“We—Family Bishop. I—their Cap’n. There is no difference.”

“So I gather,” Monisque said dryly. “Very well. The ‘library and lair’—well, this is one way into the esty, so I suppose this counts as their ‘lair.’ As for the library—that’s not data anybody’s ever going to hand you on a platter.”

“Why not?”

“Andro—you were right. They truly know nothing.” She cocked an eye at the audience, which chuckled. “Nobody’s going to tell you our greatest secret, even if you are a ground-pounder giant. If you want to talk to ancients of the Chandeliers, or this Abraham, I’d recommend the Restorer. It’s a kind of library, too, come to think of it.”

Toby didn’t follow this at all, but Killeen just nodded curtly, as though hearing confirmation he expected. He said forcefully, “The inscription, it mentioned a heroine, unnamed. ‘She is as was and does as did.’ Does that refer to this place, this Restorer?”

“I am not an expert in linear history, much less trans-history. This subject smacks of both.”

“Then let us know the way to this Restorer, its price—”

“You couldn’t afford it.”

“I have not taken every jewel from my bag, Lady Justice.”

“So I know. I was waiting for the next round.”

“You know so much, maybe you can tell me what I’ll offer?”

“Andro? The possibility you mentioned?”

Andro appeared in front and tapped his third fingernail. A wall flashed with sharp light behind the dais—a full, 3D picture of a passageway in Argo. Toby recognized the spot and gasped. “The Legacy! We let him get near it.”

Andro didn’t even glance at Toby’s outburst. “They’re flying a Class VI, Judge. Standard deck design, pretty beat up. I couldn’t get into the nexus, but from the way they protected it, I figure there’s a slab there. This kid”—he jerked a thumb at Toby—“just proved it.”

She frowned. “From that age? I thought few such ships survived.”

“The mechs nabbed most of them. The Bishops say this one was buried on their planet. Mechs must’ve overlooked it.”

“A slab from that when . . .” Monisque touched her dais, muttered to herself, and seemed to be calculating.

“Yeasay,” Killeen said. Toby saw that the Legacy was indeed what Killeen had meant to bargain. His mind spun in a cold, furious vacuum.

Andro, too, had his distracted look. Toby realized they were both communing with some distant intelligence, maybe a data bank. His Isaac Aspect put in,

There were such linking abilities in the High Arcology Era. They greatly increased the effective, acting intelligence of all. They also led to data-immersion ailments, and the dissipations such addictions are prone to.

Toby shrugged aside this useless history. He watched the judge, who nodded—to herself, or to some far away presence?—and said, “I am prepared to bargain. Services—very limited services—in return for a thorough inspection of your ship.”

Several Bishops shouted, “No!” Toby’s surprise struck him silent, his throat full of cotton stuffing.

“I will have to know what services you mean,” Killeen said, all business. “I have some in mind.”

“Dad, we can’t!” Toby finally got out. “The Legacies, they’re ours. We can’t let anybody else have them.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Killeen scowled. “We have business here, and these good folk deserve to know of us, just as we want to know of them.”

“No!” Toby shouted. “We don’t know what the Legacies have in them! Family Bishop secrets, maybe. History, lineages of all the Bishops there ever were, could be. Even data from the Great Epoch! You—”

“We can’t read more than a jot or two of them,” Killeen said sharply, turning on his son angrily. “We need help figuring what they mean. This way we’ll get it.”

“But who knows what they’ll do with our secrets?”

“They’re old, so old the language doesn’t even make sense. Chandelier Age stuff, maybe even older. From a time we know only as legends. All those dots and squiggles.” Killeen turned to take in all the Bishops and Trumps present, and Toby realized that he was silencing any objections before they could arise in the others. He said firmly, “I’ll gain us what we need, trading the Legacies—and get them read into the bargain.”

Murmurs of agreement came from Aces and Fivers and some Bishops, though a few averted eyes hinted that others weren’t so sure.

Toby said hoarsely, “At least wait a while, Dad. Take this ‘remedial course’ of theirs. We’ll learn more about this place, get a better idea what our Legacies are really worth, see if Abraham’s here, maybe figure a better deal—”

Killeen’s eyes quickly raked the room. A momentary suggestion of uncertainty in his mouth was swept away by a slight smile, a pleased arching of his eyebrows. Toby, too, saw that he had the backing of the others, the weight of his office and past telling strongly now. He gave Toby a searing glance and turned back to the judge, opened his mouth to speak.

“Dad, we shouldn’t just—”

“Cermo—take him outside.”

“But you can’t—”

“I’m Cap’n, son. Cermo!”

Toby opened his mouth, words not coming—and felt Cermo grab him firmly from behind, pinning his arms. He wrestled, shouted, swore, tried a back-kick that found only air. Cermo had the reach on him. The whole room was watery, clogged with heavy air that did not seem to carry his words, his shouted words, as Cermo pulled him strongly backward, backward down a long aisle. Little pale dwarf faces looked bug-eyed at him, all hiding behind the stuffy air of this strangely rippling room. Toby’s throat filled again, this time with a thick, sour taste, a bitter black draft of foreboding.

SIX

The Charm of Commerce

Toby spent two days under lock in a small bunk room, subject to strict ship’s discipline. This meant that he saw nobody, knew nothing. Not even Quath could visit. The room wasn’t big enough, anyway. Food and study materials were all he got, so he boned up on math and history, listening to Isaac’s drone more than he ever had. He spent time doing exercises in the tiny cell. Cermo brought the chow, reluctantly keeping silence, following orders, even when Toby joshed him about it.

This meant that he didn’t get to attend the general education sessions, explaining how this place worked. Which rankled him so much he worked out his frustration on the room, doing servo’d exercises by rebounding from the ceiling, scuffing the walls, slamming into the floor and then back to ceiling again. He tried to figure out how this place worked by himself, using Isaac, but nothing made much sense as he reviewed it. The deepest mystery was how this impossible solid ground existed at all, whirling around the razor edge of a black hole.

After two days Besen wangled a visit somehow. Her hair shone with fresh highlights—something in the water here, she said—and she beamed. He held her in his arms, kissed her, murmured of his cares and worries . . . but something was wrong. He felt himself stiffen as she touched him provocatively, a palm sliding confidently up his thigh, nestling on his hip.

—slick skin sliding—

Her kiss seemed metallic, an oxidizing flick of her tongue.

—musky warmth spilling over her in the fitful dark—

And her hand fell leaden on him, inquiring into his hardness.

—light laughter as the two of them rolled, leg over leg—

He stiffened in her grip, found it tight and close and hot.

—startled yelp of pleasure and pleased surprise—