“That hasn’t happened yet?” Aiah says. “I’ll talk to the ministry and find out what happened.”
“Thank you. There’s usually problems of this nature at the start, and knowing someone to call in the right ministry is always a bonus.”
Well, Aiah thinks, I asked for this.
Duty calls, but Aiah finds herself reluctant to leave, so she wanders through the huge concrete space, talking to the soldiers. She gets asked out about twenty times, and groped twice, in a perfectly friendly, inquiring way; but she slaps the hands aside with a grin and declines all invitations.
“They are from the Holy League,” Alfeg declares after obligations finally drag them away. “After peace was imposed, the last of the Holy Leaguers withdrew to Sayven with their entire army. They became mercenaries. These are their children or grandchildren.”
They are sharing the backseat of the big armored automobile that the ministry has loaned them for this occasion. Aiah peers out at the city through thick plates of bulletproof plastic and sees no sign of war at all, nothing but people heading places on their business.
“The Barkazi Wars ended two generations ago,” she says. “And these are still soldiers?”
“Sayven exports a lot of soldiers. But it’s not the national industry, as it is in the Timocracy, so we don’t hear about it as much.”
If her grandfather hadn’t been captured, Aiah thinks, she might have grown up in Sayven, in a military family. She wonders if her life would have taken her into the army, if she would have found herself a military mage serving alongside Aratha.
“Does the Holy League still matter to them?”
“Oh yes.” Blithely. “They’re convinced we’ll prevail, given time, and that Barkazi will be returned to us—to the Cunning People.”
Aiah smiles. Alfeg hadn’t been lying when he accused himself of a sentimental attachment to his grandfather’s cause.
“Well,” she says, “I hope it happens.”
And then she catches Khorsa’s sidelong look, Khorsa who has come here—possibly—because she thinks Aiah will somehow bring all the exiles home and restore Barkazi, and Aiah feels her jaw tighten.
I do not want you to need me this way! she thinks in sudden fury, but she swallows it, and makes herself concentrate on business—PED business—until the armored car rolls across the gilded bridge to the Palace.
FOOD FACTORY DESTROYED IN LOTUS DISTRICT
GOVERNMENT BLAMES SILVER TERROR
What waits in her office is not calculated to improve her temper: a Dalavan priest, young and burly, wearing the gray robes and soft mushroom hat of his order.
“I am the Excellent Togthan,” he says with a gracious bow, and presents Aiah with an envelope embossed with an ornate red wax seal.
“The triumvir and Holy, Parq, has kindly written this letter of introduction.”
Togthan’s voice, like Parq’s, is soft, and his expression gracious. It puts Aiah on her guard at once.
Aiah opens the letter and frowns at it. This will introduce Togthan, an Excellent of the Red Slipper Order—Aiah casts a surreptitious glance at Togthan’s footwear and discovers he is wearing black wing tips—who is, by my authority, appointed Advisor to the Plasm Enforcement Division. You are requested to provide him with an office and total access to any information he may require, including complete details on the scope and nature of all relevant PED activities.
Anger knots Aiah’s stomach, but she tries to keep her face immobile as she glances at Togthan over the letter. “Advisor?” she says. “What kind of advisor?”
“Advisor on spiritual matters,” Togthan says with another bow, “and of course on political direction. Triumvir Parq wants to see all government departments unified behind the triumvirate.”
“I see,” Aiah says. She wants to crumple the letter and fling it in Togthan’s face, but instead says, “I wish I had known you were coming. I would have had your office ready.”
“It was decided at the cabinet meeting just after shift change. Since the PED has become such an important part of government, I am one of the first advisors assigned.”
“Yes.” She glances around her receptionist’s office, looking for a way to escape. “Please take a seat for a few minutes, and I’ll try to arrange an office for you. Please have some coffee. There’s a meeting after quarterbreak, and I’ll introduce you to the department and division heads.”
“Thank you, Miss Aiah.” Togthan swirls his robes as he sits, a compliant smile on his face.
“What the hell is this?” Aiah demands as soon as she can get Constantine on the telephone. “Who is Togthan? What is Parq’s spy doing in my department?”
The unusual lack of emphasis in Constantine’s deep voice signals that he is choosing his words carefully. “The triumvirate honored Parq’s request for political supervision of all government departments—especially Resources and the War Ministry.”
“Those are your portfolios! This is aimed at you.”
“If the triumvirate is nervous about an outsider heading two departments crucial to the survival of the regime—one who is furthermore the head of a political party that may run in opposition to their own—I cannot entirely blame them. Try to work with Togthan if you can.”
“The triumvirate?” Aiah asks. “All three of them? All three of them voted to put Parq’s spies into your departments?”
“Hilthi was against it. But Parq can be persuasive, and Faltheg voted with him, after some hesitation.”
“What am I going to do with this man?” Aiah cries. “He’s going to be creeping around and—”
“You will work with him,” Constantine says. There is a steely edge to his voice. “Our government has concluded that he is necessary, and he will be far less of a danger to you if he is indulged. The best possible thing is for you to become his greatest friend in all the world.”
Aiah snarls silently into the mouthpiece and wishes she could tell some of her military police to chuck Mr. the Excellent Togthan off the roof into a canal.
“Right,” she says. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Constantine’s next question is artfully designed to prevent her from thinking of another protest. “Did things go well with Karlo’s Brigade?”
Aiah is still mentally enjoying Togthan’s arc into the canal, but follows Constantine’s shift well enough to answer.
“Oh yes. They seemed happy to see us. Their mage-major was complaining, though, that she hadn’t got access to plasm as yet.”
“I will make certain appropriate action is taken.” “Thank you.”
Aiah presses the disconnect button, then calls her department heads to tell them that the Excellent Togthan will be joining the department, and that they are all to treat him with the utmost consideration.
“It’s because your boss sold us out,” Ethemark says. Rage in the little man’s deep voice keeps throwing his voice into squeaky upper registers. “He spoke in favor of Parq’s proposal at today’s cabinet meeting.”
“Constantine?” Aiah asks. “Is that who you’re talking about?”
“Yes. Your damned Constantine. It was bad enough when he supported the Dalavan Militia. But now because of Constantine, Parq’s spies will be in every branch of government____________________”
Aiah struggles with bewilderment, tries to formulate a response. “Are you sure?” she manages. “Who is your informant?”
“Minister Adaveth,” Ethemark says. “And Minister Myhorn also. They were both astounded by Constantine’s attitude.”