The Machiavelli Interface by Steve Perry Read Free Book Online

Dirisha?
    Before she could react. Pen danced toward Bork, three or four moves melded smoothly into a flow, like liquid. Dirisha recognized a section of the Ninety-seven Steps of Sumito. She had never seen it performed that smoothly before, and not in all her years of practice had she ever done it that well.
    Even Khadaji wasn't that good.
    Pen's move was not an attack, everybody saw that. Nobody fired, or even reacted visibly. It was merely a demonstration. He was one of them; more, he was the best of them. He finished the sequence, and stopped.
    "Okay," Dirisha said. "If you wanted to cause trouble, we'd already be having it. We appreciate your interest, but we've got to do what we think is right."
    "Of course." Pen bowed, turned, and left.
    After he'd gone, nobody spoke for a long time. Then Sleel said, "Why do I get the impression everybody knows what's going on but us?"

Six
    THERE WERE TIMES when Marcus Wall allowed himself to reflect upon his past, to glory in the distance he had come. He had been born on Rim, the fifth planet of the Beta System, a planet also called Darkworld; he had been poor; he had been handicapped. Now, he was... much more....
    Wall seldom went out. Today was one of the rare days. He was to attend the ground breaking for Kokl'u's new toy. Though it had only been a few days, with the President the thought was as the deed, and he wasted no time in those things he personally desired.
    While he was about, Wall would also find time to tend to other small chores that required his presence. A media shower here, a favor granted there; such was his power that to appear in public with someone automatically granted that person great face and clout. Today, he would dine with Minister Miyamoto, father to the exquisite Nichole.
    The restaurant was secured, there was no danger, and the event would be dutifully recorded: Factor Wall dined this day with Minister Miyamoto. The pair were observed smiling and laughing as they consumed élat du sung in the Valsevian Quarter, and a highly placed source tells us that Minister Miyamoto currently enjoys Factor Wall's largesse and favor....
    Wall grinned at the thought of the faxcast. He leaned back against the silk cushions and stared at the fittings of his aircoach. The motif was frogs-and-cranes, cast in platinum and brightly polished. The reflections in the polarized densecris windows gleamed more dully, but even so, the richness would not be denied. Yes, he had come a long way from the Darkworld.
    So that he might find greater joy in his fortune, Wall allowed himself to slip into a memory trance. The soft purr of the aircoach lulled him, as he returned in time to Rim, to the boy he had been at thirteen....
    * * *
    ...mother looked very grave as she sat in front of the boy. She reached out to cup his face with both hands, her colorless skin matching his own. Tears gleamed and ran from her pink eyes.
    "What is it, mem?"
    The woman shook her head slowly, the white hair floating cloudlike around her temples. "Artemis wants to... talk to you, Tavee."
    The boy's jaw muscles danced as he bit down on his anger. Artemis was Luete's agent—it was he who sent her to service those with money, he who kept Tavee alone so much.
    "I don't want to talk to him," the boy said.
    Luete stroked Tavee's hair, hair as soft and white as her own. "I—I wish you didn't have to, my son. But he is our... protector. We must not make him angry."
    "I don't care if he puffs up and blows an artery," Tavee said. "Piss on him—!"
    Her fingers dug into his shoulders, hurting him.
    "Ow, mem, stop!"
    The pressure eased, but her face was angry. "You are not to say things like that! Without Artemis we would be in great danger. You remember what happened to Glenna. And Surrat."
    Dumbly, he nodded. He remembered. The same thing that had happened to Bleez and Tarn and Amarah. Dead. All killed by colorskins. Knifed or shot or beaten. Surrat had been doused with chem and set aflame. His killer had laughed while