‘Yes.’
Back still turned, Cassar inspects the containers that are stirring themselves.
‘No matter. Young Abu appears to be quite smitten with you, and that is useful. What did you discover in your investigation?’
Tawaddud takes a deep breath. She has been thinking what to say, going over the words again and again.
‘That Lady Alile was murdered through a possession, that whoever did it sought a Secret Name she had, and that whatever that is was enough for someone in the Council to try to have me and Lord Sumanguru killed,’ Tawaddud says. ‘And that Repentant Rumzan cannot be trusted. And I may . . . know the jinn who possessed Alile. He may lead us to whoever is behind this plot.’
‘I meant what did you discover about him. Sumanguru.’
Tawaddud stares at her father. His slightly protruding ears would make him look comical under the white cap if his expression was not so stern.
‘I do not understand. I thought my task was to—’
‘Use this opportunity to learn anything we could use against the Sobornost. That was the task I originally gave to Dunyazad.’
‘But— She didn’t—’
Dunyazad smiles sweetly at Tawaddud, one painted fingernail pressed against her lips. ‘Did I not tell you, dear sister, that this is not a game?’
Cassar sighs. ‘The investigation was always irrelevant. It was clear all along that the masrurs are behind this. I summoned a Sobornost representative for different reasons entirely.’ He tastes the contents of the pot with a ladle and makes a face.
‘Now. As for Repentant Rumzan, he has disappeared. We knew that he had masrur sympathies, even if he is not a Sword of Vengeance himself. It is my belief that the attack on you was directed at Lord Sumanguru – it is regrettable that you were in danger, of course. However, the qarin – and whatever secret you may think you found – had nothing to do with it. Of course, this Name may be valuable, and you should examine it with Chaeremon when the present crisis is over. But I ask you again: what did you discover about Sumanguru?’
Tawaddud bites her lip. ‘He is . . . afraid of heights.’ Her thoughts race. ‘And there are things in the Sobornost called Dragons that have no self-loops. He has enhancements for capturing minds in virs, for torturing them. But . . . he does not seem to enjoy it, even though he claims he does. . .’ She swallows, her mind suddenly blank. ‘There are a few other things, I can try to remember—’
‘Is that all?’ Cassar asks, hands behind his back. He shakes his head. ‘I would have hoped for more. You can tell these things to the political astronomers of the Council. They are no use to us. My daughter, I think I have fulfilled my obligation to Abu Nuwas. From now on, you will take care of our guest’s medical needs. When he is recovered, Duny will continue the investigation: she has already prepared many leads for Lord Sumanguru to pursue that will keep him busy for a long time. You can return to your own pursuits with the Banu Sasan. At least they show you have a good heart. And Lord Nuwas will make you a perfect husband.’
Tawaddud bites down tears.
‘What about Lady Alile? What about finding her murderer?’
Cassar bows his head.
‘Alile was a friend, and I regret her passing more than I can say. We will punish the masrurs for her in time. But meanwhile, she would want us to go on, do our duty for Sirr.’
It was the Axolotl, she wants to shout. I can find him. I can bring him to you. But she can’t bring herself to say the words.
Cassar’s eyes flicker: he gives her a sideways glance and looks away again.
‘I see you do not understand our duty, our responsibility. When Sirr-in-the-Sky fell, when our people were almost lost, it was a Gomelez who guided them. It was a Gomelez who spoke to the Aun and forged the pact that allows us to exist. Our burden today is the same: to find a way to survive.
‘The Cry of Wrath showed that the Aun do not love the Sobornost. When they tried to take our minds last time, the desert itself rose up against them. But if the whispers from our agents amongst the mercenaries are true, things have changed. The hsien-kus are gentle, but some of the other Founders are not. Some of them are far more powerful, and it may be that even the Aun cannot stand against them. So, for now, we must find a way to yield so as not to break – but without giving away what makes us who we are.’
‘By letting them send their machines to the desert to dig up souls?’ Tawaddud almost shouts, voice breaking.
‘That is what they have asked. Our answer depends on what they offer to us in return. But we need to know them, and I fear that you are not the right person to know this Sumanguru.’
Tawaddud looks down, biting down tears. Her face is numb. Her head and chest feel hollow.
‘If I could just explain—’ she whispers.
‘That will be all,’ Cassar Gomelez says, and turns back to his cooking.
Tawaddud and Duny walk down a pillared corridor back towards the living quarters. Halfway, Tawaddud can’t take it anymore. She slumps with exhaustion and sits on a stone bench, letting the purple evening light wash over her face. Her eyes sting, and she does not have enough strength left to handle a Secret Name to restore her energies. She is too tired to be properly angry. There is still no feeling in her lips.
‘You played me,’ she whispers.
‘Sister,’ Dunyazad says. ‘You wanted to play. Do not complain when you lose. I tried to help you. I asked you not to get involved. You did not listen.’ Then her expression grows serious. ‘And you were in danger. You could have died, chasing after the Fast Ones like that. Whatever our differences, you must believe me when I say that I would never wish to see you hurt. My thanks to the Aun came from the heart.’
‘I’m sure they did. And you have so many things to be thankful for. Are you happy now? Naughty Tawaddud has been spanked, and all is right in the world.’
‘Not yet.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘We still need to take some precautions with our guest, and I could use your help.’
‘After what you just did, you still want my help? Are you insane?’
Dunyazad looks at the setting sun.
‘Do you want to do your duty as a Gomelez?’ she says softly. ‘I think we should set our petty games aside: there are many more of those we can play when Sirr is safe. Don’t you agree?’
Quietly, Tawaddud nods, gritting her teeth.
‘Listen. I have already been in touch with the hsien-kus, on Father’s behalf. Strangely, they don’t seem to be very concerned that their envoy was in danger. Like I told you, there is politics here that we simply do not know about. Or time: sometimes you find Sobornost communities entering Deep Time, leaping forward a generation in what is just days to us, and then they have forgotten what the previous negotiations were all about.’ She smiles a knowing smile. ‘Of course, sometimes it may suit their purposes to make such claims.’
She takes a small box from the folds of her robes and gives it to Tawaddud.
‘You should go and talk to Sumanguru, have a look at his wounds. When you treat him, insert this under his skin, somewhere not visible. Preferably close to the brain. Our studies of sobortech after the Cry of Wrath have not been entirely fruitless. Once that is done, you don’t need to worry about what comes next.’
Dunyazad opens the box. Inside is a tiny object, like a shard of glass, held delicately between metal pincers.