by Patty Jansen
One look into the paper-skinned face and I jumped up and bowed, arms by my sides. “Delegate Akhtari.”
Whose idea was it to make me face her now, in this state?
“Well-met, Delegate.” Her voice carried a hint of hardness that belied her stately, elfin appearance. “Let us go inside.”
She gestured me into the sitting room, which was even bigger than the foyer, if possible. The two couches I had seen from the hall stood in one corner of the carpet in a v-formation. In the far corner of the tapering room stood a large and heavy wooden table with eleven high-backed chairs. In the middle of the room water steamed in a circular pool, surrounded by cushioned benches.
Floor-to-ceiling windows ran all along the far side, including some that slid open to give access to a balcony that might have been a garden for all the greenery.
Delegate Akhtari made a gesture with her hand to indicate that I should sit.
I sank down on one of the couches. She settled opposite me, clasping her hands and looping them around her knees. Her back remained ramrod-straight.
“The establishment regrets the haste with which the Delegate had to come here. The Delegate’s trip was pleasant enough?” Oh so formal, she used only the most distant of pronouns.
“Concern appreciated, Delegate. It was.”
Never mind what happened before my travel started. Never mind the chaos in Athens and at the refugees at the Barresh Exchange. But then I decided to mention it anyway. The swifter the issue was dealt with, the better. “The Delegate was caught in an unfortunate situation.” How about: the Delegate caused an unfortunate situation?
“Unfortunate indeed.” She fixed me with her azure blue eyes. “What is your new president’s business, accusing gamra of these crimes?”
She used the Isla word for president, as if it were a title, as if presidents were disposable; Danziger wasn’t even officially sworn in.
“I apologise profoundly for his actions, Delegate. The man is . . . not familiar with gamra protocol.”
“Was it not the Delegate’s task to inform the president of these issues?” Those piercing eyes met mine again.
“It was, and I did inform him, but the president chose to ignore my words.”
A small, cold silence. “So it seems.”
What else should I have done? Why had Danziger cut me out of all decision-making?
“Again, I apologise, Delegate, but protocol aside, I believe that Nations of Earth had some of the facts on their side—”
“Facts? Like the allegations that some gamra entity was involved in the disappearance of the previous envoy?”
Shit. Next time I was on Earth, I was going to kick that movie producer’s arse all the way to the Moon. “Please, Delegate, this is a misunderstanding. These are not true allegations. It is a movie.” That didn’t translate into Coldi of course, and she raised her eyebrows at the Isla word. “A form of entertainment. I will explain this in the assembly, but the most important fact about a movie is that it is a story, not real.” And even the word story didn’t translate well. “Recount” was obviously out, because it wasn’t a recount or history. The closest other word was semayi which meant fabrication, and that was too close to lie.
“Entertainment? Provocation of gamra entities? Is that entertainment? Hurling abuse at this establishment and see who gets angry?”
That just about showed how much of an uphill battle I faced. “As I said, I will explain.”
Damn, I really needed Nicha.
Another cold glance. “The establishment shall await the explanation, then. The assembly sits in five days. That will be the time to explain. Important primary delegates will be in attendance.”
Primary delegates were heads of state of entities normally represented by their envoys, who were secondary delegates. I was a probationary tertiary delegate, someone representing an organisation which represented the heads of state. Not high in the importance stakes at all.
I wondered who was coming to listen to my speech.
She strained her legs to get up, but I wasn’t finished. “Delegate, is it known to gamra who was responsible and what they wanted?”
Much too direct for gamra protocol of course, even though I used the right pronouns.
A small silence. Was she shocked at my lack of manners? Never mind; I refused to be intimidated.
“Regretfully, the establishment has no indication who was responsible.”
“Delegate, in that case, it would be wise to send Nations of Earth a formal statement that no known entity of gamra had a hand in this attack. I believe Nations of Earth is justified in at least some of their opinions—even though I don’t agree with their actions. There is considerable proof that non-local weaponry was used. A statement would definitely help; at least some of the tension would be allayed.”
