But respect is a different thing than trust, and when Iosef left as abruptly as he'd come, in his wake everything was different.
She and Magruder were now under direct orders to collude to the benefit of Iosef Kalugin. Their relation-ship—or at least one facet of it—had official sanction.
Magruder sat down heavily on her couch and she noticed, distractedly, that they'd stained it somehow before father had showed up.
He said rubbing his jaw, "Damn, now what?" and looked up at her.
She was shivering with cold. She felt as though she was encased in ice. She looked down at him and shook her head slowly. "Now," she said, "you and I do exactly what we were told. Or we'll be the ones who disappear." She hated that euphemism, but it was the way imprisonment and/or assassination was broached in the Kalugin household. "I've never felt I could trust you, Chance— " She held up her hand to forestall any protest. "Now I have to. If you're half the man I think, you've had the same reservations about me. Whether it's Ito and Vega implementing a plan to supplant the Kalugin house with their own, or the Boregys in collusion with Anastasi to secure him the governorship, or merely an unrelated piece of bad luck, you've heard what my father expects from us."
"I don't have that kind of control over Mike. And if I did, he doesn't have that kind of control over his wife."
"Then we'd better secure that kind of control—before tomorrow, when Cassie meets with Mikhail."
"Tatiana," said Magruder carefully, "there are angles to this you aren't seeing. We just got caught with our pants down, literally. No way we're thinking clearly. Come sit with me." He patted the couch beside him.
"I'm not a pet," she exploded, crossed her arms, and stalked across the room to her closet. Suddenly she wanted to be completely dressed, even to high boots. Dressed in layers and layers of clothing, beneath which nothing could touch her. If she got enough layers over her body, perhaps she could banish the cold that seemed to have invaded her person.
He didn't respond, nor did he get up to leave. When she was totally dressed, she turned around, stiff-necked, and said, "I'm sorry, Chance. I didn't mean to snap."
"Come to the embassy with me," he said calmly. "We'll send somebody to find Chamoun. And we'll find ourselves again...."
She couldn't imagine letting him touch her. The thought of it brought back the crack of light, her father's form in the doorway, the mortification of it all. But she didn't tell him that.
In time she might feel differently. In time, the cold might leave her bones. In time, they might be able to weather this crisis and go on to better days. Now, there was only the threat that Cassiopeia Boregy represented.
It wasn't until much later that Chance Magruder softly wondered if the threat might be turned to their personal advantage—if Anastasi might "take a fall over this, and Mikhail as well, leaving you as the only Kalugin your father can trust."
It was this supposition, so carefully voiced by Magruder, that melted the cold in Tatiana's bones and allowed her to begin to live again, to think again, to feel again and to scheme again.
And to enjoy her foray into Magruder's embassy, forbidden territory, and (as they waited for Magruder's men to find Chamoun and bring him to them) the warmth and privacy of Magruder's bed.
The next morning, Michael Chamoun paced back and forth in Cassie's bedroom, his face pale, making impossible demands as she sat there, fingering the cupid hung about her neck on a golden chain.
"Cassie, you've got to stop eating the deathangel. You insist you don't know what you're saying when you're entranced—fine. Then that's even more reason to stop doing this. You don't know what kind of prompting Ito's giving you, either. You're mucking with heavy politics, here, stuff you don't understand."
"That's not true. Daddy wouldn't let me do anything that wasn't...."She trailed off, choking back a sob, and started again. "Please don't be angry with me, Michael. This is what I'm supposed to do, what my life's purpose is, I know it. I just know it. Everybody but you's so happy for me... happy about the prophecies...."
"Who's happy? Think, woman: Ito's happy; he's a snake, you used to tell me that. Your father's happy? I don't think so, not when his daughter's hyped out of her mind at the College's orders. Anastasi's happy, I bet—this whole thing is giving Governor Kalugin conniption fits."
"You can't know that. How can you know?—"
"Chance chewed my butt to ribbons last night, because old Iosef s told him how unhappy the Governor is! That's how I know. And what about us? What about what I want? How about what our baby would want, if it's ever going to get a chance to be born? Cassie, you've got to stop this."
