Dragon and Judge

But she resisted the temptation. At the moment, Frost was at least a little on her side. The satisfaction of watching Neverlin's reaction to the news would hardly be worth making Frost want her dead.

"But that can come later," Neverlin continued. "First, we're going to the medical suite."

"What for?" Alison asked, tensing up again.

"What do you think?" Neverlin countered. "We're going to get your fingerprints, your retina pattern, your iris matrix, and your DNA profile." He raised his eyebrows. "As you said, maybe we just didn't look hard enough."

"Whatever makes you happy," Alison said, feeling her muscles relax a little. None of those tests would require her to undress far enough to reveal Taneem's presence. "In fact, since you're so keen on this, how about we make it a race?"

"What do you mean?" Neverlin asked.

"Your identity check against my safecracking skills," Alison said blandly. "We'll see which of us gets to the mother lode first."

Neverlin smiled thinly. "You're playing against my weakness, Kayna."

"You like long-shot bets?"

"Very much," Neverlin said. "And I always win them."

Except for that one long shot of trying to blackmail Jack Morgan into helping him murder Cornelius Braxton, Alison knew. But this was hardly the time to bring that up. "Then we're on?"

"Absolutely," Neverlin said. "You win, I pay you an extra twenty thousand for the job. I win, you open the safe for nothing."

Alison cocked her head as if thinking about it. "That seems fair," she said.

It wasn't, of course. With Neverlin's control over when Alison would be allowed to start working the safe—only after he decided she was ready—he could easily manipulate the timing of the contest to guarantee he would win. As usual, Neverlin's supposed long-shot bets included a stacking of the deck.

Still, a records search would help keep them busy. Maybe busy enough that neither would remember where he'd seen Alison's face before.

"Excellent," Neverlin said, beckoning to the group of Brummgas standing behind her. "As soon as the medical formalities are out of the way, Colonel Frost's men will get you settled in your room. Oh, and I'll take that." He pointed to the shoulder bag.

Silently, Frost reached over and pulled the strap off Alison's shoulder, warning her with his eyes to stay quiet. He crossed to Neverlin and handed him the bag. "And then tomorrow," Neverlin went on, fingering the bag thoughtfully, "you can start proving you're as good as you say you are."

He gave her a smile that didn't reach all the way to his eyes. "And," he added, "you'd better be right."

CHAPTER 14

The doctor—a Compfrin, Alison noted with interest, not a Brummga—was quick, efficient, and quiet. Fifteen minutes after arriving, Alison was on her way out again. A tall, wiry Wistawk wearing green and purple and a red cross-chest sash led the way, with Dumbarton and Mrishpaw plodding along beside her.

The room Neverlin had assigned her to was in the first basement level down, with an entrance off the main kitchen area. The slaves working in the kitchen seemed to not even notice them, but Alison caught enough sideways glances to know that everyone was indeed aware of the strangers passing through their midst.

After the luxury of the shipboard stateroom, her new room was a severe letdown. It was small and cramped, equipped with a bed, a rough wooden dresser, a chair and small table, an intercom that doubled as a clock, a single overhead light, and a small sink. "No shower?" she asked, looking around.

"The bathroom is at the end of the hall," the Wistawk said. "It is shared by all the slaves on this floor."

Alison looked at Dumbarton. "Slaves?" she demanded.

Dumbarton shrugged. "Had a problem a while back," he said. "The Patri Chookoock ordered that all visitors stay down here where it's more secure."

Jack, again. How many times, Alison wondered sourly, was she going to trip over him while she was here? "That mean all the rest of you are down here, too?"

Dumbarton gave her an indulgent smile. "We're not visitors, kiddo. We're allies."

"But you will not have to eat with the other slaves," the Wistawk offered helpfully. "Your meal will be served here in two hours."

"And I'm sure it'll be delicious," Dumbarton said as he and Mrishpaw left the room. "Enjoy."

The Wistawk left as well, closing the door behind him. Taneem stirred against Alison's skin, but Alison laid a warning hand on her shoulder. Once again, it was time to check for microphones.

To her mild surprise, there weren't any. Perhaps no one thought the slaves were worth the bother of monitoring.

Unfortunately, they were probably right. A lifetime of slavery usually left the victims in grave-sized mental and emotional ruts, with all the spark and fire and hope brutally crushed out of them.

The Chookoock family was especially good at that. Two months ago, when Jack had gone to the slaves and offered them freedom, only twenty-six had taken him up on it.