planning,” Zavcka said, with an attempt at something like the old arrogance, “to have a hot bath, dig out some decent clothes and eat a proper meal. I’m planning to enjoy not having to listen to any more stupid damned questions. What else do you think I could be planning?” Her voice was rising in spite of herself. “I’m going to be tagged and monitored. I won’t be allowed to leave the house except under guard. I can only receive visitors they approve. My stream access will be restricted, I won’t be able to engage in business beyond the management of my own affairs, I can’t even talk to anyof the industry people I used to know. I am not going to be free. I’m not going to be able to do fucking anything !”
It was almost a shout.
Zavcka glared at Aryel, sitting quietly and regarding her gravely, and seemed to realize for the first time that she was leaning over the table in her fury, halfway out of her chair. She dropped back into the seat, flexed her fingers and placed her hands in her lap, out of sight. “All that’s changing is that I’ll be a prisoner in my own home, with the dubious privilege of paying for my keep instead of being a guest of the State. And believe it or not, I’m grateful . So you and all these people you’re worried about can fuck right off. There is absolutely nothing I can do to affect any of you. All I want is to be left alone.”
Aryel waited until Zavcka’s breathing had calmed a bit, though there were still two spots of high color in her cheeks and telltale twitches in her arms. She was genuinely angry and, Aryel reflected, no less dangerous for it.
She said, “You might find that difficult.”
“Why?” Definite bravado now. “Don’t think it’s enough of a punishment for my sins? You don’t trust the authorities to keep me isolated?”
“We’re not the only ones who take an interest. You’re a popular figure in some circles.”
“Give me strength. If I have to talk to one more psychiatrist—”
“I’m sure they’ve found you fascinating, but that’s not who I mean.”
“No? Who—? Oh.” Zavcka’s smile was mirthless. “You mean the—what should I call them?— longevity enthusiasts ?”
“The police call them the Klist Cult.”
“Do they now.” Zavcka cleared her throat, brought one hand cautiously into view, picked up a cup of water from the table in front of her and took a sip. “Well, charming as it is to have fans, I don’t know why it would concern you. Or the police. They still won’t be allowed to contact me, whether I want them to or not. And I don’t.”
“You don’t want to talk to the only people who believe you’re innocent? Who hold you in esteem?”
“A fat lot of good that does me,” Zavcka snapped, though the question appeared to catch her off guard. She turned the cup slowly in her fingers, looking at it as she spoke. “There’s nothing I can do for them either, no matter what they believe. They can’t share in what I have. There’s no point to them being obsessed by it.”
“Celebrity doesn’t have much to do with logic,” Aryel pointed out.
Zavcka glanced up at that, dark eyes flashing with recollection, and again that hint of dry amusement. “You never did like it, did you? Hasn’t stopped you using it, though.” She focused on the cranial band, its thin line circumscribing Aryel’s face beneath her damp hair. “I understand you’re more successful than ever these days. Your sins have all been forgiven—”
“Zavcka . . .”
“—and you’re at the heart of Bel’Natur, taking advantage of everything I worked to build. Well”—she gestured dismissively, and both hands remained in sight now, resting on the tabletop—“maybe those cultists are on to something after all. You can’t count on being around indefinitely, can you? I may outlast you yet.”
“You might,” Aryel said without rancor, “but given how hard you’re trying to distract me from the fact that your hands keep
It was almost a shout.
Zavcka glared at Aryel, sitting quietly and regarding her gravely, and seemed to realize for the first time that she was leaning over the table in her fury, halfway out of her chair. She dropped back into the seat, flexed her fingers and placed her hands in her lap, out of sight. “All that’s changing is that I’ll be a prisoner in my own home, with the dubious privilege of paying for my keep instead of being a guest of the State. And believe it or not, I’m grateful . So you and all these people you’re worried about can fuck right off. There is absolutely nothing I can do to affect any of you. All I want is to be left alone.”
Aryel waited until Zavcka’s breathing had calmed a bit, though there were still two spots of high color in her cheeks and telltale twitches in her arms. She was genuinely angry and, Aryel reflected, no less dangerous for it.
She said, “You might find that difficult.”
“Why?” Definite bravado now. “Don’t think it’s enough of a punishment for my sins? You don’t trust the authorities to keep me isolated?”
“We’re not the only ones who take an interest. You’re a popular figure in some circles.”
“Give me strength. If I have to talk to one more psychiatrist—”
“I’m sure they’ve found you fascinating, but that’s not who I mean.”
“No? Who—? Oh.” Zavcka’s smile was mirthless. “You mean the—what should I call them?— longevity enthusiasts ?”
“The police call them the Klist Cult.”
“Do they now.” Zavcka cleared her throat, brought one hand cautiously into view, picked up a cup of water from the table in front of her and took a sip. “Well, charming as it is to have fans, I don’t know why it would concern you. Or the police. They still won’t be allowed to contact me, whether I want them to or not. And I don’t.”
“You don’t want to talk to the only people who believe you’re innocent? Who hold you in esteem?”
“A fat lot of good that does me,” Zavcka snapped, though the question appeared to catch her off guard. She turned the cup slowly in her fingers, looking at it as she spoke. “There’s nothing I can do for them either, no matter what they believe. They can’t share in what I have. There’s no point to them being obsessed by it.”
“Celebrity doesn’t have much to do with logic,” Aryel pointed out.
Zavcka glanced up at that, dark eyes flashing with recollection, and again that hint of dry amusement. “You never did like it, did you? Hasn’t stopped you using it, though.” She focused on the cranial band, its thin line circumscribing Aryel’s face beneath her damp hair. “I understand you’re more successful than ever these days. Your sins have all been forgiven—”
“Zavcka . . .”
“—and you’re at the heart of Bel’Natur, taking advantage of everything I worked to build. Well”—she gestured dismissively, and both hands remained in sight now, resting on the tabletop—“maybe those cultists are on to something after all. You can’t count on being around indefinitely, can you? I may outlast you yet.”
“You might,” Aryel said without rancor, “but given how hard you’re trying to distract me from the fact that your hands keep
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