“Oh,” she said in a low voice. “Have you replied anything to him?”
“Wasn’t that your decision?” I met her eyes. “We can call him now and you can be pregnant this week. The little Azimi brat can have a playmate.”
“Hey!” Nicha protested. “You’re talking about my son.”
Thayu said, “What if we happen to be in the small percentage of people who do interbreed and I have a third child. I don’t want to have to abort if it’s yours.” Tears glistened briefly in her eyes. “I don’t want to forfeit my right to live on Asto. You will have to be careful, too.”
“Does the two-child limit apply to me?”
“You’re Domiri clan. I think it does.”
“Veyada would know,” I said.
“It doesn’t,” Veyada said, without looking up from his screen.
And as usual, Thayu was avoiding the final decision. I’d already had myself tested for compatibility on the off-chance and it was negative. The big Aghyrian population database showed absolutely no instances of crossbreeding between humans and Coldi. Earth humans did have Aghyrian roots, but they were buried very deep.
While this discussion had been going on, I’d kept an eye on the screen. There was no reply yet from Federza, not even an automated one.
Well, that was interesting. I was too busy and besides it was probably too late in the day by now, so I made a note to contact the Barresh Aghyrians tomorrow. Meanwhile I sent another message to his Barresh office. The Trader’s office would often reroute messages through the Trader Guild’s satellites. Probably something urgent had come up and he was off world.
But I still didn’t like it.
I went to the admin office downstairs to check on the staff working there. They were looking after all my regular things: the household, bills, my accounts, gamra correspondence. I couldn’t imagine how I’d once been lost for things to get these people to do. In the near future I would probably have to hire more staff.
When I came back from downstairs, Devlin was looking for me. “I have an urgent communication for you.”
I went with him into the hub, where he pulled up gamra’s live video communication channel. He entered our code, and Delegate Namion’s face appeared.
Well, that hadn’t taken him long at all.
Devlin said, “The Delegate is here.”
“Good. Let me talk to him.”
“In private?”
“No.”
Damarcian faces had a habit of always looking unfriendly and hawkish, but his face took on a super-annoyed expression when his eyes met mine through the screen.
After we had exchanged cool greetings, he started, “A couple of things I want to raise with you. I just received your message regarding the dig site. I’m afraid that this is a matter outside my authority. You will need to contact the Barresh Council to get access to the site.”
“I already have.”
“Then there is nothing more I can do for you.”
“The captain has the whole history of the civilised world in his hands. He needs access to the site—”
“The council will decide who needs what.”
“They will deal with it so much more urgently is there is a supporting message from you.” I used the imperative-you, which was probably a fairly rude choice but I was tired and my patience was running out.
His nostrils flared. “Listen, Delegate. We did not ask for this man to come here. You insisted on bringing him—”
“I did so because his absence would neutralise the ship and would possibly give us information on these people and their aims.”
“You did so of your own accord and without consultation.”
“Tell me how I was meant to have consulted anyone from a secret place where the Exchange has no coverage!”
But there was no point in arguing and I would do best to shut up, because in typical fashion, I’d probably soon put my foot in it. And he was right: it had been my decision. A poor one, as it turned out to be. I still didn’t see how I could have done anything better.
“Very well, I will deal with the captain’s impatience my way. I can’t guarantee you’ll like it, and would really appreciate some support, but if there is going to be none . . . Is there anything else you wished to talk about?”
“Yes. Delegate, can you explain what this deluge of correspondence is doing in my inbox?”
“These are all questions I’ve received from the public about gamra in relation to the Aghyrian ship. I’m not qualified or authorised to answer them. I believed they were best suited to your office, but if you wish someone else to deal with it, tell me where to send them.” Let’s play innocent.
He harrumphed. I was sure he saw the choice where I was leading him: accept more work or admit that he didn’t have a clue. His face remained blank, but I was sure he didn’t like it.
He snorted again. “All right. Send everything to my office.”
“Thank you. I will.”
“In fact, Delegate, reroute everything from that address to my office.”
That was not at all what I had in mind. “But it’s my gamra correspondence address.” What the hell?
“I will make sure that your correspondence gets returned to you. I doubt you have the staff to deal with this on top of everything else.”
That was definitely true, but crap, I didn’t want to send him all my correspondence for him to sift through. Imagine him reading the letters from Raanu.
I scrambled for something to say. I absolutely did not have the authority to refuse him. In fact, I had more authority to refuse Ezhya than I had to refuse the Chief Delegate. Never mind that Ezhya would never ask me anything half as invasive as that.
Because Ezhya trusts me.
That was the bottom line. Delegate Namion trusted me as much as I trusted him. And it was my gamra address, which technically, belonged to him.
Shit.
“Well, yes. I think . . . I can arrange that.” I’d have to notify a few people not to send me anything until I got control of my account back.
But damn it, damn it.
He signed off and I went on a mad scramble to notify people to use my private account. Raanu, Asha, damn it, Margarethe Ollund. My father.
