by Patty Jansen
I tried very hard to imagine Natanu looking tenderly at a baby and I just could not.
It seemed that all of a sudden, everyone was having children. I loved Raanu and I could just about see a little girl running around our apartment. I didn’t understand why Thayu was stalling, and Ezhya’s news reminded me uncomfortably that the negotiation was still open and that Menor was expecting a reply from me.
I was dropping stitches. I changed the subject again. “Why don’t we go to my house and you can check your daughter’s progress for yourself?”
I expected him to say that he was busy, but to my surprise he agreed and the combined group started walking. We talked about trivialities, the building activities on the island, Raanu’s study work and the fact that I’d promised her to go out to the sand bar where the marsh met the sea.
Ezhya asked me, “What is ‘surf’?”
I’d used the keihu word because I didn’t know if Coldi even had a word. Asto’s oceans were poisonous, and no one came near them.
I explained, and he seemed intrigued by the concept of “surf” and that you could ride boards in it.
“But you have to be able to swim.” Something that most Coldi could not.
“I can swim. I must try this ‘surf’. It sounds interesting.”
It was the most absurd thing ever. Here we were in a major crisis and he seemed obsessed with an outing to the beach. Next thing he would be saying that we’d go to the beach so that he could see this “surf”.
And meanwhile, I was burning up inside with frustration because he seemed to skirt around all the major issues and wanted to talk about trivialities.
We arrived at my apartment, where Evi and Telaris stood at the door, perfectly professional, and unflappable about the sudden influx of high-level security. They met Ezhya’s new guards with silent hand signals.
In the hall, we met Deyu, who had already evidently come back from the meeting before us. I hoped Reida had been with her. She nearly fainted when seeing who was with us.
“Oh!” She snapped into a subservient position and Ezhya acknowledged her with a tap on her shoulder.
He was very good at that, connecting with his people, no matter how fleetingly.
But the moment everyone was inside and the door shut, the atmosphere of apparent levity evaporated. Ezhya’s guards sprang into action. Two of them went straight into the hub. One took up position inside the main door. Two inspected the living room.
Eirani just came out of the hallway with a trolley full of tableware and almost crashed into one of the men, bristling with armour and guns. She gave a little squeal and then her eyes met mine.
“Oh, Muri, I didn’t see you. I was wondering what all these people were doing in here. It’s almost time for dinner.”
“Be at ease,” Ezhya said, in keihu, because he was that type: a man who had to learn every single language that was out there.
Eirani looked at him wide-eyed. She had to know who he was, but today, she was acting very much like the innocent housekeeper. At some point in the past, she had been a spy, too.
Damn, I was starting to see ghosts everywhere.
Thayu and Veyada followed the guards into the hub. Their colleagues had evicted Devlin from the bench. He stood just inside the door, looking distressed.
“I tried to tell them . . .” he began.
“It’s all right, Devlin.”
I would have to talk to him about not giving up his position so easily, but this was probably a legitimate reason. Probably the reason that Ezhya had come with me: his guards wanted to use the hub in a place where they weren’t tracked as much as in their accommodation. The guards were bent over a screen, looking at a map of Barresh showing the streets on the far eastern side of the main island. I knew what they were looking for.
“There is nothing there,” I said. “We looked. Tamerians were also looking for it.”
“Tamerians?” Ezhya said, his voice dark.
“Hired by the council.”
He frowned and said nothing for a while. He was probably catching up on some sort of communication through his feeders. After silence, he said, “This worries me.”
Yes, it had worried me, too, but I’d not had the time to do anything about it.
The guards were speaking in low voices and in code. Thayu interjected and said something about frequencies. I wondered why it still surprised me that even after having spent so much time with them, my companions could still say things that so utterly went over my head.
Ezhya said to me in a low voice, “That thing they are looking for? The thing that caused the resonance in the Exchange? That is the transponder of the ship that originally came to Barresh.”
I faced him, meeting the golden glow of the light reflecting in his gold-flecked eyes. “All those years ago?” But damn it, I had suspected that this was the case. “It’s probably hidden under the ground. If it’s still functional.”
I sensed something dangerous under the surface. He hadn’t come here for a chat. He had a plan, and I wasn’t sure if I was going to like it. Then again, it was not as if he cared about people liking his plans.
“Oh yes, it’s functional. The old Aghyrians were the most perfect builders of machines. Imagine building modern equipment, but instead of building it from cheap materials, you’d make it out of the best and most durable materials in existence. That’s what they did. They fiddled with their designs until they were perfect. We are still discovering artefacts that they made. Especially in the Crystal Wastelands, there is not a place you can dig that you won’t find something. The prized and easily discoverable items have been picked off by bounty hunters, but that leaves the buried material, which is often in much better preserved state. If, as I suspect, the wreckage of that ship sank into the muddy ground in Barresh, the ship itself will have mostly corroded away, but the transponder will still be intact. It’s a passive beacon, contains no energy source and has no moving parts. I don’t doubt for one moment that it still works. That big ship out there has located the beacon—”
“It has probably known where it was all along.”
