Law of Survival (7 page)

Anais inclined her head toward Shai. “Many thanks, nìaRauta.” She bent her head over her own report, and read words that all in the room realized she knew, as humanish said, by heart.

As Anais yammered about cost estimates and medical ramifications, Tsecha caught a flash of palest platinum hair move into his periphery. His Lucien raised his hand in a sub
tle greeting as he stepped among the seated crowd. Unlike his fellow humanish, he did not seem stunted at all. His smooth movement and quiet arrogance reminded Tsecha of the cats he sometimes saw stalking across the embassy grounds, their contempt for the gardeners' leafbarb evident in their every motion.

“When it became clear—” Anais's voice faltered as she caught sight of Lucien. Her pale skin once more colored. “When it became clear,” she repeated, her tone sharpening so that humanish eyes widened, “that the drafters of the contract failed to properly consider the many issues involved in this situation, we in Exterior felt it our duty to step in and take charge of the proceedings. We took this step despite the risk of angering the Elyan Haárin, who set great store in signed agreements, as do we all. We now formally request that the Shèrá worldskein accept our humblest apologies for this misunderstanding, as well as financial reparations well in excess of those lost by the Elyan Haárin in the cancellation of this contract.”

As Anais ended her speech with wishes of good fortune for all, Lucien positioned himself against the wall directly opposite her. Their gazes locked. Her voice faltered once more.

Tsecha looked at Jani, whose face appeared as the wall against which Lucien rested. Then he looked at Lescaux, the youngish that seemed so poor a replacement for such a startling animal, and pondered the flush he saw on his face. Was it anger? Jealousy? Both? He could not tell.

Tsecha glanced around the room at the uncomfortable humanish, the confused Vynshàrau, and inhaled deeply of the suddenly charged air. Such a marvel, his Lucien, like a humanish shatterbox.

“The Elyan Haárin are indeed most dismayed at this action by the Exterior Ministry.” Speaker to Colonies Daès entoned in High Vynshàrau, oblivious to the emotional maelstrom that surrounded him. “The assemblage had committed to a shuttle purchase on the strength of the contract affirmation. This pledge now needs to be cancelled, as well as the pledges made by the shuttle dealer for her own purchases. Broken agreement after broken agreement will proceed from
this, a simple contract no different from many that colonial humanish and Haárin have entered into over many seasons.”

Anais waited until the full translation of Daès's speech filtered through her headpiece. Then she bared her teeth—the expression barely widened her narrow face. “As I have stated, nìRau Daès, we are prepared to make generous reparations to all concerned—”

Tsecha flicked his left hand in curt dismissal. “Reparations.” He knew his English to be most sound and easily understood, thus he ignored Derringer's aggravated tapping on his headpiece as though the translators erred. “Do you believe, Anais, and truly, that
reparations
are sufficient—”

“Tsecha!”
Shai brought the flat of her hand down on the table. “Allow nìaRauta Ulanova to finish or leave until she does so!”

Humanish spoke of “shattered silence,” as though an absence of sound could be as a solid thing, tangible and breakable. Tsecha often had trouble comprehending these strange meanings, but sometimes they revealed themselves to him with almost godly insight.
Shattered silence.
Yes, the quiet that filled the room now felt as corporeal, as stone and metal, waiting only to be smashed by more of Shai's words, by her strange behavior.
She silenced me?
Even though Tsecha knew this to indeed be the case, he felt difficulty accepting it.
She silenced me.

How the humanish stared at Shai, even Anais. Only Derringer and Jani looked at Tsecha. Derringer glowered, his long face dark with the dislike Tsecha knew he felt, but until now had managed to hide.

But it was his Jani who alarmed him the most. Confusion, yes, in her furrowed brow and narrowed eyes, but anger, too.

Then he watched her gaze drift to Derringer, and the anger sharpen.
If looks could kill,
as his Hansen used to say. Tsecha felt the grip of wonder as the meaning of even more humanish imagery bore down on him. If his Jani's eyes had been knives, oh, the blood that would spill.

