The Emperor of Everything

Ruiz snarled wordlessly. Diamond Bob had lost nothing so valuable as Ruiz had. But at least there was some evidence that Nisa wasn’t dead. Who had taken her. The first thought that came to him was: Corean. Was she really crazy enough to have mounted an assault on the pens? How had she even found the Pharaohans? SeaStack had a number of pens; most of them guarded the identity of their patrons carefully, but none more fiercely than Diamond Bob’s. Ruiz shook his head. Perhaps he could learn more from Diamond Bob.

He stepped out into the corridor and saw that four killmechs now blocked him in. They made no threatening movements, but it was clear that he would be required to talk to Diamond Bob, even if he hadn’t been eager to do so.

“Let’s go,” he said to the android.

Diamond Bob wasn’t what Ruiz had expected; she was a small tidy woman who affected an appearance of late middle age. Her narrow face was innocent of beauty paint, her nose was long, and her lips thin and colorless. She wore her gray hair in a coil at the back of her neck, drawn so tight as to appear painful.

Her office seemed more like a sitting room from some historic holoplay, a play set in some Old Earth fantasy culture. The light was dim and brown. Dull-green ferns sat on tiny round tables, and the walls were covered with a pattern of faded blue roses. The only jarring note in this ancient decor was a huge gleaming killmech, motionless in the darkest corner — though it wore a lace doily on its polished head and held a yellowing aspidistra in its claws, in an apparent effort to fit in.

Diamond Bob indicated an uncomfortable-looking humpbacked couch, and they sat down together. Ruiz removed his helmet and gloves; he was suddenly conscious of the scuffs and bloodstains on his armor.

She didn’t appear to be discomfitted by his appearance. “We have both suffered losses,” she said without preamble. She pressed a stemglass of green cordial into his hand. She smiled perfunctorily and then sipped at her own glass. “You gave your name as Ruiz Aw? Isn’t that the name of a famous Dilvermoon enforcer? Do you claim to be him?”

“No,” he said. “My properties. Who took them?” He set his cordial down untasted.

“Would you prefer tea?” she asked.

“No. Tell me what you know about those who raided your pens.”

She took another delicate sip of her drink. “I’d hoped you could help me with that.”

“How would I know anything about it?” Ruiz tried to look astonished.

Diamond Bob fixed him with her tiny glittering eyes. “Because I believe that the raid was undertaken for the sole purpose of taking your property.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Several things — and my intuition, which is often correct. First, two days ago a clumsy attempt was made to extract your ownerfile from our databanks. Naturally, the attempt failed. Just before that, a notorious slayer visited here, a man named Remint. He interrogated another Pharaohan slave, called Flomel, who had been admitted to the same common area as your properties. Your slaves were Pharaohan, I believe?”

“Yes.” Flomel again. Ruiz cursed himself once again for his softness; he should have known better than to let an enemy live. If he ever got another opportunity, he would rectify that mistake. What hideous bad luck… that whoever had purchased Flomel from Deepheart had quartered him here.

Diamond Bob drew back slightly, as if Ruiz had allowed something of his anger to reach his face. “Well, to continue: The raiders wore armor, of course, but an analysis of the dimensions and movement patterns of their leader matched the analysis of Remint. Odd that he should take no more effective measures to conceal his identity, isn’t it? He didn’t even bother to burn the surveillance imagers. It was almost as if he wanted us to know who he was… he must be mad, as now the lords — who guarantee the safety of my business — are avid for his blood. Perhaps he is mad — my people reported that his affect was very odd during his first visit.”

“What can you tell me about this Remint?” Ruiz asked.

“A moment — let me finish my explication.”

“Continue.” Somehow Ruiz was sure that badgering Diamond Bob would yield little useful information — better to let her tell her story as she chose.

“Thank you,” she said dryly. “Finally, and I think most significant, the raiders took your people away alive, and I think they were only interested in your property, though they took several others as well. That was probably an attempt to confuse the issue; the choices seemed random, whereas all your folk were from Pharaoh.”

“I see.”