I was in the middle of scrolling through my incoming messages to see if any other private messages needed to be sent to my other account when Thayu came into the room.
“Are you coming for dinner?”
“Yes, just start without me. I’ll be there soon.”
“By myself?”
Now I looked at her properly. “No one else here?”
She shook her head.
Yeah, I couldn’t let her eat by herself. I rose and took her hand, warm and dry in mine.
It had gone dark outside while I’d been in the hub, with just the faintest glimmer of orange remaining over the western horizon.
In the living room, Eirani was just coming to the table with a tray.
“Where is everyone?” I asked, while pulling back a chair.
“Veyada and Sheydu went out. They said not to wait.” Eirani set the tray down. “They didn’t say how long they were going to be.”
“They booked a slot at the shooting range,” Thayu said.
Eirani continued, “Deyu went with them. The young master Reida really wanted to come. Sheydu said that he was too impatient and told him to study. He’s sulking in his room.”
I thought that was a bit harsh. Reida had been studying a lot and had behaved very well recently. It seemed to have gotten through to him that being chosen to work here was a privilege and he’d do well not to waste this opportunity.
That said, Veyada was very strict on taking weapons seriously, not necessarily a bad thing. Guards should know how to use weapons but could not be trigger-happy. Reida had probably been a bit too keen.
Nicha was having dinner in his room with Xinanu, Eirani informed us.
So Thayu and I sat at the big table by ourselves. It was strange and empty and would
have been romantic had I not been so annoyed at Delegate Namion’s orders. I told Thayu about it.
“He wants you to send everything to him?” She seemed surprised.
“Yeah. Shows how much he trusts us.”
“Is he even allowed to do that?”
“I’m sure he is. It’s my gamra account. I shouldn’t be keeping any secrets from anyone.”
“That’s ridiculous. He’s using this to weaken your standing.”
“Obviously. But tell me what I can do about it. There are avenues of appeal, but how attractive are they going to be in case I ever need his help?”
She snorted. Coldi did writs, not appeals. They did not tend to become dependent on people whose cause they fundamentally didn’t support.
It was not as if I’d had any choice in the matter. I held up my hands. “All right, all right. Don’t say it.”
“Will you stand next time the position comes up?”
“Will there be a next time?” Chief Delegates were elected for life, until they died, resigned, were forced to step down or—in the odd case—were murdered.
“I’m sure there will be. Soon.”
“I hope you’re right.”
How and when this would happen, I had no idea, but I knew I wouldn’t stand, no matter how much Thayu wanted me to. If nothing else, I was far too involved with Asto to be an acceptable candidate.
I wondered when we had progressed from worrying about the accounts to plotting against the Chief Delegate.
“Why are you smiling?”
“I’m thinking about how we determine the fate of a lot of people in this room.”
“That’s the way it should be. The association is the strongest unit of society.”
I didn’t think she understood, but never mind.
Nicha scurried in from the hallway. He made a beeline for the table, emptied one of the breadbaskets into another, mixing two types of bread—just as well that Eirani didn’t see this.
He then proceeded to stack bread, fruits and a bowl of salad into his empty basket.
“We’re hungry,” he said at my raised eyebrows, then picked up two cups, a jug of juice and his overflowing basket and carried the whole lot out the door.
Xinanu was going to have twins at this rate. I wondered what on Earth the two of them talked about by themselves in his room. More than anything, I felt sorry for Nicha.
“I hope that we won’t have to suffer through this for very long anymore,” I said to Thayu when Nicha was gone.
“No, we’ll just have to deal with the Azimi clan.”
“And with the council and why ever they blocked us at the site. I really can’t believe that they didn’t know who we were.”
“How about you were blocked because of who you are. Or rather, because of who our dear captain is.”
“They wouldn’t be so petty, would they?”
“After he called all of the non-pure Aghyrians second-rate derivatives, and calling us the ‘all-purpose colonising race’ as if we’re some sort of thing? After that stupid discussion on the train? The man is an arsehole.”
“You have said this before.”
“Maybe, but no one appears to be listening.”
I was surprised at the anger in her voice. I’d been called much worse than any name-slinging by Kando Luczon. I guess I was used to the fact that most gamra people thought little about Earth and its inhabitants.
I said, “You know what I’ve been thinking? Some of this stuff that the council pulls is really, really childish. I can’t believe that this pettiness is the only motive for keeping Luczon from seeing the site. They can’t just be in it to spite him, or spite us, or whatever. There has to be another reason.”
“It’s probably something stupid to do with local regulations.”
“Probably, and I don’t care how they classify someone as a local and what the rules are for historic sites. I don’t care about their regulations. I need to understand if they ever plan on giving Luczon access to the site, because if he doesn’t get it, he’s going to get up to other mischief. Somehow, I prefer to stay in control of the mischief pulled by a four-hundred-year-old man from a civilisation that can travel outside the galaxy. I want him granted access. I want him involved in the dig. If nothing else, that’s why he’s here. Who knows what all those thousands of people aboard his ship think. I want him satisfied that he’s contributing to something worthwhile.”
