Smuggler's Gold

  "And that means dealing in the shadows," Justice added. "Could be dangerous."

  "Could be. Most likely will be. If anyone asks you to make contacts—"

  Justice grimaced. "Why me? I'm no canaler, to have access to deathangel."

  "Ah, but you're a student and—"

  "—students get hungry. Point well taken. Don't worry, Raj. I've seen enough weirdness lately to last me for a long time. I won't go hunting for more."

  Raj looked embarrassed. "I don't want to get you involved in... in my troubles," he said. "That delivery you made for me to Petrescu... if it makes any difference, you're well thought of by my friends."

  "From what little I know of your friends, I'd hate to be disliked by them."

  A sheepish smile spread across Raj's face. "And another thing about you, Justice, you don't ask questions."

  "What kind of a fool do you think I am? In cases like that, the less I know, the happier I am."

  "Just watch out for deathangel. I've got the feeling things are going to get real strange around here before long."

  Real strange? Justice shook his head. Coming from most people he knew, he would have shrugged the statement away. Coming from Raj, —well, it wouldn't be a bad idea to avoid traveling the canals after dark.

  The more Rhajmurti thought about what Father Alexiev had told him about the cardinals' interest in deathangel, the more the notion bothered him. He had known for years that many people tried to attain enlightenment through use of drugs, but he had always frowned on the idea, preferring to conduct his spiritual quests unaided by pharmaceuticals. The idea of the cardinals becoming interested in the hallucinogenic properties of that deadly fish gave Rhajmurti cause for deep thought.

  From his earliest days of priestly training, Rhajmurti had been taught that seeking and finding spiritual enlightenment took years and years. But in the same breath, his teachers had told him that certain drugs—if used sparingly and in very moderate amounts—could facilitate such a search. They likened limited drug use to the mantras each priest had selected to repeat and ponder—aids to put the mind in the proper attitude for inner visions.

  Deathangel, however, if not carefully dealt with, could send one on a spiritual quest without a return ticket.

  He frowned as he neared Hilda's tavern. Not until recently had Justice been included in the hightown party circuit, and Rama knew all sorts of drugs were available there. In some ways, Justice was an innocent when it came to what went on behind the closed doors of Merovingen above. Now that he had become socially acceptable after the Governor's Winter Ball, perhaps it was time for a little priest-to-student talk about the evils that lurked behind high society glitter.

  Hilda's was crowded with patrons eating their dinners, but Rhajmurti easily spotted Justice at his usual table, his nose buried in a book and Hilda's gold cat asleep in a chair by his side. The empty plate shoved to one side was evidence that Justice had already eaten. Rhajmurti left the doorway, nodded to Jason and Hilda, and crossed the room to Justice's table.

  "Busy?" he asked, and smiled as Justice looked up. "Mind if I join you?"

  "No, Father." Justice pushed a chair out and gestured. "Please sit down."

  Rhajmurti placed his order with an attentive Jason, then turned back to Justice. "So. Exams aren't far away. How do you think you'll do?"

  "All right, I suppose. All I can do is study and hope for the best. Oh. I saw Raj today. He tells me he's been accepted into the College."

  "He has?" Not for the first time did Rhajmurti wish he was higher placed in the College. He was still young—only thirty-eight—but his progress had not been as swift as he would have hoped. Hearing a piece of news like this, secondhand from one of his students, made it painfully clear how much he was missing out on by not cultivating the priests in power, or by refusing to flatter the cardinals. "It must have been recently. Who's sponsoring him?"

  "House Kamat."

  "Hmm." Rhajmurti could not resist. "How'd you hear about it?" "I saw Raj just a little while ago. He told me." "He must be happy."

  "That's an understatement." Justice fell silent as Jason delivered Rhajmurti's dinner, swept up the offered coins in one hand, and went back toward the kitchen. "He's fit to burst."

  Rhajmurti nodded, fully aware after all Justice's talking about Raj's talents how much this sponsorship would mean to a young man who otherwise would have never stood a chance to get a higher education.

