Alarm dashed through her. She set her pseudopapers in the chair and plucked her tablet out from the bottom of the stack.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"I'm coming with you."
"Why?"
"Because you shouldn't go alone."
He peered at her incredulous. "And you're planning to come as my bodyguard?"
"I am."
It would take her at least three minutes to break through the shel over her mind, bringing her to combat readiness. It would be an eternity in a psycher fight, where death was instant. Stil , she couldn't let him go alone and she didn't need to listen to his mind to realize he wouldn't take anyone he considered capable of delivering damage to watch his back. Venturo Escana, arrogant beast that he was, would consider backup beneath him.
"Just out of purely academic curiosity, how exactly are you planning to defend me?" Ven asked. "You have no weapons, no combat enhancements, and your mind is inert.
Are you planning on beating Sangori's assassins off with that tablet or were you thinking of a more theoretical approach? Should I look forward to you giving me a detailed analysis of a knife sticking out of my back? If I happen to die, will you deliver a slide point presentation describing my valor at my funeral?"
"Are you finished?"
"Possibly."
"Very well." She raised her chin. "I'm ready when you are."
"You do realize that this is foolish?"
She simply looked at him, loading her gaze with as much scorn and sarcasm as she could manage.
As they were walking down the hal way, Ven leaned to her. "Thank you."
"You're welcome. I hope you don't get us kil ed."
"They wouldn't dare touch you," he said. "You're a noncombatant."
They stepped into the elevator.
"Can you kil outside of bionet?" she asked.
"If the Sangori are smart, you will never have to find out," he said.
Ven marched into the lobby of Sangori Investments.
Claire fol owed him, a step behind. Inside, white columns rose up, five stories tal and lit from the inside with a warm yel ow light. An ornate lacy relief of vines and flowers sheathed the columns, blocking the il umination, so the spaces between leaves and flowers glowed with white.
Delicate golden chairs sat in groups by ornate tables, so airy they might have been spun by spiders. People occupying the chairs chatted in quiet voices.
In the back of the lobby, a reception area waited, flanked by shorter columns that supported white statues of men on some sort of mounts. Bright green silk draped the reception counter, spil ing from it in pleated waves.
She had never seen so much opulence in her entire life.
Ven strode to the reception area across the polished floor inlaid with a green and gold mosaic. A man with a practiced smile greeted him.
"Venturo Escana to see Savien Sangori," Ven said.
"I'll show myself up."
Heads turned. Suddenly they were the focus of attention.
She felt the sharp points of psycher minds approaching from the left, where a gilded elevator slowly descended along the wal . Ven had felt them too, and moved to stand in front of her.
The elevator doors opened and Castil a de Solis walked out onto the floor. Her mind blazed like a luminescent supernova. In the split second, Claire assessed it. Castil a had power. The question was, did she have the skil to go along with it?
Behind her two men stepped out, one tal , older, with a square jaw, a walking brick. His mind glowed, not as bright as Castil a's, but strong enough. The man on his left was a leaner, faster, younger version of him, his blue-black hair fal ing in a long waterfal down his shoulders. His mind rivaled Castil a's but there was an odd brittle edge to it.
"Venturo," Castil a's eyes opened wide in mock surprise.
"Did you enjoy yourself?" Scorn dripped from Venturo's voice.
The lean psycher's gaze met Claire's. The irises of his eyes were so light, they nearly glowed.
"Yes. Yes, I did."
"Was it worth starting a war?"
"Are we at war, Venturo?" Castil a raised her eyebrows.
"We are now."
"Then I'll start with your pretty little drone."
The lean psycher's mind caught Claire's in a fiery hot grip. Her body locked, her spine bending under unnatural angle. Her throat constricted, cutting the oxygen flow to a mere trickle, letting in just enough air to retain consciousness. She began to dismantle the shel from within.
The lean psycher's eyes widened, puzzled.
"She isn't screaming." Castil a blinked, feigning surprise. "Do you restrain your drone often, Ven? Perhaps she likes it?"
Venturo moved. The force of his mind shot out like a blow of an enormous club. The older man went flying across the lobby, his heavy body knocking the golden chairs into the air. Venturo spun, too fast, and then Castil a was locked in the cage of his arms, her back to his chest, his hand holding a red monomolecule blade a mil imeter away from her jugular.
