The Summer Thieves Page 13

  The ship settled to Verano’s sweet turf. In brief course it disgorged a lone occupant, a man. The unimposing fellow was short and fussy-looking, dressed with no style. He squinted against the mild light, as if he regarded all of nature as a crafty shyster.

  Spotting Johrun, the visitor trotted over. He offered his limp hand perfunctorily.

  “Vir Corvivios, yes? My name is Fidelio Fang-Blenny. I am a Bricker Steward of the Magenta Distinction, and I am here to impound your planet.”

  CHAPTER 9

  As bureaucrats went, the gauche Fidelio Fang-Blenny was not the common type who cared to pad out his work routines with useless fluff and nonsense so as to exert himself minimally, impede progress, and torture his clients with delays and needless hinderances. Rather he was the type of punctilious vam-brace-fusspot who trotted deliberately through every mandated clause and codicil of the regulations he was enforcing in the most stringent manner, brooking no requests for exceptional treatment or mercy. He invested no emotions in his tasks, neither glee nor remorse, pride of accomplishment or solidarity with his employers. It was as if he were a kind of soulless Turing machine whose invariable output could be precisely predicted based on the coded input.

  For this reason, when Johrun stutteringly demanded what this intruder could possibly mean by his impossible statement— “impound the planet”—Fang-Blenny insisted that he would not be troubled to repeat himself, and since his message was intended equally for Mir Minka Soldevere, he must insist that she be fetched to hear it at the same time that Johrun did.

  Johrun raced back to Minka’s room and explained what had just happened. Her friends listened attentively as well, but without any particular sentiments discernible. Minka, however, was motivated to hastily throw back her covers and slide out of bed, wearing just black leggings and a white camisole. Barefoot, she hastened out of the room, attended by her cheering squad.

  Johrun followed, detouring only to fetch Lutramella.

  “Joh, what’s the matter?”

  “I don’t really know, but I suspect the worst.”

  “Let’s face it together then.”

  Outside, Johrun discovered Fang-Blenny still planted like a stolid goalpost exactly where Johrun had left him. Minka was haranguing the man for an explanation of his mission, but he stayed mum, awaiting Johrun. A few of the curious laid-off Danger Acres workers had assembled as well.

  When Johrun and Lutramella arrived, the Steward of the Magenta Distinction snapped to life as if a switch had been flicked.

  “Vir Soldevere, Mir Corvivios. You are aware of the suit against your families regarding the legal title to the planet known as Verano in the Wayward’s Spinel system. You are also aware that the deadline for responding to this suit came and went two days ago.”

  Johrun interrupted. “We were not informed by our elders of the exact deadline. We knew only that it was imminent and pressing, and that they were promptly dealing with it.”

  “You have now been so informed. Thus any claim of ignorance is negated and becomes null and void as a legitimate objection to my mission.”

  Johrun protested. “But our clan elders fully intended to engage with the authorities in good faith before—before they died.”

  “All that matters is their null response. Causes for the dereliction are irrelevant. And thus, having failed to respond in a timely manner to the suit, your families have forfeited all defense and all preexisting claims to the planet. This is not to stipulate that the Redhook Combine automatically assumes ownership of Verano, but only that their patents may now be examined for validity. Consequently, at this point in time Verano exists in a kind of legal limbo or state of receivership, without permanent owners. As the original issuer of the planetary title, the Brickers become wardens, guardians and/or regents of Verano until such time as a new permanent owner is settled.”

  “What does all this mean in a practical sense?” Minka demanded.

  “Only this. As the current heirs to the old and negated title —and please find attached an official statement of condolences on the deaths of your progenitors—you two are disbarred immediately from all further access to the planet, its holdings, assets, profits, savings, futures, bonds, chattels, intellectual properties, and Indranet representations, as well as, of course, all liens and encumbrances. Meanwhile, the planet shall be maintained at highest functionality, and all its enterprises conducted, under Bricker Stewardship, of which I am the ultimate plenipotentiary, invested with all condign dominions and magisterial powers.”