“So, what? You’ve written to the council already. We’ve tried getting Delegate Namion to take up our cause. What else can you do?”
“I don’t have time to wait in case the council might reply. For all I know, they’re stalling on this issue and passing my message from department to department until I give up. Delegate Namion won’t write a letter of support. Everyone is being stupid, so we’ll play stupid back. I’ll send Reida.”
Thayu frowned at me. “Send him where?”
“To the dig.”
“He won’t get in either.”
“Not to visit, to work.”
Her expression cleared. “Ah.” As spy. It would be perfectly clear to her now. She smiled. “I guess you could do that. This is where it gets interesting.”
So when we had finished dinner and Eirani came in to clear the table, I went to Reida’s room. At my knock on the door, a sullen voice inside said, “Come in.”
As I opened the door, a waft of stale, warm air laced with the scent of Coldi sweat came out. Reida sat on his bed. He might be more focused on his study now that he was no longer attached to Delegate Ayanu, but right now he was, as Eirani had aptly called it, sulking.
However, when I came in, he jumped off the bed and snapped into a subservient greeting, which I reluctantly acknowledged. Reida needed it. He was quite insecure, having grown up in a neighbourhood where a good number of people didn’t have the sheya instinct and would jeer at those who had it.
Urgh. Did he ever open the window in here? The room had an interconnecting door to Deyu’s room next door, and the state of the unmade bed showed what the two of them got up to at night. I’d learned to see it as a good sign that finally that part of my association was working as it needed to be.
I began, “I have a job for you.”
“A job?” He looked up, his expression hopeful.
I explained to him that I wanted him to get council guard uniforms, go to the dig site and find out what the deal was with not allowing anyone into the fenced-off site and what was going on there. He was to report to us every day on a number of different issues.
As I spoke, his morose expression cleared and made place for a smile.
“I know where to get those uniforms. And I can get a set of their equipment, too. I’ll look just like the real thing.”
“Just a reminder: I don’t want to know where you got any of this stuff, because this is done without my authorisation.” I was guessing he’d buy the uniform and equipment off the black market in Far Atok, because everything could be bought there.
“Yes, I understand, but thank you. You won’t be disappointed with my job.”
That of course remained to be seen, and I might yet receive a satisfactory reply from the council, but there was at least one happy person in my household today.
Chapter 5
* * *
DELEGATE NAMION’S control over my message account came into being overnight. The volume of messages I received went from hundreds to precisely . . . zero.
“What the hell?” I complained to Devlin. “How am I supposed to work like this?”
I contacted the Delegate’s office to ask if I could have my correspondence and was told by a sullen-voiced man that there wasn’t any.
“That’s impossible!” I said. “What about the agenda for the upcoming meeting? What about the captain? What about Marin Federza?”
“The agenda hasn’t yet been released—”
“But the meeting is tomorrow morning.”
“There was a last-moment amendment. You will get the new versi
on after the Delegate comes in and determines the final items to be added. It’s still very early, as you’re sure aware.”
How politely could one say fuck off? I wasn’t going to give up so easily. “What about the rest?”
“I’m sorry. Neither of those people have sent you anything. We will send you the correspondence when it comes through.”
I didn’t believe him for one moment, but what else could I do?
Well, maybe the captain hadn’t sent anything. He wasn’t exactly communicative. And Federza was not my best pal either. He wouldn’t feel the need to send me an immediate reply, especially since my message had been lame and nondescript.
I still had trouble believing it, but maybe there had indeed been nothing.
Maybe if I had a moment, I should go into town and check the Aghyrian compound to see if Federza was in there, not receiving my messages.
Maybe.
As outsider, it was pretty hard to imagine what went on inside that complex that took up an entire city block, ironically not far from where the ship was found.
Apparently there were people who never left this complex, and whose existence no one knew about.
Deep inside I sort of knew that I was just making excuses for not having to check out the situation. I mean—how easy would it be just to ask? No, I didn’t want to see him, only to make sure that he was all right.
Then again, surely Federza had friends who would notify the right people if he had disappeared? Did that require action from me? For crying out loud, I disliked the man and he disliked me. I didn’t, above all, want to give him the impression that I cared what happened to him.
Overnight, Xinanu’s baby had decided to stay put. She came to breakfast briefly, with red-rimmed, swollen eyes. No matter how many times Thayu said drama queen, to me she did look extremely uncomfortable to me. Her stomach was so ridiculously swollen that she could barely sit, much less walk.
The assembly would sit tomorrow afternoon. Normally, I would be preparing for the meeting a few days in advance, but I had no idea what to prepare for. I guessed that after the previous debacle, no one had been too keen to invite Captain Luczon again, but the need to develop a unified plan to deal with the ship remained. I had asked for this to be put on the agenda. Didn’t know if it was actually happening. I had a feeling Delegate Namion might leave it off, just to spite me.
Ambassador 4: Coming Home Page 5
