The Emperor of Everything

Ruiz frowned. What an odd world Publius must inhabit. To all appearances, the monster-maker had forgotten that he had gone to vast lengths to ensure that he would never need to tell Ruiz of this plan. Did he now expect Ruiz to forget those treacheries and deal with Publius as if he were an ally? Perhaps Publius hoped that the force of his remarkable personality, diligently applied, would cause Ruiz to neglect some essential precaution — but if so the monster-maker would be disappointed. Ruiz could never forget that Publius possessed an unusually supple mind, even if it was an obscenely twisted one.

“It seems at least possible,” said Ruiz ambiguously. “Much depends on whether you’re telling the truth in all particulars — and we both know how unlikely that is.”

Publius assumed an injured look, prompting Ruiz to a bark of almost-hysterical laughter, which he quickly subdued. It wouldn’t do to display any weakness before the monster-maker. At present Ruiz held the greater leverage; he was more willing to die than Publius. As soon as Publius divined Ruiz’s devotion to Nisa, the balance would shift again.

But he was still looking forward to seeing her again, with an almost-unbearable intensity.

Chapter 19

Corean paced her suite like a newly caged predator, one not yet adapted to the comfort of regular meals and the hateful constraints of her cage. Marmo floated in a dark corner, playing his eternal game against his own coprocessors. The lights of his vidscreen flickered over his half-metal face, and the only sounds were Corean’s footsteps and the tap of Marmo’s fingers against his dataslate.

Her Moc warrior waited in the entrance hall, motionless.

The suite was otherwise empty. After delivering her Pharaohan slaves to Yubere’s stronghold, Remint had planned to recruit more slayers to staff the trap he had set for Ruiz; she had received no communication from him for hours.

When the comm’s chime finally rang, she jumped and swore floridly. Marmo moved toward the comm panel, but she rushed forward and slapped at the receive sensor.

Remint’s cold intense face filled the screen. “I have significant news,” he said in his flat voice.

“What?”

“Ruiz Aw has surfaced at the Spindinny; he bought a half-dozen contracts the night before last and then left in a heavily armed gunboat. He had a lot of money to spend, and he got the best to be found there — such as they were. He revealed little of his purposes during these acquisitions, but from questioning his rejects, I deduce that he has undertaken to perform an assassination.”

Corean was silent, digesting this information. “Who?” she finally asked.

Remint shrugged. “No truly suggestive data exists, but I believe that the target is unlikely to be you — the skills of the personnel he selected would indicate a target of greater importance, much better protected.”

“I see.” She found the notion unpalatable; how could Ruiz Aw have so soon dismissed her and gone on to other concerns? She would make him regret his casual disregard of her capabilities and persistence. Oh yes. “Where did he get the money? And the gunboat?”

“In all likelihood, he is working for someone whose resources are more extensive than yours. This may complicate his capture, should he survive his mission.” Remint seemed unconcerned; he merely reported a possibility, without attaching any emotion to the concept.

But Corean was instantly enraged by the thought that Ruiz might die before she could heal her wounds with his pain. “What can we do?”

“Little, at this point. I’ve hired slayers, and placed them at the site of the trap. I’ve set up a surveillance near the pens. Do you have further instructions?”

“No,” she said. “What of my Pharaohans? Did you make the delivery? Were there any difficulties?”

“No difficulties. However, I did not see my brother. Ordinarily he never misses an opportunity to gloat.” The impassive face kindled with hatred, becoming for an instant a demonic mask. Then the expression guttered out, as if Remint could not long sustain such ferocity, and he once again became the poised killing machine.

“He has other things on his mind, at present,” Corean said.

By the time the sub neared the surface, Publius appeared to have regained all his grandiloquent confidence. “Now we must rendezvous with the gunboat; I will take the controls.”

“No,” said Ruiz. “Not yet, and perhaps never. I’m familiar with this vessel; aboard your gunboat, in the midst of your crew, I’d find it difficult to relax. So we’ll stay below for a while yet.”

Publius seemed about to argue, but then he apparently remembered his dignity, and subsided wordlessly.

Running ten meters below the surface, Ruiz sent the sub at its best speed through the winding channels, toward the Diamond Bob Pens.