Analog Science Fiction And Fact - June 2014 by Penny Publications
Authors: Penny Publications
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night was day. What's more, his powers of persuasion were contagious. He could take an ordinary, comparatively inarticulate Dokharan and convert him into a compelling debator whose judges would not only rule in his favor but apologize to him for having the temerity to sit in judgment on him.
If anybody could devise a winning ploy for Luhor, it was Nishizuki, but his first act as Luhor's jikyu was to concede that he hadn't done so—at least not yet. He applied for and was granted an extension to confer with his client and consider his options. The Genjuko continued to conduct hearings, but they were mere formalities. Everyone understood that a final decision had been deferred until Luhor was ready to address the council.
Meanwhile...
Luhor had vanished. Three days had passed. He had made no public appearances, issued no public statements, did not seem to be lodged at any of the various establishments that were open to the public. He was registered at none of the hotels, inns, or rooming houses scattered throughout the city.
"That proves nothing, of course," Tumanzu grouched. "He could be using an alias." He shook his head, disagreeing with his own assessment. "I doubt it, though. I think Nishizuki's taken him to some hideaway and is desperately trying to bestow the gift of eloquence on him. I don't envy Nishizuki
that
task! Luhor's croak is by no means the voice of an orator."
Baldwin registered mild surprise. "His croak?"
"The shiroz mines will do that to you. If you'd spent three years breathing dust and coughing up your lungs, you, too, might speak with a rasp."
"But he doesn't." Baldwin's foref ingers were pointing in opposite directions—a gesture signifying
on the contrary.
"I've had two conversations with him. He doesn't sound hoarse to me."
Raising his voice, Tumanzu bellowed: "Something wrong with your hearing?" He and Baldwin were seated in the same room at the same table, but—judging by sheer volume—he might have been addressing someone in another time zone.
Baldwin flinched. He snarled: "I'm sitting next to an ogaku saruja who may have just shattered my eardrums!" He was genuinely annoyed, wasn't bothering to pretend otherwise. The expression "okaku saruja" wasn't ordinarily used in polite society. It wasn't ordinarily used in impolite society either—not unless the person using it was looking for a fight. "Apart from that, no—there's nothing wrong with my hearing."
Tumanzu's smile faded from his face like mist from a mirror. "The words coming out of Luhor's mouth sound like they've been through a grinder. How could you fail to notice?"
Baldwin—still vexed—snapped: "I failed to notice because there was nothing to be noticed. Luhor's voice isn't especially sonorous, but it isn't gruff either." He activated Minerva and meddled with her buttons. A voice emerged from the comtote's speakers: "Mr. Baldwin! I didn't realize that you and I were fellow travelers. You should have sought me out aboard ship. We could have become better acquainted." Baldwin patted Minerva's slick carapace. "See?"
Tumanzu was wearing an expression of dropjawed shock. "No—I
don't
see. But I hear—loud and clear. I just don't believe what I'm hearing."
With the air of a fisherman dangling bait in the water, Baldwin teased: "Would you
like
to see?"
Tumanzu's eyes widened. "Pictures? You have pictures of Luhor?"
"Of course I do. You gave me explicit instructions. Remember? A full report. You expected a full report from me."
"A
verbal
report. I wasn't thinking in terms of photographs." Tumanzu wagged a forefinger in a come-hither gesture. "Here. Let me see."
A quick review of the material stored in Minerva's memory revealed three images of Luhor. None were close-ups, but his features were clearly visible in the third. Baldwin enlarged it, and handed the comtote to Tumanzu. He took one look and barked an expletive that made "ogaku sauja" seem mild and inoffensive by comparison. He didn't rise to his feet so much as
If anybody could devise a winning ploy for Luhor, it was Nishizuki, but his first act as Luhor's jikyu was to concede that he hadn't done so—at least not yet. He applied for and was granted an extension to confer with his client and consider his options. The Genjuko continued to conduct hearings, but they were mere formalities. Everyone understood that a final decision had been deferred until Luhor was ready to address the council.
Meanwhile...
Luhor had vanished. Three days had passed. He had made no public appearances, issued no public statements, did not seem to be lodged at any of the various establishments that were open to the public. He was registered at none of the hotels, inns, or rooming houses scattered throughout the city.
"That proves nothing, of course," Tumanzu grouched. "He could be using an alias." He shook his head, disagreeing with his own assessment. "I doubt it, though. I think Nishizuki's taken him to some hideaway and is desperately trying to bestow the gift of eloquence on him. I don't envy Nishizuki
that
task! Luhor's croak is by no means the voice of an orator."
Baldwin registered mild surprise. "His croak?"
"The shiroz mines will do that to you. If you'd spent three years breathing dust and coughing up your lungs, you, too, might speak with a rasp."
"But he doesn't." Baldwin's foref ingers were pointing in opposite directions—a gesture signifying
on the contrary.
"I've had two conversations with him. He doesn't sound hoarse to me."
Raising his voice, Tumanzu bellowed: "Something wrong with your hearing?" He and Baldwin were seated in the same room at the same table, but—judging by sheer volume—he might have been addressing someone in another time zone.
Baldwin flinched. He snarled: "I'm sitting next to an ogaku saruja who may have just shattered my eardrums!" He was genuinely annoyed, wasn't bothering to pretend otherwise. The expression "okaku saruja" wasn't ordinarily used in polite society. It wasn't ordinarily used in impolite society either—not unless the person using it was looking for a fight. "Apart from that, no—there's nothing wrong with my hearing."
Tumanzu's smile faded from his face like mist from a mirror. "The words coming out of Luhor's mouth sound like they've been through a grinder. How could you fail to notice?"
Baldwin—still vexed—snapped: "I failed to notice because there was nothing to be noticed. Luhor's voice isn't especially sonorous, but it isn't gruff either." He activated Minerva and meddled with her buttons. A voice emerged from the comtote's speakers: "Mr. Baldwin! I didn't realize that you and I were fellow travelers. You should have sought me out aboard ship. We could have become better acquainted." Baldwin patted Minerva's slick carapace. "See?"
Tumanzu was wearing an expression of dropjawed shock. "No—I
don't
see. But I hear—loud and clear. I just don't believe what I'm hearing."
With the air of a fisherman dangling bait in the water, Baldwin teased: "Would you
like
to see?"
Tumanzu's eyes widened. "Pictures? You have pictures of Luhor?"
"Of course I do. You gave me explicit instructions. Remember? A full report. You expected a full report from me."
"A
verbal
report. I wasn't thinking in terms of photographs." Tumanzu wagged a forefinger in a come-hither gesture. "Here. Let me see."
A quick review of the material stored in Minerva's memory revealed three images of Luhor. None were close-ups, but his features were clearly visible in the third. Baldwin enlarged it, and handed the comtote to Tumanzu. He took one look and barked an expletive that made "ogaku sauja" seem mild and inoffensive by comparison. He didn't rise to his feet so much as
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