The Sardonyx Net Part 10

"That bubble came back. At least, Dana said it was the same one. They flew in close and" -- she shrugged -- "dropped a bomb. That's all."

"A slave was hurt?"

"Dana. He was protecting me, and something hit his head. I thought at first it was a stone, but if a stone had hit him, he'd be dead, wouldn't he? It must have been a clod of earth."

She was talking too much, Zed thought; a reaction from the shock. "You called the Abanat police?"

"They'd be right here, they said." She glanced around. "I told Timithos not to touch the garden. Of all of us, I think he's most upset."

Zed's heartbeat was almost back to normal. If I had been here ... he thought, and suppressed the thought, because if he'd been present, there would have been nothing he could do. "Let me see Dana," he said. "Where is he?"

"Timithos carried him to his room," Rhani said. "Amri's with him." They went inside. Zed watched her walk down the hall. She _was_ unhurt. She could have been killed, he thought, if she had been closer to the blast, if Dana had not protected her, if a stone had hit her, if, if.... He caught his breath. Fury moved like a living thing through his bones. He wanted to break something.

Dana lay on his right side in the bed, loosely covered by a sheet. The left rear quadrant of his skull was bandaged. Amri sat beside him, holding paper and a pen. She held it out to Zed mutely. She had been taking his pulse and counting his respirations every half hour. The figures were normal. Dana's forehead -- Zed touched it -- was cool and dry. "Has he wakened at all?" he said to Amri.

"He opened his eyes once. He saw me. He said my name and then went back to sleep. He sounded afraid, or angry, I couldn't tell." She rubbed her eyes.

"Will he be all right?"

"Don't cry," Zed told her. "Let me get near him, Amri." She scurried back from the bed. "Was the head wound bleeding, Rhani-ka?"

"No," she said. "It was just a discolored lump."

Zed touched the bandages. "I want to take this off," he said. "Amri, get me warm water and a scissors and a sterile cloth."

"I don't know what that is, Zed-ka."

"Go into my room, look in my closet, and bring me my medic's kit." She brought it instantly, carrying it in both hands. Zed took the clumsy bandage off. The swelling beneath it was purple. He cleaned the area, using the scissors to cut Dana's hair, looking for blood. There was none. "It should have been iced, not bandaged," he said, "but no harm done."

Rhani stared at the swelling. "It looks terrible."

"It's not. What about the rest of him?" Zed drew the sheet away.

"Is it a concussion?" Rhani said.

"It may be one."

Amri said, tearfully, "Why won't he wake up?"

On Dana's back there were welts and abrasions where debris from the explosion had torn the skin away. Zed resisted the urge to lay his fingers, ever so lightly, against those places of pain. Dana breathed evenly, his fine eyelashes trembling. "He will," Zed said. "Dana." He pitched his voice. "Dana."

The long body stirred. "See, he hears me. Wake up."

Dana heard Zed calling. _Wake up_. He resisted the command, wanting only rest. But he had been harshly schooled to listen to that voice. He surfaced into consciousness blinking. The daylight was blinding. His eyes teared involuntarily; he could not make out a face.

A cloth wiped his eyes. He saw clearly: Amri, Rhani, Zed. Zed held the cloth. Dana remembered: an arm, waving from the bubble. Something falling.

Noise. Yes.

Rhani said tremulously, "Dana!"

He focused on her.

"I would be dead, if not for you."

"Who?" he asked.

Zed said, "We don't know. Yet."

His lips felt thick and sore. "Was anyone else hurt?"

Rhani said, "A dragoncat was killed. And Timithos is furious because the bomb tore a huge hole in his beautiful garden.

Dana tried to swallow. His mouth was dry as bone. Zed said, "Thirsty?"

"Yes."

"You can have water. No food yet. Sleep as much as you like. Don't get up. Here." He put a hand into his pocket and drew out a small box. He held it over the bed. Small hard pellets -- musictapes -- cascaded out. "These should keep you still. Don't get a headache. There's an auditor in the library. Amri can bring it to you."

Dana touched the musictapes, unbelieving. His fingers shook.

Zed touched his shoulder to draw his attention. "You did well," he said.

Dana struggled. "Thank you, Zed-ka."

Rhani leaned over the bed. "Don't tire yourself," she said. Self- possession had returned to her voice. She linked her arm with Zed's. "Zed-ka."

"I am with you," he said. They left; Dana heard their footsteps, matched, recede along the hall. Amri pattered in, carrying the auditor. She put it where Dana could reach it. His hands felt stiff; his fingers fat, unwieldy as clubs.

He fumbled among the tapes for the "Concerto in A Minor."

"I can do it," Amri said.

"I want to," said Dana. He inserted the tape. Stratta filled the room.

"That's pretty," Amri said.

Dana closed his eyes.

An hour after Zed's return and some four hours after Binkie's call to them, two members of the Abanat police arrived at the estate.

The officer in charge of the case was named Sachiko Tsurada. Her companion's last name was Ron. Rhani never heard his first name; later she decided that perhaps he didn't have one. Tsurada was small and dark and clearly the worker of the duo. When the bubble landed by the hangar, she emerged first, hand outstretched in greeting. "Domna," she said briskly. She held out her hand to Zed. "Commander." She surveyed them. "I am glad you were not hurt. I apologize for the length of time it took us to respond to your call." She permitted herself to smile. "No one in the department wanted this a.s.signment, you see."

