Trickster. Part 25

"It's all arranged, sir!" Kendi pushed him with comic severity back to the audience tunnel. "Quickly! You have no idea the trouble I went through. I can't allow you to miss this! Remember--seat A7. Hurry!"

Roon turned and said, "Then I thank you again. Really, Mr. Qiwele, this is too much. You must come for dinner some time. How about tomorrow evening at nine?"

"I would love to come for dinner," Kendi lied, "but I don't remember off-hand if I'm free. I shall call you."

Huge applause and cheers burst through the tunnel. Kendi suppressed the urge to drag Roon back to the bleachers and plunk him down on the seat. Roon shook Kendi's hand one more time and finally--finally--turned back to the arena. Kendi watched him go, praying that nothing else would go wrong.

"And now," shouted the ringmaster, "we have a special event."

Edsard Roon picked his way up the narrow walkway between bleachers and sat next to his family with a nod. They didn't respond. Mrs. Roon and the children hadn't spoken much since the performance had begun. Not even Janni, the youngest, kicked his feet or whined. Edsard's little section of bleacher was blue with "A7" painted on it. It wasn't that comfortable, but he had refused to bring any kind of cus.h.i.+on or pillow that might interfere with the authenticity of the experience. And a gloriously perfect experience it had been so far.

In fact, it so far had been a gloriously perfect day, exactly what he'd needed to take his mind off the Collection and its a.s.sorted problems. The Children of Irfan were involved now, and that made Roon nervous. He didn't like leaving Todd on board their s.h.i.+p and was beginning to regret not ordering security to simply grab the entire vessel. However he did have to admit that Todd had had a point, self-serving though it was. Todd could prove to be an effective mole, and if Roon played everything right, those busybody monks would walk right into his Collection.

"I hold here a bucket of chips," Valeta Kalopolis was saying. "Each chip has a seat number painted on it. The person whose seat I draw will receive a special treat--the chance to come backstage and be made up as a clown for the final act in the show. Are you ready?"

More cheering. Edsard's mouth fell open and every thought about the Collection fled his mind. This must be Qiwele's surprise. He had arranged for the ringleader to call out seat A7, no matter what chip she drew. Connections, indeed! Edsard's childhood dream would at last come true. Qiwele was a genius, a prince among men. He would have to give the man a gift of some kind, perhaps even one of the Wimpales. After all, Edsard had five of them and Qiwele had done so much for-- "I do hope they pick me," little Janni said to his sister Mietje. His voice was so low, Edsard was surprised he had heard it. He was also surprised to hear such a thing coming from Janni. The child had shown no interest in the circus before, not the same level of interest Edsard himself showed, at any rate. Indeed, Ruurd, the oldest boy, and Mietje both didn't seem to care one way or the other. But Janni's pale eyes were bright with hope as he perched on his bleacher. Edsard frowned and played idly with the key chain that hung around his neck. Fatherhood wasn't his strength, and Edsard generally stayed out of the children's lives. After all, he had primarily decided to have them in order to complete the family picture, make himself seem more stable to Silent Acquisitions and a likelier candidate for promotion. The children were Mrs. Roon's bailiwick and he left all the decisions regarding their care to her.

But now a bit of paternal interest stirred. He remembered seeing his first circus with his own father and the utter enchantment the performance had wrought. Was Janni going through the same thing?

Perhaps Edsard owed it to his own father to find out.

"And our winner is--" The ringleader stared down at the chip she had drawn and paused for effect "--seat A7!"

Another cheer went up. On impulse, Edsard grabbed the startled Janni and hoisted him aloft. "That's my son!" he shouted. "The seat belongs to my son!"

Clown Ben spun around from his position at the dressing room door. "He's coming, he's coming!"

Kendi ducked behind a wall hanging. Originally he'd planned to take part in this stage, but Roon would recognize him even in clown makeup, so he had been forced to leave it in the hands of Ben and Gretchen.

The room was long and narrow. A series of dressing tables with lighted mirrors lined one of the walls and racks of costumes lined the other. Silly props and floppy shoes were scattered everywhere. The whole place smelled of cloth and makeup. Gretchen, still in her clown costume, had already laid out a makeup case at one of the mirrors and stood at the ready. There were no other joeys in the room--Valeta had arranged for privacy. Vidya and Prasad were, Kendi presumed, still watching the show.

"Hold it!" Ben whispered. He was peeking around the door frame again. "He has a boy with him. G.o.d--it's his son!"

"His son?" Gretchen echoed. "What the h.e.l.l?"

Kendi's stomach lurched. Why was Roon bringing his son?

Valeta entered the room, leading Roon and a pale boy who looked about five or six. Kendi, who had tailed Roon and his family countless times, instantly recognized Janni Roon.

"Moogoo, Bobo, this is Mr. Edsard Roon," Val said gaily, though Kendi could hear the strain in her voice. "And this is Master Janni Roon. Janni is the winner of the clown drawing. Can you make him up, please? I have to get back to the ring."