“I am finished speaking, nìaRauta.” Anais once more inclined her head. “My concerns are more completely expressed within this report, copies of which were submitted
to your xenolinguists ten days ago to allow them time to interpret the material contained therein.”

“Ten days?” Tsecha looked out at his Jani, who stared back at him, the knives in her eyes gone dull. “I did not see—”

“I have conferred with nìRau ti nìRau Cèel on this matter.” Shai addressed the assembled, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she had once more interrupted her ambassador and priest. “He agrees with nìaRauta Ulanova. There are issues of seemliness involved here. Our dietary protocols are most strict on the subjects of exchange of food and water and the possibilities of cross-contamination. The Elyan Haárin are expected to arrive here in a matter of Earth days. During their stay, they will be retrained in these protocols. They will also be awarded reparations for the broken contract.” She gestured agreement to Daès, who tilted his head in the affirmative. “Cèel will be pleased that it has been handled so cleanly.”

Tsecha flicked his thumb over his ear in disdain. “Cèel would be pleased if Haárin and colonial never bought any equipment from one another ever again. He would be happier still if the Elyan Haárin decamped from Elyas and returned to the worldskein. He would declaim in rapture if every Haárin enclave ceased to exist and every humanish returned to their Commonwealth. His opinion is not the most balanced on the matter, and I do not feel it can be applied here!”

Shai's back bowed in profound anger, a posture understood by even the most ignorant humanish. “Tsecha, you are Cèel's representative—”

“I am the ambassador of the Shèrá worldskein. Thus do I speak on behalf of all idomeni, not just Cèel. I am also chief propitiator. Thus do I speak the will of the gods when I say that you err gravely here.”

“Tsecha.” Shai pitched her voice higher than normal in respect, and directed her gaze above his head to indicate same. Her words, however, held a Haárin's intransigence. “The decision is made. The discussion is ended. The meeting is adjourned.”

“With all due respect, nìaRauta ti nìaRauta?”

At the sound of the voice, Lucien started. Anais clenched her hands. Derringer scowled. The humanish rustled and the Vynshàrau stilled.

Tsecha bared his teeth as his Jani stood. She spoke English, but gestured as Vynshàrau, so that the tone of her thoughts would be clear to the Vynshàrau along with the translation of her words.

“I know of the Elyan Haárin, and have dealt with them on many occasions in the past.” Like Lucien, she did not seem in any way short in height. She gestured as smoothly as any idomeni, even as the Oà, who spoke the most beautifully of any of the born sects. “They are outcast of Sìah”—she gestured toward the half-Sìah Sànalàn—“and the Sìah were the first to codify idomeni secular law and develop the documents protocols we all adhere to. They carry the highest regard for all that is written, and for all that is composed within the boundaries of law. They will most assuredly
not
understand the cancellation of this contract, and they possess ways of making their displeasure felt.”

Anais waved a dismissive hand. “We are discussing a single contract—”

“I believe, Your Excellency, that if you examine various shuttle dock and infrastructure maintenance contracts signed by the Elyan colonial government in recent years, you will find you have more cause for concern as to the feelings of the Elyan Haárin than you might wish for. In addition, the immediate needs of the Karistosians must be met. The safety of their water supply is of paramount importance—”

“The contract will be put aside—”

“The cancellation needs to be examined—”

“It will be put aside,” Anais snapped. “Thank you for your input, Ms. Kilian, but the matter is settled.”

“Is it? How? By your words, which cannot even convince the only one here who knows the Elyan Haárin well!” Tsecha stood and pointed to Jani. “She knows the ways of the enclave and the assemblage as she knows the ways of these ridiculous meetings, and she knows that the Elyan Haárin will not understand. She is of us and of you. She is the hybrid who knows us all. She will wear my ring and robe
after I die. If you have not convinced her of your argument, then it is as worthless!”

The translation filtered through. Shai resorted to banging her fist on the table to restore order so she could formally adjourn. The meeting dissolved into whispers and gesturing and huddled groups. Tsecha tried to push through the clusters to reach his Jani, but Derringer had grabbed her by the arm and herded her out the door before he could do so.

