Rakal watched Kiem deactivate his wristband before they spoke. “There has been trouble with the Auditor since you left.”
Jainan felt the Auditor’s presence rise up from the back of his mind where it had been lurking like a storm warning. “What kind of trouble?”
“Something has upset him and his staff,” Rakal said. “They have all retreated to their ship, with the remnants, and set off early for Carissi Station. They are not communicating even with the authorized representatives. The Emperor believes they will still carry out the treaty ceremony; the Resolution has some arcane protocols we still don’t fully understand.”
Kiem sank down a fraction in his chair. “So we’re even further from the treaty,” he said.
“No,” Rakal said crisply. “I know you were not instated. I know it was because of Taam’s murder. This crime must and will be solved. When we arrest the perpetrator, the Auditor will see Thea and Iskat are in agreement—which they will be, because the suspect is not Thean—and instate the treaty representatives.”
Jainan didn’t immediately understand the implication, but Kiem did, because he sat up. “You’ve cleared Jainan?”
“Count Jainan.” Rakal gave a thin smile. “Yes, Your Grace is no longer our main suspect. But you can help.”
Jainan did not like the way Rakal said help. He laid his hands on his knees, carefully controlling any signs of unease. “I am at your disposal.”
“You still have a professional relationship with Professor Feynam Audel.”
Jainan had not known her personal name. “Yes,” he said. A bitter relief sat on his tongue. “You want me to withdraw from the project.”
“No.” Rakal leaned in. “I want you to get proof that Audel murdered Prince Taam.”
“Wait, what?” Kiem said. “Your suspect is Professor Audel? But we cleared her.”
The room blurred around Jainan. He cut off Kiem’s protestation. “We told you she could prove she had no motive. Please explain.”
“Feynam Audel was behind the attempts at network intrusion,” Rakal said. “We have spent the last two days tracing the comms involved, and that much is indisputable. She used not only her own account but also those of multiple students, even one owned by a student who passed away two years ago.”
Jainan felt an unpleasant tingle under his skin. Internal Security had no reason to outright lie to them. “If that’s true, she’s technically committed a crime,” he said. “But you can only prove she was trying to get into Kingfisher’s systems. You have no evidence she murdered Taam.”
“Apart from a clear motive against Taam and against Kingfisher,” Rakal said. They put up their hand to forestall Kiem’s protest. “Yes—I have seen the resignation letter you copied to us. It is a forgery. The military has no record of receiving it.”
Jainan’s mouth was dry. “I see.”
“The situation is untidy.” Rakal said untidy with an air of picking up a rotting piece of vegetable matter. “The Emperor has entrusted Internal Security with finding an answer before Unification Day; the evidence must be watertight. We know Audel is traveling to Carissi Station to witness the treaty signing. The Kingfisher refinery is in the same habitat cluster as the station. We believe she intends to make another attempt at illegally accessing Kingfisher’s network from there.”
“What’s that got to do with Jainan?” Kiem said.
“We want you to give her an access credential to the refinery,” Rakal said. Their manner was abrasive, but unlike some of the military they spoke directly to Jainan, not through Kiem, with a gaze that seemed to bore through the back of Jainan’s skull. “She will try and use it. The device is a honeypot, set up to gather evidence of what she does in the refinery. Once we have proof of sabotage, we can use that to tie this up. It will also clear your name.”
“You can’t force Jainan to do this,” Kiem said. He had switched back to his initial combative tone. Jainan would have appreciated it, but both Rakal and Kiem sounded muffled to him. The enormity of Galactic politics seemed to be pressing on him like a gravity well, as if the unfathomable distance and terrible strangeness of the other Resolution systems were clustering in low orbit above them. The Empire didn’t just mean Iskat: the Empire was Thea as well, and five other planets with hundreds of millions of citizens, all drifting away from the rest of the universe like the axial tilt of winter.
“I’ll do it,” Jainan said. He felt gray and stretched, like an old piece of cloth. There was no choice. There had never been a choice.
“Is it really justice if you’re trapping her into it?” Kiem said to Rakal. “I thought justice was the point.”
