And Keylinn was taken up the ramp and disappeared, and the door slid closed. The ship shook free of its docking connections. Tal ran for the passage desk, but the bay-departure routine was already in motion; automatics opened and closed for the Opal ship, and it sailed smoothly out.
One of the knights had begun talking on the link to Adrian; as soon as Tal heard the Protector’s voice, he pushed the knight aside. “There’s a ship leaving now from this bay. Keylinn’s on board. Track it, and I’ll follow. Tell me where it docks on Opal.”
“Tal, that wouldn’t—”
“Just track it. I’ll take a shortie from here and contact you on the way.”
“Don’t you move. ”A rare ferocity was in the tone. “You have a job to finish—there are two more bombs down there. Hundreds of people could be killed.”
Tal’s hands gripped the sides of the link. He said flatly, “Security can handle it the way they always do.”
Adrian’s voice was cold. “Any new shortie that I see coming off Transport is going to be fired on. Do you hear me?”
His fists unclenched slowly. “I hear you.”
He cut the connection and picked up Keylinn’s abandoned sweeper.
Tal returned from Transport to find that court deck treated him like a hero. He’d disarmed three bombs and nobody was hurt; that was unprecedented. Suddenly all the suspicion and cold looks he’d gotten in his time on the Diamond disappeared; ladies smiled at him, and when he entered the Cavern of Audience afterward, there was some applause.
It made him uncomfortable. He had no experience in this kind of treatment. He ignored it as he’d ignored the other, but nobody seemed to care. A knight, gray-bearded and middle-aged, came to him after Adrian’s postponed ceremony for the new ministers—only two hours after the kidnapping—and bowed respectfully. From his necklace there dangled a tiny gold crossbow, a light-rifle, a capsule-cannon, and a fencing sword. A man of many accomplishments. He said, “I know we’re not to talk about it, but I want you to know I would have gone after the lady.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“On the Transport deck. I was there. Adrian pulled out all of us who were in the Crossbow Club—I didn’t know what to make of it, I’ll tell you frankly. But I’m honored we could be of service. I heard what you wanted to do, and well—we all would have gone after the lady, that’s all. But there wasn’t a battle-capsule in the bay! I looked, I guess everybody looked. They’re all in Green and Blue, and they’re the only ships we know about. I’m sorry. But I thought you should know.”
“Thank you.”
Tal waited while the knight blathered some more, then left him. Finally Adrian was finished with his ceremonial duties. Tal walked up to him and said without preamble, “What are you doing to get back Keylinn Gray?”
Adrian glanced around to see who was within earshot. He took off his ceremonial cap of thick gold velvet, wiped his forehead and said, “Saul Veritie once told me the first thing a Protector learns is that expediency and justice are frequently not even on speaking terms. This time I must serve the former.”
“Meaning?”
“I can’t officially recognize that the kidnapping took place. I can’t officially recognize that those bombs were anything but third-party terrorist sabotage. I can’t admit to having taken a Graykey on board—in most people’s minds they’re one step ahead of witches. ‘Protector’ is a fine title, but there are a lot of things I just can’t do.”
Tal’s voice was calm. “You intend to leave her with that shipload of fanatics.”
“This is no time to give Opal an excuse to back out of the conference. I’ve taken risks for you before, Tal, if you’ll remember. One of them got you on board. But this is not the time.”
Tal was silent, and Adrian said, “There are drinks over by the Obsidian Door.”
“No, thank you.”
Adrian regarded him. If Tal made no polite commendation of Adrian’s use of the Crossbow Club, as so many others had, Adrian made no mention of Tal’s near-mutiny on the Transport deck. The Protector often considered discretion the better part of friendship. He said, “I don’t pretend to have the least idea what goes on in your mind. But if there’s anything you wish to do personally, I won’t stop you. And if there’s anything you need that I can supply, I will.”
The false gray eyes were thoughtful. “I want another exit pass—” he began.
Adrian held up a hand. “Brandon!” he called. As the Chief Adviser made his way to them, Adrian said, “Tell Brandon everything you need. I want to be able to swear later that I knew nothing of what you were doing.”
“Should it come to that.”
“Should it come to that, yes. I do like to be prepared. … Hello, Brandon. Please give Tal here everything he needs. His list might be a little unusual, but just give it to him.” Brandon Fischer smoothed his beard and smiled impeccably. “Why should today be different?”
Chapter 29
There are three levels of Graykey mistake and one level of knowledge. The three are: Tathiss, becoming overly identified with your client. Tathani, losing sight of your client’s interests in the rush of data that accompanies subjectivity sickness. And taberani, becoming contaminated by your client’s worldview. In the case of an outsider (a non-Gray key contract-holder) the last is inevitably fatal Or so the Graykey claim, though it may be only a legend.
Find a group of Graykey together, in any world known to humankind’ and the odds are that you ‘re in a bar. Nor would it be easy for you to locate any people more cheerfully ready to drink, sing, or fight, without an apparent serious thought entering their heads. True, their bar fights are often ignited by disagreements over obscure philosophical points …
Selections from CAUDLANDER’S
A Tourist Guide to the Graykey
Spider was on the sicklist for his shift. A
