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have her feet done.
Khotvinn felt charged with energy. The semilife cara-
pace that supported his crushed back and ribs had fed him enough drugs to
obliterate the pain and infuse him with vigor. When the doctor added some
patches to his legs that
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human creature left, peeled off the disappointed creatures before they could
take effect, and dropped them in the trash.
He hoisted himself out of his bed, reeled, then steadied.
He bared his teeth and growled. The puny human redbellies were going to get
what was coming to them.
His mind brooded darkly on revenge. He got his weap-
ons out of the closet and donned them.
Khotvinn the Avenger! He needed to demolish some-
thing, and fast. He opened the window and got one leg over, then hesitated.
He realized he didn't know where he was going.
Khotvinn pulled the leg back in and thought for a long moment. He knew where
Amalia Jensen lived but the house was a wreck, the Jensen creature probably
wouldn't be living there, and the place might well be monitored by police. Tvi
could have got him in, but she had disap-
peared. He could try MaijstraTs residence, but he had no idea where Maijstral
was.
The sound of voices filtered over the morning breezes.
Khotvinn's ears cocked in their direction.
Time, he decided, to do a bit of skulking.
He slid over the windowsill, overbalanced, and grabbed a climbing vine to keep
himself steady. The morning air still smelled of burning. Chuckling to
himself, Khotvinn
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THE CROWN JEWELS I 179
loped along the back porch until he stood beside the open window of the dining
nook.
". . . and another to Lieutenant Navarre," Sinn's voice was saying. "Miss
Jensen may stay with him." Khotvinn's ears pricked. This was the second time
he'd heard the name of Navarre.
"And that odious Nichole woman." Countess Anasta-
sia's voice.
A clatter of tableware obscured the Baron's next obser-
vation. "Far better to let the media do that for us," he then remarked. "The
security around the Diadem is strict.
Anyone lacking proper credentials and observed in Nichole's vicinity would be
jailed, at least for inquiry."
"Perhaps you, yourself. Baron, might "
"I'll do what I can, my lady." The next part of me conversation was dull, and
consisted mainly of the Count-
ess proposing names for various tasks, and Baron Sinn asking about their
capabilities and credentials.
Khotvinn grinned. Navarre it would be, then! He smelled food and his stomachs
growled.
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He turned and began to lope toward the back kitchen door. He'd steal enough
food for several days, find Jensen through her pal Navarre, and hold her for
ransom to both sides. And while he was at it, he'd carve her companions like
kidneys.
It was great to be alive.
The police left at last, unhappy with a tale of Ronnie
Romper-garbed abductors who had held Amalia Jensen inexplicably for a day,
neither asked for ransom nor com-
mitted any assault, then let her go- There was more to it, or so they clearly
thought, but Amalia Jensen wasn't giv-
ing it to them. It was her kidnapping, she thought, and she could say what she
liked.
180 / WALTER JON WILLIAMS
Pietro was back in his own apartment Amatia had decided there was no point in
involving him in any police business. New household robots were moving
silently about the place, wiping dust from comers, gorging themselves on
debris she had missed on her first sweep. Amalia badly needed a rest, but duty
demanded she supervise Pietro's mobilization of the local members of Humanity
Prime, who were to be sent out to look for Maijstral and to keep an eye on
Baron Sinn, the Countess, and the Khosali consulate. She sucked on a hi-stick
and walked to her communications control plate. It had been replaced in the
last few hours by technicians working overtime. Time to call Pietro.
The telephone chimed before she could touch the service plate. "Receive," she
said, and looked at the holo image in surprise.
"Captain Tartaglia. This is a "
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