The Golden Way (The Kestrel Chronicles Book 3) Read online

“I stayed in the apartment,” said one of the birds. “In the private space, out of sight.”

  “Why?” said Zang.

  “So the secret creche would remain a secret?” I said.

  “That’s it exactly,” said one of the birds.

  “Okay,” said Jaemon. “So the beta from the public service became the new Harken. The one that we met at the History Office.”

  “Yes,” said one of the birds.

  “But then somebody—Gebre Isaac, supposedly—killed that Harken.”

  “Right.”

  “So the secret creche made another one.”

  “That’s her,” said one of the birds, pointing her beak at the other one.

  “Yes,” said the other. “That’s me.”

  “And the public service rebuilt another one. And Erdos is going to meet her.”

  “Tell me something,” said Zang. “Why did you have a secret creche? If anything happens to you the public service will rebuild you.”

  The birds looked at each other.

  “Isaac knows where I’m archived,” said one of them. “And he’s in a position to interfere with reconstruction.”

  “What?” said Zang. “How?”

  “Ahh,” said Jaemon. “You were afraid Isaac, or whoever, would mess with your archive. That’s why Erdos was in such a hurry.”

  “She’s too late,” said Zang, shaking her head.

  “What do you mean?” I said.

  “He’s not an idiot,” she said. “If he’s killing Harken to keep her quiet then he’s not going to allow her to get right back up again. He trashed her archive before he killed her. If it’s really Isaac. And if he can really mess with her archive.”

  “So why is Erdos hurrying to the archive?” I said.

  Zang shrugged.

  “She has to. Suppose she didn’t. What if it turned out that Isaac was an idiot after all? She’d be giving him the chance to rectify his mistake. If it’s really Isaac. Which I doubt.”

  She glared at the birds.

  “She says it’s Isaac,” I said, pointing at the nearest bird.

  “I have more reason to trust Isaac than to trust Harken,” said Zang.

  “I beg your pardon,” said both birds at once.

  “Sorry, but it’s true,” said Zang. “You may have many fine qualities, Director Harken, but reliability isn’t one of them.”

  “I’m telling you he killed me,” said one of the birds.

  “Or had it done,” said the other.

  “That sounds to me like a guess,” said Zang.

  “I’ve seen how he thinks,” said one of the birds, fluffing up her feathers and eyeing the other one. Her twin fluffed her feathers, too. “How he works. He’s friendly, or he seems friendly, but it doesn’t bother him to kill people if he thinks he’ll profit.”

  “How do you know?” said Zang. “If it’s true, he’s too smart to let you stumble across it and live.”

  “I didn’t stumble across it,” said one of the Harkens. “He showed me.”

  “What do you mean he showed you?” said Zang.

  “I mean he showed me,” said one of the Harkens. “He brought me to a warehouse one night where his men were holding a couple of teamsters. He showed them some city records. One of the teamsters started to cry. Isaac took a pistol from one of his men and shot the crying man through the forehead. Then he told the other one, now you know what happens when you try to screw me. He gave the pistol back to his man. He was sort of pleasant about it. He smiled the whole time.”

  “What was in the records?” said Zang.

  “I think it was archive records,” said the bird. “I think he wiped that man’s archive.”

  Jaemon and Zang looked at each other. Zang frowned.

  Jaemon turned to the birds again. “Why did he let you see this?”

  “The same reason he let the other teamster see it, I think,” said one of them.

  “So you’d be afraid of him,” said Zang. “Why?”

  “Because we were working together,” said a Harken.

  “On what?” said Jaemon, glancing at Zang.

  The birds looked at each other.

  “I don’t know what to call it,” said one. “Isaac sometimes sent me information about cargo shipments that had come in, or that were about to come in. I answered questions about them for him. Examined some of them. Sometimes he used the museum as a place to hold things temporarily.”

  Zang sat back and blinked at the birds.

  “He was diverting cargo? To the History Office?” she said. “What for?”

  “I’m not sure,” said one of the Harkens. “He was looking for something.”