She nodded. “That, it would.”
But she mentioned no more. Not that she would send a statement, nor that she would formally deny Danziger’s accusation.
That didn’t sit well with me at all. Was she aware of some plot? “Please, Delegate, that is my strong belief. The Coldi population on Earth numbers about two hundred thousand. They have become hostages, with my zhayma Nicha Palayi as example. Their houses are under attack, their shops are being looted, their families are threatened. They will . . .” I thought of Nixie Chan and her plans for strikes and shutdowns, and of Nicha’s father, who must right now be thinking about taking action to free his son. “. . . They are already taking hostile action. Lives are at risk.”
“The Delegate can discuss this in the assembly.”
“With respect, Delegate, I think action is needed sooner than that. The Barresh Exchange is full of refugees.”
Five days? By that time war might well have broken out.
“The establishment is aware of the situation.” She made to get up, but sat down again. “Oh—it’s necessary to mention—the establishment has appointed a new zhayma to the Delegate.” She snapped her fingers.
Someone came to the doorway. Stocky, broad-shouldered, glistening hair with peacock-colours tied back tightly. A face that would have looked carved out of marble if the skin had not been yellow-tinged.
A formal nod of the head acknowledged Delegate Akhtari. I received the same attention, plus a glance of eyes so perfectly almond-shaped I found it hard to look away. “Delegates.”
Coldi. Impossible to tell gender even by voice. A feeling of constriction lodged in my chest. I could only see Nicha’s smile. Nicha, who had grown up on Earth and knew me so well. My zhayma, a person close to me no one could replace. It wasn’t marriage without the sex. It was more, much more.
Delegate Akhtari acknowledged the Coldi person with a wave of her hand. “This is Thayu Domiri, who has kindly agreed to take the position at very short notice.”
Domiri. There were only thirty-two Coldi clans, and each had a different specialty. On Asto, Domiri spelled security, paid fighters, officers and generals in the army. Nicha’s father was a Domiri.
Thayu was a female name. I met the eyes again; so perfect, they spoke of exotic holiday destinations, of black-lined eyes drawn in perfection on ancient Egyptian papyrus.
She bowed. “Delegate.”
She sized me up, briefly. Her hand twitched. Oh shit.
My legs tensed, ready to spring. This was the moment when dominance would be established, if her instincts triggered.
I saw Nicha when we first met. He’d done the same: looked at me, and twitched. Then he’d walked up to me, grabbed me by the shoulders, while staring into my eyes with unbelievable intensity. He lifted me clear off the ground, and could easily have thrown me through the fifth-floor window . . . and then set me down, still meeting my eyes. It had been a dangerous moment, but I only understood that later.
Rimoyu, balance. Not, as some people thought, a balance of equals. It called to mind Danziger’s crude joke: If it doesn’t eat you, you can’t defeat it, can’t fuck it, you must kill it. Only a zhayma could be equal in ra
nk. All other relationships had to be unequal, and it had to be established who was superior. Amarru was my superior; my office staff, inferior. I had to constantly remind myself of this fact, and act the part; for a Coldi person, this was a matter of instinct that triggered upon the first meeting between two people. If the two people were completely unconnected through their respective loyalty networks, there could be fights. Nicha said that he had felt something stir when he first met me, even though the instinct didn’t usually trigger when facing people from other species.
She didn’t move. My heart was still going like crazy, and I was sure something had just happened in that look.
Delegate Akhtari continued, “The establishment has acted quickly and placed you under guard. I have consigned the two agents specifically for your security.” Right. I had thought as much. “Until we find out who is guilty of this cowardly attack, they will accompany you everywhere outside this apartment.”
“This apartment, Delegate?” Nations of Earth and gamra had agreed to each contribute a set amount to cover my costs. While the allowance was generous, I didn’t think it would cover a third of the cost of this accommodation.
