The Cause of Death by Roger MacBride Allen Page A

of course, was quite a wealthy person--if one considered his material possessions. But Brox had managed a detailed and covert examination of the Thelek's finances, and come to the conclusion that Saffeer was rich in debts and had gone past the point of merely counting on his expectations. He was absolutely relying on ascending to the Thelmship as the only possible means for him to pay his creditors. He was a long-odds gambler, deep in the hole, betting everything on what had, not so long ago, seemed like the longest possible odds. Not now, of course. Now, insofar as Brox understood the local politics, it was all but inevitable that High Thelek Saffeer would ascend.
    But a Thelek with all his debts paid would be a Thelek upon which the IS could apply only limited leverage. The worst the IS might do would be to threaten to expose his financial dealing and reveal that he had in effect mortgaged Reqwar to the Kendari. But that was not merely a double-edged sword, as the human expression put it. It was a sword with a handle made of sharpest thornwood. Even to grasp the weapon would be to do damage to oneself.
    When it came to assisting with a client's debt--or, more accurately, manipulating the client by controlling his debts--one had to use care. There was an art to such matters, requiring a sensitivity to the traditions and psychology of the species in question, the local culture, and the individual. In the present case, Brox had judged it best to pretend that the IS had trouble arranging payment of such large amounts, that there was trouble in converting currency, that things had to be done slowly if they were to be done quietly. He paid off just enough to keep the Thelek's various enterprises from collapsing altogether, and enough more to allow him a few extravagances--such as this handsome new house--to ensure that he became and remained dependent on Kendari cash.
    By applying light pressure here and there, by agreeing to take on this debt or provide this house or that spaceship or those weapon systems, always in exchange for a little more access, a little more freedom of action, the IS could see to it that the Kendari would become ever more firmly established on this world, even as the outmigration of Pavlat continued and even accelerated.
    The High Thelek finished whatever bit of work he was doing--or, just as likely, whatever bit of busywork he was pretending to do--and handed it to one of the quartet of hovering assistants. He made a hand gesture that was a signal for them all to leave and they bustled out as busily as they had bustled in.
    "Now then," the High Thelek said, leaning back on his stool into what seemed like a most precarious position to Brox. It always seemed to him that bipeds were on the verging of toppling over. "I am not going to be put off any longer. Before we get to this 'urgent' news of yours, I want to hear some good news as regards the genetics repair plan."
    Brox repressed a cringe. It was, of course, precisely the one topic he wished to avoid. He had no news at all, which, in the current circumstances, was the same as very bad news indeed. He had no choice but to keep on stalling. "There has barely been time for messages to go back and forth since the last time you asked, and the last time I sent a query," he said, more or less truthfully.
    Of course, since the Thelek had been asking the same question over and over again for months now, it made very little difference how long it had been since the last time he asked, but never mind. The High Thelek was one of that odd breed of mind, the sort that lived by playing fast and loose with the truth himself, yet seeming incapable of catching others when they did the same to him.
    "These things take time," Brox said, repeating what he had told the Thelek so often before. "We must not only find persons who seem capable of the work. We must study their technical and professional credentials carefully, before we approach them, to ensure they can do all the