  “What?” Zang said.

  Both birds said, “I don’t know.”

  One of them continued, “But he was very interested in your artifact.”

  “What was your angle?” said Jaemon.

  “Sorry?” said one of the birds.

  “Why were you in it with him?”

  “Oh, for the money, of course,” said one of them. “He paid me well.”

  Zang frowned at them.

  “So you were working for him,” Jaemon said.

  “I suppose so,” said one of the birds.

  “How is it all of a sudden you’re so eager to answer all our questions?” said Zang. “Usually I can’t get a straight answer from you about the time of day.”

  “She’s frightened,” I said.

  “Yeah?” said Jaemon.

  “Her pulse is racing. Her skin is cold. She’s trembling. I’d say she’s in fear for her life.”

  “She should be, if she’s telling us the truth,” said Jaemon. “She claims she’s working for a calculating, cold-blooded killer who’s already murdered her twice.”

  “What for?” Zang said. “You’re the director of the local History Office. I know you’re well paid. And you live modestly, from what I’ve seen. Never seen you gambling or acting like a big spender around town. Well, forgetting the whole secret apartment and secret creche thing. But you wouldn’t need any of that if you weren’t doing something on the sly. So what do you need the money for?”

  “Yeah,” said Jaemon. “Why risk your life for money that you don’t seem to need?”

  The Harkens didn’t answer. Both of them fluffed up their feathers even more and hunkered down together, looking at anything but us.

  “Harken,” said Zang. “I’m losing my patience. If you don’t talk to us, what good are you?”

  The birds stared at her nervously.

  “Maybe we should cut her loose?” said Jaemon.

  “Cut me loose?” squeaked one of the birds.

  “What do you mean?” said the other.

  “Maybe so,” said Zang. “If she’s not talking, I don’t think we need her.”

  “You wouldn’t do that!” said one of the Harkens.

  The other said. “He’ll kill me! My creche is gone!”

  Zang shrugged expressively.

  “I wanted a seat in the Lands and Houses,” said one of the birds in a rush.

  “A seat?” said Zang.

  “An equity stake,” said the bird.

  Zang looked at Jaemon.

  “She wanted to be an equity lord,” said Jaemon.

  “What the hell for?” said Zang.

  “Good question,” said Jaemon.

  “How can you say that?” the other Harken said to Jaemon. “Your family company owns a seat, one of the oldest seats. You must understand what it means.”

  “It means somebody from the company has to show up once every fiscal cycle and listen to a lot of boring crap,” said Jaemon. “It means we have to pay a fee. Sometimes that fee has damn near bankrupted us.”

  “But you haven’t given up the seat, have you?” said one of the Harkens.

  “Nah,” said Jaemon. “I guess it’s better to keep it.”

  “Why?” said Zang.

  “Means we have a vote in the Consortium,” said Jaemon. “And in the Sureties Association.
Means we can bring cases before the Association Board. Sometimes that’s helpful.”

  “It means prestige,” said Harken. “Social standing. A connection with history.”

  Jaemon shook his head.

  “Not so much,” he said. “Besides, you can have all that without a seat. Look at Chirishchangjun.”

  “You don’t know,” said Harken. “You don’t understand. Yours is an old family, with an old seat. You don’t realize what it’s like for people who don’t have it. For those who are not pedigreed as you are.”

  “Our pedigree didn’t save our asses when Milos took a header into Jupiter,” said Jaemon. “It was Esgar who did that, Esgar and some sharp dealing and blind luck. Our seat didn’t do squat for us then.”

  “You really got involved in cargo fraud so you could buy your way into the Lands and Houses?” said Zang.

  “You don’t understand, either,” said one of the Harkens. “Your family is old and respected, too.”

  “Not anymore, it isn’t,” said Zang with a grimace. “I don’t have any family anymore.”

  “Why did Isaac kill you now?” I said.

  “I beg your pardon?” said the birds.

  “If Isaac killed you, what provoked him to do it?”

  “He killed her before,” Jaemon pointed out. “During the robbery.”

