"The possibility has not escaped me, Yafe Zoppius." Tien was coldly formal. "It is being investigated."
"If Ibius Avorot's men came snooping around my land they will get short measure. That I promise. You forget yourself in your suspicions, Tien." His tone softened a little. "That I can understand. It was a grievous loss. A prime specimen of genetic manipulation which would have bred a new and stronger line. But you must not accuse your friends."
Friends on the surface, competitors beneath, each jealous of the other's prosperity. Yet the facade had to be maintained, unity shown, and a common face presented to the outside. The monk, for example-he could learn more than he should. The Universal Church had friends in high places, and who could tell what gossip they carried? It had been a mistake to permit his presence. Pacula, at times, went too far.
Later, when the assembly had departed, he spoke to her about it.
"The monk, sister-is it wise to advertise your friendship?"
"I look to him for help."
"Which will be given at a price, naturally. More money wasted on a futile quest. The girl is dead-can't you accept that? Culpea is dead."
"No!" He saw the sudden pallor of her face, the lines suddenly appearing and betraying her age, so that, for a moment, she looked haggard. Then, with an effort, she controlled herself, old defenses coming to the rescue. "You mustn't say that, Tien. There is no proof. No-" she swallowed and forced herself to continue. "No body was ever found."
"The raft crashed. Her nurse was discovered in a crevass. The guards were scattered and none alive to tell what happened. But we can guess. Please, sister, accept the facts. It is better so."
"She could have been found," she insisted. "Taken by some passing wanderer. Such things happen. I must continue the search, Tien. I must!"
Years now and still she hoped and yet he hadn't the heart to be ruthless. Even so, there had to be an end to the money she squandered.
"You have tried the monks before," he reminded. "Your donations were more than generous, but to no avail. Money is scarce, and with the bull dead, economies have to be made. I am sorry, Pacula, but my patience is exhausted. Search on if you must, but don't look to me for further help."
"You deny me my right?"
"You have had that and more. There must be an end." Pausing, he added more gently, "One thing more I will do. On Heidah are skilled physicians who can eliminate hurtful memories and replace them with comforting illusions. Go to them, Pacula, have them eradicate this torment. Forget the child and gain a measure of peace."
"And you will pay for it?"
Relief at her acquiescence made him overlook the calculation in her eyes. "Of course. Tell me how much and it will be yours. You have my word."
"Which has never been broken." Her smile was a mask. "I will consider it, Tien."
He did not see the hand she held at her side, the fingers clenched, the knuckles taut beneath the skin. Nor did he observe the muscles tense beneath the smile which accentuated the line of her jaw. To him her words were enough.
"Have an early night," he urged. "You have been upset since the storm. And with reason," he added quickly. "That I do not deny. But you are fatigued. A good sleep and you will feel better."
She said flatly, "Thank you, Tien, I will follow your advice. But later. Tonight I have promised to visit Sufan Noyoka."
"That dreamer?" Tien made no effort to hide his contempt. "The man is mad."
"But harmless."
"Can madness ever be that?" He shrugged, expecting no answer and receiving none. "Well, do as you wish, but be careful. You promise?"
"I promise."
He left her at that, satisfied, his mind busy with other things. The pain of his recent loss was a nagging ache which left little concern for the lightness of a decision made. Let her visit Noyoka. Perhaps, in each other's company, they could find a common ease. Madness had an affinity to madness and, reluctant as he was to admit it, his sister was far from sane.
* * *
When a boy, Ibius Avorot had seen a man flayed and staked out in the sun as a punishment for the unlawful killing of a beast. His father had been at pains to point out the necessity for such harsh treatment, his hand gripping the thin shoulder, pain emphasizing the lesson.
An animal killed, in itself nothing if it had not been for the value, but what next? Once allow a threat against the established order and there would be no end. Shops raided, men killed, a mass of starving wretches bursting from their confines and demanding food as a right instead of a reward. Give it to them and where would be the power held by the Owners? To be charitable was to invite destruction. To survive on Teralde a man had to be strong.
Logic which had confounded the boy as he was forced to watch the man die. Surely a man was of greater value than a beast? And if hunger turned men savage, then why not feed them and eliminate the danger? Concepts which his father had done his best to beat from his son and, when learning, Ibius had confessed his errors, had been satisfied.
A hard man who had died as he lived, one respected by the Owners, who had not hesitated to elect his son to the vacated position. And the years had brought a cynical contempt for those who begged for the food they could have taken by right. That lesson at least he had learned, only the strong could survive-but never again did he want to see a screaming creature wearing the shape of a man die in such a fashion.
And yet, it seemed, soon he would have no choice.
"Commissioner?" Usan Labria had entered his office and plumped herself down without invitation. Old, raddled, the gems on her fingers accentuating the sere and withered flesh. Paint made her face a grotesque mask in which her eyes, cold, shrewd, gleamed like splintered glass.
"My lady, this is an honor."
"An inconvenience, Commissioner. For once be honest."
Once, perhaps, he would have accepted the invitation, now he was not so foolish. "The visit of an Owner could never be that, my lady. You have a problem?"
"We all have a problem. This bull of Harada's-when are you going to find who killed it?"
"Your interest?"
"Don't be a fool, man." Her voice, like her face, was a distortion of what a woman's should be. Harsh, rough, strained as if with pain. "Harada suspects an Owner is responsible. Unless the culprits are found he will be tempted to take action and the last thing we want is an internecine war. The last time it happened a third of the breeding stock was destroyed and two Owners assassinated. That was before your time, but I remember it. I don't want it to happen again."
"It won't, my lady."
"Which means that you've discovered something." Her eyes narrowed a trifle. "Why haven't you made an arrest? How much longer will you keep us all in suspense? I insist you take action, Commissioner, and fast. If not, another will take your place."
Another threat to add to the rest, but he could understand her concern. Her lands were arid, her herd small, a war could wipe her out and end her power. For such a woman that was unthinkable.
He said quietly, "To take action isn't enough. There is the question of proof."
"Surely that can be found?" She edged closer to the desk, her voice lowered. "Who was it? Eldaret? Jelkin? Repana? Who?"
Owners all, and her suspicions were proof of how they regarded each other. The bull, used, would have put them all at a disadvantage.
She frowned at his answer. "Not an Owner! Man, do you realize what you are saying? It would have taken a rifle to kill that beast, a laser even. Men would have needed a raft and lights to spot the target. Who but an Owner could have arranged it?"
"Think of the facts, my lady."
"I know them." She was curt. "A beast killed and butchered-obviously done to avoid suspicion. The fence cut and the animal removed so as to hide the real objective. Have you questioned the guards?"
"I know my business, my lady."
She ignored the reproof. "They must have been bribed. Question them again and this time be less gentle. It is something you should have done before."