In a flash Kendi understood what had happened. Roon had decided to hand his prize over to his son. He gritted his teeth. Kendi hadn't counted on Roon being anything but a self-serving b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Obviously that wasn't entirely the case. A harsh lesson to learn, Ara would have said. Now what?

Roon was pumping Val's hand. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Kalopolis. A true pleasure."

Val nodded to him and, with a parting glance at Ben and Gretchen, vanished out the door.

"Well, Janni," Gretchen said slowly, "why don't you have a seat here and we'll get to work. How do you like the idea of being a clown for day?"

Janni didn't answer. He just looked up at Gretchen with shy, pale eyes.

"I think he's too excited to talk," Roon said with a smile. "Should he remove his s.h.i.+rt?"

Ben started to speak, but his voice cracked. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Yes. Here, Janni, we'll hang it up just like this. How do you like the show so far?"

"It's great!" Janni said at last. "Are you a real clown?"

"I sure am," Ben replied. "I started up when I was about your age."

"What do I have to do out there?"

"It'll be really easy. All you'll have to do is ride the elephant and wave."

Janni squirmed with joy. "I get to ride an elephant elephant?"

"Sure do. Now, what colors would you like for your makeup?"

He set to work spreading a white base over Janni's face. Gretchen, meanwhile, pulled a data pad out of her pocket and called up a text file on the holographic screen. Kendi stared at Janni's thin chest. It was supposed to be Roon who took off his s.h.i.+rt. But Edsard Roon was standing nearby, s.h.i.+rt still on his body, key firmly out of reach. Kendi bit his lower lip until he tasted blood. The entire plan stood in ruins. He had dragged the Emporium halfway across the galaxy for nothing. There had to be a way to get that key here and now. But even if Kendi could think of a plan, there would be no way for him to implement it. He wanted to punch Roon in the face and take the key by force.

Maybe that was the solution. Maybe once Janni had left, Kendi could knock Roon over the head and hold him prisoner on the Poltergeist Poltergeist with Isaac Todd. If Roon couldn't alert the Collection that he had lost his key, the Collection wouldn't know to-- with Isaac Todd. If Roon couldn't alert the Collection that he had lost his key, the Collection wouldn't know to-- "Mr. Roon," Gretchen said, interrupting Kendi's chain of thought, "I'll need you to sign this waiver of liability. Just a formality, but you know how it goes." She held out the data pad to him.

"Of course, of course," Roon said, not taking his eyes off Janni. "Not a problem." He moved to take the pad.

"Oh! Wait a minute." Gretchen took the pad back before Roon could touch it. "G.o.d, what was I thinking? We can't do this. Mr. Roon, your son is a minor. He can't go out into the ring by himself, and he certainly can't ride an elephant."

Janni, whose face was almost completely covered in white base by now, twisted in his chair to face her. "I can't? Why not?"

"What do you mean?" Roon said.

"It's a legal thing on SA Station," Gretchen replied vaguely. "We can't have unaccompanied minors ride animals on the arena floor. Too dangerous."

"You'll be with him, won't you?" Roon said. "And Ms. Kalopolis said I'd be able to watch from the sidelines."

"Ms. Kalopolis doesn't have the legal background I do," Gretchen countered. "And I double as legal counsel for the Emporium. I'm afraid the other performers can't act in loco parentis in loco parentis in these circ.u.mstances. Station regulations. I looked them up before we docked." in these circ.u.mstances. Station regulations. I looked them up before we docked."

"But I want to be a clown," Janni said, his eyes filling with tears. "I want to ride the elephant."

"Sorry, kid," Gretchen said. "It's just impossible. You can't go out there alone."

"What if I went with him?" Roon said suddenly.

Kendi held his breath.

"What do you mean?" Gretchen asked.

"What if I went along? You could dress me up as a clown, too, and we'll both ride the elephant. It'll solve the whole problem."

Gretchen paused, then shook her head. "Won't work. Union rules, you know. And we only advertised one clown winner per show. I don't want the Emporium to be brought up on charges of false advertising."

"Aw, come on, Bobo," Ben said. "We can't disappoint this kid. Who's going to know if we don't tell anyone? No one'll even recognize Mr. Roon here, so the union won't say anything. Have a heart."

"Please, Ms. Bobo?" Janni quavered. "Please?"

Gretchen paused, as if thinking it over. Kendi clenched his fists.

"Well . . . all right," she grumbled at last. "But I'm adding a gag order to this waiver. Sign here."

With a grin, Roon scribbled his signature with the stylus and set the pad back in Gretchen's gloved hand. She set it carefully aside and turned to Roon. "Let's get that s.h.i.+rt off, then, Mr. Roon. We'll have to work fast if we want to make the final act."

Still grinning and no doubt gloating that he was about to both have and eat his cake, Roon complied. The key glittered on the chain around his neck. When Gretchen reached for it, however, he snapped a hand over it.