  "Raj also told me something I think you might like to know." Justice lowered his voice. "He says someone's really interested in getting their hands on deathangel."

  "Damn!" Rhajmurti met and held Justice's eyes. "Where'd he hear that?"

  "From the canalers, I suppose. He has a friend who runs a skip."

  Rhajmurti frowned. First Father Alexiev proposed that the cardinals wanted all the deathangel powder priests found students carrying; now Justice said the word was out on the canals that deathangel would fetch a good price.

  "That's odd," he murmured, taking a bite of his fish and following it with a sip of beer.

  "What's odd?"

  "I was just going to have a little talk with you about the... let us say, overindulgence in drugs that goes on at hightowner parties."

  "Then I'm warned twice," Justice said. "Raj said the same thing."

  Rhajmurti stared a moment. "Good for him. And I want you to promise me you won't start experimenting."

  Justice shook his head. "Why does everyone think I'm such a thick-skull? I've got more sense than that."

  "You do now." Rhajmurti leaned forward on crossed arms. "I'm sure you mean every word you say. But remember what you've said when you go to your next party. What if you're offered something by your new friends? What if everyone at the party decides to get high?"

  It did Justice credit that he had no quick answer for those questions. "I could always say I have a delicate constitution and can't mess with the stuff," he said.

  "What if Sonja decides to get high?"

  "That won't happen." Justice's voice was full of certainty. "We've talked about it. She doesn't like doing drugs. Says it clouds her mind, and if she wanted a cloudy mind, she wouldn't be spending all this time going to school."

  Rhajmurti's estimation of Sonja Keisel went up another few notches. He took another bite of fish. "You take care to remember what we've talked about. Sonja won't always be around."

  "I know." Justice dropped his eyes, then lifted them again; when he spoke, his voice was very quiet. "Something else, Father. If deathangel's getting this popular, someone's going to be willing to pay for it. . . and pay well. I'm worried about Krishna."

  "You? Worried about Krishna? After all the karma he's heaped on himself from bothering you?"

  "I can't help it, Father. He's already sold drugs. If his father ever finds out...." He shrugged. "If Krishna'd only grow up, I don't think he'd be all that bad."

  "Huhn. Maybe so. But don't look for him to grow up any time soon. And I wouldn't spend my time worrying about him. Krishna can take care of himself."

  "Dammit, Krishna, listen to me! Now's not the time to pass out."

  Krishna opened one eye and then the other. Pavel Suhakai sat on the floor beside him, a curiously intent look on his face.

  "Shit, Pavel, —d'you always haveta ruin a good buzz?" He lifted his glass, frowned when no liquid hit his tongue, and turned the glass upside down. Not a drop left. He belched, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and, with studied care, set the glass back down on the floor. "Whadya want?"

  "Money, Krishna! Listen to me. Money! Maybe big money. Am I getting through to you yet?"

  "Money." Krishna's head was beginning to spin. He set his teeth, slid his back higher up on the wall, and tried to focus. His words came out very slow—his tongue was not cooperating at all. "Big money. All right, —you have my attention. Where? How?"

  "You've heard what I've heard. Deathangel. If we can buy up as much deathangel as we can get our hands on, we'll drive the price up. Are
you listening to me?"

  "Huhn?" Krishna rubbed his eyes. He looked around Pavel's expensively furnished room and winced at the bright electric light overhead. "I'm listening. We buy up deathangel." His head ached and he slapped his hand on the floor. "But who wants it, Pavel? It's damned dangerous stuff."

  "Hell, I don't know who wants it. Who cares? All I know is that someone's real interested. Ask around school. If the market's there, and we move quickly, we can fill it."

  "Where'd you hear all this?"

  "Same place you did. Esteban overheard two priests saying the cardinals wanted all the deathangel powder they found any student carrying." Pavel's brows drew together in a frown. "Would you sober up, Krishna!"

  "I'm not that drunk! All right, smart-ass, —where are we going to get the money to buy it?"

  "I thought about that. We could always sell some of our things and then claim they were stolen."

