“The point is, he certainly looks like a Mercati.” Adrian’s smile vanished. “You’re losing your mind.”
“I didn’t think you’d take it well.”
“I’m the last Mercati in the Three Cities. It’s a well- known fact. I have no brothers, sisters, cousins—I was an orphan—there was supposed to be an uncle who went to Pearl thirty years ago, but since nobody’s heard of him since, we may assume he’s out of the picture. There’s never been a Mercati on Opal that I know of; where’s this Quince supposed to have sprung from?” .
“I don’t know. I can’t get any good information on his past, but he’s risen through the ranks in a very suggestive way for someone with no apparent family.”
“Somebody’s bastard? Not my family’s, I assure you. Where are you getting this information?”
“I’ve been making discreet inquiries.”
The Protector’s voice was appalled. “How discreet?”
“As discreet as possible, Adrian, a lot of people are talking!”
Adrian stood up, glanced toward the closed door to the room where Prudence and the witch were consulting, and paced unhappily on the carpet. “This is not the best time for something like this to come up,” he said at last. Fischer looked alert. “Something’s brewing, isn’t it?”
“Why do you say that?”
“Does it have to do with Baret Two?”
“Why do you say this, Brandon?”
“You rammed that schedule change through the council as though it were the only important thing on earth. And yet you never openly sponsored it yourself.”
“Well, don’t I have die right to set trade schedules?” Fischer did not reply. Adrian stopped pacing and said, “Yes, it has to do with Baret Two. But nobody—without exception, nobody—must know about it.”
Fischer said quietly, “Let me help.”
They looked at each other. Fischer said nothing more; either the boy would trust him, or he wouldn’t.
“Yes, it’s time.” Adrian spoke as though he were deciding it at that very second. “In fact, it’s past time, and I apologize for that. Listen: When Saul fell ill, he called me to his room and spoke to me.”
“Yes, we all knew for certain then that he’d designated you to follow him.”
“We were alone for no more than ten minutes; people were pouring in and out, already there were rumors of rioting on court level. You don’t know how often I’ve wished that we had longer. Brandon, Saul told me that he had reason to believe that the Sawyer Crown is on Baret Two.”
It was a moment before the Chef Adviser could take this in. “The Sawyer Crown? The Sawyer Crown we hear about every Fire Sunday?”
“The same.”
“But the Curosa took it with them when they left to continue their mission of conversion.”
“But they also promised it would be found one day.”
“That was meant metaphorically. That we would one day achieve the spiritual sharing the Curosa had reached.”
“Yes, I always thought that sounded plausible, too. But Saul had evidence that the Crown was on Baret Two.”
“What evidence?”
Adrian looked frustrated. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“We only had ten minutes!”
“All right, I see. Well, where on the planet is it? Is it in the keeping of the Imperial Governor?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t—”
“Ten minutes, Brandon!”
“Yes, all right. So once we’ve finalized negotiations, you’re planning to institute some kind of search—”
“A quiet, private, clandestine search.”
“I should think so. Why, if Opal heard about this, they’d be scavenging over the whole planet. Do you realize what the Crown would mean?”
“It means,” said Adrian, “that I would be accepted by every man and woman in the Three Cities as the spiritual heir of Adrian Sawyer.”
‘Talk about managing public opinion. Why, you could do what you liked.”
“Whereas if Lord Cardinal Amo got hold of it, we would see some purges that would make the Black Century look like a boating party on the Katherine River.” Adrian sat down heavily on the sofa. “Purges, by the way, that I don’t think anyone in these three rooms today would survive, with the possible exception of Iolanthe.” Fischer turned to Adrian. “As your adviser,” he said, “I consider that perhaps we should let negotiations break down, and exit Baret System. Leave the risk behind. Political reality as we now know it begins to seem not so bad.”
“No.”
“Think about it, Adrian.”
“I want the Sawyer Crown.”
His tone held a finality that silenced Fischer. The two men sat together silently. After a moment, Adrian said, “What can they be talking of in there?”
He was looking toward the door to the other chamber. Fischer blinked, like a man waking up. “I’d forgotten they were here. How can you think of anything else?” Adrian smiled, knowing he meant “anything but the Crown.”
“I’ve had a lot of time to get used to the idea,” he said. “But you see, don’t you, why I don’t want to have any scandals chipping away at my family’s memory, not while I’m working on this, and preparing for the wedding, and supervising the station negotiations.”
“And then there’s Baret Two’s present… unsettled nature.”
Adrian met his glance.
“It must have been a shock to you, when we broke from Blackout and found half the system had gone Republican.”
“It was.” Adrian let out a breath, as though it was a relief to speak. He smiled wryly. “But it could be years yet before civil war reaches Baret Two.”
“Or it could be tomorrow. You’re short on time, boy.” The faint whitening of Adrian’s lips was the only clue Fischer could discern as to how close to his soul Adrian was playing this one.
“Tell me,” said Fischer, “why do you—”
The door to the other chamber opened, and Prudence’s blond head appeared. “Adrian, I think you need to hear this.”
Adrian stood, suddenly looking young and uncertain. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, Adrian, I’m sure.”
Fischer grinned as he watched Adrian cross the room like a ten-year-old about to be reprimanded by his tutor. The door closed behind him.
Fischer shut his eyes and leaned back on the couch, the better to rest and consider.
In her bedroom, Iolanthe moved sluggishly away from the door, feeling the effects of her sedative. Surely they couldn’t have meant the
