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may be that they will get in touch with me; if they don't, I'll need your help
in reaching them."
"Why do you think the Lady Dallona will try to reach you?"
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"She needs all the help she can get. She knows she can get plenty
from me. Why do you think I
interrupted my search for her, and risked my carnate existence, to fight those
people over a matter of verbalisms and political propaganda?" Verkan Vall went
to the newscast visiplate and snapped it on.
"We'll see if I'm getting results, yet."
The plate lighted, and a handsome young man in a gold-laced green suit was
speaking out of it:
"... where he is heavily guarded by Assassins. However, in an exclusive
interview with representatives of this service, the Assassin Hirzif, one of
the two who seconded the men the Lord Virzal fought, said that in his opinion
all of the three were so outclassed as to have had no chance whatever, and
that he had already refused an offer of ten thousand System Monetary Units
to discarnate the Lord Virzal for the
Statisticalist Party. 'When I want to discarnate,' Hirzif the Assassin said,
'I'll invite in my friends and do it properly; until I do, I wouldn't go up
against the Lord Virzal of Verkan for ten million S.M.U.'"
Verkan Vall snapped off the visiplate. "See what I mean?" he asked. "I fought
those politicians just for the advertising. If Dallona and Dirzed are anywhere
near a visiplate, they'll know how to reach me."
"Hirzif shouldn't have talked about refusing that retainer," Klarnood frowned.
"That isn't good Assassin ethics. Why, yes, Lord Virzal; that was cleverly
planned. It ought to get results. But I wish you'd get the
Lady Dallona out of Darsh, and preferably off Terra, as soon as you can. We've
benefited by this, so far, but I shouldn't like to see things go much further.
A real civil war could develop out of this situation, and I
don't want that. Call on me for help; I'll give you a code word to use at
Assassins' Hall."
A real civil war was developing even as Klarnood spoke; by mid-morning of the
next day, the fighting that had been partially suppressed by the Constabulary
had broken out anew. The Assassins employed by the Solar Hotel heavily
re-enforced during the night had fought a pitched battle with Statisticalist
partisans on the landing-stage above Verkan Vall's suite, and now several
Constabulary airboats were patrolling around the building. The rule on
Constabulary interference seemed to be that while individuals had an
unquestionable right to shoot out their differences among themselves,
any fighting likely to endanger nonparticipants was taboo.
Just how successful in enforcing this rule the Constabulary were was open to
some doubt. Ever since arising, Verkan Vall had heard the crash of small arms
and the hammering of automatic weapons in other parts of the towering
city-unit. There hadn't been a civil war on the Akor-Neb Sector for
over five centuries, he knew, but then, Hadron Dalla, Doctor of Psychic
Science, and intertemporal trouble-carrier extraordinary, had only been on
this sector for a little under a year. If anything, he was surprised that the
explosion had taken so long to occur.
One of the servants furnished to him by the hotel management approached him in
the drawing room, holding a four-inch-square wafer of white plastic.
"Lord Virzal, there is a masked Assassin in the hallway who brought this under
Assassins' Truce," he said.
Verkan Vall took the wafer and pared off three of the four edges, which showed
black where they had been fused. Unfolding it, he found, as he had expected,
that the pyrographed message within was in the alphabet and language of the
First Paratime Level:
Vall, darling:
Am I glad you got here; this time I really am in the middle, but good! The
Assassin, Dirzed, who brings this, is in my service. You can trust him
implicitly; he's about the only person in Dash you can trust. He'll bring you
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to where I am.
Dalla
P.S. I hope you're not still angry about that musician. I told you, at the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
