Eight approached from behind her, to take it from me, but Sirix gestured her away. “It can’t possibly be mine,” she insisted.
With my free hand, I lifted the lid off the box so that she could see what was inside it. She went suddenly very still, seeming not even to breathe.
“I’m sorry to hear about your loss, Citizen,” I said. The pin was a memorial, the family name of the deceased was Odela. The card bore details about the deceased’s life and funeral. The purpose or meaning of the bread was unknown to me, but clearly it had meant something to whoever sent it. Meant something, certainly, to Sirix. Though I could not tell if her reaction was grief, or the distress of anger she could not express.
“You said you had no family, Citizen,” I said after a few uncomfortable, silent moments. “Clearly someone in Odela is thinking of you.” They must have heard Sirix was here with me.
“She has no right,” said Sirix. Outwardly calm, dispassionate, but I knew that was a necessity for her, a matter of survival. “None of them do. They can’t have it both ways, they can’t just take it back.” She took a breath, looked as though she would speak again but instead took another one. “Send it back,” she said then. “It isn’t mine, it can’t be. By their own actions.”
“If that’s what you want, Citizen, then I will.” I replaced the lid, unfolded the purple cloth, and wound it around the now-closed box.
“What,” Sirix said, bitterness creeping into her voice, “no exhortations to be grateful, to remember that they are, after all, my f—” Her voice broke—she had pushed herself too far. It said something about her usual self-control that she did not, that moment, slam the door in my face so that she could suffer unwatched. Or perhaps it said she knew that Eight was still in the room, that she would not be alone and unobserved no matter what she did.
“I can produce such exhortations if you’d like, Citizen, but they would be insincere.” I bowed. “If there is anything you need, do not hesitate to ask. I am at your service.”
She did close the door then. I could have watched her through Eight’s eyes, but I did not.
When supper arrived, so did Fosyf and Raughd. Sirix didn’t come downstairs, hadn’t since lunch. No one commented on it—she was only here by sufferance, because she was with me. After we ate, we sat right up at the edge of the room, the doors still wide. What we could see of the lake had gone leaden with the evening, shadowed, only the very tops of the peaks behind it still brilliant with the sunset. The air grew chill and damp, and the servants brought hot, bittersweet drinks in handled bowls. “Xhai-style,” Fosyf informed me. Without Sirix to flank me, I had Fosyf on one side and Raughd on the other. Captain Hetnys sat across from me, her chair turned a bit so she could look out toward the lake.
On Mercy of Kalr, the reply to the question I’d that morning asked Fleet Captain Uemi finally arrived. Ship played it in Lieutenant Ekalu’s ears. “All thanks, Lieutenant Seivarden, for your courteous greeting. My compliments to Fleet Captain Breq, but I did not take on any crew at Omaugh.”
I had left instructions for this, as well. “Fleet Captain Breq thanks Fleet Captain Uemi for her indulgence,” said Lieutenant Ekalu. Just as puzzled as Seivarden had been, hours ago. “Did any of Sword of Inil’s crew spend a day or two out of touch, on the palace station?”
“Well, Fleet Captain,” said Fosyf, downwell, in the growing dark by the lake, “you had a peaceful day, I hope?”
“Yes, thank you, Citizen.” I was under no obligation to be any more forthcoming. In fact, I could quite properly ignore anyone who spoke to me for the next week and a half, if I felt so moved.
“The fleet captain rises at an unbelievably early hour,” said Raughd. “I got up early especially to be sure there was someone to show her the bath, and she’d already been up for ages.”
“Clearly, Citizen,” said Captain Hetnys genially, “your idea of getting up early isn’t the same as ours.”
“Military discipline, Raughd,” observed Fosyf, voice indulgent. “For all your recent interest”—this with a sidelong glance at me—“you’d never have been suited to it.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Raughd, airily. “I’ve never tried it, have I?”
“I went over the ridge this morning and saw your workers,” I remarked, not particularly interested in pursuing the issue of Raughd’s military fitness.
“I hope you could add some songs to your collection, Fleet Captain,” Fosyf replied. I inclined my head just slightly, barely an answer but sufficient.
“I don’t know why they didn’t just make ancillaries out of them,” observed Raughd. “Surely they’d be better off.” She simpered. “Two units off a troop carrier would do us, and still leave plenty for everyone else.”
Fosyf laughed. “Raughd has taken a sudden interest in the military! Been looking things up. Ships and uniforms and all sorts of things.”
“The uniforms are so appealing,” Raughd agreed. “I’m so glad you’re wearing yours, Fleet Captain.”
“Ancillaries can’t be new citizens,” I said.
“Well,” said Fosyf. “Well. You know, I’m not sure Valskaayans can be, either. Even on Valskaay there are problems, aren’t there? That religion of theirs.” Actually, there were several religions represented on Valskaay, and in its system, and various sects of all of them. But Fosyf meant the majority religion, the one everyone thought of as “Valskaayan.” It was a variety of exclusive monotheism, something most Radchaai found more or less incomprehensible. “Though I’m not sure you can really call it a religion. More a… a collection of superstitions and some very odd philosophical ideas.” Outside had grown darker still, the trees and moss-covered stones disappearing into shadow. “And the religion is the least of it. They have plenty of opportunity to become civilized. Why, look at the Samirend!” She gestured around, meaning, I supposed, the servants who had brought us supper. “They began where the Valskaayans are now. The Valskaayans have every opportunity, but do they take advantage of it? I don’t know if you saw their residence—a very nice guesthouse, fully as nice as the house I live in myself, but it’s practically a ruin. They can’t be bothered to keep their surroundings nice. But they go quite extravagantly into debt over a musical instrument, or a new handheld.”
“Or equipment for making alcohol,” said Raughd primly.
Fosyf sighed, apparently deeply grieved. “They use their own rations for that, some of them. And then go further into debt buying food. Most of them have never seen any of their wages. They lack discipline.”
“How many Valskaayans were sent to this system?” I asked Fosyf. “After that annexation. Do you know?”
“No idea, Fleet Captain.” Fosyf gestured resigned ignorance. “I just take the workers they assign me.”
“There were children working in the fields this morning,” I remarked. “Isn’t there a school?”
“No point,” Fosyf said. “Not with Valskaayans. They won’t attend. They just don’t have the seriousness of mind that’s necessary. No steadiness. Oh, but I do wish I could take you on a proper tour, Fleet Captain! When your two weeks is ended, perhaps. I do want to show off my tea, and I know you’ll want to hear every song you can.”
“Fleet Captain Breq,” said Captain Hetnys, who had been silent so far, “doesn’t only collect songs, as it happens.”
“Oh?” asked Fosyf.
“I stayed in her household during the fasting days,” Captain Hetnys said, “and do you know, her everyday dishes are a set of blue and violet Bractware. With all the serving pieces. In perfect condition.” Behind me, Ship showed me, Kalr Five was suppressing a satisfied smirk. We’d hardly eaten during the fasting days, as was proper, but Five had served what little we did eat on the Bractware and—no doubt purposefully—left the unused dishes where Captain Hetnys could see them.