“Yes. Is it not to the Delegate’s standard?”
“It is. To the contrary, Delegate. I’m alone. This is much too big for me.” I imagined myself sitting at that enormous table at dinner, by myself, facing a dozen-odd empty chairs.
They toy with us. Melissa Hayworth’s words.
Oh hell someone was definitely having fun with me.
But there was mahzu, calm, control. This was not the time or place to raise objections. I’d have to do that officially. Tomorrow, after I had slept, when my adaptation had balanced and when my hands didn’t throb so much and I didn’t feel quite so likely to say things I would regret.
“The Delegate won’t be alone. The staff quarters are downstairs, as well as the office.”
“Staff?” That wasn’t part of my agreement either. What did she think I was? A member of the aristocracy, who had buckets of money?
“Six domestic. Six professional. That includes the security, as well as two administrative, a translator and a communications officer. Domestic staff include a cook, two general servants, a gardener and a laundry assistant.”
Were they trying to send me broke?
She rose from her seat. “I will now leave the Delegate to rest. May I suggest a medico should attend the Delegate’s hands.”
She glided to the door in regal strides, bobbing a greeting to the Coldi woman in passing.
I stared after her back, noticing that the apartment door was open and that some people were shifting crates inside. My luggage. So the carriers had been told I’d be staying here before I had.
What the hell?
9
A PERSON COULD, of course, get angry, but claiming unfair treatment was an Earth response, and not a very mature one at that. It was something gamra delegates did not do. Life was not fair—get over it.
But that didn’t mean I wasn’t angry.
Amarru had said that my coming would be a low-key event. Of course I knew that a number of gamra entities watched my actions like birds of prey, knowing that if Nations of Earth decided to become a full member, if gamra accepted the candidature, I would carry a large vote based on population numbers. That I would be someone whose vote might sway matters. But that eventuality needed to hurdle so many ifs that it hadn’t happened in the past twenty years, and I didn’t see it happening within my lifetime. So why guards? Why twelve staff? Why this apartment? Who was paying for all this?
Something stirred by the door. A mellow voice said, “Delegate?”
Thayu, my new zhayma. I was rude to let her stand.
I waved at the seat vacated by Delegate Akhtari. “Sit down. You’ll have to excuse me. I’m tired.”
She crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the seat. With the stealth of an assassin.
Our eyes met. Hers were so perfect, almond-shaped, the large irises black with a smattering of gold spots. Long eyelashes glittered in their characteristic Coldi green, blue and purple. Her skin was soft yellow and unblemished, devoid of even the slightest fuzz of hair. Under that tunic, her arms, too, would be completely hairless; I knew that from being with Nicha.
Those beautiful eyes focused on my hands in a way that made me think the dominance issue still hadn’t been settled, from her point of view. “Is the Delegate in pain or discomfort?”
“It itches,” I said and rubbed my left palm over my knee as if to illustrate the point.
She strained her legs as if to get up. “The staff will arrange a medico.”
“Wait.”
She froze.
“I would prefer to walk to the treatment bay.”
“Delegate Akhtari says—”
“I can walk.” The latter a bit too abrupt, perhaps.
She looked down, submissive.
Please, no; she’d decided that she was the inferior party. That wasn’t right. That couldn’t happen in a zhayma arrangement.
Damn, I wanted Nicha back.
And I was fighting myself, and utter, complete fatigue.
“Are you . . .” I made sure I used the polite-you form. “. . . are you fine for accommodation?”
Another flick of those perfect eyebrows. “I have a room off the hall, if that’s what the Delegate is asking.”
“That is what I am asking. I wouldn’t want any assistant of mine in inconvenient situations.” Meaning sexual situations, Delegate. That simple word, convenience, imashu, had a nasty double meaning.
The flick of an eye, a sharp look. Not subservient? “My situation is not inconvenient.”
