Carnival

“New Amazonia turns out to be a hotbed of political unrest.” Vincent scratched the back of his neck, wincing. Kusanagi‑Jones had to lace both hands around the glass in front of his groin to keep from reaching to stop Vincent’s hand as he said, “Who’d guess? But Lesa hasn’t told you the best part.”

Kusanagi‑Jones lifted his chin. “Suspense is killing me.”

“As I mentioned in the car, Robert’s vanished. The bad news is, he was the primary contact between Vincent and myself. Unfortunately, he was also working for Elder Kyoto, who, we learned last night, is secretly involved in a radical male‑rights movement called Parity.”

“Who wants in on the conspiracy.”

“She’s in,” Vincent replied. Kusanagi‑Jones gave him the dirtiest look he could manage, and Vincent met it bold‑faced.

“Nice private little junta you’ve whipped up.”

“It’s what you call an arrangement of convenience,” Vincent said. “The bad news is, Robert is missing–”

“And Robert knows about all three of you.”

“And my mother,” Lesa said. “Who is not, however, aware that we’re hoping to rearrange New Amazonia’s social order quite as much as we are.”

“And it’s safe to talk about this in her house?”

Lesa smiled. “My security priorities are higher than hers.”

Vincent straightened, moving stiffly. “Ur’s prepared to go to war, if necessary. This doesn’t have to stay secret long.”

Kusanagi‑Jones shook his head. He suspected that if he were even remotely psychologically normal, he shouldhave been feeling worry, even panic. But it was excitement that gripped him, finally, the narrow color‑brightening focus of a purpose. “I’ve hopped a cresting wave.”

Vincent smiled. “Something like that. We’re committing treason against two governments; everybody with a grudge can ride. Do you think your Free Earth contacts can help?”

“Depends what the plan is.”

“What was yours?”

“Sabotage. Prevent Earth from getting its hands on the technology by any means necessary. Very straightforward. Easy enough for a lone operative to accomplish.”

Lesa looked up. “What made you go to Vincent, then?”

“Vincent knows. He’s satisfied.” Well, he knew the hasty outline at least, Kusanagi‑Jones having filled him in quickly about Kii’s ultimatum before they decided to bring the challenge to Miss Pretoria’s attention. Hadn’t been time for details.

“Anyway,” Kusanagi‑Jones continued, when Lesa had been staring at him for a little longer than was comfortable. “How many factions arethere in the New Amazonian government?”

“That I’m aware of?” She shrugged, too. “For current players, we have to count all of us, Parity, whoever Robert is working for, the isolationists, the appeasement faction, and the separatists, who want the males– allthe males–off New Amazonia. And whoever it was who tried to kidnap Vincent, whoever attempted to assassinate Claude–”

“Though there may be overlap.” Vincent made a face. “Do we at least have a DNA type on that woman you wounded yesterday?”

“Take at least a week,” she said, and Kusanagi‑Jones wasn’t sure if he or Vincent looked more startled. “Backwater colony, remember? As you were so eager to point out to us just the other night. Besides, genetic research is a very touchy subject here.”

A pained silence followed. Vincent cleared his throat. “Anyway, our plan was a little more complex.”

“It always is.” But Kusanagi‑Jones lifted his glass to his lips and drank, politely attentive. “You had said something about fomenting revolution.”

“Revolution here. Eventually,” Lesa said.

“If you’re busy fighting a civil war–”

“ Afterwe bring our support to a rebellion on Coalition‑controlled worlds. That means replacing the government, but we do that every three years anyway, and if we make Claude look bad enough, when we call for a vote of no confidence we’ll get it. The Coalition’s advances come in handy, actually. There’s nothing like an external enemy to unify political opponents.” She smiled. “You can even send home reports that you’re working to weaken Claude’s administration, and be telling the truth.”

Kusanagi‑Jones rubbed the side of his nose. “The other issue. Robert.”

Lesa nodded, biting her lip.

“He knows all this?”

“We’ll bring him in. Don’t worry. If he’d gone to Claude, I’d be in custody, and she wouldn’t be trying to discredit you.”

Kusanagi‑Jones snorted. “Unless she’s waiting to see who else we implicate. You suppose diplomatic immunity will keep Singapore’s people from shooting us as spies?”

“Depends,” Vincent said, “on how badly they want a war.”

Later, after a more in‑depth discussion of the details of alliance with Lesa, Vincent paced the bedroom while Angelo curled, catnapping, on the bed. Angelo was breathing in that low, gulping fashion that meant nightmares, but Vincent set his jaw and didn’t wake him. He needed the sleep too much, no matter how poor its quality.

And Vincent needed the time to think.

Axiomatically, there came a point in any secret action where the plan failed and the operative was left to improvise. And when that happened, the best option was a lotof options. He wasn’t about to close off any doors until he had to–with Lesa, or with Kyoto.

Or with Michelangelo.

Angelo’s second report on Kii had been more detailed, including not just the ultimatum, but some of Angelo’s conjectures as to what “Consent” might be. Enough to set Vincent’s fingers twitching. Angelo’s revelations about the city’s resident–Transcendent–Dragon were the most interesting development, especially when combined with the unforeseen complication of having taken refuge in Pretoria house.

While their temporary accommodation was restful, with the storm passed and the walls revealing a panoramic view of expanses of jungle canopy, seen from above, it was also inconveniently far from the gallery. And the interface room Michelangelo had discovered there.

And Angelo thought Vincent should talk to Kii.

Vincent was disinclined to argue. What an intoxicating idea: an alien–a realalien. A creature of mythic resonance.

Intoxicating, and terrifying. Vincent wasn’t remotely qualified to handle this. And there was the practical problem of how to get there without telling Lesa about the Dragon in her basement, since Angelo seemed to think she didn’t already know. He paced slowly, trying to make the space he had to walk in seem longer, and became aware that Angelo had awakened only when he spoke.

“Should ask to examine the crime scene in the morning.” He sat up as Vincent turned to him, leveling his breathing. He didn’t look any more rested.

“Dreams?” Vincent asked. Angelo dismissed the question with one of his sideways gestures, as if deflecting a blow, but Vincent leaned forward and gave him the eyebrow.

“ Skidbladnir,if you must know.” Angelo turned away, not bothering to hide the lie. “Can we be transferred back to our original rooms tonight? For convenience’ sake?”

“Once you’ve accepted Elder Singapore’s challenge.”

“Once Miss Pretoria has accepted it for me,” he replied, leaning back on his elbows. “How’s your back?”

“It hurts,” Vincent said. “But improving. I think the docs are getting some purchase on it.” He used their private cha

“Pretty silly if he were.”

“So he probably knows what happened to the statue.”

Angelo was out of bed before Vincent realized he was standing. “He probably knows all sorts of things. The question is, if he’s ethical, will he sharethem?”

Volley and return. Sometimes surprising things came up that way. Vincent batted it back. “How do you suppose his ethics stack up to ours? Do you think they have anything in common?”

Angelo paused, scuffing one foot across the carpetplant. “He’ll avoid the u