Mirror Dance

“You should have crashed that lightflyer.”

A noise from under the pillow might have been either a groan or a curse. He had probably mentioned that regret a few too many times.

When the door clicked open he spun as if scalded.

A guard half-saluted, politely. “Baron Bharaputra’s compliments, ma’am, sir, and would you prepare to join him and the Baro

The Bharaputras’ dining room had large glass doors giving a view onto an enclosed, winter-frosted garden, and a big guard by every exit. The garden glimmered in the gathering gloom; they had been here a full Jacksonian day, then, twenty-six hours and some odd minutes. Vasa Luigi rose at their entry, and at his gesture the guards faded back to positions outside the doors, giving an illusion of privacy.

The dining room was arranged stylishly, with individual couches and little tables set in a tiered semi-circle around the view of the garden. A very familiar-looking woman sat on one of the couches.

Her hair was white streaked with black, and wound up in elaborate braids around her head. Dark eyes, thin ivory skin softening with tiny wrinkles, a high-bridged nose—Dr. Durona. Again. She was dressed in a fine flowing silk shirt in a pale green perhaps accidentally reminiscent of the color of the Durona lab coats, and soft trousers the color of cream. Dr. Lotus Durona, Baro

“Rowan, dear,” she nodded; she held out a hand as if Rowan might give it a courtier’s kiss.

“Lotus,” said Rowan flatly, and compressed her lips. Lotus smiled and turned her hand over, converting it into an invitation to sit, which they all did.

Lotus touched a control pad at her place, and a girl wearing Bharaputra brown and pink silks entered, and served drinks, to the Baron first, curtseying with lowered eyes before him. A very familiar-looking girl, tall and willowy, with a high-bridged nose, fine straight black hair bound at her nape and flowing in a horse-tail down her back… . When she made her offering to the Baro

When she bowed before him, her frown deepened. “You … !” she whispered, as if amazed.

“Run along, Lilly dear, don’t gawk,” said the Baro

As she left the room, with a swaying walk, she glanced covertly back over her shoulder at them.

“Lilly?” Rowan choked. “You named her Lilly?”

“A small revenge.”

Rowan’s hands clenched in deep offense. “How can you? Knowing what you are? Knowing what we are?”

“How can you choose death over life?” The Baro

“Lilly loved you as a daughter.”

“Lilly used me as her servant. Love?” The Baro

Rowan assimilated the point. She looked unhappy. But she didn’t disagree.

Vasa Luigi cleared his throat. “Actually, Dr. Durona, you wouldn’t have to travel to the far reaches of the galaxy for a place of your own. House Bharaputra could find a use for your talents and training. And perhaps even a little autonomy. Head of a department, for example. And later, who knows?—maybe even a division.”

“No. Thank you.” Rowan bit out.

The Baron shrugged. Did the Baro

He interrupted urgently, “Baron—was it really Ryoval’s squad who took Admiral Naismith? Do you know where?”

“Well, now, that’s an interesting question,” Vasa Luigi murmured, eyeing him. “I’ve been trying to contact Ry all day, without success. I suspect that wherever Ry is, your clone-twin is also—Admiral.”

He took a deep breath. “Why do you think I am the Admiral, sir?”

“Because I met the other one. Under telling circumstances. I don’t think the real Admiral Naismith would permit his bodyguard to give him orders—do you?”

His head was aching. “What’s Ryoval doing to him?”

“Really, Vasa, this is not di

“ ’Miles, what have you done with your baby brother?’ ” The quote came from nowhere, fell out of his mouth. He touched his lips uncertainly. Rowan stared at him. So did Lotus.

Vasa Luigi said, “As to your question, Admiral, it turns on whether Ry has come to the same conclusions as I did. If he has—likely he’s not doing much. If he hasn’t, his methods will depend upon your clone-twin.”

“I … don’t understand.”

“Ryoval will study him. Experiment. His choice of actions will flow from his analysis of his subject’s personality.”

That didn’t sound so bad. He pictured multiple-choice tests. He frowned, bewildered.

“Ry is an artist, in his way,” continued the Baron. “He can create the most extraordinary psychological effects. I’ve seen him turn an enemy into a slave utterly devoted to his person, who will obey any order. The last man who attempted to assassinate him and had the misfortune to live ended up serving drinks at Ryoval’s private parties, and begging to offer gratification of any kind to any guest on request.”

“What did you ask for?” the Baro

“White wine. It was before your time, love. I watched, though. The man had the most haunted eyes.”

“Are you considering selling me to Ryoval?” he asked slowly.

“If he’s the highest bidder, Admiral. Your and your clone-twin’s raid upon my property—and I am still not certain you did not plan it together from first to last—was very costly to my House. And,” his eyes glinted, “personally a

The girl returned, served little plates of hors d’ouvers, refreshed their drinks, some wine-and-fruit concoction, and wafted out again. Slowly. Vasa Luigi’s eyes followed her. The Baro

“What about … the Dendarii Mercenaries, as a bidder?” Yes! Just let Bharaputra make that offer, and the Dendarii would come knocking on his door. With a plasma ca

“Their resources are too finite, I fear. And not here.”

“We saw them. Yesterday.”

“A mere covert ops team. No ships. No back-up. I understand they only revealed their identity at all in order to get Lilly to talk with them. But … I have reason to believe there is another player in this game. My instincts twitch, looking at you. I have the oddest urge to take a modest middleman’s profit, and let the negative bidders apply to House Ryoval.” The Baron chuckled.

Negative bidder? Oh. People with plasma ca