“It’s nothing to do with the ceremony as such,” said Chantelle smoothly. “This is more to do with your safety, and Constance’s.”
“If it’s another anonymous death threat, let the Elves deal with it,” Robert growled. “That’s what they’re here for.”
“Oh, there’s nothing anonymous about this threat,” said Brendan. “We know who’s behind this one.”
“We are,” said Chantelle. “We, being Blue Block.”
Robert looked at her sharply. “You’re Blue Block? I know about Brendan, but ...”
“Some of us are more open about it than others. And some of us hide in plain sight, so constantly visible we become invisible. Suffice to say I’m rather higher up the scale of things than the Cardinal here. I’m talking openly with you now to make sure you understand how important you are to us.”
Robert scowled. “I know. I’m one of the Hundred Hands. One of your precious preprogrammed assassins. But the minute I’m officially King, I’m going to have the Elves go through my mind with a fine-tooth comb, and rip out everything they find that doesn’t belong there. I’ll be no one’s puppet. Blue Block’s days of power and influence are as good as over. Once I make public what you people did to me, and how you intended to use me, people will make your name a curse and hunt you down in the streets.”
“Ah, Robert,” said Brendan sadly. “I really hoped you’d be more sensible than that. You can’t stand against Blue Block. No one can.”
“Watch me,” said Robert.
“No,” said Chantelle. “I don’t think so.”
The door opened behind Robert, and Kit SummerIsle came in. He nodded to Chantelle, and then locked the door behind him. He looked at Robert, and then stood with his back to the door, his arms folded across his chest, making it clear that anyone who tried to leave would have to go through him. And in defiance of all tradition and orders, Kid Death had his sword strapped to his hip. Robert glared at him, and then at Chantelle.
“What the hell is that madman doing here? And who gave him a sword?”
“Kid Death works for us now,” said Brendan. “And he’s here to make sure you take what we’re about to say very seriously. We take you and Constance very seriously. You just might pose a serious threat to Blue Block’s plans, perhaps even its very existence, if you really put your minds to it. And we can’t allow that. So; you’re going to agree to follow Blue Block’s orders in all things, or the SummerIsle will go from here right now, and kill your beloved Constance.”
For a moment, Robert couldn’t get his breath. His heart felt as though a cold fist had closed around it. He had no doubt that the Cardinal was utterly serious, and that his threat was very real. It’s happening again. My bride is going to die again. He looked from Brendan to Kid Death, and then to Chantelle. His breath rasped in his chest like razor blades.
“You’d never get away with it,” he said hoarsely.
“Of course we will,” said Chantelle. “We’re Blue Block. We have a long tradition of getting away with all kinds of things. No one will see the SummerIsle. He’s had experience in getting past all kinds of security; even the Elves. The killing will take place in private. Very quietly, very professional. And afterwards, we’ll find someone to blame it on. Shub perhaps, or some anti-Royalist terrorist faction. Very sad, very regrettable, but these things happen. You know we can do this, Robert.”
“Constance doesn’t have to die,” Brendan said reasonably. “All you have to do is agree to return to Blue Block, to the Black College and the Red Church, to complete your conditioning. Then you’ll be one of us, and you won’t want to fight us anymore. You’ll even bring Constance to us, so she can be conditioned too. It won’t be nearly as bad as you think. You’ll see. Now; agree to all this, and Constance is safe. Refuse, and ...”
“I could lie to you.”
“No you couldn‘t,” said Chantelle. “Your existing conditioning won’t let you. Once you’ve given your word to us, you’ll be compelled to follow through. You’ll have no choice. Now tell me you agree, or Kid Death’s smiling face will be the last thing Constance ever sees.”
