The Pharoah Contract

“I’ll announce you, Citizen Aw. A moment, please.” She went in, and more than a minute passed. When she returned, she took Ruiz’s arm and guided him through the door. He was briefly but acutely aware of the warmth of her hand.

The factor was an ancient Dilvermoon herman, tall and thin, with disproportionately heavy breasts. It had the distinctively elongated and sexually ambiguous features of its kind, framed by an elaborately coiffed mane of white hair. A blue caste-mark flowered on its wrinkled cheek, identifying it as a member of a prominent clan. It extended a hand in greeting. “Ruiz Aw,” it said. “So happy to meet you. I’m Prinfilic; your servant.” Ruiz reluctantly touched its somewhat clammy hand and then sat down unasked. Auliss left through a side door, smiling over her shoulder.

Ruiz forced himself to alertness. The hermen of Dilvermoon were among his least favorite self-created life-forms; their amoral cleverness was legendary. He wondered that a herman had ascended to such a responsible position in the League, which was as paranoid about its employees’ loyalties as any other far-flung conglomerate.

Prinfilic folded its well-kept hands and leaned back. A look of covert disdain flickered through its eyes. Like hermen in general, it apparently had a highly developed sense of its effect on unmodified humans. But it smiled easily.

“You’re a welcome presence here, Ruiz Aw. The losses have gone far past acceptable levels in the last year or so. But you arrived here much more quickly than I had expected.”

Ruiz ascended to a slightly higher plateau of alertness. Was there a detectable level of guile in the herman’s voice? Was the herman in some way involved with the poachers on Pharaoh? Ruiz reminded himself to be especially wary as long as he remained aboard the platform.

“League Central did not inform you?” he asked.

“Yes, yes, but… the message arrived in a message drone, not six hours ago. Apparently you were contracted immediately following the decision to open this new line of inquiry, and you left without delay.”

Ruiz said nothing. He allowed the silence to congeal, until the herman finally cleared its throat and spoke again. “Well. Your authorization is of impressive scope; the League must have great confidence in you. For the duration of your stay here, you will be the factor. How may I facilitate your investigations, Ruiz Aw?”

“I don’t know, as yet. When I do, I’ll tell you.” Ruiz glanced about the factor’s office. It was elegantly decorated, if a bit fussy. The walls were covered in some fine-grained silvery leather, seamed with vertical stripes of wine-colored velour. At exactly spaced intervals, in pools of white light, Pharaohan effigies hung at eye level. Ruiz rose and went over to the nearest. It was, he decided, a dustbear’s snarling face, carved from what seemed to be the top of a human skull, stained with rusty pigment, and surrounded by a ruff of black feathers. A red thong held a swag of finger bones and little silver bells. Ruiz touched it and it made a strange, dry, shivery sound.

“A wonderful piece, eh?” Prinfilic spoke at his shoulder, and Ruiz restrained an impulse to jump. “I collect beautiful things from dirtside; it makes my time here pass more entertainingly. And it might make my retirement a bit more comfortable, or so I hope. What do you think; is it valuable?”

Ruiz moved away; the closeness of the factor made him uneasy. “I’m no judge,” he said.

“Ah. Well, how long will you be with us?”

“Not long. I’d like to service the boat. Then I’ll get right to work.”

Prinfilic looked genuinely disappointed. “Ah, no! Surely you’ll spend a day or two with us. At least. Why not have a last taste of pangalac life, before you go down to the dirt-grubbers?”

Ruiz looked at Prinfilic curiously. “Why do you say last? I plan to return soon.”

Its cheeks colored, a bizarre effect on a face so old and rapacious. “I meant, of course, the last time for as long as your mission requires you to be dirtside. Please accept my apologies if any offense was conveyed.”

“Sure,” Ruiz said.

Another silence ensued, and Ruiz imagined that he felt the weight of the factor’s disapproval. He ignored it and moved about the office, staring at the effigies that decorated the walls. Here was a daybat, its fierce raptor’s head carved from polished russet granite, with rubies set like beads of blood along the muzzle’s serrated edges. There was an arroyo lizard, with eyes of blue sapphire and teeth of amber. An obsidian Helldog wailed from a disk of gold and silver filigree.

Ruiz absorbed from these artifacts a sense of vigorous life, undiminished by civilization’s constraints. He grew uncomfortable, for reasons he could not name, and so he finally stopped looking at them.