Subsistema Procesos

“I had nothing to do with my sister’s disappearance!” Lady Carolandra Justinian glared at her mother. “If you hadn’t made her believe that the family honor — such as it is — depended upon her marriage to Evan Hawkwood, maybe his reported death wouldn’t have mattered so much to her. After all, she hardly knew him.”

Wordlessly, Lady Antorianna finished folding away her younger daughter Juliette’s unworn wedding gown. The news of Evan Hawkwood’s failure to return from an encounter with marauders over the planet Cadiz had crushed her dreams of linking her family to the imperial line. Turning her back on her rebellious older child, Antorianna al-lowed Carolandra the opportunity to slip out of Juliette’s room with-out prolonging a fruitless conversation. Only after she heard the door close, signaling that she was alone with her vanished daughter’s posses-sions, did Antorianna retrieve the handwritten note she had found care-fully tucked away in the folds of the wedding dress. She meant for me to find this, but not until I could face the sight of our family’s shattered dreams.

Loyalty unto Death not only stands as our house’s motto, it also marks the ancient form of our family’s betrothal oath.

My pledge to Evan Hawkwood has not altered simply because of his alleged demise. I intend to live up to both tenets of the Justinian code.

Forgive me,

Juliette Justinian (Hawkwood)

In her own chambers on the Justinian estate, Lady Carolandra tried to ignore her feelings of concern for her younger sister’s fate. In truth, she had not lied to her mother. She had not influenced Juliette’s deci-sion to take control of her own fortune in any way. All she had done, when Juliette had visited her late last night, was give her a location and remain silent until Lady Antorianna discovered the note this afternoon.

Privately, Carolandra had rejoiced at the wedding’s failure to take place. Her opposition to House Justinian’s habit of marrying off its

best and brightest daughters into other lines doomed the house to con-tinued obscurity. She had nothing personal against Evan Hawkwood; in fact, his reputation spoke well for his character. He would have prob-ably made a good match for Juliette, who, until now, seemed concerned only with acting the dutiful daughter.

Carolandra shook her head. I never thought she’d have the nerve to strike out on her own. She felt a sudden twinge of worry at the thought of her naive and inexperienced little sister traveling into space on a desper-ate and probably doomed rescue mission. At least, if she dies trying, it will be more than generations of Justinian broodmares have done.

* * *

“What makes you think my cousin — at least, I think he’s my cousin — still lives?” Baroness Morgein Hawkwood considered the young woman standing awkwardly before her in the close cabin of the Star of Ravenna.

Juliette Justinian squared her shoulders and met the older woman’s gaze without flinching.

“A Decados communiqué two days ago reported that Evan Hawkwood’s personal ship went down somewhere near the Hironem reservation on Cadiz. There were no survivors. The Decados family offered its profound sympathy to Evan’s family. They, in turn, notified us so that we could cancel the preparations for our — my and Evan’s — wedding.” Juliette’s voice trembled slightly at the end of her speech.

Morgein nodded. “I received word about the accident from my own sources,” she admitted. Her expression softened. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“This must be hard on you —”

“Mother thinks I should put it behind me and get on with my life,”

Juliette said softly, “and by that she means another marriage to a house that can advance the standing of House Justinian.”

“I’m familiar with the practice,” Morgein said. “Apparently you see things differently than your mother does.”

Juliette nodded. “First, I don’t believe that Evan’s ship ‘crashed’

over Cadiz. My fiancé was due back at Delphi and had no reason to make a casual trip through Cadiz air space unless he intended to land there. If that were the case, then there would have had to be some compelling reason for Evan to travel so far out of his way.” She took a deep breath. I might as well just say it. “I think someone lured Evan into

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landing on Cadiz in order to spring some sort of trap.”

“Someone like a member of House Decados?” Morgein prompted.

“Just after Dame Lilian’s message to my family, Konstantin Decados sent this gift to me by private messenger.” Juliette reached into her shoulder pack and produced a carved orriswood box. Opening the box, she held it out for Morgein to view its contents, a long-stemmed marifleur, dried and treated with a preservative.

Morgein raised an eyebrow. “Do you know the significance of the marifleur?” she asked.