“Bullshit,” said Kit SummerIsle, and everyone turned sharply to look at him. He was still leaning back against the closed door, one hand resting on his swordbelt, but now his disturbing smile was aimed entirely at Chantelle. “This whole business is too ugly, even for me. I’m not going to kill Constance, or anyone else, on Blue Block’s say-so. I’ve decided I’m not going to do things like that anymore. I never did approve of Blue Block. Two-faced, underhanded ... they take all the fun out of killing. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking recently. About what David said and did on Virimonde. I don’t think he’d approve of my working for cold-blooded creatures like you. And Robert ... reminds me a lot of David. My lovely Deathstalker. So; Blue Block either agrees to leave Robert and Constance alone, or I’ll declare war on the whole damned organization. Starting with you two. Right here, right now.”
There was a short, charged silence. Brendan swallowed audibly. “Chantelle; I think he means it.”
“You can’t defy Blue Block,” Chantelle said numbly to the SummerIsle. “We’re everywhere.”
Kid Death smiled his killer’s smile, and Chantelle had to look away. Brendan’s face had gone white, and he clasped his hands together to keep them from shaking.
“Game, set, and match to me, I think,” said Robert, relief rushing through him like an incoming wave, washing away his tension. He laughed shortly, feeling almost light-headed. “Lord SummerIsle, I hereby invest you as Warrior Prime to the Empire, and my official Champion. Your duty will be to identify and eliminate all threats to the Empire. Very definitely including Blue Block.”
“Official killer,” said the SummerIsle. “I like it.”
“You can’t make a psychopath like him Warrior Prime!” protested Brendan, honestly shocked.
“He may be a psychopath, but he’ll be my psychopath,” said Robert. “Cardinal, Chantelle; I don’t think we have anything else to discuss. You played your hand, and I have trumped it with Kid Death. Cardinal, I need you to perform the ceremony, so you get to stick around. With Kid Death at your side to keep you in order, of course. After the wedding ... I’ll have the Elves take you somewhere private, and you can tell them everything you know about Blue Block. Chantelle, your services here today are no longer required. You may leave now. Arresting you here and now would be a scandal momentous enough to mean putting off the wedding for another day, and I’m damned if I’m going through all this again. So I’ll give you a head start. If I were you, I’d start running right now.”
Chantelle was breathing hard, her eyes fixed on his. “It’s not that easy,” she said viciously. “You’re still Blue Block. And that means I own you, body and soul. Hey, Robert. We all come home.”
The long-implanted control words smashed through Robert’s head like thunder, and he cried out in anguish as once again all self-control and will were swept away on the overpowering tide of his conditioning. His back snapped straight, his head came up, and his face was utterly blank. He looked at Chantelle with empty eyes, and his mouth spoke someone else’s words. “Activation code acknowledged. Request status confirmation.”
“Hundred Hands confirmed!” Chantelle snapped, her face almost crimson with rage. “Kill the SummerIsle! Do it now!”
Robert drew his ceremonial sword. It was a bright and shiny thing with a jeweled hilt, designed almost entirely for show, but it had a point and an edge, and it would serve. Robert looked at Kid Death, who’d already drawn his sword. Robert started unhurriedly toward his designated target, and Chantelle laughed unpleasantly, a harsh and ugly sound.
“What will you do now, Kid Death? If you don’t defend yourself, Robert will kill you. But if you kill him, the whole Empire will come together to hunt you down. What will you do now, SummerIsle?”
Kid Death smiled his killer’s smile and lunged forward, impossibly quickly. He ducked under Robert’s automatically extended sword, the
blade cutting away a chunk of his hair, and then his shoulder slammed into Robert’s exposed gut. The impact of the collision threw them both to the floor, and while Robert lay curled around his hurt, trying to force air back into his lungs, the SummerIsle turned his fall into a forward roll and was quickly back on his feet, facing Chantelle. She drew a hidden dagger from her sleeve. Kid Death slapped it out of her hand, pushed her back against the wall hard enough to make her eyes roll up for a moment, and then put the edge of his sword against her throat. She froze in place, glaring at him over the threatening blade. Brendan started to move forward, but the SummerIsle stopped him with a look.
“Now,” said Kit SummerIsle, entirely unruffled and not even breathing fast, “release Robert from the control words, Chantelle, or I’ll kill you.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” said Chantelle, almost spitting at him in her fury. “I’m Blue Block! You don’t dare hurt me!”
