ H said, ‘Matters have become complicated, Mr Clavain. I gather the Con-joiners brought Scorpio to the inner system with the intention of handing him over to the authorities.’ Xavier looked at the pig, doing a double take. ‘I thought H was joking when he called you Scorpio before. But he wasn’t, was he? Holy fuck. You are him, the one they’ve been trying to catch all this time. Holy fuck !’ Your reputation precedes you,‘ H said to the pig. ‘What the fuck were you doing in Carousel New Copenhagen?’ Xavier asked, easing back into his seat. He appeared disturbed to be in the same building as Scorpio, let alone the same room. ‘I was coming after him,’ Scorpio said, nodding at Clavain. Now it was Clavain’s turn to blink. ‘Me?’ ‘They gave me a deal, the spiders. Said they’d let me go, wouldn’t turn me over, if I helped them track you down after you gave them the slip. I wasn’t going to say no, was I?’ H said, ‘They provided Scorpio with credible documentation, enough that he would not be arrested on sight. I believe they were sincere in their promise that he would be allowed to go free if he assisted in bringing you back into the fold.’ ‘But I still don’t ‘Scorpio and his associate — another Conjoiner — followed your trail, Mr Clavain. Naturally it took them to Antoinette Bax. That was how Xavier became involved in the whole unfortunate business. There was a struggle, and some damage was done to the carousel. The Convention already had an eye on Antoinette, so it did not take them long to reach her ship. The injuries that were sustained, including Scorpio’s, all took place when the Convention proxy entered Storm Bird .’ Clavain frowned. ‘But that doesn’t explain how they come to be… oh, wait. You were shadowing them, weren’t you?’ H nodded with what Clavain thought was a trace of pride. ‘I expected the Conjoiners to send someone after you. For my own curiosity I was determined to bring them here, too, so that I might determine what part they played in this whole curious affair. My ships were waiting around Copenhagen, looking for anything untoward — and especially anything untoward concerning Antoinette Bax. I am only sorry that we did not intervene sooner, or a little less blood might have been shed.’ Clavain turned around at the sound of metronomic ticking, coming nearer. It was a woman wearing stiletto heels. An enormous black cloak fanned behind her, as if she walked in her own private gale. He recognised her. ‘Ah, Zebra,’ H said, smiling. Zebra strode up to him and then wrapped her arms around him. They kissed, more like lovers than friends. ‘Are you certain that you don’t need some rest?’ H asked. ‘Two busy jobs in one day…’ ‘I’m fine, and so are the Talkative Twins.’ ‘Did you — um — make arrangements concerning
