But she was quick-witted, learned, vivacious and not put off by my calling. For years we were involved, on and off, first on Messina, then at a distance, and then on Gudrun once she had moved back to Ravello to take up her doctorate and I had based myself at Spaeton House.
I had been very fond of her. I still was. It is difficult to know if I should use a word stronger than 'fond'. We never did to each other, but there are times I would have done.
I had not seen her for the best part of twenty-five years. That had been my doing.
We sat in the drawing room for over an hour. Phabes had opened the windows and the day's brilliance blasted in, turning the tulle window nets into hanging oblongs of radiant white. I could smell the clean, fresh chill of mountains.
The drawing room was furnished with fine old pieces of furniture, and filled with rare books, surgical curios and display cases full of immaculately restored antique medical apparatus. Aemos was quickly lost in close study of the items on display, murmuring to himself. Eleena sat quietly on a tub chair and composed herself. I was fairly sure she was inwardly reciting the mind-soothing exercises of the Distaff. Every few minutes she would absently brush a few strands of brown hair off her slender face.
The doctor's man returned with a silver serving cart. Yeast bread, fruit, oily butter and piping hot black caffeine.
'Do you need anything stronger?' he asked.
'No, thank you/
He pointed to a weighted silk rope by the door. 'Ring if there's anything you need/
I poured caffeine for us all, and Aemos helped himself to a hunk of bread and a ripe ploin.
Eleena tonged half a dozen lumps of amber sugar crystal into her little cup. 'Who did it?' she asked at length.
'Eleena?'
"Who… who raided us, sir?'
'The simple answer? I have no idea. I'm working on possibilities. It may take us a while to find out, and first we have to be secure.'
'Are we safe here?'
'Yes, for the time being.'
They were mercenaries/ said Aemos, dabbing crumbs from his wrinkled lips. That is beyond question/
'I thought as much/
The pilot you captured. You saw the tattoos on his torso/
'I did. But I couldn't read them/
Aemos sipped his hot, sweet drink. 'Base Futu, the language of the Ves-sorine janissaries/
'Really? Are you sure?'
'Reasonably so/ he said. The man has a repatriation bond written on his skin/
I considered this news. Vessor was a feral world on the rimward borders of the Antimar sub-sector that bred a small but hardy population famous for its vicious fighters. Attempts had been made to form a Guard regiment there, but the Vessorine were hard to control. It wasn't that they lacked discipline, but they found loyalty to Terra too cerebral a concept. They were bonded into dan families, understanding simply the material wealth of land, property, homestead and weapons. As mercenaries, therefore, they excelled. They would fight, peerlessly, savagely and to the death, in the Emperor's name, provided that name was stamped on high denomination coinage.