"I can't take this off," he said. "That's non-negotiable."

"Not a problem," Gretchen soothed. Kendi saw her slip another hand into her pocket. "But I do need you to close your eyes so I can do your lids. Don't open them unless you want a makeup pencil in your cornea. Ready?"

Half an hour later, Ben led the new clowns, one tall and one short, out of the dressing room and down to the elephant bay. Both Roons were chatting excitedly. The moment they were out of earshot, Kendi emerged from behind the wall hanging.

"Gretchen, I could kiss you," he said, and swept her into a hug instead. "You were brilliant."

"All right, all right," she said gruffly, though there was a note of pride in her voice. "Put me down before Ben sees you and gets jealous."

Still laughing, Kendi obeyed. "Where's the copycat? I'll take it and the data pad back to the s.h.i.+p."

"Right here. And don't touch the pad without gloves on or you'll ruin Roon's prints. Put it in this bag."

Kendi obeyed, then looked thoughtfully at the doorway. "You know, we made Roon's fondest dream come true, and he's the biggest b.a.s.t.a.r.d in the universe."

"Then we'll do our best," Gretchen replied, "to turn it all into a nightmare."

The coughing fit doubled Bedj-ka over so fast, he almost smacked his forehead on the dinner table. Harenn quickly swallowed a spicy mouthful of minced lamb and set her flat bread down. The galley was empty at the moment. Kendi, Ben, and Gretchen hadn't returned from the circus yet, and Lucia was deep in some kind of meditation in her quarters, leaving Harenn and her son the run of the s.h.i.+p.

"Are you all right, my son?" she asked with concern.

Bedj-ka stopped coughing and reached for his water gla.s.s. Before he could get it to his mouth, he sneezed. Water sprayed everywhere.

"Bedj-ka!" Harenn said. "Are you ill?"

"I'm okay," he mumbled.

"That is not what 'okay' sounds like." She slid around to his side of the table and put a hand on his forehead. It was warmer than Harenn would have liked. "Do you feel sick to your stomach? Dizzy? Tired?"

"I'm okay, Mom," he insisted. "I'm not sick."

"I will determine that. Do you want to finish your supper first, or should we visit the medical bay now?"

"I'm not sick," Bedj-ka insisted again, though his argument was weakened by another wet sneeze. "You don't need to put me to bed or pray over me."

Harenn, halfway through the act of rising from the table, halted. "Pray over you?"

"I didn't do anything wrong, did I?" His voice was thick, as if he were about to cry. Confused, Harenn sat down again and put an arm around him.

"Bedj-ka, what is the matter? Tell me what is wrong and we will try to fix it."

"I'm sick . . . because . . . because I sinned," he gulped. "But I don't know what I did. Was it the books? Or that I got mad at Sister Gretchen?"

A slow, angry burn started behind Harenn's eyes. "Bedj-ka, is this what the Enclave taught you? That sickness is punishment for a sin?"

He nodded up at her, his face a picture of misery. She hugged him hard, wanting to lash out at these people who had done this to her son. How could they teach such a dreadful thing?

"You are sick because you encountered a virus," she said, forcing her voice to remain steady. "No other reason. And here is what will happen. We will go down to the medical bay. I will run tests to determine the structure of your pathogen. I will make you an anti-viral. By morning, you will be well again."

"I will?" He sounded startled.

"Indeed. And I will hear no more nonsense about sin making you--"

"Harenn, are you there?" It was Kendi's voice. She tapped her earpiece.

"I am here, but a bit busy. Is this important?"

"Sorry to interrupt, but it is. We got Roon's key with him none the wiser. I need you to have Todd drugged and ready to talk by the time I get back because we need more information about the Collection's security procedures. And then we need to have a . . . conversation." He gave further instructions, and Harenn had to force herself to listen. Bedj-ka waited, his silence puncuated with the occasional cough and sneeze. He gave further instructions, and Harenn had to force herself to listen. Bedj-ka waited, his silence puncuated with the occasional cough and sneeze.

"I will have everything ready," Harenn said when Kendi finished. "Though I must also examine Bedj-ka. I think he's come down with a virus."

"Poor kid! Is it bad or can he wait until we're done with Todd?"

"I will have to run a viral a.n.a.lysis for Bedj-ka to determine his treatment, so it would be better if we took care of Todd first."

"Then I'll come down directly."

"Bedj-ka, I want you to wait in our quarters until I call you," Harenn said. "And then we'll have a long talk about stupid people and stupid beliefs."

The hazy fog cleared from Isaac Todd's mind so abruptly it felt like he had fallen to the medical bay bed. He stared up at the white ceiling above him and felt slightly chilly, as he always did after one of these interrogation sessions. Oddly enough, he didn't feel any fear. Every other time the b.i.t.c.h's dose of hypnoral had worn off, he had come out of it feeling like he had just awoken from a horrible nightmare. This time, however, he felt clear-headed and awake. He was about to say something when he realized people were talking.