“I know that ‘Belleraphon’ was the study code name given to one of the first Aphean children, to protect his privacy in growing up. That he was born two hundred and sixty years ago, which, given the potential Aphean lifespan, means he may still be alive. That he disappeared over two centuries ago. That’s all the official information states…. Am I right in assuming that Belleraphon is the only known Aphean whose execution has not been witnessed and recorded?”
Tal was silent. Keylinn said, “Excepting, of course, yourself. Though I’m not sure you qualify as a ‘known Aphean.’ ”
Tal said, “Did you tell all this to Cyr Vesant?”
She shook her head. “It wasn’t relevant, and she didn’t ask.”
The water was rapidly getting deeper, Tal thought. She said, “I hope you’ll tell me soon why you’re looking for him. The more I understand you, the better I can serve your interests.”
Tal slowed the approach to gain time to think. In an effort to prompt her further, he said, “I see possible conflicts. What if your contract-holder believed something to be in his best interests, and you knew it wasn’t?”
“That would be a gray area.”
“Ah, yes—the gray areas.”
She said, with a touch of defensiveness, “Everything in life is subject to interpretation. I’ve been taught to interpret.”
“All right, Order Number One: I don’t want anyone in the Three Cities to know you have a contract with me.”
“Very well.”
“You’ll have to come on board under the same circumstances as the Outsider technicians. If I can get your stay extended through the next Blackout—that’s a sector-jump—there’ll be an oath of allegiance to the Diamond; can you take that?”
“Most likely. It would depend on the wording.”
He said, with some irritation, “You’re being very agreeable, aren’t you?”
“I’m an agreeable person.”
“How can you manage your life that way? What if your contract-holder ordered you to sleep with him?”
“Are you speaking hypothetically?”
He had been, but now he hesitated. “Probably.”
“Hypothetically, then, that would be a violation of contract, punishable by death.”
There was a momentary silence. “I can be in violation of contract, then.”
“Yes.”
“And you make the judgment and pass the sentence.”
“Yes.”
“You know, for an agreeable person, you’re not very forthcoming.”
She turned to look him in the face. “I’m shy around strangers.”
They sailed on wordlessly for several minutes. The Diamond had long ago filled the viewscreen; now he could see the lights of the Transport docks. Tal said, “Can I ask you a few things about Cyr Vesant?”
She shook her head. “Nothing that might be considered confidential, I’m afraid. Past contract-holders are under Graykey privilege. How else could they trust us with their secrets?”
“But your contract is mine now. If I insisted?” Something in the movement of her eyes made him anticipate, and they spoke together: “Violation of contract.” He added, “The penalty for which is—”
“The penalty for contract violation is always death.” Not so much a personal gladiator as a tiger by the tail. “If, in the future, you saw I was about to violate contract, would you warn me?”
She smiled. “I might, but I’m under no obligation to do so.”
It was a predator’s smile. She added, “Thank you for taking me out of there.”
Tal thought: And they returned from the ride with the demon inside, and the smile on the face of the tiger.
“I picked her up on the station,” Tal told the Transport supervisor. “She couldn’t wait, her pass was running out. Do we have any other candidates for admission?”
“Over there.” The supervisor jerked his thumb toward the section below Bay Green’s control booth, where two young males, perhaps fourteen or fifteen, obviously brothers, were waiting nervously. No tattoos, they must have come off some passing ship. If the Cities didn’t take them, their airclaims on the station would be terminated.
“Good,” said Tal. As he and Keylinn walked toward the brothers, he said, “Your competition doesn’t look like much. They don’t like taking women on to work here, but they can’t afford to be choosy when good tech help is scarce. Remember, whatever they need, you can do it— I’ll coach you later, if it’s necessary.”
“All right.”
All right. Always all right. Cut your right hand off, would you, Keylinn? All right. What was going on in her mind?
He said, not knowing why he chose this out of all possible topics, “Keylinn? Why were you chosen to satisfy Cyr Vesant’s contract?”
For the first time she looked embarrassed. A faint flush suffused the pale skin, eclipsing the freckles. She said, “I had some trouble with my sense of humor.” Then she increased her pace and walked swiftly toward the waiting area, visibly working to maintain her dignity.
Tal blinked. He turned and headed out of Transport, suddenly feeling more out of his depth than he had in three decades.
An hour later, the job assignment interviewer was speaking to Keylinn. Apparently he was an Outsider himself, for he spoke with an Empire accent. “Good,” he said, “we can use capsule programmers. You scored well on the sample questions. How are you on communications protocols?”
“Excellent,” said Keylinn, who figured she could learn.
He checked another box on a list. “Good,” he said again absently, then added, “Excuse me a sec.” The interviewer took a few steps toward another man in Transport yellows and called, “Doug! We’re up to quota. You want to go to Lane’s after shift?”
“Suits me,” said the man. “Do we need to do any more with the boys?” He nodded toward the young brothers who stood miserably nearby.
“Nah.” The interviewer waved a hand toward a couple of security officers standing near the exit and called, “We can dispense with them.” The security officers came forward at once to lead the boys toward the return ship. One of them started to cry.
The interviewer said to Keylinn, “New hires claim to have a lot of trouble understanding Cities folk, but