"Attacking a civilian is a new low for you," he said, his voice calm, almost conversational. "Shal I tel your parents about it?"
She trembled, rage shivering in the curl of her upper lip. "Kil him!"
The older man slowly picked himself up off the floor.
His nose, mouth, and eyes bled. The lean psycher stared at Ven.
"Kill him!"
"They can't, dear," Ven told her, his lips a few centimeters from her ear. "You can't fight me with your mind. We've tried that, remember? If your cousins attack me, they'l have to spend time breaking through my outer shield. My blade will end your life in half a second. And then I'll kil both of them, and if I don't, your father will ."
Castil a growled, a purely animal sound suffused with helpless fury.
"So sweet and refined," Ven said. "As always, a true blossom of the Provinces."
"Fuck you!"
"Perhaps later, if I decide to go slumming." Ven nodded at the lean psycher. "Pelori, let her go. Now."
The hold on Claire's mind vanished. Her heels touched the ground. "Thank you," she said to Ven. "Shal I alert the authorities?"
"There is no need. We're finished here." Ven let go of Castil a and the woman shoved away from him.
"You'l regret this," she snarled.
"I had to touch you - I'm regretting it already."
Castil a spun and walked out of the lobby. The older man fol owed. The lean psycher lingered, looking her over, and walked away.
"Are you alright?" Ven asked, his mind probing hers gently, searching for damage.
"I'm fine." She forced calm to flow through her outer thoughts. "Shal we go up?"
"No. I've changed my mind." He leaned closer. "We won't get to Sangori now. He had too much time to prepare." Aloud he said, "Wil you join me for dinner instead?"
"Of course."
"Excel ent."
They walked out. The moment they boarded Venturo's sleek silver aerial, the force of his mind flowed over hers, like a shield. "Wil you let me scan your mind for injuries?"
"I would rather not."
"Why?"
"We're not that close," she told him. "I like to keep my thoughts private. I ask you to respect this boundary."
"Very well." Ven punched the code into the aerial's console, pul ing his mind back. "Where would you like to eat?"
Claire considered it. She could tel him to take her home. In all likelihood, he simply wanted to observe her to see if her mind unraveled. But he was right here, next to her, and he was offering her an evening of his undivided attention. It wasn't in her power to turn it down.
I'm so pathetic.
If she was going to do this, she would make the best of it.
"Somewhere private," she said. "I think I've had enough excitement for today."
The aerial's engine hummed as they rose into the air. "I know just the place," he said.
Claire had no idea that the top floors of the Guardian Building housed a garden. In this part of the structure the outer exoskeleton of plasti-steel beams sloped, forming the upper curve of the flower bud, and the space between the diagrid and the inner core of the building was only about twenty-five meters. Those twenty-five meters were occupied by a tiled deck. Ornamental shrubs and flowers formed green barriers, slicing the deck into smal private sections. Ven brought her to the larger of these sections.
Three comfortable wicker chairs with burgundy-red cushions waited in the center of the deck, each with its own side table, arranged around a large metal brazier. Past the chairs, the solar panels of the sloping diagrid had turned transparent, reacting to encroaching darkness. The sky spread before her, vast, endless, tinted with purple and blue, the stars distant points of light. Little white flowers bloomed in the flower beds, fil ing the air with a refined perfume reminiscent of peaches.
Venturo took an ornate bin behind one of the chairs, dumped a smal heap of uniform black stones out of it into the brazier and added wood chips.
"What's this?"
"Charcoal."
"Fossil fuels? Real y?" How quaint.
"It's a provincial tradition." He drenched the coals in some fluid and lit it with a flick of a spark stick. The coals ignited. A wave of heat washed over Claire. She smel ed smoke. It wasn't an unpleasant scent.
To their right, the glass doors opened and a smiling man came forward, fol owed by an computerized trol ey.
"Ah. Here comes our food. Thank you, Ertez."
"You're welcome. Enjoy."
The man departed. The top of the trol ey opened like a flower, revealing half a dozen larger dishes, each supporting long skewers threaded with vegetables and meat.
"Pick one."
She puzzled over the choices and chose a skewer at random. "This one."
Ven lowered the skewer into the openings cut in the rim of the brazier, picked out his own skewer, and placed it next to hers. Flames licked the meat.