  Minka said, “You mean to say you are stepping into my family’s shoes and taking over the planet, and kicking us out?”

  “That is a non-technical statement of my brief, but essentially correct. Do you understand?”

  “Of course I understand!” Minka yelled. “But I won’t let you!”

  “And you, Vir Corvivios? Do you understand?”

  Johrun’s mind was awhirl. First the tragic deaths of his folks, then this disinheritance. What more could possibly go wrong? “Yes, but—”

  “In accordance with all outstanding Bricker user agreements, your statements of comprehension constitute the compliance and assent necessary to enact my orders.”

  Fang-Blenny triggered a script on his vambrace.

  Instantly, from a loss of haptic syncing, Johrun knew his own vambrace was dead. He saw Minka regarding her own quiescent Indranet cuff with astonishment.

  “You—you’ve deplatformed us!”

  “This is a potentially libelous misapprehension. Deplatform-ing means to deprive a user of selected Quinary services based on some crime or infraction. You two have committed no crime or infraction, and therefore cannot be subject to deplatforming. I have merely put a lock on all your fiscal accounts, both personal and corporate. You both have zero assets now with which to fund such things as your Indranet connections. Any outstanding balances have been relegated to termination fees. This sequestering of funds is an entirely different state of affairs from deplatforming, as I think you will admit.”

  Minka fell to weeping against Braulio’s shirtfront. Her classmates crowded around her, patting her back and making soothing sounds.

  Johrun said, “How are we expected to survive? Without a single link or chain to our names, we cannot hire lodgings here. And you wanted us to leave Verano, I believe. How can we even buy a ticket on the next cruise ship?”

  “We do not demand the impossible from you. Your tickets offplanet have already been purchased out of Bricker exigency funding. You will both depart on the next herple-meat freighter leaving Sweetmeats Pasturage, in approximately three days. There is ample rudimentary passenger space adjacent to the cargo area. The freighter will convey you to Bustard’s Gully, where you will happily discover a number of employment opportunities at the meat refineries that require no prior experience, such as degristling assistant, haunch hanger, and sluice laver. Until then, you may accumulate room and board charges here at the lodge to the amount of no more than ten chains per diem. That is sufficient to provide a cot in the janitorial storeroom and three daily rations of mycoprotein shakes. Of course, you will be expected to reimburse all these outlays once you do undertake longterm employment.”

  Anders Braulio spoke up. The decorative silver mites in his hair now moved at an agitated pace in their drunkard’s walk, as if to mirror his own upset.

  “None of this will be necessary, you pompous functionary! And you may cancel all those anticipated charges for Mir Soldevere. Minka is leaving the planet with me, aboard my ship. I will take her to my family’s home on Maradyth.”

  Minka responded by ceasing her sniffling and looking up worshipfully at Braulio’s proud countenance.

  Fang-Blenny responded with a bookkeeper’s dispassion. “The Quinary appreciates your assumption of these costs. Now I must establish myself in the front office and begin to revive this enterprise. Anyone may find me there if I am legitimately needed.”

  The busy Steward of the Magenta Distinction set off for the
lodge.

  Poleaxed by the instant cratering of all his fortunes, all his visions, all his goals and roles in life, the implicit status, duties, and privileges that heretofore had been as much a natural part of his existence as breathing, Johrun could not imagine at first how to respond to this outcome. The universe seemed to have been inverted and reconstituted along absurd dimensions.

  He took a few steps toward Minka, reached out imploringly. “Minka, don’t go with him. Stay with me. We can face this side by side, retrieve our dreams, rebuild our life together. This nightmare will soon end, and we will be restored to our birthright. This I believe!”

  Minka looked coldly and calculatingly at her quondam husband-to-be. “Can you guarantee this optimistic fairy tale? How will we keep body and soul together until that possibly faroff day of our redemption, wandering without a link to our names?”

  “I can guarantee nothing but my undying love! And surely if we yoke our energies and resources and skills together, nothing can stand in our way.”