“Good.”
Damn. Trust me to slip up in situations like this. I could debate Danziger into the back of the cupboard, Delegate Akhtari, too, if she chose to chuck the formality and faced me head-on, but as soon as there was a pair of pretty eyes involved, I stammered like an idiot.
I love it when you blush, Eva would say.
Well, I didn’t.
My mind worked to dispel lingering discomfort. “It’s nice here.”
“It is.”
“This apartment seems very big. Whose is it?”
“Yours, Delegate. Shall I leave?”
Total misunderstanding. “No, what I mean is: who did I displace before . . . all this happened?”
I didn’t even know if she was up-to-date with what had happened to me, if she knew where I came from.
“What does the Delegate mean?”
“Please. If we’re to work together, call me Cory.”
She blinked at me. Said nothing. Showed no emotion.
I breathed in deeply. “What I mean is that I am a minor player in gamra. I presumed I’d get an apartment on the ground floor.”
“Is this not good enough. . . ?” I could see she almost said Delegate again.
“To the contrary: it’s too good. I am not important enough to warrant this treatment.”
“Oh.” Comprehension dawned on her face. “I don’t know. It seems to me that no one has lived here for quite some time.”
“How so?”
“The bedding smells stale; the cupboards are too empty.”
“Who owns this apartment?”
“I’m not sure.”
I had a feeling she lied, but I let the subject rest. If that knowledge was important, I had no doubt I would find out soon enough.
“Forgive me for asking, but I’d like to know how much you know of my homeworld, its customs and its groups.”
“Delegate Akhtari has informed me.”
What? About all of Earth? “Do you have a background in gamra law?”
She gave me a look that said what do you take me for?
“As I said, excuse my questions, but I like to know if we are to work together.” I kept my pronouns strictly professional.
She raised her head, chin up. “I studied law and inter-entity relations. I speak Damarcian, Mirani and Kedrasi. I have complet
ed two years at the Trader Academy.”
Nothing wrong with that. She probably had a solid grasp of the variety of laws and customs within gamra entities, something on which Nicha was a bit weak. But she didn’t speak Isla and had probably never been to Earth, and would have no knowledge of the inner workings of Nations of Earth.
“Shall I show you around?”
I started to refuse, but my brain needed space to think. “All right.”
She led me back into the hall, where the mound of crates containing my luggage had grown. I restrained to urge to look for my bag with the infusor. The door was still open, and the two Indrahui guards stood there, unmoving except for their eyes.
“These are Evi and Telaris, and part of Delegate Akhtari’s staff on indefinite loan to you.” Formal-you again.
Both men glanced briefly at me, meeting my eyes with their moss green ones, before returning to watching what went on outside.
I retreated. A person did not keep security from doing their job. Yet I had appreciated their presence, and it irked me that Thayu knew their names and I didn’t. I hadn’t asked; that was not appropriate, but now I knew and I ached to know which one was Evi and which Telaris. I wanted to apologise to them for the past two days. They were the only people in Barresh who spoke some Isla, and their continued presence started to gnaw at me. Somehow, I wondered if they were really as young and inexperienced as I had assumed, and somehow I had a suspicion they weren’t, all of which didn’t make me feel any better. In fact, in my exhausted and filthy state, it made me feel like a profound idiot.
Thayu went back into the hall and past the luggage crates. I glanced into the darkness of the communication room as we passed. Before I went to bed, I had to ask her to show me how the equipment in there worked. I had to check on what was happening in Rotterdam, in Athens and the rest of the world.
But I desperately needed my medicine first.
Thayu kept going, into the corridor. The shimmering ponytail flicked over the back of her tunic with every step she took. Even her walk had this silent, cat-like quality that I would have expected in an athlete, not in a diplomatic worker.
She gestured to the left. “The bathing room.” It had, I noted with a sinking feeling, a decidedly un-private rolling door.
