The Family Trade

“Does she, like, speak English?” Paulette sounded interested rather than perturbed, for which Miriam was immensely grateful. Brilliana was toying with her coffee and pretending not to realize Miriam was discussing her, on an intimate basis, with a talking box.

“Yeah, that’s not a problem. But this morning was the first time she’d ever met an electric shower, and that is a problem or me, because I’ve got a lot of travelling to do in the next few weeks and I need to put her where someone can keep an eye on her as she gets used to the way things are done over here. Can you do that?”

“Probably,” Paulette said briskly. “Depends if she hates my guts on first sight—or vice versa. I can’t promise more than that, can I?”

“Well—” Miriam took a deep breath. “Okay, we’re coming up today on the train. You going to be home in the afternoon?”

“For you, any day! You’ve got a lot to tell me about?”

“Everything,” Miriam said fervently. “It’s been crazy.”

“Bye, then.”

Miriam put the phone down and rubbed her eyes. Brill was watching her oddly. “Who was that?” she asked.

“Who—oh, on the phone?” Miriam glanced at it. So Brill had figured out that much? Bright girl. “A friend of mine. My, uh, business agent. On this side.” She gri

“ ‘Her’?” Brill raised an eyebrow. “All the hot water you want, no need to feed the fire, and women ru

“That seems to go with the territory,” Miriam agreed dryly.

After breakfast she chivvied Brill into getting dressed again. Her tailored suit and blouse would blend into the background just fine: another business traveller in the heart of New York. Miriam thought for a moment, then picked another jacket—this time a dressy one rather than one built for bad weather. She’d have to keep her pistol in her handbag, but she’d look more in keeping with Brill, and hopefully it would distract any killers hunting for a lone woman in her early thirties with thus-and-such features.

Miriam took the large suitcase when they left the room and headed downstairs. Brill’s eyes kept swivelling at everything from telephones to cigarette ads, but she kept her questions to herself as Miriam shepherded her into a nearby bank for ten minutes, then flagged down a taxi. “What was that about?” Brill murmured after Miriam told the driver where to go.

“Needed to take care of some money business,” Miriam replied. “Angbard gave me a line on some credit, but—” she stopped, shrugged. I’m talking Martian again, she realized.

“You’ll have to tell me how this credit thing works some time,” Brill commented. “I don’t think I’ve actually seen a coin since I came here. Do people use them?”

“Not much. Which makes some things easier—it’s harder to steal larger amounts—and other things more difficult—like transferring large quantities of money to someone else without it being noticed.”

“Huh.” Brill stared out of the window at the passing traffic, the pedestrians in their dark winter colours, and the bright advertisements. “It’s so noisy! How do you get any thinking done?”

“Sometimes it’s hard,” Miriam admitted.

She bought two tickets to Boston and shepherded Brill onto the express train without incident. They found a table a long way from anyone else without difficulty, which turned out to be a good thing, because Brill was unable to control her surprise when the train began to move. “It’s so different!” she squeaked, taken aback.

“It’s called a train.” Miriam pointed out of the window. “Like that one, only faster and newer and built for carrying passengers. Where we’re going is within a day’s walk of Angbard’s palace, but it’ll only take us three hours to get there.”

Brilliana stared at the passing freight train. “I’ve seen movies,” she said quietly. “You don’t need to assume I’m stupid, ignorant. But it’s not the same as being here.”

“I’m sorry.” Miriam shook her head, embarrassed. She looked at Brill thoughtfully. She was doing a good job of bluffing, even though the surprises the world kept throwing at her must sometimes have been overwhelming. A bright kid, well-educated for her place in time, but out of her depth here—How would I cope if someone gave me a ticket to the thirtieth century? Miriam wondered. At a guess, there’d be an outburst of anger soon, triggered by something trivial—the realization that this wasn’t fairyland but a real place, and she’d grown up among people who lived here and withheld everything in it from her. I wonder which way she’ll jump?

Opposite her, Brilliana’s face froze. “What is it?” Miriam asked quietly.

“The… the second row of thrones behind you—that’s interesting. I’ve seen that man before. Black hair, dark suit.”

“Where?” Miriam whispered, tensing. Feeling for her shoulder bag, the small pistol buried at the bottom of it. No, not on a train…

“At court. He is a corporal of honour in service to Angbard. Called Edger something. I’ve seen him a couple of times in escort to one or another of the duke’s generals. I don’t think he’s recognized me. He is reading one of those intelligence papers the tinkers were selling at the palace of trains.”

“Hmm.” Miriam frowned. “Did you see any luggage when he got onboard? Anything he carried? Describe him.”

“There is a trunk with a handle, like yours, only it looks like metal. He has it beside him and places one hand on it every short while.”

“Ah.” Miriam relaxed infinitesimally. “Okay, I think I’ve got a handle on it. Is the case about the same size as mine?”

Brill nodded slowly, her eyes focused past Miriam’s left shoulder.

“That means he’s probably a courier,” Miriam said quietly. “At a guess, Angbard has him carry documents daily between his palace and Manhattan. That explains why he spends so little time at court himself—he can keep his finger on the pulse far faster than the non-Clan courtiers realize. If I’m right, he’ll be carrying a report about last night, among other things.” She raised a finger to her lips. “Trouble is, if I’m right, he’s armed and certainly dangerous to approach. And if I’m wrong, he’s not a courier. He’s going to wait for the train to stop, then try to kill us.” Miriam closed her hand around the barrel of her pistol, then stopped. No, that’s the wrong way to solve this, she thought. Instead she pulled out her wallet and a piece of paper and began writing.

Brilliana leaned forward. “He’s doing it again,” she murmured. “I think there’s something in his jacket. Under his arm. He looks uncomfortable.”

“Right.” Miriam nodded, then shoved the piece of paper across the table at Brill. There was a pair of fifty-dollar bills and a train ticket concealed under it. “Here is what we’re going to do. In a minute, you’re going to stand up while he isn’t looking and walk to the other end of this carriage—behind you, over there, where the doors are. If—” she swallowed—“if things go wrong, don’t try anything heroic. Just get off the train as soon as it stops, hide in the crowd, make damn sure he doesn’t see you. There’ll be another train through in an hour. Your ticket is valid for travel on it, and you want to get off in Cambridge. Go out of the station, tell a cab driver you want to go to this address, and pay with one of these notes, the way you saw me do it. He’ll give you change. It’s a small house; the number is on the front of the door. Go up to it and tell the woman who lives there that I sent you and I’m in trouble. Then give her this.” Miriam pushed another piece of paper across the table at her. “After a day, tell Paulette to use the special number I gave her. That’s all. Think you can do that?”

Brill nodded mutely. “What are you going to do now?” she asked quietly.