The man stared into Aunt Tildy’s cleavage. “Um, that is the last thing you want to wear if you’re visiting prisoners.”
Aunt Tildy cleared her throat.
Ariana was getting nervous. She knew this was the weaker part of the plan. It didn’t matter too much anyway. Maybe he’d let them in or maybe not. She still had the blaster.
“Look, I’ll have to use the comm to ask upstairs if they’ve got any record of whether or not you’re supposed to be here,” said the man.
“Is that really necessary?” asked Aunt Tildy.
The man was pressing buttons on the wall comm. “Those are the rules.”
Screw this, Ariana thought. She dropped her fan and pointed the blaster at the man, checking to make sure it was set for stun. She pulled the trigger.
Nothing happened.
* * *
The prince appeared in the doorway of the parlor, his eyes bright. “Nigel!”
Tramet bowed. “Your Majesty.”
“Oh, please, Nigel,” said the prince, striding across the room to pump Tramet’s hand furiously. “Call me Gulien. It’s been too long. I had no idea you were on Risciter.”
This seemed to be going well. Tramet relaxed a bit. “Just arrived, actually. I came to sort through some things, and I’ve discovered something I think you’ll want to know about.”
“Well, all right,” said the prince. He settled down on a couch and gestured for Tramet to do the same. “Shall I ring for some tea, then?”
“If you like.” Tramet didn’t think he had the stomach for anything at the moment, but he waited while the prince used his comm to direct the servants to bring up some refreshment.
Finally, the prince turned back to Tramet. “You seem awfully serious, Nigel. Has someone died?”
“No,” said Tramet. “That is, not yet, if you and I can do something about it.”
The prince raised his eyebrows. “Is this about that Transman person? Nasty business, overall, I think. I was horrified when I heard. I simply had to oversee the execution of a monster like that.”
“That’s the thing, Gulien,” said Tramet, “I’m not sure they’ve got the right man.”
“Oh?” said the prince, looking mildly interested.
Tramet opened his mouth to say more, but they were interrupted by a maid bringing in tea and cakes. He was prevented from saying anything else by the prince urging him to try a certain pastry the cook at his estate made which the prince declared “absolutely divine.” It was full of caramel. Tramet chewed.
* * *
The blaster wasn’t turned on. Ariana cursed, punching the button to activate it.
The man at the desk was pulling out his own blaster.
Ariana pulled the trigger again, and he slumped to the ground.
“Oh my,” said Aunt Tildy.
“He wasn’t going for it,” Ariana explained.
The wall comm beeped. “Jones?”
Damn it. Ariana hurried behind the desk, stepping over the body of the man inside. She pushed the talk button on the wall comm. Deepening her voice, she said, “Uh, everything’s fine here. I called by accident.”
“Sounds like you’ve got a cold, Jones.”
“No, no,” said Ariana, trying to keep her voice deep. “Nothing wrong down here.”
“We can send down a few men if you—”
“Everything’s fine.” Ariana hit the end button on the wall. She reached down and got the man’s (Jones’s, she supposed) blaster. She handed it to Aunt Tildy. Then she searched in his pockets for a key ring to the cells. She found it, a small square with a screen on it, like the keys she used for her ship. “We’ve got to move fast. I think they suspect something.” She took in the wall of screens beside her, looking for Keirth.
There he was. Cell 4-A, down the A hallway.
She wished she could turn off the cameras entirely, but maybe that would be suspicious as well. She really had no idea how to do that anyway. She came out from behind the desk and took Aunt Tildy by the arm. “Come on.”
They darted down the A hallway, using the man’s key to open the wing. Keirth’s cell was number four, but the way things were numbered that meant he was all the way down the hall. Ariana ran as fast as she could, but Aunt Tildy was bound up in the tight dress and could hardly keep up.
Ariana didn’t wait for her. She needed to get Keirth out, and then they’d be coming right back up the hall. She skidded to a stop in front of the door to his cell and punched things on the screen to open the door.
It slid open.
Chapter Nineteen
“My dear boy,” said the prince, “you can’t tell me you believe that girl, Miss Gilit? She’s clearly traumatized, moving the blame from her captor to the Duke of Risciter. Ridiculous.”