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"Drake Maijstral, ma'am."
Nichole had programmed her bedroom with a deep mas-
culine Khosali voice, deferent and respectful. This was in deliberate contrast
to the brassier, female tones of her dermatology robot, which was carefully
applying her cos-
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metics. She ordered the dermatologist to withdraw its ap-
paratus and told the room to accept (he call. MaijstraTs life-size holographic
head appeared on a level with her eyes. His hair was escaping the knot into
which he'd tied it. He seemed not to have slept well.
"Hello, Maijstral. Did you have a profitable evening?"
"It was ... an interesting night, Nichole." Something in his voice made her
sit up.
"Are you all right, Drake?"
He hesitated. "Yes. But I must beg off luncheon today.
You know I wouldn't leave you without escort were there not compelling
reasons."
A challenge? she wondered. Arrest? Some kind of trap?
THE CROWN JEWELS i 97
She hadn't heard Maijstral's name on the vid save in connection with her own.
Whatever the problem was, it wasn't public.
"Can I help?"
Maijstral's smile was strained. "It's very kind of you to ask, but no."
"Anything you need, Maijstral- We're friends. You know that."
He paused a moment before answering, then shook his head. "Your offer is very
kind, but I think not. You
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file:///G|/Program%20Files/eMule/Incoming/Walter%20Jon%20Williams%20-%20The%20
Crown%20Jewels.txt should stay clear of this."
She rested her chin on her hand. "It's serious, then."
"Yes, milady. It is."
"Is Roman looking after you?"
He smiled. "Very well. Thank you."
"Take good care of yourself, Drake. Don't do anything foolish."
"1 won't." He raised a glass of champagne into the holo field. "Thank you for
understanding. I'll make it up to you when next we meet."
Nichole smiled. Maijstral always did have ten points for style. "I'll hold you
to that," she said. She watched him sip from his glass, and she realized there
was something about his manner that still bothered her. He was, she realized
suddenly, shaken. Truly shaken. The champagne was a careful attempt at
regaining savoir faire. She had never seen him in this state before, and if
she hadn't known him very well for a brief interval she would never have
noticed it. "Drake," she said suddenly, "call me tomorrow. 1 want to know how
you are."
, He moved the glass out of the holo field. His look was
^ neutral. "Thank you," he said. "I'm flattered by your concern."
^ It was a typical Maijstral remark, but he'd spoken High
98 / WALTER JON WILUAMS
Khosali, in the conjugation relating to the state of the universe. Ten points
for style again, but there was still something seriously wrong.
Not the least of which was, Nichole now had no escort for a public luncheon.
After MaijstraTs head vanished from her room, she thought for a minute and
told the room to dial the residence of Lieutenant Navarre.
He wasn't home. Navarre's telephone asked for a mes-
sage, but Nichole declined to leave one. Members of the
Diadem spoke face-to-face or not at all.
She thought for a moment, then decided to plead fatigue and beg off the lunch.
The press, she knew, would assume
Maijstral was still with her.
Good. Whatever was going on, Maijstral wouldn't be hurt if everyone assumed he
was someplace he wasn't.
The plum-colored bird had flown her nest in alarm from the chirping sound made
by Lieutenant Navarre's tele-
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phone. But the phone fell silent, and after a moment of contemplation the bird
decided to make a cautious recce.
She perched on a limb just out of reach and looked down at its home, one
forepaw scratching her beak in puzzlement.
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The telephone sat among the bird's treasures, bits of tinsel, a shiny candy
wrapper, a fountain pen, several bright-colored rocks, a child's ring. The
bird hated to concede its trove to the interloper. The damn thing had only
been playing at being inanimate.
When the phone chirped again the bird raised her wings in alarm, but only
retreated a few paces along the branch.
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