Provenance

by Ann Leckie

  “Ah!” Zat brightened further, clearly pleased at Garal’s interest. “Yes, so very right. That is where we should begin, with a survey. Images, and also a … what is the word, a walk? Ordinarily I would have many mechs walk the ground and then look at the recordings for small details. But, you understand, the Assemblies are not happy to have foreign mechs flying around taking pictures of the planet, nor large numbers of them combing the parkland. We asked, of course, and of course were refused. Nor are they happy to have a number of foreign students descend on the parkland with any intention beyond enjoying the scenery. I have only been able to survey what I and my little Uto here”—she gestured at the small, boxy bright pink mech walking alongside her on four thin, flexing legs—“can reach on our own. We hope to be allowed access to the government’s own images eventually, though we cannot expect that, and will have to plan as though it will not happen. We will hire people here on Hwae to survey and dig when we have the permissions to do so. In the meantime, it’s just us.” A glance, not at Hevom, but at little pink Uto, stepping along beside her on the path.

  “You really think it was a city?” asked Ingray. At dinner the night before, Zat had explained what it was they were looking for, why they hoped to dig here. “You think there are buildings?”

  “There is surely quite a lot here.” She gestured to the slope of huge glass blocks. “I think—I cannot prove it yet—that these hills were intentional structures. Temples, palaces, treasuries. What might be inside them, hidden all these centuries?”

  “But,” objected Garal, “isn’t it odd that there was a city here once, but there isn’t one now? Isn’t that usually the way it is with cities, they’re built on top of an old one, or very nearby?”

  “It can’t have been a human city, though,” Ingray put in. “It was here before the first humans found this planet.”

  “Was it, now?” asked Zat. “I am not so sure. Humans may have reached this planet earlier than many think. I am certain that they did.”

  “But not much earlier, surely.” As soon as she said it, Ingray realized she probably shouldn’t have. Zat was, after all, a guest of Netano’s, and one Netano was hoping to gain from, financially. “I mean, we know how far humans would have had to come, and we know how long it would have taken them.” A very, very long time before the first intersystem gates were built. “And the atmosphere, when the first humans arrived, wasn’t breathable.” She seemed to recall a tutor saying it had been very thin, and mostly carbon dioxide and sulfur before the terraforming started.

  “So the official histories say,” said Zat. “But what if they’re wrong? What if the place the histories claim to be the birthplace of humanity isn’t? Or what if humans left their homeworld much sooner than claimed?”

  Ingray hadn’t paid overly close attention to ancient history lessons. “I suppose that would change things, yes,” she agreed. “But … I mean no disrespect, excellency, but why go to all this trouble? I mean, I do understand wanting to know things, and I understand being interested enough to go to some trouble to find things out. But why make so much effort, for so long, over this particular question?”

  Zat still smiled. “Most Hwaeans I’ve met feel this way. Your esteemed mother does, I believe, and cares only for the contribution to her reelection fund. I must say, no disrespect intended, excellency, but I have never understood this. You live surrounded by this”—she gestured around, meaning, Ingray supposed, to indicate the parkland and its profusion of ruin glass—“and have so little curiosity about it! Perhaps you use the pieces of it to build a wall. And yet, a floor tile from a building that, it is claimed, one of your Founders might have stood near, badly made to begin with, ugly and cracked and in reality not three centuries old, you will call that a priceless treasure and argue over it bitterly—yes, I see the look on your face when I mention it, I know that the Kaheru family still holds the grudge against Netano for that, though she is not the same Netano and it was a hundred years ago. When this, so much more ancient and precious, you care nothing for. But surely you cannot be unaffected by real beauty, and surely you see that to know your past is to know who you are.”

  “In that case, excellency,” said Garal, “who are you, if ruin glass was left by humans who left the ancient homeworld thousands of years earlier than supposed? And why is it worth so much to you to be able to claim that?”

  Hevom laughed, startling Ingray. He had been entirely silent for hours. “Quick, very quick,” he said.

