Read Too Like the Lightning for Free Online Page B

most of a mango. ¿Can you bring a sponge?”
    â€œÂ¡Busy!” Ockham called back. “¡Ask Kat or Robin!”
    â€œÂ¡Kay!”
    The click of Ockham’s boots erased the interruption. “I didn’t catch your name, Mason.”
    â€œMartin Guildbreaker.” His eyes widened as he realized his mistake. “I mean Mycroft, my real name’s Mycroft, Mycroft Guildbreaker, but everybody calls me Martin. But I’m not in a cult or anything, it’s just one of those nicknames that happens.”
    Ockham nodded. “And Mycroft isn’t an easy name to live with anymore.” He was unable to resist glancing at the corner, where I sat on a work stool, picking away at a scrubbing robot whose self-cleaning function was not quite equal to the combination of gum and doll hair.
    â€œMartin is worse, actually, but…”
    Words died. Martin’s eyes had followed Ockham’s to me: my uniform, my ear, my face. Martin froze. Ockham froze. Both held their breath in a kind of stalemate, searching each other’s faces as the questions flowed: Does he know? Why does he know? Does he know I know? What can I say when he asks me why I know?
    I tried to ease it for them, interrupting with motion, though I dared not speak first. I rose and bobbed an awkward half-bow to Martin, reaching by instinct to remove my hat, though it was already on the ledge beside me. Ockham caught the gesture, and his face relaxed into the first expression that morning which one could call a smile. “Have we both been feeding the same stray?”
    Martin gave a laugh, a quiet one, politely brief, but enough to make his stance less tightrope-rigid. “So it seems. Good morning, Mycroft.”
    I renewed my half-bow. “Good morning, Nepos .”
    Ockham frowned at Martin’s title, an unwelcome reminder of this Mason’s intimacy with his distant Emperor. “Of course, Mycroft was also a Familiaris .” He nodded at Martin’s armband. “You know them from that?”
    â€œYes and no.” Martin had no obligation to be so honest. “I commission Mycroft frequently.”
    â€œWhat for?”
    â€œMostly languages. Hive-neutral translators aren’t easy to come by, and a sensitive case like yours may turn up documents in any Hive language, or all of them.”
    I fidgeted with the robot in my hands as I stared at Ockham’s feet. “ Nepos Martin is as fastidious about Latin as you are about Spanish,” I began, “and … I do have some functional knowledge of poly-Hive criminal law.”
    Ockham gave a snort that verged on laughter. “True enough. And will you have Mycroft working on my case? An unreasonable investigator for an unreasonable crime.”
    The Mason smiled, “I’d be eager to have Mycroft, if you’re comfortable with it.”
    â€œIf I trust a person with my dirty underwear, I’ll trust them with my irritating interruption.”
    Martin blinked. “You commission Mycroft Canner to do your laundry?”
    Ockham paused a moment, weighing, I think, whether this Mason would be easier or harder to get rid of if he told the truth. (Or rather what he believed.) “Mycroft is my sibling Thisbe’s lover. They manufacture odd jobs as excuses.” He nodded at the robot in my hands.
    I feigned appropriate embarrassment.
    Martin’s lenses flickered with fresh files. “Thisbe Saneer?”
    Ockham nodded. “I know there are many ways it could be unhealthy, but I watch the psych profiles of my bash’ as strictly as any other aspect of security. A Servicer has nothing to gain by exploitation, unlike most people one of us could date.”
    â€œVery true,” Martin acknowledged. “Mycroft is most trustworthy, and dangerous to no one. I’m glad they’ve found another bash’ that sees that.”
    Ockham cocked an eyebrow. “Now you’ve got me imagining Mycroft wolfing