“Justice means nothing without a framework to impose it,” Rakal said. “Internal Security is an intelligence agency, not a policing body; we are about stability.”
Jainan found himself in unwilling agreement. He said nothing.
“Doing a good job there, aren’t you?” Kiem said mutinously. “I don’t buy this explanation. I don’t have a better one, but I don’t buy it. Don’t tell me Professor Audel sabotaged our flybug.”
Rakal hesitated. “That has given us something of a headache,” they admitted. “It would have been a big risk for her to take. But it is a common mechanical flaw, and I understand you were putting unusual demands on the flybug. It could have been an accident.”
“I feel so safe,” Kiem said.
“I will assign close protection to your flybug—”
“I’m not getting in one of those until this is all over,” Kiem said bluntly. “My aide says she’ll book a random shuttle for us to travel on to Carissi Station tomorrow, so unless someone wants to blow up the entire shuttleport, they shouldn’t be able to do anything. But I don’t like trapping Audel like this. I thought Internal Security was at least bothered about the law.”
“The state is the law, Your Highness,” Rakal said. “I serve the Emperor.”
Kiem’s expression said, as clearly as if he’d passed Jainan a note, that this was not as reassuring as Rakal thought it was. Jainan swallowed a bubble of hysteria at this perilous swerve toward lèse-majesté. “We understand, Agent Rakal,” Jainan said. “We are all dedicated to the Empire.”
Rakal turned on their own wristband briskly, a sign the interview was coming to a close. “A representative from Press Office is waiting to speak to you,” Rakal said. Press Office also came out like a piece of radioactive waste in a pair of tongs. “A local newslog in Braska ran a report on Prince Kiem’s failure to attend the school graduation. Whatever story you give them must contain nothing that points to the investigation. Do I need to invoke the Imperial Voice?”
“No,” Kiem said. He pushed himself up from his slouch just to slump forward, his head bowed over his knees. “I’ll do it. I can handle them.”
Jainan had long ago realized that anger was an unsuitable emotion for diplomats and suppressed it, so it took him a moment to recognize the low, cold sensation at Kiem being given a further set of orders. “I hope this has given you what you need, Agent Rakal,” he said. “Kiem is suffering from stim hangover; may we leave? You know where to find us.”
“You could say that.” Rakal gave a tight, unreadable smile. “And if not, I’m sure the newslogs will tell me.”
Jainan rose and had to stop himself from reaching a hand out to help Kiem. Kiem would find that embarrassing; Jainan himself would have rather given a tell-all interview to a newslog than accepted physical support in front of Rakal. Kiem was fine, in any case, even if he moved more slowly than usual.
Bel met them at the door to Internal Security’s offices, which let into a wide hallway with curved stairs leading down to the entrance of the staffing headquarters. She cast a glance over Kiem that was somewhere between impatient and worried. “There’s a palace medic waiting for Kiem downstairs,” she said—to Jainan, as if Jainan could do anything about it. “Make him get checked. Press Office as well, but I’ll try and head them off.”
“I’m okay,” Kiem said. “All I want is
a shower.” When they rounded the curve of the stairs and he saw who was standing at the bottom, he groaned and collapsed on Jainan’s shoulder. “Nope, scratch that, I’m definitely too ill to talk.”
Jainan offered his arm without thinking. Of the two people waiting for them, one was a palace nurse. The other was someone Jainan had only had very brief, unpleasant dealings with and did not particularly want to be debriefed by.
“Trust you,” the chief press officer said. Hren Halesar had his arms crossed and was standing in Kiem’s path. “Trust you to fuck up a school visit. You really crashed?”
Kiem stumbled down the last of the stairs on Jainan’s arm and stopped. “Urgh,” he said. “Yes, we crashed. I fell in a river. Jainan fought off a bear. There were flights of angels. Alien invasions. Can I get my checkup and go to bed?”
“Angels my ass. Have you been talking to any journalists?”
“Yes, one popped out of the lockers on the rescue flyer,” Kiem said. He was still leaning on Jainan, and Jainan didn’t think it was all theatrics. “I just attract them. Pheromones.” Jainan choked.
