The Consuming Fire (The Interdependency)

by John Scalzi

  And then one day suddenly he wasn’t affectionate and tractable, and he was going to call off the announcement of their engagement. Aside from the massive loss of face Nadashe would endure, which was significant but something she could live with, the House of Nohamapetan would suffer a significant decline in its status. All the other houses had been doing business with the Nohamapetans with the implicit understanding that in a generation, one of its own would be on the throne. With the name Wu, to be sure, but there was no one who thought that once Nadashe was the emperox’s wife, the Nohamapetans would not be the ones running the show. Everyone acted accordingly.

  But if Nadashe was thrown over, all that went by the wayside. And then the other houses would begin their own frantic competition for the crown. The emperox’s marriages were almost always political unions in one way or another.

  If there was a little love thrown in there, that was fine; Attavio VI, as an example, was known to have been excessively fond of his consort Glenna Costu, whom he married because the House of Costu had bailed out his mother, the infamous Zetian III, from some ruinous personal investments that would have bankrupted the imperial private accounts. But in an empire that was aggressively dynastical, the only way for a house to move up was to marry into the House of Wu. Every marriage was political. And in the political arena, if Nadashe was tossed to the side, so was the House of Nohamapetan.

  In the end the problem solved itself when Rennered rammed his car into a wall during that race, before he could formally announce that he would not be moving forward with his engagement to Nadashe. He was dead and there would be a different emperox, and given what was known of the mousy, indifferent creature that was Cardenia Wu-Patrick, it would be highly unlikely that Nadashe would be the imperial consort. But the House of Nohamapetan was still first in line to marry into the throne.

  Nadashe had always been impressed with how well her mother had managed that assassination. It had been flawlessly executed, done so well that even those with suspicions, which would have been the entire Imperial Guard and the Ministry of Investigation, could find nothing suspicious in the wreck. The countess had not told Nadashe she was going to do it, or how it was going to be done, or when it would happen. The countess had not even been in the system at the time.

  Nadashe had been as shocked and horrified as anyone when Rennered died. For five minutes. After that she had wondered how it had been done. She had been smart enough until just the last few days never to outright say to her mother that she knew her mother had done it. The only reason Nadashe had said it at all was that she was meant to be dead herself. It couldn’t hurt.

  And her mother was all, Of course I did it. It had to be done.

  The point was, from the moment that Nadashe pointed herself at Rennered Wu to the moment he crumpled into that speedway wall, she had been a full participant in events. She was aiming to be a wife. But she was the one doing the aiming.

  This time, she was just being offered up.

  “Stand straighter,” the countess said to her daughter as they stood, waiting for their visitors.

  “I am entirely straight,” Nadashe said.

  “You look like you’re slouching.”

  “Does it actually matter, Mother? I’ve already been bought and sold, have I not?”

  “Yes, you have,” the countess said. “But you haven’t been taken home yet. You could still be returned. It’s happened before. So straighten up.”

  Nadashe sighed and overextended her back ever so slightly. The countess, satisfied, returned her attention to the door.

  Jasin and Deran Wu were about five years apart in age, but looking at the two of them Nadashe would have thought there was a decade or more between them. Jasin, more than a decade older than Nadashe, was heavyset and untoned, with a face the consistency of dough and a haircut that could only be described as brusque. His face showed intelligence but not curiosity. This was a conservative man, Nadashe could see, and not in the useful way of being cautious but practical and deliberate. He simply wanted things done the way he wanted them done, which was the way they had always been done. Nadashe expected in bed he would be a sodden lump.

  Deran’s hair was great, in a way that was cared for but not overattended. His suit fit well and he fit well into it. His face was intelligent and also engaged; Nadashe watched as his eyes took in the room and the details of it, not neglecting herself and her mother. He had energy in his step. He was also a conservative man, it was clear, but his conservatism had a method and ethos to it beyond “this is just how it’s done.” Deran, Nadashe was sure, would be happy to be flexible on methods if the results were the same, and what he wanted, which would be the status quo, with him on top. Nadashe expected that in bed Deran would get her off and then get his, making sure always to get his.

  And of course I will be stuck with the lump, Nadashe thought.

  The countess welcomed both of the men to the room, Deran warmly but perfunctorily, and Jasin with more effusion. It was clear to anyone who looked which of the two the countess had decided was the more important. Deran, for his part, seemed to be amused by this.

  “Jasin, this is of course my daughter, Nadashe,” the countess said, and Nadashe took her cue to walk up, hand extended. Jasin took it in a very businesslike grip.

  “Lady Nadashe,” he said. “I am delighted.”

  “Wonderful to see you, Lord Jasin,” Nadashe said.

  “I, uh, wanted to apologize to you, Lady Nadashe,” Jasin said.

  “What for, sir?”

  “While you were in prison, one of my associates—”

  “Oh, yes. Right. The spoon murderer.”

  “In retrospect, not the best decision I could have made.”

  “Lord Jasin, you were acting in what you believed were the best interests of your house,” Nadashe said. “As you are doing now. I can honor that sentiment, even as I can say I’m grateful that your associate was not as competent as you might have hoped for at the time.”

