Black Brillion by Matthew Hughes

Author:Matthew Hughes
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates
Published: 2012-06-29T04:00:00+00:00

While they were still dressing, stewards came knocking on doors, inviting passengers to gather in the dining room for the morning meal and another visitation from Father Olwyn.

The room was lit by dawn light through the windows. The chairs and tables had again been rearranged, a buffet having been set up in the middle of the space. Baro and Imbry lined up for plates of fried truffles, truffle bread, and truffle kedgeree, none of which the young man found inviting. He contented himself with a cup of punge, although Imbry piled high his platter and dug in. The lassitude sufferers were again fed from plates of gruel.

When all had breakfasted, the simulacrum of their host materialized on the dais. Baro peered at the image. Gebbling’s face was not as it had appeared in the file photo. The earlier image had had a rosy, impish softness to it; this face was stark and drawn.

“Regard him,” Baro said to his partner. “He is not the same as his image in the file. You knew him. What do you think?”

Imbry looked at the simulacrum over the rim of his cup. “He does look to have endured hardship, some sort of trial perhaps,” he said. “That is not like Gebbling. He was always a great one for the soft life.” He took another helping of truffle bread.

Gebbling had meanwhile been calling down welcomes and blessings on the gathering and voicing rhetorical inquiries as to the quality of their sleep and the state of their health upon rising. Now he got to the nub of his remarks.

“I can already feel an elevation of chuffe,” he said. “The fah, sey, opah has had effect. I applaud you. Now I will give you the second-stage mantra and bid you chant it through this day. It is bom, bom ala bom. Let me hear you say it.”

Baro recognized Ule Gazz’s voice rising above most in the crowd, though she was not louder than the woman who still had blue-fire stones in her white hair. The chant of bom, bom ala bom swelled until it filled the room. After a full minute, Gebbling raised his hand and called for silence.

“Very good,” the image said. “Your chuffe expands exponentially. Please continue through the day and I will speak to you later.”

The projection winked out and Imbry said, “That answers one question.”

“What?” said Baro.

“Whether the projection is a live transmission or a recording. It strains credulity that Gebbling would fail to take note of an apparent miraculous healing, followed by the arrest of the resurrected one on suspicion of murder. These must be recordings.”

“Hmm,” said Baro. “I think you are right.” But it bothered him that the amateur had drawn the right conclusion before the trained agent had even thought to pose the question. “I should have thought of that.”

Baro hadn’t realized he had spoken the last thought out loud until he saw Imbry mime astonishment. The fat man said, “Do I see the first crack in the facade of your

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