  “Yes, but he let her get back up,” I said.

  “That was supposed to be a warning,” said one of the Harkens.

  “Of what?” said Zang.

  “Of what would happen if I didn’t hold up my end of the bargain.”

  “What exactly was your end of the bargain?” Jaemon said.

  “Answering questions for Isaac about cargo. Storing pieces of interest. Keeping his secrets.”

  “So what part of the bargain did you break?” said Jaemon.

  The Harkens looked at each other nervously.

  “Our primary was getting frightened,” said one of them. “She didn’t like being investigated. When you made another appointment to see her she contacted Isaac to warn him.”

  “Nice,” said Zang, shaking her head. “But what made him decide to kill her?”

  “She may have said something to him,” said the bird.

  “Something like what?” said Jaemon.

  “She may have threatened to talk to you,” said one of the birds. “We were hoping you might protect us if we came clean.”

  “And you told him that before you told us?” said Zang. “Good thinking there, Director. Real smart move.”

  “She wasn’t thinking clearly,” said the other bird. “We were afraid. We hoped we could persuade him to stop your investigation before we were compromised.”

  “Stop it how?” said Jaemon.

  “Come on,” said Zang. “You know how.”

  She eyed the Harkens with distaste.

  “The problem is he wouldn’t have any way to get to our archives. Solomon doesn’t have them. Kestrel does.”

  “So Isaac didn’t have a way to make us stop for good,” said Jaemon.

  “Folks,” said the car. “Something that might interest you.”

  “Not now,” said Zang, still staring at the Harkens.

  “Okay,” said the car dubiously.

  “What is it?” said Jaemon.

  “We’re being followed,” said the car.

  I looked out through the glass. There were cars all around us at precise distances, just like every other time we’d gone anywhere.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” said Jaemon.

  “You wouldn’t notice it,” said the car. “But I do. That rose gold number, a couple of lengths back.”

  Sure enough, there was a shiny pink car straight behind us, past an empty cyan car. It looked like the pink one had at least four people in it.

  “How do you know it’s following us?” said Jaemon. “I mean, come on, there are a dozen cars behind us.”

  “Like I said, you wouldn’t notice, but that car is matching my movements and velocity too precisely. If I add a tenth of a meter per second, he adds a tenth of a meter per second. I drop a tenth, he drops a tenth. I move twenty centimeters left, he moves twenty centimeters left. Very precisely.”

  “What does that mean?” Zang said.

  “It means he’s trying to get my attention,” said our car.

  “Why not just talk to you?” said Jaemon.

  “My guess?” said the car. “His riders told him not to. Any idea why they would do something like that?”

  Zang and Jaemon exchanged a look.

  “Probably not because they’re our best friends,” Zang said.

  “That’s what I thought,” said the car. “My buddy back there can’t disobey his riders, not unless they actually order him to do something illegal. But if he thinks they’re up to no good he can find creative ways to interpret them.”

  “So he’s trying to warn us,” said Jaemon.

  “I think so.”

  “Tell him thanks,” said Jaemon. “Kestrel?”

  “Right here,” said our ship.

  “We’re almost back, but we think we’re bringing unfriendly company with us.”

  “I’ll tell the Captain,” said Kestrel.

  “Tell him we want to give them a warm welcome.”

  “Don’t worry, Dear.”

  26.

  The rose gold car that had been following pulled up to Kestrel’s dock close behind us.

  “Don’t open the doors just yet,” said Jaemon. We sat in our car. Our followers sat in theirs.

  Captain Esgar Rayleigh emerged from Kestrel’s gangway leading the ship’s crew. Chief Verge and Chief Engineer Burrell followed him, along with Spacers Mai and Angier and Yarrow. Provisional Spacers Oleh Itzal and Angela Cygni were with them, and Cheerfully Pyrite. All of them were armed, some with sidearms, a few with heavier weapons. It was a random sampling of Jovian kinds: four humans, two mechs, a Canine and an Ionian.

  “Wait, Esgar,” said Jaemon. “Hang back a minute.”