  Zat frowned, ignoring Hevom as usual. Not offended, it seemed, so much as searching for a way to answer the question. “I believe,” she said, finally, “that the earliest inhabitants of Omkem came from Hwae. By the time your own ancestors arrived they were gone, and had left only these ruins.”

  “So you are closer to the original source of humanity than we are,” Garal suggested. “No disrespect meant, of course, just a fact.” Eir voice was entirely, impressively, without rancor or sarcasm. “And as descendants of Hwae’s actual first inhabitants, you might want the right to have some say in Hwae’s affairs, yes? In particular, several members of the Omkem Federacy would like some control over traffic in the gates here. Or maybe they’d just like the Federacy military to be able to travel freely through the Hwae/Byeit gate, so they can reestablish control there, and rebuild the gate that was taken down. It was so much easier for them to get to Tyr before the Byeits revolted and took that gate down.”

  “That wasn’t a revolution,” said Hevom, his voice just barely noticeably angry and impatient. “That was a few terrorists.”

  Zat, as always, completely ignored what Hevom had said. “I am not a politician. I care only for knowledge. I want only the truth. These other concerns”—she gestured them away, minor irritants—“they are irrelevant. But I do not expect you to understand this.”

  Garal said nothing. Ingray, who had grown up in a politician’s very political household, smiled and said brightly, “That’s quite fascinating! And of course the truth is important. Thank you, excellency, for being so patient with our questions.”

  “Of course, excellency!” replied Zat. “Now, I know the parkland Safety officer warned us not to climb on the blocks there, for very good reasons, but I am going to see if my little Uto here can take some detailed visuals for me. The officer did say that would be all right.” She started off into the grass toward the slope of the hill, the little pink mech trailing behind her.

  Hevom did not follow her. He stood silent for a moment, watching her walk away. And then, with surprising venom, “It’s a waste of time. So many other important issues to worry about, and this is what we expend so much on?”

  “Then why did you come?” asked Ingray.

  “I had no choice. When one is a poor junior cousin of a sister’s daughter’s affines, one does not refuse.” Ingray wondered what possible reason Zat could have for bringing along a resentful junior cousin who she could not speak to or, Ingray suspected, speak about directly. But before she could ask, Hevom continued. “A person with a hereditary seat on the Directorate and a great deal of money can have a disproportionate effect on the Directorate’s priorities.” Ingray suspected he wasn’t speaking generally but was mentioning Zat as specifically as he could. “The Directorate devotes whole sessions to discussing ancient history and finding the means to make expeditions like this one. But do they give any attention at all to …” He seemed to stop himself, and think better of what he meant to say. “Or do they think of sending representatives to the Conclave?” He made a disgusted noise. “I would rather be home pressing that far more important issue. We can’t leave the human vote up to the Radchaai! They’re sure to oppose the AIs joining the treaty, but it’s absolutely vital that they be accepted!”

  “I don’t know,” said Ingray, watching the little pink mech clamber onto a huge glass block as Zat reached the crown of the hill and sat down in the shade of a slender rovingtree. “What if it’s a Radchaai ploy to begin with? The AIs are their own ships and stations, they bu
ilt them and programmed them. They’re impossible to separate from Radchaai space.” It was one of many reasons the Radchaai were so frightening. “If they’re accepted into the treaty, then it’s possible the Radchaai will have two voices in treaty affairs, not just one.”

  “I would agree with you,” said Hevom. “Except for the fact that it’s become increasingly obvious that the Radchaai are fighting each other. The news from Athoek alone should be enough to make that clear. Anaander Mianaai is tearing herself apart, and has lost control of at least some of her artificial intelligences. I don’t think it’s a deception; there would be other, far less damaging ways of achieving the same ends.”

  “A sudden attack of conscience, for instance,” suggested Garal. “Demanding the conclave herself, instead of being apparently forced into it in such a humiliating way. And if that’s the case, treaty recognition of their AIs will tear Radch space apart.”

  “Or make the whole idea of Radch space meaningless,” agreed Hevom.

