"Interesting," Draycos said thoughtfully. "How is it you know all this? Is it common knowledge?"
"It's common enough," Jack said. "I know it mostly because Uncle Virgil once did a scam that depended on how diplomatic privilege works."
"So you are saying that an attempt to move the Tubman Group out could be considered the same as an invasion?"
"The diplomats would probably find nicer-sounding words," Jack said. "But, yeah, that's what it boils down to. Gazen can hate it all he wants, but there's not a grease-stained thing he can do about it."
"An interesting system," Draycos said. "And this applies to government and diplomatic stations throughout the Orion Arm?"
"Pretty much," Jack said. "It's at least as old as pre-space Earth politics. The idea is that everyone wants their diplomats to be as secure as possible. Sometimes they're the only ones who can keep two sides from stumbling into a war."
"But only when neither side actually desires that war," Draycos said grimly. "The Valahgua—" He broke off. "Someone is coming."
Jack tensed. Maybe Draycos's little rewiring job hadn't been quite as undetectable as he'd thought. He could feel the ground shaking beneath Brummgan feet . . .
There was the click of a key in the lock, and abruptly the door was thrown open. "You," a Brummgan voice said. "Out."
"What?" Jack asked, squinting against the blaze of sunlight and blue sky behind the broad shoulders.
"I said out," the Brummga grunted, reaching in and grabbing the front of Jack's harlequin shirt. "Her Thumbleness wants you."
The Brummga wasn't particularly gentle, and in the process of getting Jack out of the frying pan he managed to restart at least a dozen of his collection of aches. Even so, Jack found himself grinning inside as he was marched back across the lawn toward the kitchen door.
So he'd been right. Her Thumbleness had found him missing, had thrown the predictable tantrum, and Gazen had been forced to give him back to her.
So much for the slavemaster and his threats.
The feeling of satisfaction lasted all the way up to Her Thumbleness's room. It was there as she loftily ordered the guards out and then told Jack to juggle for her. It even lasted until he picked up the small fruits he'd been using to juggle with.
It wasn't until the first one slipped from numbed fingers that his inner smile vanished.
"Shaak ri'hin mree ka'chu," Her Thumbleness growled.
Jack's comm clip was still hidden in his shoe, which meant no instant translation from Uncle Virge. But it didn't take a genius to tell that she was annoyed. "Yes, ma'am," he said, hastily stooping down and retrieving the fruit. Again, he got them set up to juggle.
And again his fingers refused to cooperate. The repeated hits with Gazen's slapstick, plus the additional shocks from the frying pan, had left his muscles too drained and twitchy to handle delicate maneuvers.
And with a sinking feeling, he realized Gazen had known exactly what he was doing. Including how to handle Her Thumbleness and her tantrums.
This second failure earned him an impatient kick that sent him sprawling across the room. "Maybe we could try a trick instead?" Jack suggested, stifling a groan as he picked himself up off the floor.
He wasn't even quite vertical yet when a slap against his shoulder knocked him over again. "Wait!" he pleaded, blinking back stars as the back of his head hit the floor. "Please. Just give me a minute."
He might as well have asked storm clouds to stop raining. Her Thumbleness wasn't interested in waiting. She wasn't interested in anything but getting what she wanted, when she wanted it, and exactly the way she wanted it.
And in the age-old manner of careless and spoiled children everywhere, she was going to fix her broken toy by beating it until it started working again.
Howling in frustration, she charged.
Jack did his best to fend off the flailing hands and feet. But Her Thumbleness was too enraged, and too big. Another kick got through, this one landing in his lower rib cage. He gasped for air, spinning helplessly as two more slaps bounced off his shoulders.
And then, suddenly, he caught a glimpse of a huge hand sweeping toward the side of his head. He tried to get his arm up in time to block it, or to at least absorb some of its impact.
But he didn't make it. An instant later, the world went dark.