  “Even so, you have my apologies.”

  “My dear Jasin,” Nadashe said, dropping the “lord” to give the appearance of fond familiarity. “If we are to be emperox and consort, then the first things we have to let go of are the trivial matters of the past. There is nothing to apologize for. There is only what we can accomplish moving forward.”

  “Well, good, then,” Jasin said, smiled, and turned his attention back to the Countess Nohamapetan. Nadashe, who had tuned what she said to be warm with just a hint of intimate, was nonplussed by this. All that effort for nothing. She turned to see Deran, a small smirk on his face. He at least had gotten what she had been up to, and how it had failed to be received.

  Indeed, as the four of them sat down and began to discuss matters of a conspiratorial nature, it became abundantly clear that Jasin was entirely about business, that being the business of the Countess Nohamapetan’s plan, which she laid out in detail. Jasin listened and offered cogent but unremarkable comments and details, and within ten minutes it became clear that for this plan and the organization of it, Nadashe and Deran were surplus to requirements. Every now and again she or Deran would chime in with a comment or idea. That comment or idea was momentarily acknowledged to exist by the countess and Jasin, and then the both of them proceeded with their own planning. After a half hour of this, Nadashe needed a drink.

  Deran accompanied her to the bar. “You’re feeling as useful as I am right now, I imagine.”

  “‘Useful’ is an interesting way to put it.” She poured herself a whiskey.

  “Well, I don’t know,” Deran said, and looked over to the countess and Jasin, both intensely focused on each other. “I think it’s nice that the revolution will happen and all we have to do to reap the benefits is show up.”

  “For as long as it lasts, anyway,” Nadashe said. She pulled out a second tumbler, poured whiskey into it, and handed it to Deran.

  “Thank you,” he said, and then raised it to her. “Here’s to ‘for as long as it lasts.’”<
br />
  “Amen.” Nadashe looked at him, took a sip of her drink, and made a snap decision. She turned to her mother. “Deran wants to see the ship,” she said. “I’m going to give him a tour.”

  “Yes, fine,” the countess said, and went back to her discussion with Jasin.

  Deran turned to Nadashe. “I want to see the ship, do I?”

  “Yes you do,” Nadashe said. “Some parts of it more than others.”

  * * *

  “Thank you, by the way,” Nadashe said, after she had gotten off and Deran had made sure to get his, too.

  “You’re welcome,” Deran said. “And thank you too.”

  “Not for this,” Nadashe said.

  “Wow. That bad.”

  “It was definitely not bad,” Nadashe assured him. “I meant for making sure I didn’t get stabbed with a spoon in prison.”

  “Oh, that,” Deran said. “It was nothing. Your savior is a former member of the house’s security detail. Had a divorce, got into some hard stuff to forget, messed up her life pretty badly because of it. Being in prison dried her out and got her back in shape. Honestly the best thing for her. She was happy to take the assignment from me. Made her feel a little like being on the job again.”

  “She toothbrushed the shit out of that other woman, that’s for sure. I’m pretty sure it added a few years to her visit.”

  “Nah, no extra time. It’ll turn out to be self-defense.”

  “While she was carrying a sharpened dental instrument.”

  “It’s prison. Everyone does it.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “And you almost got spooned for it.”

  “Point taken. So why did you offer to help me back there?”

  “Because I knew Jasin was planning to have you killed, and I didn’t think it was good business for our house to make things worse with your house.”

  “Is that it?”

  “And because I thought doing you a favor would be better business for our house.”

  “Anything else?”

  “And because I was thinking we might need a new emperox soon and the emperox would need a consort. One whose house would be unendingly grateful for a second chance. Plus, you’d already been vetted.”

  “You’ve certainly vetted me now.”

  “I think it was the other way around, actually, but yes.”

  “Forgive me. I was in prison. It’s been a while.”

  “Believe me, there is nothing to forgive.”

  “But you’re not going to be emperox anymore. You’ve settled for something less.”

  “One, the chances I was going to be emperox were slim. Jasin is hidebound and slow, but he has a lot of inertia, and he’s just slightly up the food chain from me. We’d fight it out and it would be close, but he’s got the reach. Two, ‘settling’ for total control of the House of Wu is a high settle. It’s a pretty decent consolation prize.”

  “It’s too bad,” Nadashe said. “I could have gotten used to this.”

  Deran grinned. “You don’t have to give it up, you know.”

  “Sorry, but that’s not the way these things work. I can have my toys, and Jasin, if he wants them, can have his. What we can’t have are people who are an actual threat.”

  “You think I would be a threat.”

  “I know you would be. That’s why you’re getting the House of Wu. You’re going to be so busy running the house and fending off the enraged cousins that you’ve thrown out of power that you won’t even be able to look up from your desk for the next thirty years.”

  “When you put it that way, it doesn’t sound so great.”

  “That’s because it’s not. At least not compared to what you could have, which is everything.”

  Deran was silent for a moment and then sat up in the bed. “I’m not sure why you care,” he said. “Jasin is perfect for you. He’s ambitious but he has no imagination. You can point him in whatever direction you want and he’ll go there and knock down everything in his way. Isn’t that what the House of Nohamapetan wants in an emperox?”

