Dragon and Judge

Taneem counted slowly to twenty the way Draycos had taught her. Then, she eased herself off Alison's skin and slid out from beneath the blankets onto the floor at the side of the bed.

The bad people were gone. So were all the papers Alison had been studying.

Taneem's first impulse was to wake the girl and tell her the bad news. But she knew that wouldn't do any good. Early on in the trip Alison had discovered that the room's door was locked from the outside, and now that the bad people were gone there was no way for her to chase after them.

She should have awakened Alison as soon as they had come in, she realized glumly. Now, the papers were gone, with no way to get them back.

At least, no way for Alison to do it.

Taneem tilted her long neck to look up. Along the wall just below the ceiling was a rectangular grille covering an opening through which cool, fresh air flowed into the room. Alison had said the opening was part of a whole series of passages called ducts. Once, a couple of days ago, Taneem had jumped up and hooked her front claws in the grille, hanging there looking in until Alison had noticed and told her to get off.

The duct had been dark, but Taneem was positive she could fit in there just fine. If she could find where the men had taken the papers, maybe she could get them back.

And best of all, inside all those ducts no one would see her. She could do this without breaking any of Alison's rules.

The first task was to remove the grille. Fortunately, she had noticed while she was hanging there that time that the plate was held by four connecting devices called bolts, one in each corner.

An easy leap upward, and she had deftly sheared off the heads of two of the bolts with her front claws. On the second leap, she took off the heads of the other two, catching the grille between her jaws as it fell.

She dropped back to the deck, making sure the grille didn't bump against the floor. It was heavier than she'd expected, and now that she had it off she could see the flat panels fastened to its back. Devices to heat or cool the incoming air, she guessed, remembering now how Alison had used a wall control to adjust the temperature of the room that first night.

Leaning the grille against the wall out of the way, she took one final look at the sleeping Alison. Then, backing up a few steps, she leaped upward and slipped neatly through the opening into the duct.

It was a tighter fit than it had looked. But as long as she kept her head low and her legs tucked in close to her sides it would be easy enough to get through. The first turn was a little tricky, too, where her duct ran into another one and she had to go either left or right. For some reason turning right seemed easier, so she picked that direction. She made it around the turn and kept going.

The system was indeed complicated, more so than anything else Taneem had ever encountered. The ducts went all directions, with turns and occasional dips or raises, and with other grilles leading off into other rooms at regular intervals.

For a while she stopped at each opening and peered into the room beyond. But most of the rooms were unoccupied, and after a while she stopped even bothering to look.

A few of the rooms had voices or sounds or smells coming from them. In those cases she stopped before passing, easing one eye around the edge of the grille to make sure no one was looking in her direction before continuing silently past.

But so far there was no sign of Alison's papers.

Taneem continued on. It was getting warmer now, and there were new noises drifting through the grilles. The rooms she passed were larger, too, full of machines and people tending them. Once she had to wait a full minute before a man at a desk covered with lights turned away long enough for her to sneak past.

After a few minutes, the heat faded and the noises quieted. The machinery rooms were replaced again by rooms like hers and Alison's, with even nicer furniture.

And then, finally, from one of the grilles ahead she heard the murmuring of a familiar voice.

She crept forward, listening hard. "—know what all the fuss is about," Colonel Frost was saying. "Near as I can tell there's nothing here worth spit."

"Morgan isn't the sort of person to hold on to useless junk," a different voice answered. It was softer and strangely vague, as if coming from a great distance.

And there was something in the voice that sent a shiver along Taneem's back.

"Maybe they're personal mementos," Frost said. "Even master criminals can get sentimental."

Taneem reached the grille and looked in. The room was reasonably large, with a number of carved wooden desks and work areas, plus several comfortable-looking chairs. Frost was sitting in one of the chairs in front of a desk covered with glowing lights and symbols she couldn't make out. Alison's bag was on the table, and Frost was holding her sheaf of papers in his hand.

There was no one else in the room.