"I can't, Michael! How can I?" She was whimpering now, and hating herself for it. She should be angry at him, not blinking back tears. She was angry at him, but she was more frightened that she'd lose him over this. "Please, Michael, what can I do to make you understand that I can't stop the prophecies. . . ? It comes without the deathangel, now—"
"Because you've had too much! Retribution's hang-nails, woman, can't you see you're risking our lives, and the life of our child?"
She sniffled out loud. She hunched down. Her shoulders began to shake. In a tiny voice like a child's whimper she managed to say, "But Mikhail Kalugin's coming for his private interview in just a few minutes. I can't not do it, Michael. He's the governor's son. And if his father's mad at me, then maybe he'll tell Daddy so, because Uncle Ito will be so disappoint—"
"Don't talk to me about 'Uncle' Ito! Uncle Ito's to blame for most of this. Don't forget, Uncle Ito doped me, too. And almost really messed my mind around. That's his specialty, isn't? Messing with people's heads? Keep doing what Uncle Ito tells you, Cassie, and you'll either end up a vegetable or floating in a canal somewhere because these prophecies are scaring the hell out of the current Kalugin government, which is what we have to worry about, not some future in which Ito and Vega want to cut themselves a bigger piece of the pie using you to do it."
"What do you want me to do, Michael?" she moaned.
"I want you to stop doing deathangel. Tell Ito the circus is over."
"I can't, I told you I can't."
"I won't accept that. Maybe you can't stop—yet. Not today, not before Mikhail's blind date with destiny. Okay, then control what you say. Don't let Mikhail go back to the governor with anything you said that seems the least bit threatening to the stability of the Kalugin government. You can do that, can't you— control your tongue?"
"I don't know; I don't know; I don't know."
"Damn, don't cry like that."
Michael came over, knelt before her where she was doubled up, and took both her hands in his. "The doctor's coming—the obstetrician from Nev Hettek I sent for. You just hold on until he gets here. And you don't say anything that will scare the Kalugin dynasty into thinking you're its enemy. And don't you dare lose that baby of ours. Or let Mikhail get some dim-witted crush on you so I end up disappearing and you end up marrying into the governor's family. Hear?"
"Michael! Is all this because you're jealous of Mikhail?" The thought was so ludicrous it dried her tears. Strength came back to her. She pulled her hands from his and palmed her eyes. She sniffled and straightened up. "I've got to do something about the way I look. Mikhail will be here soon. And don't you worry, I won't run away with the governor's son."
Her husband grabbed her and shook her, hard, lifting her off her feet. "Cassie, this isn't a game. This is serious. I don't care who you sleep with. I don't want you dead, and I don't want our baby dead." He let go and she fell back on the bed.
"Michael..."
"I'll be down at the dock, on the Detfish, if you want me. If I stay around here, I'm going to tell your father what I think of him. If you're not doped out of your head by lunch, why don't you come down there? Bring some things. We're not sleeping here—at least I'm not—until this whole thing is settled. And don't bring any drugs with you if you come."
He stomped out, slamming the door behind him, leaving her crushed and terrified and confuse
d.
She called after him, "Michael, don't leave me," but he was already gone.
She sat hugging her stomach and crying as quietly as she could. She was going to lose the baby, Michael thought. She didn't see why she had to lose the baby. She felt fine. No, that wasn't true. She felt horrid. She was going to lose her husband over this, because of the prophecies, because of Ito, because of Daddy, because of her... gift.
How could he do this to her? How could he leave her when she needed him so? She sat there until someone knocked on the door and said that Mikhail was downstairs, waiting for her.
Then she panicked. She had to do something right. She was spoiling everything. She looked a mess, nothing like the cool and composed prophetess of all their futures.
She struggled in vain before the mirror. Then she had a blinding flash of insight: she'd wear a veil to mask her puffy eyes and lips, her runny nose.
She found one in her closet and put it on, right after she opened her drawer and got out all the deathangel spine powder she had left and sniffed it with a little silver spoon that Ito had given her.