CHAPTER 23
He woke up in stages, passing from simple darkness to not-so-simple confusion, and finally to the realization that he was not at all comfortable.
"Are you awake?" Draycos's voice asked quietly in his right ear.
"I think so," Jack said, prying his eyes open.
The darkness didn't change. "Or maybe not," he amended, blinking a couple of times. He still couldn't see anything. "Where are we?"
"Back in the frying pan," Draycos told him. "You cannot see anything because it is night."
"Night?" Jack echoed, frowning. The last thing he remembered was Her Thumbleness trying her best to make a rag doll out of him. "How long was she beating on me, anyway?"
"Not long," Draycos said. "The guards came in only a few seconds after you lost consciousness. They took you away from her."
"Did anyone see you?"
"No," the dragon assured him. "I was not required to assist you in combat."
"Oh," Jack said, feeling vaguely disappointed. He'd always assumed that if things ever got seriously dangerous, his private K'da poet-warrior would be out of his collar in an instant to protect him.
"Gazen ordered you returned here after the guards rescued you," Draycos went on. "At that point I decided there was no reason to wake you. You have had very little sleep the past few days and needed the rest. In addition, I did not think there was much we could do until nightfall."
"Right on all counts," Jack said. He did feel better, actually.
Though that feeling was likely to change the minute he started moving around and found out what kind of new injuries Her Thumbleness had thoughtfully provided. Carefully, gingerly, he probed at the ribs where the spoiled little brat had kicked him.
And got his second major surprise of the evening. The skin was definitely tender, but there was no sign of muscle or bone damage.
But that was impossible. That kick had sent him flying halfway across the room . . .
Frowning, he moved his fingers to his legs, and then to his shoulders. Again, there was nothing more serious than a few bruises.
"I did not fight, but I did what I could to protect you from harm," Draycos said. "When I could see where the blows would be striking, I raised my body slightly from your skin to take some of the impact on myself."
"You're kidding," Jack said, blinking in the darkness. "I didn't know you could do that."
"The ability is not common," Draycos said. "I was only rarely able to do such things with my last Shontine host, Polphir. I was never able to do so with any of my previous hosts."
"I guess K'da skills improve with age," Jack said. "You're more like wine than dogs."
"Pardon?"
"Wine improves with age," Jack explained. "And we have a saying that you can't teach an old dog new tricks."
"Can you not?"
"Can you not what?"
"Teach an old dog new tricks."
"I don't know," Jack said. "I've never owned a dog. Any idea what time it is?"
"It is likely after midnight," Draycos told him. "The noises from the house have been largely silenced."
Which meant the Chookoock family had largely gone to bed. "That's all I needed to know," Jack said, wincing as he sat up straight and pressed his back against the copper mesh. "Better check and see if the coast is clear."
He had wondered if having the mesh between his back and the metal wall would make the gap too wide for Draycos to see over. But apparently not. "There is no one currently visible," Draycos reported as he shifted around on Jack's back. "However, from the sounds of footsteps I have heard, I believe there is a regular guard route that passes between us and the house."
That could be trouble. "How often do they come by, and how soon until the next one?"
"I do not know precisely," Draycos said. "But from counting your heartbeats as you slept, I estimate they come past four times per hour. The last one was just before you woke, so we should have at least ten more minutes."
"Good enough," Jack grunted, moving carefully in the cramped space. "Okay, here's the plan. I pick the kitchen door. We raid the slaves' storage locker for food packages and as many juice bottles as we can handle."
"You are hungry?"
"It isn't for me," Jack said, his fingers probing the edge of the copper mesh where the door met the floor. There had to be a break there somewhere, where the door swung upward.
"For Noy, then?"
"Bingo," Jack said. "I'm not going to just sit back and let him die out there. At least, not if there's anything I can do."
"I am pleased," Draycos said softly.
Jack grimaced. "Yeah, well, don't start handing out the warm fuzzies just yet," he warned. "I'm not doing this for any noble K'da warrior ethic reasons. I just remember being sick once when Uncle Virgil had to go off on a job, that's all."