“I believe, according to the customs of House Decados, that this flower signifies an intention to initiate a courtship,” she said.

Morgein shrugged. “The Decados were never a family for prolonged periods of mourning, so I’m told.”

Juliette felt her cheeks grow red as she remembered the rumors linking Morgein with at least one Decados consort. Maybe I was wrong in coming to her.

Seeing her consternation, Morgein laughed softly. “I see you’ve heard stories about me,” she said. “Don’t worry, whatever my personal tastes, I remain a Hawkwood. It suits me to have a widespread circle of ac-quaintances of all kinds,” she added.

Juliette nodded, recovering control over herself. “I certainly didn’t come here to comment on your associations,” she said.

“No, you didn’t,” Morgein said. “Just why did you come to me?”

“I want your help in finding Evan,” Juliette replied. “I don’t believe that he’s dead and I don’t believe that Konstantin Decados’ offer to court me is coincidental. This gift came with a note of condolence from Konstantin Decados,” she added. “He and Evan were sworn enemies.

They’d met on the field of honor several times and Evan always drew first blood. I think Konstantin would have preferred a duel to the death had he thought he stood a chance of winning.”

“The fact that Konstantin wants to capitalize on your sudden availability doesn’t necessarily mean that he is linked with Evan’s acci-dent—”

“It was no accident!” Juliette blurted. “I felt —” She stopped herself before she said more than she wanted to. She busied herself with closing the box and returning it to her shoulder pouch.

Morgein rose from her seat and clasped Juliette firmly by the shoul-ders. “Look at me!” she ordered, her dark eyes focused on the younger

woman’s face. “What did you feel?”

“Nothing,” Juliette said. “I felt no indication of Evan Hawkwood’s death.”

“You are a psychic,” Morgein said flatly. “Am I right?”

Juliette nodded. Morgein released her grip on Juliette’s shoulders and returned to her seat. “Sit down,” she said, her voice abrupt but not unkind. “I’ve been rude to keep you standing about like some peti-tioner,” she added, motioning to the other seat bolted into the cabin wall.

“But I am a petitioner,” Juliette said. “And, yes, I’m also a psychic.”

“Did Evan know this about you?” Morgein asked.

“Yes,” Juliette replied. “The first time I met him was at our be-trothal party two years ago. I expected that he would be a typical Hawkwood, brave and proper and —”

“Boring as brute droppings,” Morgein finished. Juliette smiled in spite of herself.

“I didn’t expect to find his company so enjoyable,” she said. “There was an instant rapport between us. Mother encouraged the two of us to take a stroll in the gardens and get acquainted. He was very easy to talk to and before I knew it, I had told him about some of my — studies.”

“You mean your psychic studies?” Morgein asked.

Juliette nodded. “It just sort of slipped out. I was afraid at first that he would withdraw his suit once I’d told him about my gift — or curse
—

but instead, he wanted to know more about it. He was the one who suggested a Bond between us.”

“And that’s how you know he’s still alive?”

“I’d know if the connection was broken,” Juliette replied. “I would feel something shatter inside —”

“I know,” Morgein whispered. Juliette waited for her host to say more, but Morgein remained silent for a few minutes, her eyes fixed upon a small gold ring on her little finger. Finally, she looked up, her face betraying none of her thoughts.

“This alters my assessment of the situation,” Morgein said. “Even with your abilities, we may not succeed in what you want to do.”

“I have to try, anyway,” Juliette insisted. “If you won’t help me, I’ll find someone who will, but you were my first choice.”

Morgein smiled. “In spite of my reputation for associating with Hawkwood’s enemies and flouting tradition?”

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“Those aren’t the only rumors,” Juliette said quietly.

“What else have you heard?” Morgein’s voice contained just a hint of something sinister.

“I’ve heard that your lifestyle serves a greater cause,” Juliette replied, choosing her words with care, “and that you are a true daughter of your house.”

“Nicely phrased,” Morgein said, leaving Juliette with the feeling that she had just passed some sort of test. “You will owe me a consider-able debt if I help you,” the baroness continued.

“I know,” Juliette answered.

