Charles Stross - The clan corporate

THE
CLAN
CORPORATE

TOR BOOKS BY CHARLES STROSS

The Clan Corporate

The Family Trade

The Hidden Family

This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in
this novel are either fictitious or are used fictitiously.

THE CLAN CORPORATE: BOOK THREE OF THE MERCHANT PRINCES

Copyright 2006 by Charles Stross

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book,
or portions thereof, in any form.

This book is printed on acid-free paper.

Edited by David G. Hartwell

A Tor Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC
175 Fifth Avenue
New York, NY 10010

www.tor.com

Tor is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Stross, Charles.

The clan corporate / Charles Stross.1st ed.

p. cm.(The merchant princes ; bk. 3)

A Tom Doherty Associates book.

ISBN 0-765-30930-0 (acid-free paper)

EAN 978-0-765-30930-3

1. Women journalistsFiction. 2. MerchantsFamily relationshipsFiction.

3. FamilyFiction. 4. Boston (Mass.)Fiction. I. Title.

PR6119.T79C63 2006
813'.6dc22

2005034504

First Edition: May 2006

Printed in the United States of America

0 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

For Andrew, Lorna, and James

Thanks are due James Nicoll, Robert Nojay Sneddon, Cory Doctorow, Andrew Wilson, Caitlin Blasdell, Tom Doherty, and my editors, David Hartwell and Moshe Feder.

THE
CLAN
CORPORATE

N

The door opened at that moment. Was it coincidence, or was she being watched? Liveried footmen inclined their heads as another spoke. Milady, the duchess bids you enter. She is waiting in the day room.

Helge swept past them with a brief nodmore acknowledgment of their presence than most of her rank would bother withand paused to glance back down the hallway as her servants (a lady-in-waiting, a court butler, and two hard-faced, impassive bodyguards) followed her. Wait in the hall, she told the guards. You can accompany me, but wait at the far end of the room, she told her attendant ingnue. Lady Kara nodded meekly. Shed been slow to learn that Helge bore an uncommon dislike for having her conversations eavesdropped on: there had been an unfortunate incident some weeks ago, and the lady-in-waiting had not yet recovered her self-esteem.

The hall was perhaps sixty feet long and wide enough for a royal entourage. The walls, paneled in imported oak, were occupied by window bays interspersed with oil paintings and a few more-recent daguerreotypes of noble ancestors, the scoundrels and skeletons cluttering up the family tree. Uniformed servants waited beside each door. Helge paced across the rough marble tiles, her spine rigid and her shoulders set defensively. At the end of the hall an equerry wearing the polished half-armor and crimson breeches of his calling bowed, then pulled the tasseled bell-pull beside the double doors. The Countess Helge voh Thorold dHjorth!

The doors opened, ushering Countess Helge inside, leaving servants and guards to cool their heels at the threshold.

The day room was built to classical proportionsbut built large, in every dimension. Four windows, each twelve feet high, dominated the south wall, overlooking the regimented lushness of the gardens that surrounded the palace. The ornate plasterwork of the ceiling must have occupied a master and his journeymen for a year. The scale of the architecture dwarfed the merely human furniture, so that the chaise longue the duchess reclined on, and the spindly rococo chair beside it, seemed like the discarded toy furniture of a baby giantess. The duchess herself looked improbably fragile: gray hair growing out in intricately coiffed coils, face powdered to the complexion of a china doll, her body lost in a court gown of black lace over burgundy velvet. But her eyes were bright and alertand knowing.

Helge paused before the duchess. With a little moue of concentration she essayed a curtsey. Your grace, I areamhappy to see you, she said haltingly in hochsprache. IIoh damn. The latter words slipped out in her native tongue. She straightened her knees and sighed. Well? How am I doing?

Hmm. The duchess examined her minutely from head to foot, then nodded slightly. Youre getting better. Well enough to pass tonight. Have a seat. She gestured at the chair beside her.

Miriam sat down. As long as nobody asks me to dance, she said ruefully. Ive got two left feet, it seems. She plucked at her lap. And as long as I dont end up being cornered by a drunken backwoods peer who thinks not being fluent in his language is a sign of an imbecile. And as long as I dont accidentally mistake some long-lost third cousin seven times removed for the hat-check clerk and resurrect a two-hundred-year-old blood feud. And as long as

Dear, the duchess said quietly, do please shut up.

The countess, who had grown up as Miriam but whom everyone around her but the duchess habitually called Helge, stopped in mid-flow. Yes, Mother, she said meekly. Folding her hands in her lap she breathed out. Then she raised one eyebrow.

The duchess looked at her for almost a minute, then nodded minutely. Youll pass, she said. With the jewelry, of course. And the posh frock. As long as you dont let your mouth run away with you. Her cheek twitched. As long as you remember to be Helge, not Miriam.

I feel like Im acting all the time! Miriam protested.

Of course you do. The duchess finally smiled. Imposter syndrome goes with the territory. The smile faded. And I didnt do you any favors in the long run by hiding you from all this. She gestured around the room. It becomes harder to adapt, the older you get.

Oh, I dont know. Miriam frowned momentarily. I can deal with disguises and a new name and background; I can even cope with trying to learn a new language, its the sense of permanence thats disconcerting. I grew up an only child, but Helgehas all theserelativesI didnt grow up with, and theyre real. Thats hard to cope with. And youre here, and part of it! Her frown returned. And now this evenings junket. If I thought I could avoid it, Id be in my rooms having a stomach cramp all afternoon.

That would be a Bad Idea. The duchess still had the habit of capitalizing her speech when she was waxing sarcastic, Miriam noted.

Yes, I know that. Im justthere are things I should be doing that are more important than attending a royal garden party. Its all deeply tedious.

With an attitude like that youll go far. Her mother paused. All the way to the scaffold if you dont watch your lip, at least in public. Do I need to explain how sensitive to social niceties your position here is? This is not America

Yes, well, mores the pity. Miriam shrugged minutely.

Well, were stuck with the way things are, the duchess said sharply, then subsided slightly. Im sorry, dear, I dont mean to snap. Im just worried for you. The sooner you learn how to mind yourself without mortally offending anyone by accident the happier Ill be.