vii
“It’s settled,” the Ren-barant said.
The Hald looked about him in the swirl of brightly clad heads of septs and Houses, and at the Thel, the Delt, the Hit and others of the inner circle. Here were the key votes, the heads of various factions. They went armed into Council, remembering Moth, remembering another day. Ros Hald felt more than a touch of fear.
“I don’t trust the old woman,” the Ilit said. “I won’t feel easy until this is past.” His eyes darted left and right, his voice lowered. “This could as easily be a way to identify us, eliminate the opposition. We could go the way the others did, even yet.”
“No,” Ros Hald said fiercely. “No. Easiest of all if she gives over the keys we need. She’ll do that. She’s buying living time and she knows it.”
“When she knows other things too,” said the Delt.
Hald thought of that, as he had thought of it a hundred times, and saw no other course. The others were filing into the Council chamber. He nodded to his companions and went.
The seats were filled, one by one, with nervous men and women, heirs of the last purge.
Doubtless there were many weapons concealed now, within robes of Colour of House and sept.
But when Moth entered, and all those present rose in respect—even the Hald and his faction rose, because respect cost nothing—she had Tand for her support and seemed incredibly frail. Before now, she had doddered somewhat; now she had difficulty even lifting her head to speak before Council.
“I don’t trust this,” the Ren-barant whispered, fell silent at the press of the Hald’s hand.
“I have come to a difficult decision,” Moth began, and rambled on about the weight of empire and the changes in the Council, which had cast more and more weight on First Seat, which had made of her the dictator she avowed she would not be, that none of them had meant to be.
Her voice faltered and faded often. The Council listened with rare patience, though none of this was at all surprising, for Tand and rumour had spread her intent throughout the Family, even into factions which would not have been powerful enough to have their own spies. There could not be a representative present that did not know the meaning of this meeting.
She spoke of the hives, ramblings of which they were even yet patient.
And suddenly she began to laugh, so that more than one hand in the hall felt after a weapon and her life hung on a thread; but her own two hands were in sight, and one had to wonder who her agents were and where they might be positioned.
“The hives, my friends, my cousins—the hives have come asking and offering now, have they? And the hive-masters divided on the question, and now they’re gone. I’m tired. I am tired, cousins. I see what you don’t see, what no one else is old enough to see, and no one cares to see.” She looked about, blinking in the glare of lights, and Ros Hald tensed, wondering about weapons. “Vote,” she said. “You’ve come here ready, have you not, already prepared, not waiting on me? Not waiting for long debate? You’ve been ready for years. So vote. I’m going to my chambers. Tell me which of you will share responsibility for the Family. I’ll accept your choice.”
There was a murmur, and silence; she looked about at them, perhaps surprised by that silence, that was a touch of awe. And in that silence, Moth turned off the microphone, and walked up the steps among them, slowly, on Tand’s arm, in profound stillness.
Ros Hald rose. So did Ren-barant, and Ilit, and Serat and Dessen and all the many, many others. For a moment, at the top of the stairs, Moth stopped, seeming to realise the gesture, and yet did not turn to see. She walked out, and the door closed. The standing heads of House and sept sank down again into seats. The silence continued a moment.
Next-eldest rose and declared the matter at hand, the nomination of one to stand by Moth, successor to Moth’s knowledge and position. The dictatorship which had become fact without acknowledgement under Lian’s last years, became acknowledged fact now, with Moth’s request for a legal heir.
Ren-barant rose to put forward the name of Ros Hald.
There was no name put in opposition. A few frowned, huddled together. Ros Hald marked there with his eyes, the next group that would try for power in the Family, the next that needed watching. Four Colours were not represented today; four Houses were in mourning. The opposition had no leaders.
“The vote,” next-eldest asked.
The signs flashed to the board. No opposition, seven abstentions, four absent.
It was fact.
A cheer went up from Council, raucous and harsh after the long silence.
viii
The shuttle docked, jolted into lock next to one of the Outsider vessels. The azi caught at support, and one fell-shame-faced, recovered his footing. “All right, all right,” Raen comforted him, touching his shoulder, never taking her eyes from the crew. “Squad two, stay with this ship and keep your guns aimed at the crew. They may try to trick you; you’re quite innocent of some manoeuvres, fresh as you are from Registry. Don’t reason. Just shoot if they touch anything on that control panel.”
“Yes, sera,” said the squad leader, who had seen service before. The crew stayed frozen. She gathered up Merry and squad one and rode the overcrowded lift down to the lock, where the other squads and the Warriors stood guard over the Outsiders.
They were free of restraint, Tallen and his folk, huddled in a corner with the guns of eighty-odd azi to advise them against rashness. Raen beckoned them to her and they came, cautiously, across the dark cavern of the hold. One of their own men had Mundy in hand, had him calmed, had restored him to a fragile human dignity, and Mundy glared at her with hate: no matter to her. He was neither help nor harm.
“We’re going out,” she said to Tallen. “Ser, there’s one of your ships beside us and its hatch is open. We’ve warned them. When you’re aboard, take my advice and pull all Outsider ships from station as quickly as you can undock. Run for it.”
Tallen’s seamed face betrayed disturbance, as it betrayed little. “That far, is it?”
“I’ve risked considerable to get you here. I’ve given you free what you spent men to learn. Believe me, ser, because from the agents the Reach has swallowed you’ll neverhear. If it’s clear they’re not azi, they’ll perish as assassins, one by one. It’s our natural assumption. I’ll give you as much time as I can to get clear of station. But don’t expect too much, ser.”
Merry was by the switch. She signalled. He opened up to the ramp.
It was as she remembered the dock, vast and shadowy and cold, an ugly place. Security agents and armoured ISPAK police ringed the area. She walked out, her own azi about her, rifles slung hip-level from the shoulder. She wore no Colour, but plain beige, no sleeve-armour. It was likely that they knew with whom they had to deal, all the same, for all the terseness of the messages she had returned their anxious inquiries.
Next to them, the Outsider ship waited. “Go,” she told Tallen, whose group followed. “Get over there, before something breaks loose here.”
He delayed. She saw in surprise that he offered his hand, publicly. “Kont’ Raen,” he said, “can wehelp you?”
“No,” she said, shaken by the realisation of finality. Her eyes went to the Outsider’s ramp, the lighted interior.
To go with them, to see, to know—
Their duty forbade. And so did something she vaguely conceived as her own. She found tears starting from her eyes, that were utterly unaccustomed.
“Just get out of here,” she said, breaking the grip. “And believe me.”
He apparently did, for he walked away quickly then, and his people with him, as quickly as could not be called a run. They leached the ramp, rode it up. The hatch sealed after.
Raen folded her arms within her cloak, the one hand still holding her gun, and stared at the ISPAK security force, which her own azi faced with lowered weapons. Breath frosted in the icy air.