Tsecha stalked the halls, alert for the sounds of argument that would signal the location of Jani and Derringer. He passed humanish along the way, dressed in gloomy Cabinet colors or the tan uniforms as the one Derringer wore, now sanctioned by the Service for their personnel to wear when they visited the embassy. It did not surprise him unduly that he could not recognize the postures and faces he passed—meetings frequently took place at the embassy of which he knew nothing, and for that, he offered the gods thanks.

After a time, he grew conscious of a presence at his back. He thought once more of cats, and put a name to the sensation. “Lucien. It is unseemly of you to follow me.”

“I didn't want to alarm you, nìRau. You seemed so deep in thought.” Lucien drew ahead of him in a few strides, even though he did not appear to quicken his pace. “You let Jani walk behind you sometimes. I've seen it.”

“That is my Jani. You are not she.”

“True.” As usual, Lucien accepted the rebuke without a quarrel. Such behavior always caused Jani to remark that he was “conserving his ammo,” whatever that meant. “You certainly know how to break up a meeting.”

“If your people or mine cannot accept the truth, it is not reason for me to refrain from speaking it.” Tsecha stopped before a meeting room door and listened, but the voices he thought he heard proved to be the whine of drills and the clatter of building materials that managed to seep through the soundshielding. “So much renovating. It is a wonder this
embassy does not collapse from the pounding and banging….” He herded Lucien ahead of him and continued down the hall.

“I saw her arrive with Derringer and Lescaux.” Lucien tugged at his tan uniform shirt, spotted with the first dark dots of sweat. Many humanish still found the temperature of the embassy uncomfortable even though the Vynshàrau had lowered it earlier that summer, thus guaranteeing misery for all.

Tsecha opened another door and stared into the quiet dark. “Well, she has not left with them. I asked my Security suborn, and she told me that no one detected them leaving.”

“NìRau.” Lucien stopped in front of a narrow window that looked over a seldom-used veranda. “Over here.”

Tsecha walked to Lucien's side. His ears heard before his eyes saw; he bared his teeth wide at the sound.

“He doesn't know anything about it—”

“—think you know every fucking thing—”

“—you've made a mistake—”

“—when I tell you to do something, you do it!”

“One day I will offer them the blades, and they will take them.
À lérine
they will fight, for such is the only way.” Tsecha nodded to Lucien. “Such hatred must be declared openly, or it festers like a sick wound.” He swept aside the portal and stepped out into the weak sunlight. “Colonel Derringer, you are needed in the meeting room. Anais Ulanova wishes to speak with you.”

Derringer wheeled, his face reddened from embassy heat and undeclared anger. “Her Excellency? In the meeting room?” He looked from Tsecha to Lucien. “Is this true, Lieutenant?”

“Her Excellency wishes this matter resolved as soon as possible, sir.” Lucien stood most straight and tall, his eyes focused on a point somewhere above Derringer's head.

Derringer looked back at Jani, who stood obscured in the shadow of a wall. Then he nodded brusquely to Tsecha in the humanish manner. “NìRau.”

“Colonel.” Tsecha stepped aside to allow the man free passage to the door. “I should challenge him for asking you if my words held truth, Lucien,” he said when he heard the door seal catch. “I have never before been called a liar so openly.”

“You're both going to get your heads handed to you when he figures out you sent him on a fool's errand.” Jani stepped into the light. Anger stiffened her stride and made her face as painted sculpture. “But then, I don't know what other kind you'd send him on.”

Lucien shrugged. “Ani will come up with something for him to do. That's what she thinks colonels are for.” He took a step toward her. “We caught some of the shrapnel out in the hall.”

“I caught the rest in the neck.” Jani stood still as Lucien approached, but she did not bare her teeth or reach for him as some humanish females did when their males drew near.

They have an arrangement.
Tsecha watched Lucien question, Jani twitch a shoulder in response. The breeding protocols of humanish confused him in the extreme, but he thought them a most seemly pairing. Except….

The way they watch each other….
Was such the way with all humanish pairings? Tsecha did not have enough experience to know for sure. But whether or not such was indeed so, he needed to set his curiosity aside for now. “Nìa, we must speak.”