"How old were you?"
"About Noy's age," Jack said. "I was already pretty good at taking care of myself, so it shouldn't have been a problem. Only the sickness made me so weak I couldn't go make myself any food. By the time the fever was gone, I was too dehydrated to get more than a few steps from my bed without getting dizzy. I was scared I was going to starve to death."
"What happened?"
"I died, of course."
Draycos's head rose up from his shoulder. "What?"
"Well, obviously, Uncle Virgil got back in time," Jack said with a snort. There it was: the gap in the mesh. He wiggled his fingers through it and felt around for the similar opening under the door that he'd used in the slave hotbox to let Draycos out. "But I still remember how scared I was lying there all alone. I don't want Noy to . . ."
He trailed off. "What is it?" Draycos asked.
It took Jack two tries to get the words out. "There's no gap under the door," he said quietly. "At least, not one big enough for me to get my fingers under."
Draycos slid around onto Jack's right arm. "Let me see."
Jack kept his hand steady as a clawed digit lifted from his hand and probed the area. "There is an extra level of material beneath the door," the dragon said.
"Like an extra chunk of door sill," Jack agreed. "Leaves only about a quarter of an inch to spare, just enough to let some air in."
"Yes," Draycos said, the claw scratching gently at it. "Still, it is only wood. I would have no trouble cutting through it."
"Yeah, but the guards would be bound to notice," Jack said, shaking his head. "They'd wonder how I did that. Don't forget, so far Gazen hasn't bothered to do a real search of me and my clothes."
"Or your shoes," Draycos conceded. "A good point. We certainly do not want him to find the comm clip now."
"Not to mention the hotbox key we borrowed," Jack said. "Or you."
"No," Draycos murmured. "But perhaps there is another place where I could create an opening that would not be noticed."
"I don't know where," Jack said, turning with some difficulty and pressing his back against the side wall. "But you're more than welcome to look."
The dragon rearranged himself, and Jack felt the familiar sensation as he leaned out over the wall again. It was an awfully handy trick, that, as Jack had learned many times already. Too bad the dragon couldn't carry anything over the wall with him. If he could lean far enough outside to unlock the door, they'd be out of here in nothing flat.
But no. The dragon couldn't actually reach outside. All he could do was stretch far enough to look around.
He was certainly doing a lot of that right now. Jack could feel the sensation on his back shifting back and forth as the dragon hunted for a good spot to put their mousehole. He could feel Draycos stretching to the limit—
And then, suddenly, the dragon was gone.
Not shifted. Not moved somewhere else on Jack's skin. Gone. Lost somewhere in the fourth dimension.
Dead.
A breath caught like broken glass in Jack's throat. "Draycos!" he gasped.
And then, to his astonishment and relief, the dragon's voice came faintly through the wall. "It is all right," he said. "I am here."
Jack let his breath out in a huff. "Don't do that to me," he snapped. "Where are you?"
"I am outside," Draycos said. "I apologize for frightening you."
"You'd better apologize," Jack growled. "Why didn't you tell me you could do that?"
There was a slight pause. "Because I did not know I could," Draycos said. "In fact, I did not even know that it was possible."
Jack opened his mouth. Closed it again. "What do you mean, you didn't know it was possible?"
"To the best of my knowledge, no K'da has ever done such a thing," Draycos said. "I believe we have made history tonight, Jack."
A bad taste was starting to collect at the back of Jack's throat. "I don't like this, Draycos," he said. "You can call it making history if you want. I call it something going wrong."
"In what way?"
"I don't know," Jack told him. "But the last couple of times you looked over walls you felt sort of loose. Like you were getting ready to slide off or something."
"Which is precisely what has just happened."
"Yes, I understand that," Jack said. "What I'm wondering is if my body is rejecting you or something. Like sometimes a person rejects an organ transplant."