“They’re trying to get hold of you. A couple of outlets picked up that local report about your no-show at Braska. Don’t reply. I’ve been told by the spies that they need this to disappear for the sake of the fucking Resolution”—his expression made it very clear that Press Office wasn’t any fonder of Internal Security than Rakal was of them—“so I’ll need a statement and a short vid from you.”
“Can do,” Kiem said. He was clearly trying to put energy into it, but for once it wasn’t working. “I’ll put something together tomorrow. Leave it to me.”
“I’ll need some handling detail for the—”
“Hren Halesar,” Jainan said, cutting in midsentence with his formal name. “His highness is tired from travel, and we have to take a shuttle tomorrow on Imperial business. You will kindly allow us to shower and rest.”
Hren turned on him in astonishment, but his eyes narrowed. “I’m going to need more than—”
“Oh, shit, Hren, actually,” Kiem said, interrupting him for the second time, “you’re just the person I want, come to think of it.” He pulled something bulky out of his jacket pocket and pressed it on Hren.
Hren looked down at the golden trowel in his hands. “The fuck is this?”
“It’s a trowel,” Kiem said.
Jainan said gravely, “It’s very important.”
“Get that back to Braska Prime with a good apology, would you?” Kiem said. “Great opportunity for good press. Write them a flowery letter. Oh, and you’d better let them know I’m not dead. Tell them I’ll call them—”
“You’ll call them when you don’t look like death,” Jainan put in.
“I’ll call them when I don’t look like death. Take care of the trowel. Just the man. Knew I could count on you.”
“Excuse me,” Jainan said to the nurse. “His highness is in poor condition and needs to get to the clinic.”
“No kidding,” said the nurse, who had been trying to put a blood-pressure patch on Kiem’s wrist for the past two minutes. “This way, Your Highness.”
“And lice. I think I’ve got lice,” Kiem said mournfully, stepping close enough to Hren to make him take a sharp step back. “Wouldn’t get in the elevator with me. ’Scuse me.” He disappeared into the elevator with the nurse.
Jainan traded a glance with Bel and followed Kiem. Bel went to take Hren aside and presumably give him enough information to keep him away from Kiem until tomorrow. “Lice?” Jainan murmured as he followed Kiem into the elevator.
“Well-known side effect of hypothermia,” Kiem said.
“Of course,” Jainan said. “As is talking nonsense, I believe. I’ll pick up some of your clothes and meet you at the clinic.”
It didn’t feel like a triumphant return. Jainan was tired to the point of exhaustion, and the momentary levity had faded into the nagging sense of wrongness that followed him wherever he went. He was embarrassed to be seen by the people he passed in the corridor in the mess of clothes they’d put on after the crash. He forced himself to shut down every thought but the immediate task, but that tripped him up: he was halfway to Taam’s rooms before he realized he was in the wrong wing of the palace.
He backtracked, frustrated, and increased his pace back to Kie—to his own rooms. He was almost there when he became aware of footsteps behind him.
“Your Grace!”
Jainan turned. The person following him was a smartly dressed, short-haired woman with fashion-statement silver eye implants. Jainan recoiled automatically before he recognized her.
The woman wore a bright, intent smile. “Sorry to chase you around, I wasn’t quite sure it was you.” She advanced with her hand out. “Hani Sereson, I’m—”
“A journalist, I know,” Jainan said. He didn’t take her hand. He was in no mood to fake pleasantries, and there was nobody to demand it of him. “I recognize you from the wedding ceremony.”
“Yes, I’m with Consult News,” Hani said. She dropped her hand in a smooth recovery and gave his disheveled clothes an assessing look. “Unscheduled ski trip, Your Grace? Does this have anything to do with the Auditor suddenly disappearing?”
“No—” Jainan said, then realized he was falling into a trap. If he gave her the slightest opening, his and Kiem’s names would be all over the news tomorrow, and even Hren Halesar wouldn’t be able to control the damage. “Why are you in here?” he said instead. “Do you have a visitor permit?”