“Yes, I think that we had better.” Jani stepped away from Lucien without gesturing or speaking farewell, walking past Tsecha and through the door into the hall.

“She is very angry,” Tsecha said, because he felt one of them should acknowledge what had happened and he knew from experience that neither Jani nor Lucien would. He raised his hand in salutation to Lucien, who regarded him in his particularly empty way that made even Jani seem expressive.

 

They walked the embassy grounds, as they often did. They both dreaded the coming cold, and savored the last warm rays of the sun.

Jani did not speak until they had walked one complete circuit around a Pathen-style water garden. She stopped before one of the stone arrangements, an upright hollow-center circlet through which one diversion of the stream flowed. “You think the Karistos contract is a good thing?”

Tsecha raised his right hand palm facing up, his equivalent of a humanish shrug. “Of course, nìa. Any such interac
tion between idomeni and humanish is greatly to be wished.”

“You don't…consider it a threat to your dietary laws, or to anyone or anything here on Earth?”

“Nìa?” Tsecha bent nearer to study Jani's face, to no avail. He would have learned more from studying the stone circlet. “You have a reason for these strange questions?”

“Just confirming the blindingly obvious, nìRau.” She twisted first to the left, then to the right—the bones of her spine made a crunching noise. “Shai interrupted you several times. That's not good.”

“I have always angered her, nìa.”

“You're her priest. You outrank her. She should let you finish speaking, then take your head off.” Jani bent over and swept her fingers through the water. “She and Ulanova discussed this contract days ago. Shai shut you out of the final decision.”

Tsecha watched her spray droplets at some insects that had clustered at the rim of the pool, sending them flying. He brushed away one of the fleeing creatures, which buzzed and hovered near his head. “She cannot do so, nìa—I am ambassador.”

“NìRau, she just did.” Jani straightened and dried her fingers on the hem of her jacket. “When is she returning to Shèrá? She came here months ago, right after Cèel packed up and pulled out. The Suborn Oligarch's role is to act as Council dominant, lead conclaves, monitor voting and debate. She can't do that from here.”

“She…likes Chicago, nìa.” Tsecha felt as though he stood under the questioning attitude of the Council tribunal, as he had so often in the past. But he had always been able to conjure answers for the tribunal, when the wrong ones would have meant his life. Why did he feel so confused now, when all he risked was a sharp rebuke?

Jani turned and looked at him, her green eyes shining as the water. “She isn't going back, is she? Cèel sent her here to replace you as ambassador.” She bent and splashed water at the insects again, this time more vigorously. A few managed to fly away, but two failed to take to the air in time. They lay swamped in the puddle, their legs waving feebly.

Tsecha watched one of the black and yellow creatures shudder, then lay still. “You are killing them, nìa.”

Jani threw more water, washing the stunned insect into the rivulet. “They're wasps, nìRau. I don't know anymore how I'd react if one stung me. I'd rather not chance finding out.”

“If you left them alone, perhaps they would not bother you.”

“If I get rid of them now, I don't have to worry about ‘perhaps.'” Jani frowned as more wasps alit on the edge of the puddle. She backed away from the water garden and onto the lawn, working her shoulders as she walked. “Humanish diplomats attend classes on Vynshàrau behavior. We know that Vynshàrau study humanish, as well. Everyone knows you and Cèel don't get along. We humanish interpret that as disunity in the ranks, a sign of weakness. In cases like that, the leadership needs to act decisively to close the perceived schism, or they are seen as weaker still.” She stretched out her arms toward the sun and swept them in wide circles. Then she let them fall to her sides, and tilted her head from side to side. “You do not work with Shai to present a united front. Every time you open your mouth in one of these meetings, you outrage everyone. You tell humanish and Vynshàrau that I'm your heir when you know that my condition scares them and that the idea of hybridization terrifies them.” She turned to him, her posture as tense and troubled as it had been during the war, when she had worried for his life. “Every day, in every way, you make it more difficult for Cèel to allow you to remain here and more difficult for me to do my job.”

Tsecha crossed his arms and shoved his hands into the sleeves of his overrobe. “And what is your job, nìa?”

“To keep you from wrapping yourself around a tree.” Jani swatted at another insect that buzzed past her head. “To keep the wasps away.”