She couldn't prophesy without it, not in the state she was in. And if Michael was deserting her, or was lost to her because of her revelations, then all she had left was her talent—and Daddy.
Daddy said she was doing fine.
As the drug began to take hold, she hurried down the stairs. She needed to get into the room and sit down before the full force of deathangel poison hit her, or she might fall. The staircase was already beginning to undulate like a staircase of restless, if familiar, cats.
Mondragon caught Jones at Moghi's and grabbed her when she tried to slip away, out the back. In the kitchen, she spat in his face.
"How couldya? Denny's nobody to catch up in yer hightown games! What'd ye think, we wouldn't hear 'bout it? Ye ain't welcome here, Mondragon. Go back where ye—"
"Jones, this is serious."
"So hey, what's new? With you, everything serious— serious trouble, serious danger. And none of us to blame fer any of it." Her eyes flashed like signal fires.
"Jones, listen for a moment. One moment. Cassie Boregy's Ito's pawn. It's clear to a blind man that the Boregys have thrown in with the College. They're beefing up defenses...." He trailed off. From her face, she wasn't listening: It was stony and uncomprehending. She was watching his fingers where they held her, enduring him, waiting for him to speak his piece and let her go.
Into his silence, she said again, "Denny. How could ye? Ye want yer deathangel fish fer yer hightown games, from now on, fetch it yerself." And she shook her arm as if to shake him off.
He let her go. You couldn't explain to her how these things were going to affect Merovingen-below. She wouldn't listen.
Once freed, she headed off through the stewpots and the kegs. He called after her: "Jones, you've got to warn the canalers not to get deathangel for hightown. And to curtail all smuggling, all arms caching, everything illegal. Purges are going to start. People are going to be arrested. Everything's going to be watched much more closely down here. They're looking for scapegoats, those hightowners. Signs of revolution. Signs of—"
But Jones was gone, and there was no use in any of this. He had enough troubles of his own to deal with. If Jones hadn't just about destroyed Megary with her private war, he could have used that second channel now, to get word to Karl Fon how Magruder was bungling things.
This was going to be one rough springtime. By summer, the folk of Merovingen-below, who thought they had it tough now, were going to learn how to spell "oppression" and what downtrodden could really mean.
Because hightown was nervous. So nervous that, if there'd been enough armed and trained men to go around, by this morning there would have been a blackleg in every hovel and on every corner.
But there weren't enough blacklegs in Anastasi's militia and the private security forces of hightown combined—not for that.
Not yet.
But if Cassie Boregy was allowed to continue prophesying unchecked, there would be. And only the Revenantist College was going to be happy about it.
"Get a doctor," Cassie had heard her father say, sometime after Mikhail had gone.
She didn't know how long after Mikhail had gone. She didn't remember being carried to her room. But here she was.
She remembered the pain, and that was still here. She remembered the awful pain in her belly, the cramps.
And she remembered screaming.
She remembered the doctor, vaguely—and Vega asking someone if she'd lost the baby.
And the doctor, or someone else, had said, "No, but it was close. She needs bed rest. And peace and quiet."
And then she remembered nothing until she heard Uncle Ito's voice. She didn't want Uncle Ito. She wanted Michael. She kept calling for Michael, but it was Uncle Ito who answered, every time.
Uncle Ito would tell her that Michael couldn't be found, and she should put her trust in God.
But she'd seen God, and he was angry. He looked just like Michael, and he was mad at her.
She'd been bad. She hadn't told Mikhail Kalugin the truth. She'd tried to lie and, behind her veil, she'd managed it—because her husband had wanted her to he.
She said to Uncle Ito, "I lied to Mikhail. I lied and I told him everything was going to be just like he wanted it to be, because I was afraid to tell him the truth. So God punished me. I've got to tell him the truth."
"Ssh, Cassie, ssh. Mikhail was pleased with his session. You did fine. But you mustn't he. You must let me help you."
