Read Online Trader's World by Charles Sheffield - Free Book Online
Authors: Charles Sheffield
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into view, all taller than the one- or two-story constructions that stood on the airport's perimeter. The car chugged steadily along until it came to the biggest, a seven-story structure built of white stone. There Inongo Kiri again turned the copper key, and the car's engine expired with a final spluttering cough. They stepped out into a huge open square, its sides flanked by palm trees.
They had driven perhaps five miles. The plumed and robed attendants were now spread out all the way back to the airfield. Kiri gave them a casual glance. The nearest was a mile or more away.
"They will all be here eventually, but it is not worth waiting for them." He laughed. "Come along. By the time we return from your rooms they will be waiting for us. You will have them as an honor guard when you meet the future emperor."
"But where will we meet him?" Kallario asked. He had been expecting a grand imperial palace. The white stone building was big, but it did not match his mental image.
"Right here. Up on the topmost floor. Ah, I see—you find this building a little drab to be his home. Do not worry. You will see his future palace tomorrow, when we make a trip north of here. The castle will be finished in time for the coronation—or else." He chuckled. "For the moment, Rasool Ilunga is content to live a simpler life-style. Come, let us move upstairs."
The four third-floor bedrooms assigned to the trainees were small, hot, identical, and simply furnished. Blown air, circulating from the wall vents, felt no cooler than room temperature on Mike's hand. He dropped his little traveling case on the bed. Rule 68: Everything you need for a negotiation should be small enough to fit inside your head. He was ready to leave at once, but instead he went across to the window.
His room looked north across a level, parched plain. There was no attempt to irrigate the soil with river water. The buildings below petered out after another half-dozen structures, and a white-topped road, parallel to the river, led across a desolate landscape to the northern horizon. On that horizon, barely visible in the heat haze, twinkled a glint of silver.
Mike went to his satchel, took out a tiny Chill-fabricated spyglass, and looked again. The silver glint resolved to a set of half a dozen steeples. They rose high above the plain, each one ending in a needle point of light. Even at maximum magnification Mike could pick out no details. While he was still peering north he heard a footstep behind him.
Cesar Famares was standing in the doorway. "Look here." He paused, then made up his mind. "Look, Mike, if you and Jake want to fight, that's up to you. But count me and Melly out of it. I know you think the three of us are lined up against you, and maybe we were when we started. But we're not now. Melly and I have been talking, and we're agreed, we're not going to take Jake's side. Or yours, either. If he—or you—does anything to hurt our chances of becoming Traders, we'll chop you to pieces. All right?"
Mike looked at him for a moment, face startled. Then he smiled. "All right. Better than all right. You know, Cesar, I've been trying hard. I really have. I'm not the one who's been looking for trouble. I want to be a successful Trader, maybe even more than you do. If it doesn't work out for you and Melly and Jake, so what? You'll all go back to your families. But until I make it as a Trader, I'm a fake Asparian. If I don't have this, I have nothing."
"You do now." Cesar walked forward and took Mike's hand. "You've got friends. Come on, let's go and see what the Light of the World eats for lunch."
At the head of the stairs Melinda Turak stood waiting. She glanced inquiringly from Cesar to Mike and back. Cesar nodded, and she laughed in relief. "That's great. Let's get a move on. Jake and Inongo Kiri have already gone up there to organize our ceremonial bodyguard. How does it feel to rate a thirty-man escort?"
The elevators in the building were all slow and creaking.
They had driven perhaps five miles. The plumed and robed attendants were now spread out all the way back to the airfield. Kiri gave them a casual glance. The nearest was a mile or more away.
"They will all be here eventually, but it is not worth waiting for them." He laughed. "Come along. By the time we return from your rooms they will be waiting for us. You will have them as an honor guard when you meet the future emperor."
"But where will we meet him?" Kallario asked. He had been expecting a grand imperial palace. The white stone building was big, but it did not match his mental image.
"Right here. Up on the topmost floor. Ah, I see—you find this building a little drab to be his home. Do not worry. You will see his future palace tomorrow, when we make a trip north of here. The castle will be finished in time for the coronation—or else." He chuckled. "For the moment, Rasool Ilunga is content to live a simpler life-style. Come, let us move upstairs."
The four third-floor bedrooms assigned to the trainees were small, hot, identical, and simply furnished. Blown air, circulating from the wall vents, felt no cooler than room temperature on Mike's hand. He dropped his little traveling case on the bed. Rule 68: Everything you need for a negotiation should be small enough to fit inside your head. He was ready to leave at once, but instead he went across to the window.
His room looked north across a level, parched plain. There was no attempt to irrigate the soil with river water. The buildings below petered out after another half-dozen structures, and a white-topped road, parallel to the river, led across a desolate landscape to the northern horizon. On that horizon, barely visible in the heat haze, twinkled a glint of silver.
Mike went to his satchel, took out a tiny Chill-fabricated spyglass, and looked again. The silver glint resolved to a set of half a dozen steeples. They rose high above the plain, each one ending in a needle point of light. Even at maximum magnification Mike could pick out no details. While he was still peering north he heard a footstep behind him.
Cesar Famares was standing in the doorway. "Look here." He paused, then made up his mind. "Look, Mike, if you and Jake want to fight, that's up to you. But count me and Melly out of it. I know you think the three of us are lined up against you, and maybe we were when we started. But we're not now. Melly and I have been talking, and we're agreed, we're not going to take Jake's side. Or yours, either. If he—or you—does anything to hurt our chances of becoming Traders, we'll chop you to pieces. All right?"
Mike looked at him for a moment, face startled. Then he smiled. "All right. Better than all right. You know, Cesar, I've been trying hard. I really have. I'm not the one who's been looking for trouble. I want to be a successful Trader, maybe even more than you do. If it doesn't work out for you and Melly and Jake, so what? You'll all go back to your families. But until I make it as a Trader, I'm a fake Asparian. If I don't have this, I have nothing."
"You do now." Cesar walked forward and took Mike's hand. "You've got friends. Come on, let's go and see what the Light of the World eats for lunch."
At the head of the stairs Melinda Turak stood waiting. She glanced inquiringly from Cesar to Mike and back. Cesar nodded, and she laughed in relief. "That's great. Let's get a move on. Jake and Inongo Kiri have already gone up there to organize our ceremonial bodyguard. How does it feel to rate a thirty-man escort?"
The elevators in the building were all slow and creaking.
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