“I’m Kid Death, and I don’t give a damn. Release him.”
“Never!”
“Very well,” said Kid Death, and cut her throat with one swift sweep of his sword.
Blood flew from Chantelle’s shocked mouth, as she clapped both hands to the awful wound at her throat, as though she could somehow hold the edges together. She made horrible sounds as the strength went out of her along with the spraying blood, and she slumped slowly to the floor, her back still pressed against the wall. Kid Death turned to face Brendan, blood still dripping from his sword. Robert was slowly getting to his feet, sword in hand.
“Release him from the control words,” said the SummerIsle calmly. “Or I’ll kill you, Cardinal.”
“All right, damn you! All right! Robert; Code Omega Three. Shut down! Shut down!”
Robert’s personality slammed back into his face as his will became his own again, and he stopped advancing on Kid Death. He shuddered uncontrollably for a moment, and then slowly put his sword away. Cardinal Brendan knelt down beside the convulsing Chantelle, and took her in his arms. She fought him for a moment, lost in her own pain and horror, but as the last of her strength went out of her, she finally recognized him, and tried to say something. But all that came out of her mouth was a bloody froth, and she died before she could make him understand. Brendan hugged her dead body to him, his face wet with tears, her blood soaking into his official robes. Robert clapped the SummerIsle on the shoulder, and looked down at Brendan.
“It’s over, Cardinal,” said Robert. “You’ll be arrested for treason, the moment the ceremony’s over.”
“You think I care about that?” said Brendan, looking up at last, his tearstained face full of loss and bitterness. “Nothing matters now. Nothing. You haven’t just killed a woman. You’ve killed Blue Block itself. She was Blue Block. Just her.”
“What are you saying?” said Robert. “How could one woman run something as huge and wide-ranging as Blue Block?”
“Because it isn’t. Oh, it might have been once, long ago, but by the time Chantelle inherited control, Blue Block’s glory days were long gone. What organization there was, was mostly just mists and shadows. All it needed was a hint here, a rumor there, and sinister-sounding names like the Red Church and the Black College ... and people’s imagination did the rest. There are only about forty people left who actually do anything these days. Mostly they just implant conditioning in others, so they can be used as necessary, to foster the illusion and intimidate the Families they were taken from.”
Robert and Kit SummerIsle looked at each other, and then at Brendan. “And the Hundred Hands?” said Robert.
“Oh, they’re real enough. They were Chantelle’s idea. Put them together a few at a time, wait until there were enough of them to frighten the Clans, and then use them to pressure the Families into accepting the deal she made with Jack Random. And once the Clans had got used to taking orders ... Just mists and shadows. And thoroughly conditioned public faces like BB Chojiro. People saw what they expected to see, and believed in the myth we so carefully propagated. Chantelle ran everything, from the shadows, unsuspected, hidden in plain sight. Just her.”
“So ... who started Blue Block?” said Kit SummerIsle. “Back when it really was something?”
“Giles Deathstalker. He set it all up before he went on the run in his Last Standing. His last revenge against his Emperor. A hidden force to strengthen the position of the Clans, and then control them; an organization he could make use of, when he finally returned from stasis. But he slept so much longer than he intended, and down the centuries Blue Block rotted away from within. The Deathstalker must have been very disappointed when he found what had happened to his wonderful cabal. But he did make Blue Block possible. It was the old Empire tech they preserved that made such perfect mental conditioning possible.”
“And who would ever suspect a social butterfly like Chantelle?” said Robert. “But of course she went everywhere, heard everything, knew everybody’s secrets. Who better to run a secret society based on bluff and blackmail?”
“And now she’s gone,” said Brendan. “And Blue Block dies with her. She was the only one who knew everything, all the code names and implanted control words.”
“Good riddance,” said Kit SummerIsle, watching unmoved as the Cardinal lowered his head and wept over the dead woman in his arms.