  "Maybe. So Esteban heard two priests talking. How do we know the cardinals are interested? It could be a trap." Krishna belched again. If he did not eat something soon, he would be too drunk to make it back to Hilda's. Food. His stomach turned at the thought of it. "They could be setting us up, Pavel. Then, the moment we say we've got some of the damned fish, they'll make the buy, and slap us into the darkest, smallest room in—"

  "It might not be the cardinals. They might be getting it for someone else."

  Krishna shook his head. This was all getting too complex to follow. Why would the cardinals be buying deathangel from students, when they could easily hire some canaler to get the fish for them at a cheaper price?

  Unless they were after the processed powder which they figured the students might already possess. That put a new slant on things. If he and Pavel bought up deathangel, the fish would have to be processed to obtain the powder. On the other hand, if they were clever and moved quickly, they might be able to buy the powder from their hightown friends before word of what the cardinals wanted leaked out. In either case...

  "Talk to that friend of yours. Justus. He's friendly with canalers. It's our best bet to find someone to get us deathangel. If you approach him right, maybe he'd be willing to— "

  "Mister Good? Ha!" Krishna snorted a laugh, bumped his head against the wall, and cringed. "He's so squeaky clean I've never seen him drunk."

  "Maybe so, but he's poor. Offer him money, Krishna. Money talks. It may even speak Justus' language."

  True to form, the following morning dawned dull and gray, though not as chill as Justice had feared. He sat alone at his table, lingering for a last few moments over his second cup of tea, trying to sort out exactly what had happened the night before.

  Krishna had come in late, so drunk he was stumbling. Drink, however, seldom silenced the hightowner, and he had latched onto Justice like a barnacle. Justice had wanted to leave his table, to go off to his room and go to sleep, but Krishna was insistent. His words slow, obviously chosen with the care induced by overindulgence, Krishna had apologized for being an overbearing ass during the past few months, confessing that it was the pressures put on him by his father who so desperately wanted a youngest son to succeed. He had even gone so far as to pay Justice the last of the money he owed.

  It was this repayment of a long-overdue debt that set alarm bells ringing.

  And sure enough, as if right on cue, Krishna had mentioned deathangel. You know canalers, don't you? Krishna had asked. Do you think maybe you could talk someone into getting me some deathangel? Oh, don't worry... it's not for me. I wouldn't touch the stuff. Booze is good enough for me.... It's for a few of my friends....

  And so on and so on. Justice had listened politely, trying his best to look attentive, all the while searching for some diversion to get away from Krishna. I'll see if I can find someone, Justice had promised, hoping like hell Krishna would forget everything the following day.

  He had not seen Krishna yet this morning, but that was hardly a surprising event. Krishna was more than likely sleeping off his drunk, thereby missing another morning of classes. If there had not been a brain inside that uptown head, Krishna would have failed his courses long ago. As it was, he passed with marginal grades, his quickness and good memory (when liquor-free) keeping him from total disaster.

  Justice frowned. Now what? He could always deny that he had promised to look for a canaler to get a hold of deathangel. Drunk as Krishna had been last night, Justice was fairly sure he could swear the entire conversation had been a leftover from an evening spent with a bottle.

  Still... Justice sat up straighter in his chair. It might not be a bad idea to have another talk with Father Rhajmurti.

  The day was still overcast enough that Rhajmurti found the lighted lamp on his office wall welcome. Justice sat opposite the desk, his face bearing two conflicting emotions: lack of sleep and worry.

  Rhajmurti leaned back in his chair and crossed his hands on his chest. It would be Krishna again. There was something about that lad... something that led Rhajmurti to think Krishna must have done terrible things in his last life to be so confused in this one.

  "You don't think he remembered what you said?" he asked Justice.

  "No, Father. If he does, I'd be surprised. He's been drunk like this before and not remembered anything that went on."

  "Let's hope you're right." He studied Justice a moment, verging on telling him about the secretive goings on in the College. He finally shelved the idea, not only to keep hidden maneuverings from a student, but to prevent Justice from becoming embroiled in a situation that might get out of hand.