  He lifted his hand to our car’s window. The Captain heard him and signaled the crew. They took a few steps back, watching the visitors closely.

  “What do you have in mind?” said the Captain. We could see him speaking in the distance. The Fabric feed made it sound as if he was in the car with us.

  “I was hoping they’d get out of their car and we could catch one or two of them.”

  Our pursuers had already seen the Captain and crew, though. After a few more seconds, the rose gold car slid away from the dock and back into traffic.

  “That was never going to work,” Zang said.

  “Probably not,” said Jaemon. He sighed. He leaned forward and knocked on the car’s bulkhead. “You can let us out now. Thanks for catching that. Can we get your glyph?”

  “You already have it,” said the car. “I took you to Biru Park the other day.”

  “That was you?” said Jaemon. “Nice work. I’ll say something to the Captain about you.”

  “Thanks,” said the car. “Anything else?”

  “We’re good. Thanks again.”

  We piled out onto our dock and now the crew came forward, spreading into a curved line surrounding us. The two Harkens hopped and skipped and fluttered nervously, avoiding anyone who approached too close.

  “What are these?” said Oleh Itzal, pointing at the Harkens. “Birds?”

  Zang wearily introduced Director Harken to all the members of the crew who stood on the dock.

  “Wait,” said Oleh, “These are people?”

  “I beg your pardon,” said both Harkens. In her indignation she momentarily forgot her fears. She drew herself up in both bodies, puffed up her neck feathers, and floated on the dock, glaring at Oleh.

  “I’m sorry,” said Oleh. “I didn’t mean to offend.”

  “Well, you did, young—”

  The birds stopped and looked at each other, then at Oleh.

  “What are you, exactly?”

  Oleh winced. He was still wearing
deep red skin, orange eyes, and dark blue feathers.

  “Just a man,” he said. “A very silly man.”

  “Oleh was aboard Angel of Cygnus,” said the Captain.

  “Really?” said the Harkens. Their indignation evaporated. “The returned starship? You’re a time-traveler?”

  “What do you mean ‘time-traveler’?” Oleh said.

  “Oh, you know.” One of the Harkens fluttered dismissively. “That relativity business. Angel of Cygnus was an ancient starship, no? Turned into an idiot by some ancient corruption, if I’m not mistaken.”

  “I beg your pardon,” said Angela Cygni, jetting forward to float close to Oleh. She was a graceful humaniform mech with a chromed chassis.

  “I’m sorry,” said one of the Harkens. “I seem to have misplaced your name.”

  “Angela Cygni.”

  Jaemon leaned over and said, “Provisional Spacer Cygni used to be Angel of Cygnus.”

  “I’m sorry,” said one of the Harkens. “What?”

  “Kestrel was kind enough to offer me re-embodiment,” said Spacer Cygni.

  “But this is extraordinary,” said a Harken. “A crewman from an ancient starship, and besides that the ship herself? I have a hundred questions for you both. A thousand.”

  Oleh looked at Angela.

  “Sounds like a lot of work,” Angela said.

  “No, no, no,” said one of the Harkens.

  “We’ll have to check our duty rosters,” said Angela.

  “Can we take this inside?” said the Captain. “Those guys are gone, but they could come back. I’ll feel better with Kestrel’s hull between us and them.”

  “Yeah, don’t forget,” said Jaemon. “We’ve been asked to keep the Directors here safe and sound.”

  “Have we?” said Spacer Cygni. “Maybe I’d better put some distance between them and me.”

  She tugged at Oleh’s arm and led him back toward the gangway.

  “Wait,” said the Harkens, starting after them. “I have some questions about your idiocy. They’ll only take a moment.”

  The Captain jetted in front of the Harkens and they stopped, fluttering in place, then craned their necks around his legs. Angela Cygni and Oleh Itzal disappeared into the gangway.

  “Not much of a diplomat, are you?” said Zang.

  “What?” said a Harken. Both birds looked up at her. “No, no. My expertise is strictly historical. Hello.”