Hani gave a slight, ironic bow. “Yes, Your Grace,” she said. “As a matter of fact, Prince Kiem and I meet every month for drinks. Only he didn’t turn up today. The public gets rightly concerned when one of our Resolution representatives is nowhere to be found. He’s usually so public.”
“Prince Kiem is not available,” Jainan said. “He is preparing for Unification Day.”
“I hope he’s not ill?” Hani said. Jainan shook his head. “All eyes are on the treaty reps and the Resolution, you know. I’m covering it from Carissi Station, so if you have any quotes you want me to print…?”
“No,” Jainan said. “Please leave.”
“Okay, okay.” Hani held up a palm in front of her. “I’ll consider this conversation off the record.” Jainan didn’t like the silver sheen on her eyes. It made her harder to read as she stared at him. “But you should know, I’m not your enemy.”
You are, Jainan said in the privacy of his head, but instead he gave her a tight smile. “I’m afraid I value my privacy.” His wristband chimed, but he ignored it. “Do you need escorting out?”
“I’m going!” Hani said, but Jainan didn’t care. He shut the door behind him and was enclosed safe in the calm oasis of Kiem’s rooms, finally alone.
He expected to feel relief. He had always counted his time alone in the palace like gold dust. But, somewhat to his surprise, he strode impatiently through the room and rooted through drawers in the bedroom to find Kiem’s clothes, not pausing even to sit down. There were still things to be done.
A staccato tapping on the window heralded the arrival of the doves, who had obviously seen movement and hoped for food. Jainan knew it was Kiem who fed them; he had caught him at it several times. Jainan had no time for them right now but the sound was familiar and reassuring.
His wristband chimed. He tapped it to make it stop and glanced at the messages that had come in while he was out of signal. There were more than he’d anticipated: he could ignore most of the College communications, but the flurry of messages from Gairad caused a sharp pang of guilt. She was still messaging him about the project, trying to work out how Kingfisher had set up their refinery.
He sat down and tried to sort out a reply. Gairad had no idea what Professor Audel was doing. It could be dangerous for her to stay on the project. And yet, he had given his word to Internal Security, for the sake of the Empire—for the sake of Thea.
He spun through to Gairad’s last message. I’ve found some plans I need you to
see. I’ll meet you on Carissi.
Jainan’s resolution wavered and gave way. He messaged back, I will see you there. Then he took his wristband off, opened a drawer, and dropped it at the back for the night.
“Hey,” Kiem said from the bedroom door.
Jainan whirled around. “I thought you were in the clinic.” I was coming, he wanted to say, but Kiem was giving him his best hangdog look.
“I flirted my way out of it,” Kiem said. “I was shameless. I just wanted the fuss to stop. Forgive me?” His tone was half-bantering, half-serious, and the serious parts made something odd happen in Jainan’s chest.
“Now you’re trying it on me,” Jainan said as Kiem crossed the room.
“Is it working?” Kiem said, and before Jainan could reply, he kissed him.
It was light and tentative, as if now that they were back in the palace, they had to learn how to do this all over again. Jainan took hold of Kiem’s shoulder and deepened the kiss. There was a long moment of intense silence, and then Jainan took a breath and said, “It’s working. Are you trying to bribe me into letting you use the shower first?”
“Is that working?” Kiem said. There was a laugh in his voice for no good reason. “Promise I’ll be quick.” Jainan waved him in. Kiem stumbled on his next step, but he quickly righted himself and shot Jainan a grin. “Too much mountain climbing.”
As Kiem shut himself in the shower, Jainan occupied himself with undressing. In the heat of the palace his outdoor layers felt grimy and unpleasant. He hung them up in the wardrobe’s cleanser and turned toward the bathroom, debating whether or not to get Kiem’s clothes. The door was shut, but the light indicated it wasn’t locked. It might be an invasion of privacy.
The dilemma was solved for him by an abrupt crash from inside. Jainan opened the bathroom door without thinking. “Kiem?”
“Meant to do that,” Kiem said from the floor. He had managed to get his trousers off but was now sitting in a corner—if being half collapsed against the wall could be called sitting. One look at his face and Jainan realized Kiem had somehow been managing to hide the extent of his exhaustion.
Winter's Orbit Page 27