"I can understand that," Zed said grimly.

"I would like to see all communications you have received from the Free Folk of Chabad, all other threats from anyone, the bomb crater, and, if you retrieved them, any pieces of the bomb."

"There were none," said Zed. He had spent an hour searching through the shrubbery. "At least, none that we could recognize."

"I would also like to tour the estate grounds."

Rhani said, "I'll take you."

The policewoman looked disconcerted. "That isn't necessary, Domna, a slave can do it."

Rhani put her hands on her hips. "I'll take you, I said. They're _my_ grounds." The sc.r.a.pes on her arms and legs stung. She led the way to the house.

On the a.s.sumption that the police would want to see them, she had told Binkie to sort out the various ugly letters and threats. From the downstairs hall, she called him on the intercom.

"Binkie, please bring the threatening letters downstairs," she said.

"Yes, Rhani-ka," he answered. In a moment, he came down the stairs and handed them to her. She pa.s.sed them to Tsurada, who glanced through them with a look of contemptuous distaste.

"May we keep these, Domna?"

"If you think it will help."

"It may," she said, pa.s.sing the neat pile to Officer Ron. "I should tell you, Domna, the Abanat police have never heard of the Free Folk of Chabad. They haven't surfaced before. There are groups like them scattered all about the city, of course; but those we know -- most of them are infiltrated -- and none of them are organized enough to plan an attack which includes a dry run, or, indeed, sober enough to build a bomb."

Zed said, "I'm not convinced that the attackers are the Free Folk of Chabad."

Rhani said, "But if the Abanat police don't know them, it's more likely to be they than a group that is well known."

Officer Tsurada said, "We'll find out."

"How?" said Zed.

Tsurada smiled. "Brilliant police work, naturally. Probably one of them will get frightened, and turn informer. That's how we get most of our information about these groups. I a.s.sume you don't want this event made public, Domna?"

Rhani frowned. "I do not. Has PIN heard about it already?"

"They monitor the police com-lines," Tsurada said. "But I've already told them that whatever they hear, they may not use. They're used to being told not to print things."

"Thank you," Rhani said.

"I would like to see the bomb site, now."

Rhani escorted them to it. Timithos sat on his haunches nearby, staring disconsolately at the ugly scar. Tsurada walked around it. "'From what distance was the bomb thrown?" she asked.

Rhani shook her head. "I don't know. It happened very fast."

"Dana might be able to say," murmured Zed.

"When he wakes up, I'll ask him," said Rhani. "Dana is one of my slaves,"

she explained. "He was with me when it happened. He was hurt."

Tsurada glanced at Timithos. "Your gardener?"

"Yes." "Have you seen anything around this hole of metal or plastic, anything unfamiliar that might have come from the bomb?"

Timithos looked frightened. "I found stones," he said timidly.

"I don't think Timithos would recognize a piece of a bomb if it hit him,"

Rhani interposed.

She and Zed led the police officers around the entire estate. They examined the walls, admired the dragoncats, and walked through and around the gate. As they walked back to the house, Tsurada said, "I don't think there's any way for you to be completely safe here, Domna, short of building a Cage-field over the grounds, or quartering an army on your lawn."

Rhani said, "There is no army on Chabad, and I don't think I could live inside a cage."

Tsurada nodded. "Nor could I." She frowned. "I wish I had a piece of that bomb. With your permission, I'd like to send a team out to examine the grounds."

"You have it," Rhani said. "But why is it important?"

"A piece would tell me where it came from, for starters; if it was made on Chabad, or smuggled in from the outside." She glanced at Timithos, who was now talking softly to the dragoncats. "Domna, have you thought at all that your attackers might be slaves?"

"Ex-slaves, you mean," said Zed. "I a.s.sumed that."

"I don't mean that," Tsurada said. "I mean slaves, the slaves who live in our houses, run our computers, arrange our lives. Slaves can use their owners'

prestige, their owners' wealth, to get almost anything done. Until and unless one of them made a mistake, proof would be almost impossible to find."

Rhani swallowed. She could not believe ... "Not my slaves," she said.

Tsurada shrugged. "You know them. It need not be your slaves." She hesitated, and then said, "Domna, you must know that if any Family on Chabad is responsible for slavery, in the slaves' minds, it's Family Yago."

In the hangar, Tsurada shook hands again with Rhani, and then with Zed.

"The team will fly out tomorrow morning," she promised. She mounted the bubble, then leaned down to say, "Do you intend to keep to your usual custom, Domna, and go to Abanat for the Auction?"

Rhani had not even considered canceling the trip. "Of course," she said firmly.

"While you are in Abanat," Tsurada said, "you might think about hiring a bodyguard."

Walking back to the house, Zed said, "That's not a bad idea."

"A bodyguard?" Rhani scowled. She hated Abanat; she was never happy there; but she didn't want to be trailed around the streets by some galumphing hired guard. "Ugh."

"Jo could do it. Skellians make excellent bodyguards."

"Jo can't be in two places at once, and she's supposed to be finding Sherrix."

"That's true," said Zed. "But it's still a good idea."

Rhani put her hands in her pockets. Mutinously she thought, I _won't_ have a bodyguard. She chuckled suddenly, remembering that wonderful Pellish word Dana had taught her. _Bersk_. I'll get very grumpy and have to be alone for a long while.