"Make Michael love me. Make him come back." She tried to open her eyes, tried to sit up. She couldn't do either. "Make Michael come back to me, Uncle Ito."
"I promise, Cassie. You must rest."
Then she thought about Michael and she reached out blindly to Ito, who took her hand. "Don't tell him about the baby. Don't tell him I lost the baby."
"You didn't, Cassie. You and your baby are going to be just fine."
"But I will. I saw it in my vision, Uncle Ito. If I keep prophesying, I'll lose the baby. And Michael. But I can't stop prophesying or God will be angry and the flames will consume us all."
Now fear gave her the strength to sit up and she did. She opened her eyes and the whole room spun, her beautiful blue and gold room with its ormolu cherubs. She grasped the cherub around her neck and pulled with all her might. The chain broke, and she held the cherub out to Ito: "See, I'm going to lose the baby! Help me, Ito! Help me!"
"Lie back down, Cassie, lie back down."
She did, and Ito stayed with her. She wanted to die. But she knew it was too soon for that. First she had to tell Mikhail the truth, what she'd hidden from him in her vision. Then she'd lose the baby. Then she'd die. Then she could die, and God wouldn't be angry with her.
But now she had to live, even if she'd already lost Michael. Now she had to live and guide Merovingen through the flames and out again, into the new world Ito kept telling her they would make.
Listening to Uncle Ito droning on about her visions and what they meant, and what truths she would see when next she was entranced, Cassiopeia Boregy fell into a sick and troubled sleep.
And in that sleep was Michael, dressed like the angel he resembled, the one guarding the harbor, the one on Hanging Bridge. And Michael drew his sword and ran her through, killing her there and then, before he threw her body into the canal and she was eaten by all the fish so that little bits of her spread all over Merovingen. She was a part of all Merovingen forever, now.
Michael was the Angel of Retribution with the Sword in hand, and she was the sacrifice that God demanded in exchange for salvation—for saving Merovingen from the scalding wrath of the sharrh.
When her husband was finally found and brought to her, Cassiopeia Boregy looked up, smiled from her pillows, held out her hand to him, and said, "See, Michael, I didn't lose the baby."
There was no use in worrying Michael. He would leave her, she had seen it. She would lose the baby, she had seen that
, too. In the end, he would kill her. But that was all in the future.
Right now, she had to regain her strength, see her father, and go to Uncle Ito for guidance. Not to escape her fate, which was fixed, but to save Merovingen.
When she'd touched Magruder's hand in the College theater, she'd known that Michael's mentor was her enemy. But not until she'd nearly lost the baby had she realized the rest of the awful truth: her husband was her enemy as well.
Michael Chamoun was Sword of God. That was why he'd told her to lie to Mikhail Kalugin. That was why he was so concerned with Ito and her father and politics. That was why, when she'd done as he asked and lied to Mikhail, it had nearly killed her—and the baby. She shouldn't be having a baby by her enemy. At that moment, she hated her husband and the baby inside her.
Michael was Sword of God. That was what the vision of Michael as the Angel with the Sword was trying to tell her: her husband, the man she loved, father of her child, was going to bring the flames of Retribution to Merovingen and skewer her through her child-belly with his sword in the process.
And there was nothing she could do to stop it, because she'd seen it in her vision, and what she saw always came true.
SMUGGLER'S GOLD
by CJ. Cherryh
"No, no, and no, you damned fool!" Steel on steel. Stamp and thump of advance and retreat. "Dammit!"
The boy lunged, Mondragon diverted the attack with a minuscule motion of his own and as the boy attempted the second, left-handed stab—
"Damn you!" He made the hit, dead-middle of the boy's unprotected gut and when the boy doubled and backed, followed step and step and step, beating the foil-guard left and right of the boy's undefended face, hit the boy in the side, kneed him in the groin and smashed him hard with the guard before he felt the ebb of his temper and saw the boy hit the wall—saw the shock in Raj Takahashi's bleeding face and stopped himself—stopped with a clutch of panic and a sudden weakness in his knees and his gut as the boy tried to keep his feet and get his guard up.