  "What's going on, Father?" Justice asked, looking away from a complex rendition of the wheel of life hanging on Rhajmurti's wall. "Why is deathangel all the rage now?"

  "I'm not sure." Falsehood... lying to one's own son? Bad karma, that. "It might have to do with the state the drug can put people in." There, that was better... a small omission of truth. "Some people think you might be able to remember previous lives if your mind's put into the proper frame of consciousness."

  Justice lifted one dark eyebrow. "Remember former lives? I thought only some yogis and other spiritually blessed could do that."

  "You're correct. Usually, Sometimes, the uninitiated stumble across enlightenment, but it's not normal."

  "I wouldn't think so. But none of this solves my problem. What do I do about Krishna? He's offered me a fair sum to make a contact with someone who can get him as many fish as possible. He says he's getting them for his friends. Ha! Likely story. He's probably heard something that makes him think someone will pay him a good price. I'll be willing to bet he wants to drive that price up and then sell what he has for a tidy profit."

  "Do you know someone who would help you get your hands on deathangel?"

  Justice shook his head. "I can't think of anybody. The only canaler I know on a first-name basis is that skip-runner I mentioned yesterday—Jones, Raj's friend. And I don't think she's the type to deal in drugs."

  "Huhn." Rhajmurti rubbed bis forehead. "Were you telling me the truth when you said you were worried about Krishna?"

  "Yes." Justice grimaced slightly. "Though this morning I'm inclined to leave him to his problems and spend more time trying to deal with mine."

  "I think... if we play this right... we might be able to scare Krishna off from drug dealing for a while—" He met Justice's eyes. "—before things start getting too dangerous for someone who doesn't know what he's doing. And Krishna will help us by being greedy as usual. But to make it work, you're going to have to look guilty, too. Are you interested?"

  "You'll have to tell me what kind of punishment I'm to expect before I tell you," Justice said, the hint of a smile on his lips.

  Rhajmurti leaned forward in his chair. "Nothing that you won't be able to handle. Are you going to be seeing Sonja this morning?"

  From his perch on one of the benches in the College hallway, Justice could easily see the students pass him by. Sonja sat quietly beside him, her nose buried in a book, seeming to pay no attention t
o what was going on around her. Justice attempted to look equally disinterested, but when he saw Krishna approaching, he felt his stomach tighten.

  "Hssst," he whispered to Sonja. "He's coming."

  A brief smile crossed her face, then disappeared. "Good luck," she murmured.

  "Justus." Krishna stopped by the bench. "M'sera Keisel," he said, bowing slightly to Sonja. He motioned to an alcove a few steps away. "I need to talk with you a moment, Justus, if you don't mind."

  "Not at all." Justice set his book down at his side and stood. "I'll be back in a moment, Sonja," he said, and followed Krishna.

  "Well?"

  "Well, what?" Justice said.

  "Have you got in contact with anyone yet?"

  Damn! Krishna had remembered. The one time he should have been stewed enough to forget, and he remembered. Justice frowned slightly. As for professing to have been an ass, Krishna had probably forgotten that particular part of last night's conversation.

  "Maybe." He looked up and down the hall. "Maybe I've got something better."

  Krishna's eyes narrowed. "And what might that be?"

  "There's a rumor going around that the priests are very interested in getting their hands on deathangel. Have you heard the same thing?"

  There was just the slightest hesitation. "I have."

  "Well, I overheard someone whispering in the hallway this morning that certain priests will pay good money for a student to get them some deathangel powder."

  "Oh?" A flash of greed passed behind Krishna's eyes. "Who'd you overhear talking?"

  "I didn't recognize the voice and when I came round the corner, whoever it was had gone."

  "That's a mighty flimsy lead,' Krishna said. "It could be a setup."

  "I suppose. But I thought I'd let you know... if you want deathangel for your—friends, you might be able to get enough money from the priests to buy some for everybody."

  "Hmm." Krishna's forehead furrowed in thought. "Maybe. Did you hear how much the priests were willing to pay?"