There was another silence from outside. "That has also never happened in the history of my people," Draycos said. "If a species can serve as host, that ability does not change."
"Only you've never tried humans as hosts before," Jack pointed out darkly. "Who knows what quirks we might have?"
"True," Draycos admitted reluctantly. "Still, there is little we can do about it."
"Except maybe think about where we can find another host to have waiting on standby," Jack said. "If it ever happens that you can't attach to me, you've only got six hours before you die."
"I remember, thank you," Draycos said. "But for now, we still have a mission to accomplish. Can you pass the key under the door?"
"Sure," Jack said, pulling open his shoe flap and digging it out. "Do you feel sick or injured or anything?"
"I appear to be unharmed," Draycos said. "It felt very strange at the time, though."
"I'll bet," Jack grunted, sliding the key out through the narrow gap. "Here."
"I have it."
Jack hunched his shoulders to stretch them. Only now, as he waited, did it suddenly occur to him that all their work and cleverness might be for nothing. The key he'd stolen had been to the slave hotboxes; but there was no guarantee that the frying pan didn't have a different lock entirely.
And then there came a click, and the door swung open, letting in a rush of fresh air.
Jack let out a breath. "Okay," he said, trying to sound casual. "Well. Let's get to work."
CHAPTER 24
The first job was to see if they could fix the door so that Draycos could get in and out the usual way. Or at least, the usual way for poet-warriors of the K'da.
Fortunately, it turned out to be easier than Jack had feared. The extra slab of wood that had kept him from sliding his hand outside turned out to be a simple add-on, attached to the bottom of the door frame with three nails.
With the door closed above it, the nails were impossible to reach. With the door open, though, it was simple. At Jack's direction, Draycos used his claws to pry up the slab. The three nails came up with it, and Jack had him slice them off so that they were even with the wood.
Now, when the slab was back in position, it looked as solidly in place as if it were still nailed there. It even fit tightly enough against the frame on both sides that a slight bump wouldn't knock it loose. But with a little pressure, Jack could push it out to drop onto the groun
d outside.
"Or I can take it in with me and slide it back into position from inside," he explained to Draycos as he tested the fit. "Either way, the Brummgas will never have a clue."
"Unless they try pushing on the slab themselves," Draycos pointed out thoughtfully. "Tell me, where are the ends of the nails I cut off?"
"Uh . . ." Jack glanced around. "Here they are," he said, picking the three pointy ends off the ground. "I was going to toss them into the bushes."
"Give them to me," Draycos said. "Then lift the slab out of the way."
Jack did so. Draycos delicately shoved the nail points back into the holes where they'd originally been, pressing them into place with his claws. "There," he said. "Now if anyone examines them, they will conclude the nails simply rusted through and broke."
"Maybe," Jack said doubtfully. "They don't look all that rusted to me."
"It will take a close examination to show the truth," Draycos said. "They are not likely to have the time—"
He broke off, his ears twitching around toward the house. "Someone is coming," he said quietly. "Not a Brummga."
Carefully, Jack peeked around the side of the frying pan. There was a figure coming toward them, all right, silhouetted against a crack of light from the open kitchen door. Definitely too small for a full-sized Brummga.
Her Thumbleness?
"Inside," Jack hissed, ducking back around the front. Draycos was holding the door open; scooping up the wooden slab, Jack scrambled inside. The dragon eased the door closed, and as Jack poked his hand through the opening he heard a soft click as Draycos locked the door. A second later the key came sliding through the gap, followed by a brief weight on Jack's outstretched hand as the dragon came aboard.
There wasn't enough time to hide the key in his shoe. Instead, he shoved it out of sight beneath the copper mesh behind him. Even if Her Thumbleness had come to drag him back to one of her games, Gazen would probably toss him back in here as soon as she got tired of him again. He could hear the footsteps approaching.
"Jack?" a familiar voice called. "Are you in there?"