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Authors: Susan R. Matthews
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cousin at five removes, Delat Surcase; a poor relation, but a solid Pyana nonetheless. “To what do we owe this unexpected pleasure, sir?”
Surcase was a little nervous; Geltoi knew how to read his kinsman’s resentful glance at Belan in the touring car beside him. It didn’t hurt for Belan to know that he was resented on all sides. It helped to keep him honest, a difficult task with Nurail.
“Don’t stir yourself, Warden, I’m just going to have a look at guest quarters. How are things going, by the way?”
Visibly relieved, Surcase nodded as if in agreement. “Nice quarters they are, too, Administrator. Quiet today, all work details hired out. Eight, maybe eleven replacements so far. No loss.”
Quite so. Their hire more than covered their keep, true enough, but Nurail were vermin. The fewer of the malingering scum left in his prison by nightfall, the more room he’d have for the fresh shipment of Nurail livestock Belan had promised him.
When the Inquisitor arrived he would be brought in through here, and would use the main lift to travel up to the roof level. Administrator Geltoi kept a critical eye on his surroundings as the lift rose, thinking.
There was no reason for the Inquisitor to realize that this lift was normally locked off on the fifth level. The officer would have no reason to leave his penthouse at all — except to go to the Interrogations section that had been built beneath the penthouse, with its own lift for the Inquisitor’s convenience.
Access was quite properly restricted between Interrogations and the rest of the prison. There were ways in and out of Interrogations apart from the penthouse lift, of course; there had to be communication between Interrogations and the rest of the prison for shift change, and prisoner transfer and feeding, and everything else. It was only reasonable for Geltoi to make sure that traffic was carefully controlled.
The lift rose to the roof and stopped there, locking into place on the receiving dock of the penthouse Geltoi had built for his Inquisitor’s keep. Geltoi quit the lift, but not to go directly into the main portion of the penthouse; he went out the back of the receiving dock into the garden instead, to savor the full effect of the artificial reality that he had created.
They were on the roof of the Domitt Prison, six stories high; but with a climate-brake in place and warmth vented from the furnaces, it was as tranquil and quiet as any garden. Six stories high, but shielded from the weather so that a man could look out over the fields toward the river on one side and the land reclamation project on the other, and yet feel no urgent and ungentle wind in his face.
And on the roof, a garden, with a gracious penthouse to be their Inquisitor’s quarters for the duration of his stay, and everything a man could need provided in abundance.
A kitchen, the cook already on station; bowing nervously as the Administrator passed through to check the pantry. The pantry well-stocked with liquor and delicacies.
Quarters provided for the Security an Inquisitor would bring with him to help him in his work, two domestics — decent Pyana, not Nurail, unlike the cook — to make sure that the officer’s effects were properly maintained. Exercise facilities. A laundry.
Belan had done a good job. Associating with Pyana was improving him, so much was obvious. The living quarters were well-appointed, bathing facilities very inviting, the sleeping room itself positioned so that the penthouse’s panoramic view of the town of Port Rudistal could be enjoyed at its very best; and yet there was something missing.
“Very well done, Merig.” Geltoi’s praise was sincere; Belan had truly exercised himself. It had to be that much harder for a Nurail scant years from savagery to comprehend what a civilized man required for his comfort, and Belan’s achievement was all the more impressive for that. “My congratulations, in appreciation for a job well done. One last
Surcase was a little nervous; Geltoi knew how to read his kinsman’s resentful glance at Belan in the touring car beside him. It didn’t hurt for Belan to know that he was resented on all sides. It helped to keep him honest, a difficult task with Nurail.
“Don’t stir yourself, Warden, I’m just going to have a look at guest quarters. How are things going, by the way?”
Visibly relieved, Surcase nodded as if in agreement. “Nice quarters they are, too, Administrator. Quiet today, all work details hired out. Eight, maybe eleven replacements so far. No loss.”
Quite so. Their hire more than covered their keep, true enough, but Nurail were vermin. The fewer of the malingering scum left in his prison by nightfall, the more room he’d have for the fresh shipment of Nurail livestock Belan had promised him.
When the Inquisitor arrived he would be brought in through here, and would use the main lift to travel up to the roof level. Administrator Geltoi kept a critical eye on his surroundings as the lift rose, thinking.
There was no reason for the Inquisitor to realize that this lift was normally locked off on the fifth level. The officer would have no reason to leave his penthouse at all — except to go to the Interrogations section that had been built beneath the penthouse, with its own lift for the Inquisitor’s convenience.
Access was quite properly restricted between Interrogations and the rest of the prison. There were ways in and out of Interrogations apart from the penthouse lift, of course; there had to be communication between Interrogations and the rest of the prison for shift change, and prisoner transfer and feeding, and everything else. It was only reasonable for Geltoi to make sure that traffic was carefully controlled.
The lift rose to the roof and stopped there, locking into place on the receiving dock of the penthouse Geltoi had built for his Inquisitor’s keep. Geltoi quit the lift, but not to go directly into the main portion of the penthouse; he went out the back of the receiving dock into the garden instead, to savor the full effect of the artificial reality that he had created.
They were on the roof of the Domitt Prison, six stories high; but with a climate-brake in place and warmth vented from the furnaces, it was as tranquil and quiet as any garden. Six stories high, but shielded from the weather so that a man could look out over the fields toward the river on one side and the land reclamation project on the other, and yet feel no urgent and ungentle wind in his face.
And on the roof, a garden, with a gracious penthouse to be their Inquisitor’s quarters for the duration of his stay, and everything a man could need provided in abundance.
A kitchen, the cook already on station; bowing nervously as the Administrator passed through to check the pantry. The pantry well-stocked with liquor and delicacies.
Quarters provided for the Security an Inquisitor would bring with him to help him in his work, two domestics — decent Pyana, not Nurail, unlike the cook — to make sure that the officer’s effects were properly maintained. Exercise facilities. A laundry.
Belan had done a good job. Associating with Pyana was improving him, so much was obvious. The living quarters were well-appointed, bathing facilities very inviting, the sleeping room itself positioned so that the penthouse’s panoramic view of the town of Port Rudistal could be enjoyed at its very best; and yet there was something missing.
“Very well done, Merig.” Geltoi’s praise was sincere; Belan had truly exercised himself. It had to be that much harder for a Nurail scant years from savagery to comprehend what a civilized man required for his comfort, and Belan’s achievement was all the more impressive for that. “My congratulations, in appreciation for a job well done. One last
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