  “But independent AIs,” Ingray protested. “Independent warship AIs!”

  “By the treaty, they can’t interfere with us,” Hevom pointed out. “If the Conclave refuses to admit them, and the Radchaai lose control of them—”

  “Which it seems they have already, at least partially,” Ingray concluded. “Yes, I see. Put that way, it does seem best if the machines are admitted to the treaty.” Just saying it made a shiver start at the back of her neck.

  “Every human government that can should be sending forces to the Conclave, to be sure Translator Seimet Mianaai speaks for humans, not Radchaai.” Hevom spoke emphatically, angrily. “Instead we’re spending money and time on this. Your pardon, excellencies, but I find it very frustrating. And of course I can’t speak of it as I’d like to.”

  “No, of course,” replied Ingray. “We understand entirely.” Though she didn’t, not really.

  “Well,” Hevom said, clearly still angry. “Well. Excuse me, excellencies. I’m supposed to examine the area where the glass meets the water.”

  “How does he know he’s supposed to do that,” asked Garal, as Hevom stalked away toward the riverbank, “if Zat never speaks to him? She never even looks at him.”

  “I don’t think anyone understands the Omkem except the Omkem,” said Ingray. Most Omkem Ingray had met seemed entirely normal, except for things like this.

  “Indeed,” said Garal. “Why don’t we walk around ourselves, and look for some likely spots? And maybe keep an eye on what areas your Omkem guests are most interested in.”

  “I don’t think you can claim to have buried the vestiges in the hill,” Ingray said, gesturing toward the mass of bright-colored glass boulders that made up the hillside. “I don’t think it’s possible to dig very far down there, and it’s not like you’d forget putting them there.”

  “Not likely, no,” Garal agreed. “But somewhere near here, I’d say. This is where the Omkem seem most interested. Let’s walk a bit, and keep an eye on where else they might be poking around.”

  Ingray and Garal spent an hour or two strolling along the trail that ran by the river and curved around the glass-bouldered hill, or wandering into the grass beside the trail. Hevom walked up and down the riverbank, occasionally stopping and stooping to splash a hand in the water or peer more closely at something by his feet. Despite the looming hillside, he was nearly always in view. Zat sat on the top of the hill, her back against a slender rovingtree. Her small bright pink mech bobbed into sight every now and then among the hillside glass, once or twice climbing out of the rocks and toddling over to Zat, and then away, back into the boulders again, its luminous pink bright against the blue, purple, yellow, red, and green of the glass.

  At length, Ingray and Garal’s walk returned them to the basalt slab. Hevom looked up from whatever it was he was doing by the water and walked toward them. “Well,” said Ingray, quietly, “even if we don’t find any suitable site, it’s a lovely day.” Under the sunlight she had begun to relax, in a way she hadn’t for weeks, all that time on stations and ships. She hadn’t realized how much she missed the light and the breeze, and open spaces.

  “I’ve been thinking,” said Garal, also quietly, though it would take Hevom a minute or two to come within earshot, “we might be able to get away with the hill. I could claim it was dark and I was in a hurry. Or”—with a glance at Hevom—“I could say I threw them in the river.”

  “Oh!” That was an excellent idea. Except that it didn’t quite match what they’d already said to Danach. “I suppose you might not have mentioned that particular detail, and don’t remember quite exactly where you threw it in.” She thought a moment more. “We should find out what their interest in the river is. If they’re going to be spending time dragging things up from the bottom, we could make sure it was wherever they were going to be doing that.”

  “Has there been any movement on the hilltop?” Hevom asked as he came up to where they stood talking.

  It took Ingray a moment to understand that he was asking if there had been any word or sign from Zat. “No, there hasn’t been.” She glanced up at the hilltop. Zat was still seated, leaning against the rovingtree, for all the world as though she hadn’t moved all morning.

  Ingray composed a brief message with a request for immediate response and sent it off to Zat, but there was no reply, and the figure on the hilltop didn’t move. “I wonder if she’s fallen asleep.”

