“Thank you,” Jedao said to Sieve. “If you don’t mind—?”
Sieve bobbed a nod.
“He asked what I wanted him to call me,” Hemiola said privately to Sieve.
“What did you tell him?” Sieve said, with aggravating reasonableness.
“I haven’t answered yet.”
If the ration bar displeased Jedao, he gave no sign. At last he wiped the crumbs from his mouth and folded up the wrapper on a corner of the tray. Sieve whisked it away, leaving Hemiola alone with him. Thanks so much, Hemiola thought.
“How else can we serve you?” Hemiola said at last.
“I was hoping to look something up in the archives,” Jedao said. “You’re in charge of safekeeping the records, correct?”
“Yes,” Hemiola said. “I hope you know where to look, though, because we’ve never read through the records ourselves.”
“What if I made a copy to take with me?”
Hemiola hesitated just long enough to ask the others what to do.
“He’s the hexarch’s lover, doesn’t matter to me,” was Rhombus’s response.
“Use your judgment,” Sieve said, equally unhelpful.
Jedao lifted an eyebrow.
“We shouldn’t let the records out of our sight,” Hemiola said. “Metaphorically speaking.”
“I can’t stay long,” Jedao said. “That would limit the amount of research I could do. Unless—”
“Unless?”
“Unless one of you came with me to ensure that the records weren’t misused.”
Hemiola thought this over. The proposal was tempting—too tempting. But it couldn’t resist asking for more details. “How long would this journey be?”
“That I can’t say with any certainty,” Jedao said. “But if at any point you need to return home, I have friends who can arrange for transport.”
Hemiola flickered doubtfully.
“Well, you don’t have to decide right this moment,” Jedao said. “I saw a rock garden on my way in, by the way. Some evidence of micrometeorites over the past decades, but still, very nice. Your work?”
“Yes,” Hemiola said. “Mine and the other servitor you met just now.” It didn’t know how to react to Jedao’s casual interest. Resentment that he’d noticed, even though the hexarch never had? Gratitude? Embarrassment that such an inconsequential act of decoration had come to a human’s attention after all?
“There used to be a display case in the archives,” Jedao said. “Would it be all right if I looked at that, at least?”
Hemiola didn’t see why not. “Of course.”
“If you’d show me the way? It’s been a few years.”
It couldn’t think of a reason to say no to that, either. It led the way through the shining passages. Jedao followed. But—“I have a question.”
“Ask,” Jedao said.
“How did you get past the calendrical lock?”
“I made friends with a mathematician,” Jedao said, with a hint of irony that Hemiola didn’t understand. He drew out the pendant, which was engraved with a raven in flight, and fingered it. “There’s an algorithm for fast factorization. The trick is, it relies on exotic effects—and those effects require a nonstandard calendar. So I brought along a computer designed to take advantage of the exotics, shifted the local calendar long enough for it to do its work, then used the solution it generated to crack the lock. It’s a solution Kujen wouldn’t have considered because of his attachment to the high calendar.”
They arrived at the part of the base where the records were stored. It was not a large room. In fact, the bulk of it was taken up by luxurious couches and chaises. The records themselves could be accessed through a dedicated terminal.
The one anomaly in the room was a shrine. At least, Hemiola always thought of it as a shrine, although it did not, to its knowledge, serve a religious purpose. It contained a booklet of badly yellowed paper, preserved in a transparent casket. None of the servitors had dared to take it out and flip through the pages for fear of damaging it. The hexarch had never paid it any heed despite the care he’d gone to to preserve it.
Jedao drifted over to the shrine and peered through the protective casket without touching it. “How to Care for Your New Snowbird 823 Refrigerator,” he read. “I’ve always wondered why Kujen kept this around. His first job maybe? I looked up the model and couldn’t find anything, but the heptarchate was a big place, and it might just be that old and obscure.”
“Surely you didn’t come here to research refrigerators?” Hemiola said. Whatever those were.
“Surely not,” Jedao said without really agreeing. He looked around at the unoccupied couches. “It’s changed so little.”
“We kept everything the same,” Hemiola said.
“Of course you did,” Jedao said. “Kujen always liked things to stay the same.”
“I had another question,” Hemiola said.
Jedao’s attention shifted from the display case to Hemiola with a promptness both gratifying and disturbing. “Go on.”
“I don’t suppose you brought any dramas with you?”
Jedao didn’t laugh. Instead, he said, very seriously, “I have a collection back on the voidmoth. My traveling companion, a servitor like yourself, thinks I have abysmal taste in entertainment, but maybe something will suit you. If there’s something in particular you’re looking for, maybe I can find it. I can’t make any guarantees, though.”
“That’s fine,” Hemiola said.
“You still haven’t told me what you want me to call you.”
“I’m Hemiola of Tefos Enclave,” it said, wondering which enclave the traveling companion came from and if it was one of the ones that had a treaty with the Nirai servitors. “Let me help you make a copy of the records.”
“Thank you, Hemiola,” Jedao said gravely. “Much appreciated.”
CHAPTER FOUR
KUJEN PROVIDED JEDAO with more briefing materials, then excused himself. Jedao tried to hide his impatience as he waited for the door to close. It wasn’t as if he could shoo a hexarch out.
The first thing Jedao did once Kujen was gone was locate the bathroom. Good: it had a mirror. His face was older, with the beginnings of wrinkles at the corners of his brown eyes. His hair was still black, with no white hairs, and he wondered cynically if he dyed it. He stripped and examined himself critically. At least this time he was prepared for the scars. As for the rest of his body, he didn’t know what to make of it: broader in the shoulders and chest, enough muscle everywhere to suggest he’d led a strenuous lifestyle. Jedao pulled a face at his reflection, then got dressed again.
After that, he spent a bemused few moments poring over the Kel code of conduct before discovering that he had significant portions of it memorized: seating arrangements at high table; hairstyle regulations—he was going to need to trim his bangs soon; the prohibition of sex between Kel, punishable by death. Instant learning, a trick Ruo would surely have envied. Too bad he couldn’t rely upon it for anything else. Then he settled in for a lot of reading.
Jedao fell asleep without realizing it and woke to music. At least, he assumed it was music. Whatever it was, with its buzzing basses and plucked arpeggios, it had a beat too fast for marching to. He squinted at the ceiling and walls as he massaged the crick in his neck. Light glowed from the candlevines, since he hadn’t asked the room to turn them down. The grid informed him in a serene voice that the hexarch would be joining him for breakfast in twelve minutes.