Myndo's outburst provoked not even the slightest reaction from the Primus. Allowing the echo of her words to die out, he narrowed his eyes. "I understand subtle, Precentor Dieron, and understand it in degrees you will never comprehend. As an example, I offer our gracious reduction in prices for all communications sent out by the guests who will gather here for the wedding of Hanse Davion and Melissa Steiner next year. Already the rulers of the Successor States plan out their lines of communications, and their messages of praise for our action come pouring in. We will be privy to every communication transmitted from this most important of gatherings, and our policy encourages that those messages will be sent in abundance."
Myndo shook her head. "What you consider subtle I find needlessly reckless. I dislike the idea of having so many people invade our home. If anything goes wrong, it will be upon our heads. There is too much that could be discovered here. As for encouraging increased messages, will this not raise suspicions about our motives?"
Myndo waved off the Primus's attempt to reply. "Name one thing, Primus, that you have done in the past that does notbear the stamp of your manipulation."
The coldness of the Primus's smile shook her confidence, but her anger was undiminished. What is in his mind?she wondered briefly. There is no quote from Blake to answer this.
An amused tone wove its way through the Primus's answer. "I would not have expected you to notice, as you were so busy provoking a war, but Justin Xiang Allard is now a member of the Maskirovka in the Capellan Confederation. His addition to the Capellan intelligence organization will help Maximilian Liao deal with Hanse Davion. Justin Xiang, as he now styles himself, knows how his father, Quintus Allard, runs Davion's Ministry of Intelligence, Information, and Operations. Xiang's addition to ihe Maskirovka should blunt Davion's intelligence operations."
Myndo snorted derisively. "And you claim this chance happening as something you engineered?"
The Primus nodded. "Though we cannot claim credit for having Justin Allard tried for treason and exiled from the Federated Suns, we did manage to turn the situation to our advantage. I ordered dispatches about Justin's victories in the BattleMech games on Solaris VII to be paired with depressing messages also ruing to Maximilian Liao. More often than not, news of Justin Xiang's victories was the only bright glimmer in the Chancellor's dark days. I manufactured Liao's fascination with and hunger for Xiang. That moved him into place."
Myndo bowed her head in a gesture that was equal parts respect and penitence. "I understand what you have said, and I stand corrected." Her head came back up, slowly, and she met Tiepolo's dark stare. "I submit, however, that my action was just as carefully orchestrated. I merely jested to a person known to us as an ISF agent that I was surprised at the Combine allowing bandits refuge in the Styx system. The ISF itself manufactured all the other information. They discerned Melissa's presence on the Silver Eagle.They reacted."
Myndo narrowed her eyes. "What has happened as a result of my actions that is so important? Quintus Allard has successfully created a story to explain why the Silver Eaglewas so important, while keeping Melissa's presence secret. Melissa was delivered safely into her fiance's arms. Some bandits, ISF troopers, and mercenary MechWarriors died. This is no great calamity."
The Primus winced, and Myndo's heart leaped. In that instant, she knew that she'd struck some chord that worried him, and that told her he had some weakness she could use against him. By the same token, it means there is something he fears, something he cannot control. Perhaps it is something I should fear as well.
The Primus forced emotion from his voice, but the effort made his lower lip tremble slightly. "One of the mercenaries killed was Lieutenant Colonel Patrick Kell. Indeed, it was fortunate that his Kell Hounds arrived in time and with sufficient force to save the Archon-Designate, but his death unlocks a problem that I believed was safely behind us. I have no doubt that his elder brother Morgan will return and once again take control of the Kell Hounds."
Myndo frowned. This frightens you?"I fail to see the significance of that eventuality, and I challenge the possibility of it ever occurring. The Kell Hounds have not even sent Kell a message about his brother's death."
The Primus shook his head slowly. "No, they have not, nor would they. They will send a messenger to tell Morgan personally. That messenger will also tell him that his old enemy, Yorinaga Kurita, once again fights for the Combine. If the conflict between those two men ignites again, it could become a conflagration beyond our control."
Myndo watched as the strength drained from the Primus's body. It is as though he is deflected from his attempt to crucify me.Myndo opened her hands. "I have offered my defense, Primus. I submit that my effort was subtle, and undertaken at a time when it would have been impossible to summon this august body together. Rash though my judgement may have been, I contend that it has caused no real harm. Let it serve as a lesson for all of us concerning the true power behind information, and let this experience temper our thinking. Let it be so in the sacred Name of Jerome Blake!"
The Primus looked up and polled the Precentors, then nodded wearily. "In the Name of our Blessed Blake, let it be so." His body jerked with an silent laugh. "Your peers absolve you of any guilt. You are free to go, but mark your own words. Let this experience temper your thinking, Precentor Dieron."
Myndo bowed her head. "It shall, Primus. It shall." When next I make a move to undercut your power, it will be even more subtle—so subtle, in fact, that you’ll not see it coming, nor will you survive it.
BOOK I
Envelopment
1
New Syrtis
Capellan March, Federated Suns
10 October 3027
"Damn you, Hanse Davion!"
Duke Michael Hasek-Davion's oath echoed off the white adobe walls of his private office. Angrily, he crumpled the message he'd just read and hurled it across the room. It bounced from the wall and Michael stared at it, wishing fervently that it would utterly vanish or, better yet, have never arrived at all.
The Duke narrowed his restless jade-green eyes and shook his head in a motion that made his long, black braid slither like a snake. "How pained your wording sounds, brother-in-law. Written even in your own hand. You honor me with the information. You trust me with the information." Michael spat at—but missed—the crumpled piece of paper. "You damnme with it."
He crossed to the missive and recovered it in his prosthetic left hand. Returning to perch himself on the edge of his desk, he smoothed out the sheet against his thigh. Though he hated to do it, he reread the message, hoping that somehow he had missed some fact, some nuance, that would cast the whole communication in a more benign, beneficial light.