"Good. Ten tomorrow, then. Good-bye."
For a moment Jonny stared at the blank screen, trying to form his strategy for the meeting. But there were still too many unknowns. Giving up, he flicked on the phone again and called home.
Chrys answered on the second ring. "Hi," she said, the slight tension lines leaving her face as she saw him. "How are things going?"
"Slow, at the moment," he told her. "I'm just sitting around Niparin waiting for the scientific types to give us something solid to use. Cally went back to Paleen with Niles for the night in case something else happens there. Though there aren't a lot of approaches to the village even a crazed gantua could get through."
"That helps," Chrys nodded. "Is Niles's leg okay?"
"Oh, sure. Bruised, but I'm sure he's had worse."
She smiled faintly. "Listen, Jonny, about a half hour ago we got a call from Capitalia. It was your brother Jame."
So D'arl had brought him along. "Well! How was he?"
"Fine, he said. He wanted to know if you and Gwen could meet him at about eleven tonight for a late supper."
Jonny grinned. Imagine Jame Moreau, late of Cedar Lake, Horizon, casually inviting relatives to fly two thousand kilometers for a meal! Life on Asgard had affected him, all right. "What did Gwen say?"
"She said sure, made me promise to call you in plenty of time, and hopped an aircar for Capitalia."
"On my syndic's authority, I presume." He looked at his watch: two hours before he'd have to leave. Well, he could always have the gantua data phoned to him at Capitalia if it wasn't ready before then. "Okay," he told Chrys. "You want to try and scare up a short-notice sitter for Corwin and join us?"
She shook her head. "Jame already asked me that, but I think this one should be for Moreaus only. I'll get to meet him before he leaves Aventine. Oh, Gwen suggested you meet at the restaurant we took Cally and her to yesterday."
"Sounds good." He grimaced. "This is some vacation for you, isn't it? I'm sorry."
"Don't worry about me," she said softly. "You just be careful yourself."
"I will. Love you, Chrys."
"Love you, Jonny. Say hi to Jame for me."
He broke the connection and again glanced at his watch. Two hours... and nothing he could do to help with the gantua autopsy. And whatever they found...
Would not in and of itself be proof that D'arl was behind it all.
But at least a part of that proof might still be available. Heading outside, he picked up his aircar and flew back down to Paleen. It was getting dark by the time he and Halloran returned to the place where they'd killed the gantua, but with their vision and auditory enhancers it was unlikely even a spine leopard could sneak up on them. Still, the events of the afternoon had left Jonny a bit jumpy, and he was glad their task took only a few minutes.
An hour and a half later, he was flying over the starlit landscape toward Capitalia... with information that would turn the ill-considered council vote on its ear.
Gwen and Jame were already seated at a table when Jonny arrived at the restaurant. "Jonny!" Jame exclaimed, rising for a firm handshake as he joined them. "It's been more than just a couple of years, but you see we did finally get here to see you."
It took Jonny a few seconds to track down the reference. "Oh—right. The day I left Horizon. You're looking good, Jame."
His brother grinned. "Hard but useful work. Same prescription you've been following. Let's sit down, shall we? Gwen's been trying to translate this menu for me, but I think we're going to need an expert."
They sat down together and the conversation continued... and as they talked, Jonny studied the man his brother had become.
Physically, of course, Jame's transition from nineteen to thirty-five was less of a jolt than Gwen's maturing had been; but like Gwen, there was something about him that all his tapes had left Jonny unprepared for. Jame's teen-aged self-confidence had blossomed into an almost tangible air of authority and competence—an air which, almost paradoxically, had no hint of condescension to it. Accustomed to dealing with the Dominion elite, he had nevertheless not forgotten how to talk with ordinary citizens.
Or else he's gone beyond even arrogance and learned how to fake sociability, he thought, and felt immediately ashamed. This was Jame, after all; the one who'd warned him not to abandon his ethics. No matter who or what D'arl was, he could surely not have corrupted the younger man so thoroughly as to have left not even a trace of the tampering.
From which it followed that Jame didn't really know what kind of man he was working for. And if that was the case...
Jonny waited for an appropriate opening, as a good soldier should, and as the meal drew to a close it presented itself.
"...so when I found out Committé D'arl was going to personally supervise the whole thing here, I naturally made sure to get my bid in early to come with him." Jame took a sip of cahve. "He worked very hard to get the Central Committee to go along with the plan; I'm glad to see you're going to accept it, too."
"So D'arl's got his political reputation on the line here, does he?" Jonny asked casually.
A flicker of uncertainty passed across Jame's face. "He's got some prestige at stake, but nothing quite that crucial."
"As far as you know, you mean."
Jame set his mug down carefully and lowered his voice. "All right, Jonny; you don't have to prod around the edges like that with me. What's on your mind?"
Jonny pursed his lips. "I expect you've heard by now that we killed a berserk gantua southeast of here today." The other nodded. "You may also know that in the fifteen years we've been here no gantua has ever shown even the slightest aggressiveness. All right. What would you say, then, if I told you I have proof the gantua we killed had been drugged?"
Gwen inhaled sharply. Jame's eyes narrowed. "Drugged how?"
"A potent hallucinogen-stimulant chemical had been sprayed over the blussa reeds near where it attacked us. That's all the gantuas ever eat, so it was a perfect way to get the stuff into their systems."
"A perfect way for whom?"
Jonny hesitated. "I don't know, specifically. But I'll point out that it gave D'arl a lot of extra push in the vote today. And that it happened right after your ship got in."
Jame leaned back in his seat and regarded Jonny thoughtfully. "I could remind you that I've worked with the Committé and his staff for several years now and that I'm a reasonably good judge of character. I could also point out that unsupported accusations could get you in a lot of trouble. But I'd rather tackle the whole issue logically. Assuming someone aboard our ship sprayed this drug from orbit, why hasn't every other animal in that area gone crazy as well? Even if we dropped a mist bomb or something—and I don't even know if our approach path was anywhere near there—there should've been some dispersion."
Jonny exhaled through clenched teeth. "All right, then. Someone on your ship must have had an agent down here with the stuff all ready to spray."
"You only had a few hours' warning, though, didn't you?" Gwen spoke up. "Could something the size of a gantua ingest enough of the drug that fast?"
"It would probably have needed a massive initial dose," Jame agreed. "And in that case, why coat the blussa plants at all?" He frowned. "Though I'll admit the Committé has been very interested in Aventine flora and fauna recently, and I remember blussa reeds showing up in some of the studies I worked on."
"How were they mentioned, specifically?" Jonny asked, leaning forward.
"Let's see...." Jame stared into his cahve. "If I remember correctly, it was part of a strategic minerals study he was having us do. Something about Aventine becoming self-sufficient in case the Troft Corridor was closed. I dug out the fact that your blussa plant is unusually good at concentrating some metal—I forget which one—especially in late autumn."
"And from this study he almost undoubtedly learned that gantuas are the only things larger than insects that feed on blussa plants," Jonny said grimly. "So his agents inject massive doses of hallucinogen into a few gantuas and spray the blussa nearby to ensure they don't come down from their high until they've attracted our attention."
"Jonny, you're edging very close to sedition here." Jame's voice was barely audible, his hand rigid as it clutched his mug. "Even if what you're saying is true, you haven't got a shred of evidence to point to the Committé himself."
"Not yet. But maybe you can get that evidence for me."
Jame's face seemed to become a mask. "What do you mean?"