“I don’t think so. When the ship left, those two beacons weren’t were they are now.”
True. “But there is nothing left of their civilisation for the Aghyrians to come back to. They’d be interested in the people. Maybe in returning to Asto.”
“Maybe, but do we know that for certain?”
“Well, of course not.”
“I’ll take it one step further. These are highly dangerous people. We know that these people in that ship have been in communication with some interest groups in Barresh and probably others that we don’t know about. The Mirani settlement almost failed because of the sheer divisiveness of the Aghyrians ways. They’re not here to negotiate. They’re here to sow discontent and pit sides against each other. They create conflict so that we are distracted and not all our efforts will be geared towards keeping an eye on them. They’re already doing that. What we witnessed in the assembly hall is part of their strategy. Make us argue with each other, so that they can continue to do what they want. We know that this happens in Aghyrian society. It’s probably part of their culture, but not of ours.”
I nodded. “Until they show up and formally reply to our messages, though, is there much we can do?”
“There is.”
He leaned back, away from the control panels. The light from the controls reflected in his eyes, turning the gold flecks blue. He looked utterly in control.
We were alone in the room. Thayu had left, Devlin was gone. Two of Ezhya’s new guards stood in front of the door, their backs to us.
This was it. He had me cornered.
“I would like to impress on these people, no matter where they’ve come from or what they think of us, that we do not deal kindly with fools.” The intensity in his voice made me feel cold. “As for the negotiations, I have no time for useless chatter with people who fancy themselves important. Because they are not important, and b
ecause we are facing the biggest threat to our society we have seen in many lifetimes, or the biggest opportunity we have seen in many lifetimes. It’s up to us to make the best of it. We cannot afford to waste any time bickering amongst ourselves. This threat is not going to be solved by talking to zeyshi louts or arrogant fops who think far too much of themselves. As an aside, I don’t see why either should have as much say in these negotiations as they do. The whole thing has turned into a bickering fest. It’s a farce and a joke.”
“It has, but it’s up to us to get the talks back to a situation where trust between the parties is restored.”
He snorted. “No. We don’t. We’re withdrawing from the table.”
“But—” My heart was hammering. What about my position? I spent all of the past year organising these negotiations. Damn it, he paid most of my stipend, how could I continue my job? How could we hold negotiations about Asto’s land without Asto representatives present? How could he counter the claims if there was no one there to argue the case? The assembly would see Asto’s absence as an admission of guilt. They would rule in the zeyshi’s favour. “Heavens, why? I don’t understand.”
“We’ve got important things to do. This negotiation does not concern us.”
“What sort of things are you planning to do?” That was a pretty direct question and one I would never have dared ask him as little as two years ago.
He gave me an intense look and rose from the seat. “It’s time to move. Get ready for a small journey. Pack a small bag. Bring your lady spy and Veyada.”
“Where are we going?”
“I can’t share that.”
“When?”
“Now.”
“But I . . .” I held up my arms. If I suddenly disappeared what sort of message would that send to the assembly? “For how long?” What the hell is going on? But I had to play with him, because I had no other option. Because he had the ultimate power and was the most absolute of rulers. Almost every process at gamra fell or stood because of him. But if there was one thing non-Asto candidates appreciated about me, it was my stupidity in challenging him, and my ability to get away with it. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. You pay me to facilitate the negotiations and now that everyone is here for those negotiations, you withdraw from the process.”
The guard at the door looked over his shoulder, giving me a wide-eyed look at the directness of the pronouns I used. They were indeed far too blunt. And I was far too tired to care.
His mouth twitched. Coldi didn’t smile for reasons of politeness or friendliness, and I swore a ghost of a smile went over his lips. It irritated me. I thought I was used to being played with, but every now and then people, and especially Ezhya, managed to pull a strange surprise on me.
He said, “I pay you. I have decided. Pack a small bag. Hurry up. We have a narrow departure window.”
And that meant something to do with orbits and big military ships hiding in the depth of space.
Chapter 19
* * *
SHIT.
I left the room in search of Eirani to pack me a small bag. What did one bring for a small trip that may or may not involve deep space travel, gunfights, death and all-out war? Especially the latter worried me. Not simply because of the terrible consequences of war and my severe doubts that even the Asto military had any chance of winning it. I also worried that if Ezhya escalated this into an armed conflict, then much of my theory about how Coldi society worked was wrong. That was of course an utterly silly thing to be worried about, but I’d spent so much time telling people that this was why Coldi society worked that my reputation was tied up with it.
A bunch of additional people had come into the hall and stood talking in an atmosphere of tenseness. The newcomers carried nothing except their weapons, and wore grey or black clothing of a utilitarian type. While some of them were talking to a pair of Ezhya’s guards, most of them watched every entrance of the hallway.
I knew the signs: they were all Asto military. Potentially high-ranking.
Some of them glanced at me while I crossed the hall, but most didn’t even look.