The tension in the cabin suddenly dissipated and Morgein stood up, signaling the end of the interview. “Ask one of my crew to show you to the guest cabin, where you can stow your things,” she said. “We’ll lift off in an hour or so. On the way to Cadiz, you can tell me all you know

— or have heard — about Konstantin Decados, and I’ll start calling in a few favors.”

* * *

“Your body already shows signs of a full-fledged selchakah addic-tion,” Konstantin Decados remarked conversationally as he refreshed the dermapatch positioned just over Evan Hawkwood’s carotid artery.

“I don’t suppose the last few hours — or have they been days? — were very pleasant for you.”

Evan Hawkwood tried to focus his eyes through lids too heavy to open completely. Halfheartedly, he tested the restraints that secured him to the med-cot. His muscles, weakened from what seemed like an interminable period of uncontrollable withdrawal spasms, barely re-sponded to his commands.

Konstantin noticed the almost imperceptible movements of his captive’s arms and ankles and shook his head, a pitying smile touching the edges of his mouth.

“I’m surprised you still have the heart to try to free yourself,” he said. The Decados noble watched as a few more heartbeats carried the drug through Evan’s body, bringing blissful release to tortured muscles and nerves. Involuntarily, Evan Hawkwood sighed with relief.

“That’s better, now, isn’t it?” Konstantin asked, not expecting an answer.

Evan struggled through thick waves of fog that clouded his brain

and thickened his tongue, trying to form a single word.

“Why?” he asked, the question bringing with it a small sense of accomplishment.

“Why?” Konstantin repeated, his voice soft with mockery. “Because I intend to use you. Once your body has established a sufficient depen-dency on selchakah, I shall release you so that you may return home with whatever lie you choose to tell your family to conceal the shame of your capture and addiction. It would never do for a scion of your house to admit that you lost a contingent of loyal soldiers and succumbed to the lure of a proscribed drug. And I, of course, will deny any complicity in your fall from grace and honor.” The Decados noble paused for moment and watched the play of emotions cross Evan’s face, now flushed with the heat of the drug as it coursed through his veins.

“I will be only too happy to help you concoct a suitable story, one that won’t leave too many questions unanswered— something involving a ship malfunction and weeks of directionless wandering before you managed to stumble upon a Decados patrol who brought you to safety.

Of course, by that time, your death — and that of your men — would have already been reported. I’m sure we can work out the details to suit both of us.”

Evan heard his captor’s words coming from a great distance and tried to respond to them with the outrage and anger that he knew he should be feeling. Instead, a wave of hot, liquid pleasure washed through him, sweeping away all his righteous intent except for a frantic shake of his head and a barely mumbled “N-no —”

Konstantin laughed. “We have been through this before,” he said.

“Soon enough, my proposal will sound more reasonable. Especially when you are once again starving for the comfort and ecstasy only selchakah can give you. Think about it until I return.”

Patting his captive’s restrained arm companionably, Konstantin rose and left the tiny, antiseptic room in the cellar of his private residence in one of Cadiz’s tenement-cities. Nearly abandoned by the house’s finer members, the planet now served mainly as a hive for illegal activities and, occasionally, as a refuge for young Decados nobles eager to indulge themselves without even minimal restraint from their more cautious elders.

Soon I will have my own pet Hawkwood spy, eager to spill his family’s secrets — and perhaps a few Imperial ones as well — for a taste of selchakah. And

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if he chooses instead to admit his addiction and seek release from it, his shame within his house can only hurt him. This is one duel I cannot lose.

* * *

Seated in the parlor of the Decados lord’s villa in the hills overlook-ing the city of Taraquino, once a center of commerce on Cadiz, Juliette Justinian watched her host with undisguised fascination. Baron Istvan Decados, in appearance and mannerisms, challenged her own long-held stereotypes of his house’s legendary decadence. Tall and muscular, with short-clipped dark hair and lively, deep green eyes, Lord Istvan dressed in a simple black uniform adorned with the mantis-crest of his house.

The starkness of his clothing complemented the tasteful, almost spare furnishings of his reception chamber. Somehow, Juliette had expected her host’s surroundings to be more — sumptuous. Beside her, Morgein Hawkwood seemed relaxed, almost at home, in Istvan’s company. Per-haps the rumors are true about the two of them.