  “Not likely,” said Hevom. “Uto’s automated routines are very limited. It’s certainly been under control all the times I’ve seen it.”

  “Have you seen it recently?” asked Garal.

  “Not for a half hour or so,” Hevom replied. “It’s really rather vexing. I know the servants packed us some lunch, but I can’t possibly eat it just yet.”

  Before or without Zat, Ingray supposed that meant. And he couldn’t just tell Zat what he wanted. “Garal and I can take the lunch out,” suggested Ingray. “You could say it would have been rude not to join us.”

  “I’m afraid I still wouldn’t be able to eat,” said Hevom, with an aggrieved sigh.

  “Well, we won’t put you in that position, then,” said Ingray, though she really did want some lunch, now Hevom had mentioned it. She reminded herself that it wasn’t Hevom’s fault that he was Omkem, and a younger cousin of Zat’s affines, whatever that might mean.

  Of course, she wasn’t under the restrictions Hevom apparently was. She could go say something to Zat, maybe even suggest lunch. Ingray looked up at the top of the hill, where Zat was sitting in the same place she’d been for the last couple of hours. Ingray really should go up the hill and say something to her.

  “Oh, look,” said Garal. “Your brother has decided to favor us with his presence.”

  Ingray, Garal, and Hevom all turned to look as Danach came toward them on the trail, walking slowly. “You look tired,” said Ingray sweetly as he reached them. “Did you not get enough sleep?”

  “Fuck you,” Danach replied, with an almost sincere-looking smile. In Bantia, presumably so Hevom could not understand.

  “You were sleeping so peacefully when we left,” said Garal, in Yiir, “and we knew you’d had a late night. We didn’t want to wake you.”

  Danach looked at Ingray and then at Garal. “Entirely out of kindness, I’m sure.” In Yiir, now. “Did you find what you were looking for?” The barest hint of menace in his voice.

  Ingray was quite sure Garal heard it, too, but Hevom seemed oblivious. “My goodness, no, excellency! It will take much longer than an afternoon to find what we’re looking for.” His tone was just slightly exasperated.

  “We’ve narrowed it down,” Ingray said, in Bantia. And then, in Yiir, “I was about to go up the hill and ask Excellency Zat if she’d like some lunch.”

  Danach scoffed. “You left the lunches in the groundcar. I’m not walking all the way back there.” He dropped down to sit in the grass and crossed his legs. Ingray knew he worked out regularly—this would be a result of Danach�
��s late night, and his anger at Ingray and Garal. Danach continued. “Did it not occur to you to message Excellency Zat instead of walking up the hill? Or to just have lunch without her?”

  “She’s not replying to messages.” Ingray did her best to keep her irritation with her brother out of her voice. “And it would be rude to start lunch without her.” Which Danach knew, of course. She looked at Garal, who was as expressionless as usual, and at Hevom, who frowned. “I’ll go up the hill and wake her,” Ingray said.

  Hevom’s frown cleared. “Thank you, excellency.”

  From the top of the hill, even with the small copse of rovingtrees, Ingray could see the whole area of the parkland they’d been walking in over the past couple of hours, the grass, the walking trail, Danach sitting beside it, Garal apparently talking to him. Hevom gazed toward the bright silver ribbon of the river curving and foaming around the swath of colored glass blocks and slabs. Zat hadn’t stirred as Ingray approached, so she was certainly asleep, still leaning against the tree. From where Ingray stood, she could see the Omkem woman’s right shoulder and arm, her hand resting flat down on the ground beside her, her legs stretched out in front of her. “Excellency,” Ingray called. “Excellency Zat.” No response. She walked around the tree to face Zat.

  For a moment, she could not make sense of what she saw: Zat, eyes closed, her head pushed hard up against the slim trunk of the rovingtree. Something dark crusted one corner of her mouth, and it took Ingray another moment to admit to herself that it was probably blood. Like the wide, dark stain on the front of Zat’s tunic was probably blood.