“To keep the wasps away.” Tsecha pronounced each word most distinctly. “You are my protector, in the way a suborn sometimes is?” He watched Jani's motions still, and knew they shared the same thought. He slipped close to her, grasping her right hand in his before she could move away. “Then
where is your ring, nìa? My suborn should wear my ring.” He straightened her fingers, so long and thin and brown, then held out his beside them. His ring of station glittered, cagework gold surrounding an oval of crimson jasperite. “It looks much as this one, I believe. You have not lost it, have you?”

Jani refused to look him in the eye, as she always did when he inquired about her ring. “No.” She pulled her hand away, slowly but firmly. “It's in a bag, on the shelf of my closet.”

“In a bag. On a shelf in your closet. Perhaps I should ask you to keep your concern there, as well.”

“NìRau—!”

“Our Hansen died wearing his.”

“His ring fit him out of the box. You didn't have his ring made too small so he'd have to shrink into it. The fact that he wore his didn't signify that he had become point man for a new race!”

“Point man…out of the box…” Tsecha patted his pockets and wished for his handheld. “You confuse me with your words as no other.”

Jani strode away from him, flexing her arms as a youngish bird. “If you're so easily confused, maybe you shouldn't talk so much.”

“I did not risk my life and soul to come to this damned cold place so that I could remain silent!” Tsecha rounded his shoulders in irritation. Jani's constant twisting made his own muscles ache. He closed in on her, his back hunched in anger. “All I hear from you is censure! Lecture as to how I should act. Why? There are no wasps. They cannot threaten to kill me anymore.”

Jani slouched in response, so quickly and smoothly that Tsecha straightened in surprise. “Don't be so sure.” She slipped into Low Vynshàrau, her muted gestures hard and swift. “If I told you it was as Rauta Shèràa, I would not be far from wrong.”

Tsecha looked up at the sky, its clear blue broken only by the swoop of seabirds. “As Rauta Shèràa, is it? Then where are the demiskimmers, nìa? Where are the bombs?”

“Explosives aren't the only things that can blow up in
your face.” Jani must have sensed his abating temper, since she drew up straighter as well. “Will you behave until I tell you it is safe?”

Tsecha twitched his shoulder as he had seen her do so many times, when she wanted to seem to answer without actually telling him anything. He had gotten quite good at it, in his opinion. “No more disputation with Anais?”

Jani smiled. “On the veranda, or in your rooms, fine. But not during public meetings.”

“No more musical gatherings with Colonel Derringer?”

“Good God, no.”

“You worry after me.”

“Constantly.”

They regarded one another. Tsecha sensed fondness in Jani's relaxing posture, which he always knew to be there. He sensed exasperation, as well, which he had grown to accept. He turned to walk back to the embassy, beckoning her to walk ahead of him, as was seemly. If he needed to behave, now would be a good time to start. “You are well, nìa? I notice that you seem pained.”

Jani looked him in the eye. The afternoon sun struck her full-face, lightening her green irises to the color of new leaves. But the bright light overwhelmed the diffusing ability of the filming—her pale green sclera showed beneath the hydropolymer the way a dark shirt showed beneath a pale overrobe. “I'm all right. Just a little achy.” Then the shadow of a tree branch played across her face, sharpening bone and darkening skin to gold-brown. She lifted and cupped her right hand in a gesture of resignation, the movements as smooth as though performed beneath water.

Tsecha watched her move as no human could, and felt the clench in his soul.
You are as Rauta Haárin now, and truly.
She had become as he always knew she would, as he always wished she would. Why then did he feel sadness? Why then did he feel fear? “Winter comes,” he said, because he could think of nothing else to say.

“Yes, nìRau. I can feel it in my bones.” Jani's voice sounded as dead. As she turned her back to him, a wasp swooped near her face. She reached out and caught it in her animandroid left hand, then with a single swift movement
opened her hand and smashed her palm against the grid of the pestzap installed alongside the entry. The wasp shot through the grid opening and vaporized in a flash of blue. Jani brushed her hand against her jacket and disappeared into the darkness of the embassy.