Pay Me, Bug!

Chapter 16

WHEREIN A Previous Disagreement Is Finally Resolved

Grif leaned back and stared at N'grash doubtfully. "Really. A Sword."

"A Sword," N'grash repeated. "He is known as the Viceroy. You are in danger, Tester."

N'grash's people had a tradition of labeling everyone they knew. It was, N'grash claimed, an attempt to know the essence of another's soul. Grif's soul, it seemed, was hard to label--or was non-existent, as N'grash occasionally claimed--because she was never satisfied with any label she chose. When they'd first met she called him "Trickster," then "Jester." She found neither label satisfactory, and would occasionally replace it with a new one: "Mocker." "Liar." "Madman." "Fool." Lately she had taken to calling him "Tester," because, she said, he insisted on testing the boundaries of everything and everyone he met.

"The Viceroy?" Grif frowned. "Never heard of him. Name's a bit ostentatious, though, isn't it? Nothing like a little hubris to start off your day..."

A low growl of frustration escaped N'grash's throat as she leaned forward, half-rising out of her chair. "This is not a joke, Tester. I know of this one--not personally, but by reputation."

Grif fell silent. N'grash had surprisingly accurate sources of information, and her sense of humor didn't lend itself to pranks along these lines. If N'grash was telling him this, it was because she had a strong reason to believe it was true: and if she had a strong reason to believe it was true, it probably was.

"The Viceroy..." N'grash made a growling, gurgling sound deep in her throat. "He is very dangerous."

"That was implied when you said he was a Sword," Grif said.

"He is dangerous, even among Swords," N'grash snapped. "He is rumored to report directly to their Emperor. Very powerful. His sorcery is very strong."

Ggrlsha were not, as a rule, psionically gifted, and tended to view the trait as a form of dream-magic. Which, as far as Grif was concerned, wasn't really too far off the mark.

"All right," Grif said. "I believe you. But why me?"

N'grash's laughter sounded like a hundred dogs barking at the same time. "Your recent success, Tester. They wish to know how you broke into Ur Voys, and the Viceroy plans to... extract the information."

"Well," Grif said, "that's... just... perfect."

N'grash stared at Grif silently, trying to work out what he meant. Finally she added "there is a rumor that he will arrive here."

Grif closed his eyes and swore softly. "When?"

"Soon," N'grash said. "Surely you expected this?"

"No, not really." Grif stood, stretched, and started to pace the small room, agitated. "I figured Mavis would want to kill me, but honestly I didn't think much farther than all that damn money falling into my lap."

N'grash laughed again. "Foolish," she said. "But understandable. The lure of that wealth would make many throw caution to the wind."

The way she said it implied that she did not consider herself part of that group.

Grif sighed. This was the last thing he needed right now. If he could put it off until this current mess was over and done with, he'd deal with it then. Or he'd be dead, which would also solve the problem.

"You need to run," N'grash said. "To Alliance space, where it will be easier for you to move than it will be for a Sword. Perhaps he will give up. Perhaps you can fake your death. I do not know. I know I would regret to see you killed."