Free The Revolution Trade (Merchant Princes Omnibus 3) by Stross Charles Page A

anomalies?’
    ‘You’ve met enough of your cousins by now. How many brain surgeons did you spot?’ Huw looked defensive. ‘It wasn’t a high priority.’
    ‘Well it is,
now
. Because if they can figure out what makes us world-walk, they’re probably halfway to mass-producing it. Given they’ve got scouts in the Gruinmarkt
– ’
    ‘They’ve got
what?’
Huw sat bolt upright.
    ‘Eh.’ Miriam cocked her head to one side. ‘Forget I said that?’
    ‘Sure . . . but can I finish your sentence for you before I forget?’
    ‘Um . . .’
    ‘Right now, any scouts they can send our way are going to be riding piggyback. Lightning Child knows how they’re making the couriers cooperate, but nothing would surprise me: The
current administration are so Machiavellian they make Prince Egon look like a White House intern. But what you’re speculating about is how long we’ve got until there’s a
large-scale incursion.’ Her expression made him look for other words. ‘
Invasion
. Is that what you’re thinking?’
    Miriam nodded. ‘I – no,
we
– have got to talk to Angbard, and fast. Whatever the prince has been up to back, uh, home’ – he spotted the moment’s
deliberation before she chose the word – ‘it’s a sideshow compared to what’s coming. I don’t know how long we’ve got, but I’d guess it’s going to be
weeks to months, not months to years.’ She pushed her empty mug away. ‘Do you have Google on that laptop of yours?’
    ‘What are you thinking of trawling for?’
    ‘News items. Foreign stuff, not more shit about Paris Hilton’s funeral; I want to hear about anything that suggests that State is planning a hasty exit from Iraq. They’re not
going to try and occupy Iraq and Afghanistan
and
invade the Gruinmarkt simultaneously, are they?’ She slid off her bar stool, visibly jittery.
Iraq
had been a ghastly object
lesson in what the current administration could do to people they didn’t like: the increasingly desperate pleas of the coup plotters after they deposed Saddam, the cringing threats of gas
attacks in event of invasion – and in response, the huge B52 raids on Baghdad. All of it had been calculated to send a message:
This is what you get if you mess with us
.
    ‘Depends.’ Huw reached over and switched off the coffee maker. ‘Don’t they have some kind of doctrine about being able to fight two wars simultaneously, anywhere on the
planet? And the supply lines to the Gruinmarkt are
real
short, if they can build a world-walking machine. Much less some kind of gate.’
    ‘And mostly they’d be up against irregulars with muskets. They could roll over in their sleep and crush us, if – ’
    A door slammed in the passage. Moments later, Brill darted into the kitchen. ‘Oh. There you are!’ Visibly agitated, she focused on the coffee pot. ‘Ah, you emptied it. Huw,
have you brought the e-mail service to life?’
    ‘Not yet, I was going to – ’
    ‘Scheisse.’
Brill glanced aside. ‘I’m sorry, milady. The news is bad. I
must
get in touch right away. Huw, if you would be so good – ’
    ‘What’s happened?’ demanded Miriam.
    ‘My pager ordered me to call in, in the clear – maximum urgency. It’s the duke, my lady. I’m afraid there’s been an accident.’
    *
    There was a room on one of the upper floors of the Hjalmar Palace with a huge canopied bed in it, and the bed stank of death and uncontrolled bowels. Lady Olga sat on the edge
of the bed and spoke to its occupant, as a medic cleaned him and a soldier stood by, waiting to replace the fouled sheets.
    He’d been strong once, and clever and ruthless, a bulwark for his allies and a terror to his faction’s foes, during the years of madness when the Clan’s member families had
engaged in a bloody succession of mortal feuds. Then, as the madness receded, he’d helped broker a series of treaties – some on paper, others cemented by blood in marriage – to
disarm the worst of the remaining