Deathstalker 01 - Deathstalker

what they needed when no one was looking. Ghosts haunting the machine just for the hell of it. They helped fund the underground through various scams and computer frauds and used the opportunity to vent their spleen on the authorities who persecuted them. There were a great number of ways to make someone's life miserable through computers, and the cyberats knew all of them. After all, they'd invented most of them.
    The esper and clone representatives looked severely about them at the grinning faces covering the walls and maintained a dignified silence. Long experience had taught them they couldn't win with the cyberats, who spent most of their time engaged in wars of words with each other. A few voices jeered at the representatives, and then were distracted by the last of the arrivals. The aristocratic backers had finally turned up, fashionably late of course, stepping out of the entrances as though just entering the chamber was enough to soil their clothing. Valentine smiled at them, and they bowed briefly in return.
    There were only three of them. Most of the aristocrats who for one reason or another backed the underground, preferred to do so discreetly, and at long distance.
    On the whole, they funded the underground as a means to political power. Mostly
    younger sons, who weren't going to inherit, or at least not fast enough to suit them, and therefore had to look for advancement where they could. They wore no disguises; the underground didn't trust them any further than they could spit into the wind with their mouths closed and were determined to know exactly who they were dealing with. If only so they could get them later, if things went wrong. The aristocrats went along, with much bad grace. It wasn't as if they had a choice. You only came to the underground when there was nowhere else to go.
    Personally, Valentine didn't give a damn.
    Evangeline Shreck he knew from before, and her appearance here was no surprise.
    A fervent supporter of the clone underground in recent times, for reasons which remained obscure. David Deathstalker was a new face. He'd inherited the title after Owen was outlawed and didn't look any too pleased about it. Only seventeen years old, a minor cousin, unused to the hot house intrigues of the Imperial Court. Tall, immaculately dressed, and possibly not as nervous as he appeared.
    Handsome enough to set a few hearts fluttering at court, but young enough not to know that yet. Or maybe not. He was a Deathstalker, after all.
    He'd acquired the title by default. Owen had no brothers or sisters; the supposedly genetic quirk that gave Deathstalkers the boost also killed most children before they reached maturity. The Family considered it an acceptable risk. No one ever asked the children what they thought about it. So far, David's motivations seemed clear enough. He wanted to avoid being outlawed like Owen, or executed like Owen's father, and was smart enough to know he had absolutely no allies at court. The Deathstalker name had become synonymous with treason and bad luck, and most people were keeping well clear in case it rubbed off.
    The third face held Valentine's interest the longest. Kit Summerlsle, called by some Kid Death, who murdered his own Family in the name of ambition only to find
    himself alone, trusted neither by the court nor any Family. A mad dug who'd slipped his leash. Presumably Kit was there as a backer of the underground because no one else would touch him. The Empress had played with him for a while, but Kit had to be wise enough to know that wouldn't last. He was too dangerous: a sword that might just as easily turn on anyone who tried to wield it. Kid Death, the smiling killer, resplendent as always in his armor of black and silver. He looked very young, with his pale face and flyaway blond hair, but the icy blue eyes were very old. They'd seen enough death for a dozen lifetimes and loved every minute of it.
    Valentine stepped forward and bowed courteously to Evangeline Shreck. "Dear Evangeline, so good to see you again. Pity about the wedding, but that's life.
    Or rather, death. Your father always did have a propensity to overreact."
    "That's one way of putting it," said Evangeline. "You look quite different without your face on, Valentine. Almost human."
    "A mere illusion," Valentine said smoothly. He turned to the young Deathstalker and bowed again, not quite as low. "I've not had the pleasure, I believe, sir.
    David, isn't it? I'm…"
    "I know who you are. And