  Minka’s face assumed a seemingly genuine look of disappointment and regret. “Joh, what we had—it’s not dead, but it’s—it’s in abeyance. These dread circumstances have overruled our own desires. I need safety and support and stability, now more than ever. And you cannot offer me any of that, can you?”

  Johrun’s silence was tacit admission of the truth of her statement.

  Braulio took a victor’s magnanimous tone. “Don’t make a big deal of this, Jay Cee. Just a small detour for you, I’m certain. A little change will perk up your life. We all get into a rut. Good to try the unexpected. Degristling assistant sounds like a career path with a fine future. And you needn’t worry about your girl. Minka will be well cared for on Maradyth. She already knows my parents from another holiday, and they’re crazy about her. In just an hour or so, we’ll be on our way.”

  Johrun waited for Minka to contradict any of this insulting speech, but she said nothing. He turned and stalked blindly away in disgust.

  After a dozen meters, a hand dropping upon his shoulder from behind stopped his impulsive flight. Johrun spun around, fists cocked, eager for a fight, whether it were Fang-Blenny or Braulio at his back.

  The sight of Lutramella drained all the starch and bitterness out of him. Her sleek furry damp-nosed face, wearing a sad expression and constituting one of his oldest memories, instantly catapulted him back to childhood. He began to weep, this time not, as during the past few days, for his dead parents and grandparents, and Minka’s dead relatives, but for his own downfall.

  Lutramella did something she had not done in many, many years. She cupped his jaw and licked the tears from his cheeks with a raspy pink tongue. Then she wetted her own paws with her saliva and slicked back the stray hairs from her charge’s temples.

  Startled by this old devotion, Johrun regained control of his emotions. He drew the back of his forearm under his flowing nose.

  “Oh, Lu, but what can we do in our bankrupt state? How can we ever win back our adored world?”

  “I am glad to hear you say ‘we,’ Joh, because when you say ‘we,’ that means you’ll accept what I bring to our quest.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Have you forgotten your own generosity so soon? You settled forty thousand chains on me. And then your grandsire gave me another ten, when he made kumshaw to the wedding guests. Fifty thousand chains, Joh! That’s a fortune. Maybe not by your old standards, but by our new ones it is.” Lutramella held up her vambrace with a big smile. “And remember this? An account prepaid for ten years! You see, what you sowed upon the waters comes back to you!”

  Johrun experienced a pang like a hot knife in his heart, both sweet and sharp. Nothing he had ever done in his life merited this unprecedented devotion and grace. He felt at once small as a bug and large as a galaxy.

  “Lu, no, this is your personal stake, for your own dreams.”

  “My dreams are yours now, Joh, and yours mine. It always was so, and must continue to be so. Don’t deny me this!”

  “I— I can’t—”

  “Can I say something to you I never have said before?”

  “Of course.”

  “Shut up!”

  Startled at first, Johrun started laughing and could not stop, his first laughter in so many sad days. Lutramella joined in, a blended gurgle, squeak, chitter, and trill.

  When they had wound down their spontaneous joy, Johrun immediately began to plan. “With these funds we can purchase passage to Bodenshire and approach the Brickers ourselves! Get on the Indranet, Lu, and see when the next liner is due here.”

  “May I suggest something, Joh?”

  “Of course.”

  “Consider the cost of two tickets to Bodenshire. Maybe ten percent of our funds. Something tells me we could be embarked on a very long road home. Conservation of our money is imperative. Would it not be better to get there for free?”

  “And how would we accomplish that?”

  “Let us swallow our pride and ask Braulio for a lift.”

  Johrun bristled at this notion. “That contemptible jumped-up cocksman! I’d rather attempt to walk through the deadliest branes all the way to Bodenshire than beg a ride from him.”

  “Joh, this is allowing your hatred and jealousy to conquer your wisdom. I taught you better than that, didn’t I? Think also that if you spend another day or two on his ship with Minka, you might get her to come around to your way of thinking.”

  Johrun pulled at his stubbled chin. He realized he hadn’t shaved since the obliteration of his family. “There’s much to your plan I hadn’t considered. Do you really think he’ll consent?”

