“All right, Miss Brio,” said Cordell. “Set it up.”
Nilah waited in her quarters for the call to go through. After a moment, the head butler’s torso materialized atop her desk. The lines of her suit were laser straight, and her hair was so coiffed as to be a helmet.
“Good afternoon,” said the woman.
Smoothing down her shirt, Nilah said, “Yes, hi. I’d like to be connected with the baron. I’m an old friend.”
The woman cocked her head. “I’m sorry. He’s in meditation and isn’t granting any audiences today.”
“Please tell him Nilah Brio is calling. He’ll want to take this.”
The woman peered a little closer at her, the projection’s large eyes looming over Nilah. “Miss Brio, I’d be happy to take a message for you, and—”
“Who did she say she was?” came an agitated voice in the background.
“Please excuse me.” The woman stood up and walked out of the projection. Hushed whispers followed, before Valentino Gaultier settled down into her place.
He was exactly as Nilah remembered, with a little more meat on his bones. He hadn’t kept up the rigorous physical routine during the years away from the track. Snow-white hair spilled over his shoulders into precise lines along his collarbone, creating an elfin appearance. His swishy robe’s collar was at least as high as his scalp, and he’d blush-spotted his porcelain cheeks, giving the appearance of an oddly sexy magistrate.
Out of nowhere, a small dog jumped into the projection. At least, Nilah mistook it for a dog at first glance. Its snout was shorter, akin to a rabbit’s, and it had swept-back ears and narrow eyes like a delighted fox. Its fur bristled with a glow like moonbeams on a choppy lake, and Nilah realized it was some sort of magical beast. “Look who it is, Doudou!” cooed the baron in a thick Carrétan accent. He scratched under the beast’s jaw, causing it to thump its leg in happiness. “Why… I do believe it might be the worst person we’ve ever seen! Look at her.” At this, Valentino gestured to Nilah’s face. “Underneath this beauty lies a withered heart, overgrown with treachery. Yes, it does! Yes, it does, Doudou!”
For its part, Doudou yapped uncontrollably, sending yellow sparks down its fur, then nuzzled into Valentino’s armpit. With the beast’s eyes properly averted, the baron’s face changed to pure malice.
“What do you want?”
Nilah cleared her throat. “Hello, Tino. I apologize for missing your ascension ceremony after the death of your father.” That seemed like a safe lead line. “I’m so pleased to see that you’ve become the baron of—”
“You weren’t invited. You think I wanted to see your face on that day of all days? Get to the point, Brio.”
Nilah opened and closed her mouth several times, trying to decide on a tack. On the bed behind her, Orna restrained a laugh. “I was thinking we should meet up. Perhaps we could reminisce about the old times.”
Again, came the baby talk. “Yes, we would like that.”
“R-really? That’s wonderful.”
Doudou scampered away, and the baron’s lips curled like he’d bitten into a juicy bite of meat—almost lustful, definitely carnivorous. “Yes. Come see me, and maybe I can have you executed for heresy.”
Nilah sighed. Royalty were completely unchallenged on Carré—on penalty of death. Any insult to their lineage was a capital offense.
Giving him a thin smile, Nilah said, “I would really like to bury the hatchet.”
“Like you buried my car into the wall of turn thirteen?”
“It is the Wall of Champions, love. A lot of great racers have hit that barricade, and—”
“I’m busy.” The baron reached for the terminate button.
“Wait!”
Valentino froze, but the look on his face gave Nilah exactly two seconds to state her case.
“You have something I want, Tino, and I believe your life is in grave danger.”
“Yes, well you have something I wanted, too—a career in motorsport—so I suppose we all have wishes.” Despite the harsh words, the baron stayed his hand. “What is it?”
“The Mostafa data cube.”
Valentino laughed, a full-throated, musical sound that must’ve charmed many lovers. “You can’t afford it.”
“Whatever Grimsby was going to pay you, I can do better.”
“Who? You see, I don’t know the buyer, because they were using an escrow service,” said the baron, sweeping aside his silvery hair. “But for you, it’s not for sale.”
“You’re right. You don’t know the buyer. I do. They’re trying to destroy the universe, in case you forgot.”
“How long are we going to rest on those laurels, Miss Brio?”
She wanted to throw it in his face that she was still making progress in the hunt for Witts, but that would’ve been leaking classified intel.
“Money is money. I’m assuming you still like it.”
“And I have lots of it. You deprived me of a future, which is infinitely more valuable. Besides, my buyer will send someone else to do business.” Valentino’s stormy eyes narrowed, and his malice evaporated as he caught some idea. “Are you still traveling with Boots Elsworth?”
“Um, yes?”
“And if we did business, would you bring her with you?”
“Do you two, er, know each other?” Then it clicked for Nilah: the first time she’d heard Boots’s name was from Valentino’s lips. He’d been a huge fan when the show first debuted, fascinated by Origin, mysticism, and treasures—
—which was probably why Nilah never gave the show a chance. She’d hated him enough to run him into a wall. She certainly wasn’t going to indulge his hobbies.
“Of course I know her, but she doesn’t know me,” said Valentino, tapping his lip. “If she’s going to join you, I’ll consider entertaining your Capricious at ma maison.”
“You want me to introduce you?”
He scoffed. “Oh, please. Just bring Boots, and try not to speak too much when you arrive. I do so despise the sound of your voice.”
“Okay, so the plan is—” Nilah began.
“Ugh! Despise it. Shut up.”
He rang off.
Chapter Three
Reflection
Throughout her career, Nilah had always ridden on jump drive–equipped yachts. Joining the Capricious had been like climbing onto the back of a turtle and slogging from gate to gate. The Compass-issued jump drive was a godsend, and it’d taken them from the Ballantine Complex on Agarwal to Carré in two days.
A light rattle shuddered through the hull as the Capricious broke the atmosphere of Carré. Servos whined through the ship as his aerodynamic plates reconfigured, obscuring his true shape. The camouflage armor was another major Compass perk—it helped keep them out of the news.
Nilah waited patiently in her crash couch in the cargo bay, Valentino’s bitter expression staining her thoughts. She looked up to the keel of the Midnight Runner, hanging peacefully from the mag clamps. Boots was up there, waiting to scramble if things turned weird.