  “It’s what the house wants,” Nadashe said. “It’s what my mother wants. Look how she’s locked on to Jasin. She knows a good, maneuverable thing when she sees it.”

  “And you don’t want that?”

  Nadashe lifted herself up, placed herself in Deran’s lap and locked her legs around him. She put her arms around his neck and started playing with the back of his cared-for but not overattended hair. “Maybe what I want is someone I don’t have to wind up and point in a particular direction. Maybe what I want is someone who appreciates what I have to offer rather than just agreeing to use me for their own plans and benefit. Maybe what I want is someone who will give me children who don’t run the risk of being depressingly dull. Maybe what I want is someone who knows how to fuck and will keep me happy doing it.”

  Deran grinned at this again and Nadashe could feel him stirring under her, which meant he had a tolerably short refractory period, which is a thing she could appreciate, just not right this second, when she was still mid-pitch.

  “Maybe, Deran Wu, what I want is someone who will actually be an emperox, and not just a tool for me and my family. Grayland is wrong about a lot, but she’s not wrong that everything is changing. We need someone who is up to it. Grayland isn’t up to it. And look at Jasin. I’m willing to bet he doesn’t actually want to engage with the fact that things are going to be different and chaotic and dangerous for the next decade. I can push him and prod him, but he’s limited to how fast and far he’ll go. He’ll knock down everything in his way, but he won’t ever get to where we need him to go. So maybe what I want is someone who will get there, with me helping, not pushing.”

  “‘Not pushing’ doesn’t sound very Nohamapetan,” Deran said.

  “I’m willing to work on it,” Nadashe said.

  Deran smiled at her, and there was a flash of something actually human there: the smallest bit of uncertainty. “You don’t actually know me,” he said. “I don’t actually know you. You’re asking a lot from a complete stranger.”

  “I’m scheduled to be married to your cousin, who I know even less. And anyway, Deran, let’s be clear what’s on the table, here. This is a political union. Pure and simple. We know each other well enough to understand that, at least.”

  “So you ‘showed me the ship’ to get me to make a deal,” Deran said.

  “No, I did that because I needed to get laid,” Nadashe said. “But I’m not going to lie to you, Deran. You did the tour well enough that offering you a political deal became more interesting.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “You should,” Nadashe said. “But now I need you to tell me if you’re taking me up on my offer. If not, thank you for breaking my drought. If yes, then we need to get to work.”

  “Undermining your mother and my cousin.”

  “No,” Nadashe said. “I want them to keep doing everything they’re doing.”

  Chapter

  18

  Just before the Auvergne slipped behind Dalasýsla Prime, Marce received an encrypted text message from Hatide Roynold.

  Ship coming for us definitely not friendly, it said. We launched a drone to the Flow shoal; it was blasted down. The crew is at stations and the rest of us are on lockdown. Looks like we’re running and fighting this one out. Pretty sure Captain Laure doesn’t think this one is looking good. Someone has to have sent them, whoever they are.

  Laure is letting me send this one message to you. Says that if things get bad, she’ll dump all the data we have for the mission in a powered-down drone and put a delayed transponder on it for you to find. It includes some new work from me you’ll find interesting. Says that the request for a ship for the Dalasýslans was already sent. If it was, you’ll just have to tough it out for a couple of weeks before it arrives. Breathe only when necessary.

  I’m not going to lie. Kind of wish I stayed home. Or actually went on this last away mission with you. This is
what a lifetime of introversion gets me.

  But thanks anyway. You didn’t have to listen to me when I came to you. You did. You believed me and made me a friend. I liked that about you.

  —H

  By the time the Auvergne came out of the planet’s shadow, the Bransid was an expanding cloud of debris.

  * * *

  “Here’s that ship,” Hanton said. He pointed on the Auvergne’s command screen to a dot, moving toward the Flow Shoal back to Hub.

  “We’re sure that’s it,” Sherrill asked.

  “We’re sure. It’s the only thing in this part of the system that’s moving that fast that’s not in an orbit around Dalasýsla Prime.” He pointed to another dot on the screen. “Here’s the Flow shoal back to Hub. “At its current speed it’s going to take twenty hours to get there. It’s not accelerating at the moment, which is interesting.”

  “Why is that interesting?” Marce asked.

  “It means they’re not using their engines right now,” Sherrill said. “Constant engine use would mean constant acceleration. Instead they’re just using inertia to coast.”

  “Their engines could be damaged,” Marce said.

  “Could be.”

  “Or they just aren’t in a rush,” Gamis said.

  “Maybe,” Sherrill said. “But we accelerated into the shoal on the way here. I know that was the captain’s plan on the way back. These Flow shoals are on a clock”—she looked over at Marce—“and your predictions on how long they could be open could be wrong. No offense.”

  “None taken,” Marce said.

  “Captain Laure didn’t want to stay here a minute longer than she had to. We would have accelerated all the way back, as fast as we could.” Sherrill pointed to the dot, representing the ship. “If these people aren’t stupid, they would be doing the same thing. So there’s a reason they’re not.”