Istvan had listened carefully as Juliette — at Morgein’s prompting — related her suspicions about the fate of Evan Hawkwood and its con-nection to Konstantin Decados, carefully omitting any reference to her bond with the Hawkwood knight.

“My nephew, unfortunately, has never been known for his subtlety,”

Istvan Decados remarked in between sips of Severan wine, brought from his personal cellars to please the palates of his two guests. “And I may surmise from your unexpected, though not unwelcome, visit that you wish for some intervention on my part in this matter — if, indeed, it proves to be founded in fact.”

Juliette glanced toward Morgein, as if expecting the older woman to answer. Morgein inclined her head toward Juliette and raised her own wine-glass to her lips.

It’s up to me, then. Juliette nodded her head, not trusting her voice for the moment. The motion gave her an instant to compose her speech.

“I would be pleased if you could make inquiries into the matter,” she said, hoping that even so few words had not committed her to some impossible debt.

Istvan Decados raised his eyebrows and smiled, not at Juliette, but at Morgein. “I understand she has been under your tutelage for only a short time, my dear,” he said, “and already she shows great diplomatic promise.” He returned his attention to Juliette. “I congratulate you on

your exquisite tact,” he said, “particularly after so bald an accusation as the one you have presented to me.”

Juliette felt her face redden and hid her momentary embarrassment behind a generous sip of wine. Morgein held out her own glass for Istvan to refill, and Juliette used the diversion to focus her concentra-tion on her host.

Istvan settled himself once more and turned to Juliette, who now regarded him steadily, a look of intent and sober attention on her face.

“I shall look into the matter at once,” Istvan said, “as a favor to both of you.” He stressed the word “both” just enough to elicit a wry smile from Morgein.

“I expected no less,” the baroness replied at the same time as Juliette murmured a soft word of thanks. After a few more pleasantries, the two women rose to take their leave.

“There is one other small thing,” Juliette said, withdrawing a small orriswood box from an inner pocket of her traveling cloak and placing it in her host’s hand. “Please redirect this to its owner with my regrets.”

* * *

“There was no sign of falsehood in his agreement to help,” Juliette informed Morgein once the two women were safely off planet. Morgein nodded, intent on watching the interplay between her navigator and pilot as they plotted the course to the nearest jumpgate. After approv-ing the coordinates and leavapprov-ing her navigator to enter the information into the ship’s think-machine, Morgein turned her full attention to Juliette.

“I didn’t expect Istvan to lie to us,” she said.

“Then why did you give me the signal to use my talent to read his intent?” Juliette asked. “I might have been caught—”

“Precisely,” Morgein said. “You might have been discovered using sorcery upon a member of one of the Noble Houses, yet you took the risk anyway — and succeeded in getting away with it. That shows some courage and commitment, don’t you think?” The Hawkwood baroness smiled warmly. “Besides, I wanted another glassful of wine. It was an excellent — and rare vintage.”

* * *

Delayed by more than four months, the wedding between Juliette

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Justinian and Evan Hawkwood nevertheless drew a fair number of lu-minaries from both houses — as well as a pair of unexpected guests.

Accompanying Baroness Morgein Hawkwood, Baron Istvan Decados conducted himself with the poise and gallantry of his position as Evan Hawkwood’s timely rescuer. The story of Evan’s close brush with death, the presumed loss of his men in the crash and his slow recovery in the care of Lord Istvan circulated among the wedding guests until it seemed a factual accounting, even to those intimately aware of the truth.

Istvan apologized profusely to Lady Antorianna and to Evan’s par-ents for the miscommunication that led to the Hawkwood knight’s reported death. “I should have known better than to delegate such a delicate message to an underling,” he had said. “In truth, I was unsure whether or not my patient would survive his injuries and so instructed

Istvan apologized profusely to Lady Antorianna and to Evan’s par-ents for the miscommunication that led to the Hawkwood knight’s reported death. “I should have known better than to delegate such a delicate message to an underling,” he had said. “In truth, I was unsure whether or not my patient would survive his injuries and so instructed