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“With each passing moment I’m getting happier that you have joined me,” he said, and showed me all of his ragged teeth in an expression he must have thought was a grin. “The Old Duke’s men wear red livery, as you undoubtedly know…”
“And the Old Duke is the strongest supporter of Villelm IX,” I finished for him. “It wouldn’t hurt in the slightest if he had a falling out with the King.”
“Not the slightest,” Rdenrundt echoed, and showed me all of his teeth again. I was begi
Something came in through the door and I recoiled, thinking the war was on. It was only a robot, but it made such a hideous amount of hissing and clanking that I wondered what was wrong with it. The Count ordered the ghastly thing to wheel over the bar, as it turned away I saw what could have been a chimney projecting behind one shoulder. There was the distinct odor of coal smoke in the air.
“Does that robot burn coal—““ Igurgled.
“It does,” the Count said, pouring us out a pair of drinks. “It is a perfect example of what is wrong with the Freiburian economy under the gracious rule of Villelm the Incompetent. You don’t see any robots like this in the capital!”
“I should hope not,” I gasped, staring bug-eyed at the trickle of steam escaping from the thing, and the stains of rust and coal dust on its plates. “Of course I’ve been away a long time… things change…”
“They don’t change fast enough! And don’t act galactic-wise with me, Diebstall. I’ve been to Misteldross and seen how the rubes live. You have no robots at all—much less a contraption like this. “ He kicked at the thing in sullen anger and it staggered back a bit, valves clicking open as steam pumped into the leg pistons to straighten it up. “Two hundred years come next Grundlovsday we will have been in the League, milked dry and pacified by them—and for what?To provide luxuries for the King in Freiburbad.While out here we get a miserable consignment of a few robot brains and some control circuitry. We have to build the rest of the inefficient monsters ourselves. And out in the real sticks where you come from they think robot is a misspelling of a boat that goes with oars!”
He drained his glass and I made no attempt to explain to him the economics of galactic commerce, planetary prestige, or the multifold levels of intercommunication. This lost planet had been cut off from the mainstream of galactic culture for maybe a thousand years, until contact had been reestablished after the Breakdown. They were being eased back into the culture gradually, without any violent repercussions that might upset the process. Sure, a billion robots could be dumped here tomorrow. What good would that do the economy? It was certainly much better to bring in the control units and let the locals build the things for themselves. If they didn’t like the final product they could improve the design instead of complaining.
The Count of course didn’t see it this way. Angelina had done a nice job at playing upon his prejudices and desires. He was still glaring at the robot when he leaned forward and suddenly tapped a dial on the thing’s side.
“Look at that!” he shouted.“Down to eighty pounds pressure!Next thing you know the thing will be falling on its face and burning the place down. Stoke, you idiot—stoke!!”
A couple of relays closed inside the contraption and the robot clanked and put the tray of glasses down. I took a very long drag on my drink and enjoyed the scene. Trundling over to the fireplace—at a slower pace now I’ll admit—it opened a door in its stomach and flame belched out. Using the coal scoop in the pail it shoveled in a good portion of anthracite and banged the firedoor shut again. Rich black smoke boiled from its chimney. At least it was housebroken and didn’t shake out its grate here.
“Outside, dammit, outside!” the Count shouted, coughing at the same time. The smoke was a little thick. I poured another drink and decided right then that I was going to like Rdenrundt.
I would have liked it a lot better if I could have found Angelina. This whole affair bore every sign of her light touch, yet she was nowhere in sight. I was shown to a room and met some of the officers on the Count’s staff. One of them, Kurt, a youth of noble lineage but no money, showed me around the grounds. The place was a cross between a feudal keep and a small town, with a high wall cutting it off from the city proper. There appeared to be no obvious signs of the Count’s plans, outside of the number of armed retainers who lounged about and practiced uninterestedly in the shooting ranges. It all looked too peaceful to be true—yet I had been brought here. That was no accident. I tried a little delicate questioning and Kurt was frank with his answers. Like a lot of the far-country gentry be bore a grudge against the central authorities, although he would of course never have gotten around to doing anything about it on his own. Somehow he had been recruited and was ready to go along with the plans, all of which were very vague to him. I doubt if he had ever seen a corpse. That he was telling me the truth about everything was obvious when I caught him in his first lie.
We had passed some women and bent a knee, and Kurt had volunteered the advice that they were the wives of two of the other officers.
“And you’re married too?” I asked.
“No. Never had the time, I guess. Now I suppose it’s too late, at least for awhile. When this whole business is over and life is a little more peaceful there’ll be plenty of time to settle down.”
“How right,” I agreed. “What about the Count? Is he married? I’ve been away so many years that it’s hard to keep track of that kind of thing.Wives, children and such.”Without being obvious I was watching him when I asked this, and he gave a little start.
“Well… yes, you might say. I mean the Count was married, but there was an accident, he’s not married now…” His voice tapered away and he drew my attention to something else, happy to leave the topic.
Now if there is one thing that always marks Angelina’s trail it is a corpse or two. It took no great amount of inspiration to co
Angelina made her move first. One of the coal-burning robots came hissing and clanking around with a message. The Count would like to see me. I slicked my hair, tucked in my shirt and reported for duty.
I was pleased to see that the Count was a steady and solitary daytime drinker. In addition, there was very little tobacco in his cigarette; the sweet smoke filled the room. All this meant he was due for early dissolution, and I would not be numbered among his mourners. None of this showed in my expression or attitude of course. I was all flashing eye and hell-cracking attention.
“Is it action, sir? Is that why you sent for me?” I asked.
“Sit down, sit down,” he mumbled, waving me towards a chair. “Relax. Want a cigarette?” He pushed the box towards me and I eyed the thin brown cylinders with distaste.