“Did you love her?” said Robert.
“Of course I loved her,” said Brendan. “She made us all love her.”
Up in the director’s gallery, occupying part of Parliament’s security center, Toby Shreck and his assistants sat hunched over their control panels, watching the display of monitor screens showing what the cameramen down on the floor of the House and its antechamber were broadcasting. It was all going out live, with a few seconds’ delay so they could edit out any foul language, and the current audience totals were bigger than anything Toby had ever known, even during the last days of the rebellion. Practically everyone in the Empire who had access to a holoscreen, and wasn’t actually under attack, was watching his show. Toby couldn’t stop grinning, even when his cheeks ached from the strain.
He spoke quietly to his assistants at the control and mixing boards, switching from one camera to another as something interesting caught his eye. This close to the ceremony, it was up to him to impose some form of sense and structure on the sheer mass of information being filmed. Every now and then he’d have a quiet word with his cameramen through their comm implants, telling them to concentrate on this person or that gathering, or when to pull back and look away, rather than show some unpleasant incident or ill feeling that might distract from the general joy of the occasion. This wasn’t a documentary, after all; this was supposed to be a morale booster for Humanity, and for once Toby Shreck was following instructions. He knew how vital it was that everything was seen to go well. Besides, his cameras were recording a lot more than they were transmitting, and by rights it all belonged to him. Later on, he’d put together a warts-and-all documentary that would really open people’s eyes.
Assuming there was a later on ...
On Toby Shreck’s many screens, movers and shakers and aristocrats and celebrities clustered together, putting aside for one day at least old hatreds and animosities, as they waited impatiently for a wedding that would change the whole nature of the Empire yet again.
In a huge antechamber packed almost literally from wall to wall, the guests were growing restless. Overcome by the immensity of the occasion, and the increasingly sauna-like conditions, they’d been knocking back the complimentary champagne as fast as the circulating waiters could get it to them. Faces were becoming flushed, voices louder, opinions more vehement. Anyone even the least bit interesting was seized on by the guests to distract them from their boredom, the heat, and the impossibly long queues for the toilets. The actor who now played the part of the daredevil esper Julian Skye in the continuing holo adventure show was having a great time. The show was bigger than ever these days, and the star was a much better actor than the real Julian had ever been. Mos
t assumed the esper’s sudden, tragic death had been a suicide pact with BB Chojiro; that the two love-birds had chosen to die together rather than be separated by Julian’s growing illness. Others spoke darkly of Chojiro and even Blue Block conspiracies, and hinted that Julian had been murdered because he had been ready to make dangerous public remarks about his time with BB. Either way, it was all Very Romantic. The public did so love a tragic hero, and Julian Skye’s reputation grew ever more noble and heroic, now he was safely gone and unable to contradict it. The best legends have always been based on the dead.
Bruin Bear and the Sea Goat, those two most notable toys and ambassadors from Haceldama, were there as well. Evangeline had arranged for their invitations, partly as an excuse to see old friends again, and partly to demonstrate to the Empire that the infamous killer toys of Haceldama were now much more civilized. Unfortunately, most of Toby Shreck’s films on Haceldama had been overlooked, due to the increasing coverage of the imminent rebellion, and as a result only the bad news had stuck. As a further result, most of the wedding guests were openly petrified by Bruin Bear and the Sea Goat. The Bear honestly didn’t notice, and was polite and charming to everyone, even as they babbled meaningless excuses and ran away from him. The Sea Goat had noticed, and was playing up to it for all he was worth, by making pointed remarks that on the surface seemed perfectly straightforward, but which could also very easily be taken for veiled threats. He’d also acquired a taste for champagne and terrorizing the waiters. Bruin Bear persisted in his attempts to be a good ambassador for the new Haceldama, while the Sea Goat kept baring his huge blocky teeth in a terrible smile, and pretending not to notice when people cringed back from him. The two toys had trapped Donna Silvestri in a corner, and she stared at them with wide terrified eyes as the Bear innocently tried to make small talk with her.