  “I believe he might relish to chance to lord it over you even more than he has. But we’ll never know unless we ask him. And if he says no, we are not worse off.”

  The pair returned the short distance to where the Bastard of Bungo rested. Its ramp was down, and Ox was carrying a half-dozen pieces of luggage onboard. Seeing Johrun, he explained.

  “Old Fungus Bunny allowed your lady pal to claim a few clothes, but he wouldn’t let her take any other possessions. Says they all belong to whoever eventually gets this world.”

  “Where are Minka and Anders now?”

  “Back at the lodge.”

  Johrun hurried to Minka’s suite, Lutramella by his side. He found her stuffing one final bag under the watchful eye of Fang-Blenny, who annotated every item on his vambrace. Looking on impatiently, Braulio nodded to Johrun, giving him an opening to pitch his request.

  “Anders, I know you think poorly of me, for whatever reasons, and I do not dispute your right to do so. Perhaps I appear to you as naive and unworldly, a cossetted farmboy. That may well be. The gods know I might not have ended up in my current plight if I had been more savvy about galactic affairs, more forthright and active on my own behalf. But be that as it may, I think and hope that out of your regard for Minka you might consent to do me a favor. Would you carry me and Lutramella to Bodenshire in your ship, before you return to Maradyth?”

  Minka looked up from her packing with a suspicious glimmer in her eyes. “Exactly what are you intending?”

  “I hope to reclaim Verano for our families, Minka, and Bodenshire is the obvious place to begin. It’s where Xul and the others were headed, to meet with the Brickers. Maybe they will listen to me instead. And if you came along for an interview too—”

  “Forget it! You recall what we were told by Xul. Only the testimony of one whose âmago is entangled with the original transmission of the deed can reestablish our rights. Your testimony and mine are useless.”

  “Nonetheless, I have to try!”

  Braulio intervened, a smug smile on his face. “It pleasures me to aid such a quixotic folly. I call it ‘greasing the skids.’ Although I do hate to deprive the refineries of Bustard’s Gully of a star sluice laver. Jay Cee, you and your slimy pet have your ride.”

  Johrun shook hands with his rival, too excited to feel insulted. “We’ll be right dow
n! Lu, go pack—quickly!”

  Silently observant until now, Fang-Blenny said, “Once I lock up this suite, I will oversee your packing, Vir Corvivios.”

  In short order—Johrun had with him only a week’s worth of clothing, and much of that too formal to be of use—Johrun met Lutramella down in the lobby. He grabbed her small single duffel from her and began to hurry toward the exit. But she interrupted their departure by addressing the Steward, who had tagged along with them and was now heading for his office.

  “Vir Fang-Blenny, could you please open up the lodge’s souvenir store and sell us some things?”

  “Any potential legitimate profits under my regency cannot be declined.”

  In the store, Lutramella hastily assembled, for Johrun and herself, some practical outerwear emblazoned with the Danger Acres crest, as well as hiking boots more substantial than the summery shoes Johrun wore, and a pair for herself that were certainly supplemental to her own bare feet, although not a perfect fit, being designed for humans. Thick socks as well. Finally she advanced on the weapons department, where departing guests who were not professional hunters could avail themselves of deadly souvenir instruments whose backstory they could elaborate at will. (“Yes, I killed six kroke lizards in the swamps of Verano with this very gun!”). She studied the rack of pistols before selecting a compact model, a Kingslake glial jammer. To this she added a poignard of Smalls manufacture, composed of smart carbon picotube fibers that actively facilitated deadly cuts and lethal insertions. A sheath and belt were included for the price.

  Lutramella sighted down the length of the blade admiringly. “I don’t like guns. But I do like this. It is a very sharp tooth.”

  To Johrun’s momentary embarrassment, the splice did the paying for them, vambrace to vambrace with Fang-Blenny, and she buckled the knife around her nearly waistless midsection as they left.

  “I suggest you pocket your gun now, Joh, and keep it always with you.”

  Halfway to Braulio’s ship, Johrun got a sudden urge.

  “One quick detour.”