The Emperor of Everything

Publius stood gracefully and beckoned. “Come. I’ll show him to you.”

Ruiz stood with Publius, looking into an observation cell. He saw a man of medium height and build, dressed in a moderately fashionable unisuit. His face was unremarkable, even-featured, neither plump nor thin. His hair was an indeterminate color, neither brown nor blond, cut in a conventional style. He sat in a comfortable chair, face almost expressionless, except for a subtle quality of alertness. Ruiz wondered if he was a spy of some sort — he looked the part to perfection.

“Who is he?” Ruiz asked.

“His name is Alonzo Yubere.”

Ruiz was puzzled. “Why would you require my assistance? There he sits; why not just kill him yourself?”

Publius smiled and malicious delight spread over his face. “Oh, it’s not this Alonzo Yubere I want you to kill. No, no. It’s the other Alonzo Yubere, the one who controls the secret. You know, the secret that’s so inflamed the pirates.”

Ruiz assumed a look of bland indifference.

“You see, this Yubere is actually an old servant of mine, torn down and rebuilt in this undistinguished form. Alas, poor Hedrin — he served me well, but I had greater need of his body than he did. I long ago had Hedrin Genched, by the way. Everyone needs at least one henchman he can trust. So his loyalty, even in this new form, is absolute.”

“Ah,” said Ruiz noncommittally.

“Do you begin to understand? It’s an old idea, of course — replace the key person with a duplicate who belongs to you. But you know how tediously exact ident procedures can be these days, so it isn’t often tried anymore, and is less often successful. And Yubere is the most careful of men; his ident data was very difficult to come by. But,” said Publius, holding out his hands and wiggling the fingers, “my virtuosity with flesh and spirit has become prodigious, more than adequate to the task, and Hedrin has become Yubere, in every aspect but his basic loyalties.”

“I see. Still, why not simply buy an assassin in the market?”

Publius clapped him on the shoulder. “That was my plan, until you appeared on my doorstep, as if by magic. And who am I to sneer at Fate’s gifts? Besides, I have vast faith in your skills; if it’s possible to get to Yubere, you’re definitely the one who can do it.”

Chapter 12

Corean fumed. Bad enough that Alonzo Yubere had made her wait, worse that he refused to meet with her face-to-face. She was insulted… and worried.

His nondescript face stared calmly from the holotank. “Matters are unsettled, Corean. Somehow the pirate lords have learned our secret — or enough of it to make them froth at the mouth. I’ve been threatened, and even my Gencha are restive. They’re not stupid creatures, you know. Just unworldly.”

Corean was stunned. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes. You wouldn’t know how they found out, would you?”

“Don’t be absurd,” she snapped. “You have dozens of other clients, any of whom could have leaked it.” But she was very uneasy. Had Ruiz Aw somehow divined that she had been sending him and the others to SeaStack for their treatment? Maybe. But that wasn’t the central element of the secret she shared with Yubere, and the other slavers in his organization. “Do the lords know about the machine?”

Yubere’s lips writhed. “Best not to mention such things, even here,” he admonished. “No, I think not. They know only that an unnatural number of Genched slaves have recently appeared on the market, and they suppose that someone has a pack of unregistered Gencha hidden in their basement. That’s enough to drive them mad with avarice, as it is. They’ve made a connection with me, unfortunately. I may be forced to flee; you should be prepared to.”

Corean drew a deep breath. “I have unfinished business here. It’s your business too, so you’d do well to help me. That group of Pharaohan conjurors I was shipping to you for processing, do you recall? They escaped, and one of them knows I was sending him to the Gencha. And he’s not a Pharaohan, he’s a pangalac, a freelance enforcer… and a very capable individual. The longer he stays alive, the more chances he’ll have to pass along what he knows.”

Yubere leaned closer, his face suddenly keen. “What does he know?”

“Not a great deal — just that he and the others were to be processed. They escaped before the boat reached SeaStack, so he probably doesn’t know that the Gencha are here. But he’s clever; I don’t want to give him too much time to think about it.”

“What do you want of me?”

“I need a slayer. A very good slayer, someone who specializes in difficult infiltrations. And best if you can give me a Genched slayer, so there’d be no possibility of disloyalty.”

Yubere sat back, so that the tank’s focus dissolved and his face became a random pattern of primary color. He said nothing for a bit, and Corean became impatient.

“Well? Will you help?”