Branegate by James C. Glass Page B

again. They went back to the car and drove to The Church. Pavel and his soldiers finally left them. They met with Nicolus, and Trae gave him the note to read. The priest refolded the note, and it was like a moment of prayer or meditation when they burned it to ashes in a porcelain dish. He took the letter, said he’d immediately contact Assan and make sure it was personally delivered to Emperor Rasim Siddique in privacy.
    It was time to leave. The priest gave Petyr a small, metal suitcase to take with him. While Trae wondered what was in it, he didn’t ask. And while Nicolus had seemed somewhat hostile at first meeting, now he was reverent. He bowed to Trae, and wished for him the wisdom of The Source in his journey, and as he did this it seemed to Trae there was a chorus in his head, saying, “Listen, now, and The Source of All will be with you in each step you take.”
    A car came for them from the palace; it was small, plain and unmarked. The driver was unfamiliar to them, and had the bearing of a military man. He drove with wild abandon and they were at the palace in two minutes. He opened the car door for them. “Follow me, please. Your luggage is in your rooms.”
    They went past the room where they’d met with Assan and up a flight of stairs to a long hallway with closed doors. The end suite was theirs, and Trae was impressed by the opulence: five rooms, plush carpets, deep-cushioned furniture, and huge bay windows looking out on the gardens behind the palace. Their driver pointed to a telephone in its cradle on a glass table. “Just lift the receiver and wait. Someone will bring you whatever you wish, and your meals will be served in here. Please remain in your rooms; there will be guards outside your door. Feel free to use the balcony; the gardens are in full bloom now.”
    He left them, and closed the door behind him.
    “Very nice,” said Petyr, looking around.
    “I feel like a prince,” said Trae.
    “Maybe you are. Why don’t you pick up that phone, and order some food for us. I’m hungry, and you should eat something before I scan you.”
    “What?”
    “Brain status check, whatever you want to call it. I wondered how we’d find someone to do it, and here it is.” Petyr raised the little suitcase Nicolus had given him. “A portable unit, even has a battery, and it takes those holocubes you found. Now show me that drug you’re supposed to take.”
    Trae showed him the vial with its compressed-gas atomizer. Petyr peered at it. “That’s an awful lot of liquid.”
    “You know what it is?”
    “Probably like the stuff you’ve been getting in your treatments, only a lot more of it.” Petyr smiled. “Maybe you’ll be a genius in the morning.”
    “I’ll settle for knowing how we get to Elderon. I don’t even know where that is.”
    “I’ve heard the name,” said Petyr, and flipped up the latches on the suitcase. “One of the first colonies, closer to the galactic core. For now we need to do a scan, and I want your blood sugar up for it. I need an updated neural map of your brain before you take that drug. The telephone. Use it.”
    Trae called, said who he was, was informed their dinner was already on the way. It arrived a minute later, served by two men in white livery, and they ate at the glass table outside on the balcony. It was dusk, and the air was sweet. The meal was plentiful: green vegetables, yellow yams, a shank of lamb that fell from the bone at the touch of a fork, and a sticky pastry rich with dark honey.
    “Oh, I’m stuffed,” said Trae, and pushed away from the table. “Now I’ll be sleepy.” He poured a cup of tea; maybe that would help.
    “Take a nap, then, I can do the scan early. You only need to be drowsy.”
    They went back inside. Petyr pulled a tangle of wires from the metal suitcase, and Trae lay down on a couch so deep it seemed to envelope him. He was immediately drowsy, and closed his eyes. Petyr swabbed his temples and forehead with something cold,