I couldn’t see Eirani or any of the other staff and wasn’t sure whether to frighten her by calling her to come upstairs. Would she understand the situation at play here?
Thayu followed me into the bedroom.
“Do you know what’s going on?” I asked her.
She returned a question. “Has Ezhya ever been free with his information about his plans?”
Guess not. “I don’t like this.”
“I didn’t like your trip to Asto either. I also didn’t know what was about to happen when we left.”
True. “Yes, but in that case I knew. Now I don’t. Tell me that you know and that it’s all right. I don’t need to see the exact plans. I just want to know that you know about his plan and that it’s the right thing to do.”
She gave me an incredulous look and spread her hands. “You’re distrustful about all the wrong things. Have you forgotten that you’re talking about the Chief Coordinator of Asto? You trust Federza and not him?”
Whoa, Thay’, no need to get so angry. “I do trust that Federza is telling the truth, much as I dislike the bastard, and yes, I’d trust Ezhya in an instant if only I knew what he was doing.”
“He’s at the top of all of Asto’s society. There is no need for you to know what he’s doing. That’s trust for you. That’s how our system works. I would have thought that having taken part in it for so long, you’d understand at least that much.” Damn, she was furious.
I had no time to discuss my concerns. There were voices in the hall just outside my bedroom window.
Eirani hadn’t turned up yet, so I pulled a bag out of the wardrobe and put some random things in. I felt stupid, never having had to pack by myself. I didn’t even remember where half the things were, or what I should bring. Thayu stood by the door, apparently already packed. She said nothing while I rummaged around and her face had that you don’t really know what you’re doing look. She was right, I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t know if she knew what we were doing.
“I’ll get Veyada to take your things from the office.”
I frowned at her. Where the hell were they taking me?
“Are you ready?”
“Yes. Maybe.”
She met my eyes in that intense look that unnerved me so, but she said nothing. As I followed her into the hallway, and amongst the guards that snapped into action, I thought about the time that our main concern was picking a seed donor for our child. I hadn’t thought that wanting to be a mother was a whim, but right now, it felt that way to me. Thayu was happiest when she could be a high-level military spy.
The guards and soldiers in the hallway were all business, blank faces and roving eyes.
Veyada stood talking to Ezhya in a low voice. Veyada carried a fabric sleeve over his arm that held his ceremonial white lawyer’s robe. He met my eyes in a have you got your formal clothing? way. I did.
I didn’t see anyone else in the hall. Not Eirani, not Nicha and not his two young zhaymas. There were soldiers standing in the entrance to the upstairs corridor. They’d probably told the staff to stay in their rooms.
One of the guards opened the door and the whole group set into motion.
Veyada fell back to accompany me.
I said to him on a low voice, “I’m worried about Nicha. I would have liked to take him.”
“He’s needed here to keep things under control.”
“He’s still fragile.” And he would remain so until Xinanu left.
“I think he will be all right. He has his sister with us and enough support to climb back to his former self.”
“It’s not uncommon for zhaymas to be related,” Thayu said on my other side.
I glanced at Veyada. “Are you related to Sheydu?” I had never been able to work out their relationship.
He gestured, yes, and then after a while, he added, “She’s my mother.”
His face went blank when he said that. Clearly there was some unresolved issue in that family as well.
So I ended up taking Thayu, Veyada and Sheydu, and Thayu assured me that she would leave Nicha, Deyu and Reida instructions on how to protect the house.
As I had expected, we went in the direction of the station, but there was no train waiting for us, only more black-clad army personnel.
Next to the station was a small jetty, and at the bottom of this a boat ramp and some mooring posts. A flat-bottomed marsh boat waited there, with two more guards. The vehicle seemed brand new, with a silver barrel for a jet engine so large it dwarfed the driver at the wheel. That looked like a pretty damn powerful beast.
Ezhya’s guards greeted these unfamiliar soldiers, and they held the boat steady while we climbed in from the jetty. Like most of its kind, the boat had some benches—this one had three—and there was an area with a table at the back near the engine, where the boat’s owners would clean fish, judging by the briny smell. This area now held an impressive rocket launcher, its base secured to the legs of the table.
The vessel would take a crew of at least six, and was bigger and sturdier than similar vessels that often tottered past the gamra island while I sat staring out the window of my apartment office.
The bench in the very prow was taken by Ezhya’s guards with red sashes, armour and two guns each. Ezhya and Veyada sat on the second bench, while Thayu and I took the last one. Soldiers sat down on either side of us with humourless, emotionless faces. To think that Sheydu and Veyada had been like that not so long ago.
Looking at Veyada’s back—he was explaining something on the screen to Ezhya—I reassessed my thought that he and Sheydu had been severely demoted by becoming part of my association. I’d been wrong about that. In his previous position, Veyada would never have been able to talk to Ezhya in this way. In fact, Ezhya’s new guards were all around the periphery of the ship, peering out over the water on high alert. They obeyed, but didn’t speak to their boss on an equal basis. Not to be in someone’s association freed a person from having to be overly referential to another person. That was an interesting thought.
