“It’s about three hours to Divinia,” he said. “These soldiers will make sure you arrive there safely for your welcoming festivities. It’s been a pleasure to meet you all, and I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again soon.” With a curt salute to his men, he departed.
“Really?” murmured Val, sitting with Lucian in the seat in front of Mae and Justin. “That wasn’t the welcome? Can you imagine the media spectacle this would’ve been if the situation had been reversed, and we were receiving them? There’d be champagne fountains and dancing girls.”
“I’m sure they have plenty in store for us,” said Lucian pleasantly, never losing that camera-ready smile. But as Mae studied his profile, she could see the lines of tension and knew that no matter his glib talk, he was well aware of the possible danger if this trip went badly. Keeping him as a hostage could be a powerful bargaining chip for the Arcadians, if they wanted to force something from the Gemmans. Mae wondered if that put the rest of them—who weren’t as important—in better or worse positions.
“That’s right,” said Justin, loudly enough for some nearby Arcadian soldiers to overhear. “Rest up on this ride. I’m sure the hospitality and wonders of Divinia will be overwhelming.”
“Divinia,” repeated Mae. “Was that always its name?”
“No,” said Justin, making himself comfortable in the stiff seat. “Before the Decline, it was called Birmingham.”
CHAPTER 9
Cultural Adjustments
Justin couldn’t help but keep thinking of Val’s comparisons of how things would have been different if it was an Arcadian delegation visiting the RUNA. She was right about the media spectacle. There would’ve been more journalists than the Arcadians had soldiers, documenting every mundane aspect imaginable, even before their guests’ feet hit the ground. No one would’ve been smuggled around in an armored bus, and while the Gemman security would have been just as thorough, they would’ve done so in a more discreet and tactful way.
We would parade them around, Justin thought, because we love novelty. That, and we love to feel superior, and every single eccentricity of theirs that could be shown on-air would serve as evidence for how much better we are than everyone else.
Are you saying you aren’t? asked Horatio.
Of course not, said Justin. Ours is the superior civilization. The Arcadians want their people to believe the same of their country, and their tactic is to do so by not offering—or showing—them any other options. Their media, such as it is, is highly censored. Whatever gets broadcast about us will be full of propaganda and make us out to look like the immoral country they think we are.
At least the Gemman media portrayed you pretty well, offered the raven.
It doesn’t matter, so long as something positive comes out of all of this diplomatically. That’s the point of it, Justin reminded him.
Horatio was skeptical of that proper response. I thought the point was to get on Mae’s good side.
Justin glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes. They’d covered her up in that smock of a dress and hidden most of her hair under the hat, but there was still no concealing her beauty. She was on good behavior for the Arcadian soldiers, face serene and hands folded elegantly in her lap as she looked ahead. Her gaze seemed to be focused on nothing in particular, but Justin knew she was taking in every detail and braced to spring into action if needed. The praetorian women had been strictly told a number of times that in the event of an altercation, they were to participate only as a last resort if their uniformed countrymen were present. Justin wondered how well Mae and the other women would adhere to that. Following orders was second nature to them . . . but so was defending others.
Signs of urban civilization eventually began to show through the slitted windows. Buildings appeared and grew closer together, though their state of repair varied wildly. The roads smoothed out. Then, the scenery grew rural again as they passed out of the city proper, and the bumpy bus ride at last came to an end. The Gemman delegation was escorted out and found themselves standing in front of a wide, colonial estate house that was certainly among the nicer ones they’d passed. Its pillared porch was crowded with people, and despite the house’s upkeep and affluence, it didn’t exactly feel modern. Glancing around, Justin saw a number of other buildings on vast, dusty acreage and realized they must be at the compound that was hosting them, the one Atticus had shown them satellite images of. The people on the porch were mostly men, all in suits and wide-brimmed hats, and from their sweaty skin and clothing, they looked as though they’d been standing there for a while. All of the men in the front, on the porch’s steps, were Justin’s age or older. Those in the back were younger, some even children. Also in the back, slightly apart from the others, were about a dozen women, wearing the long dresses and hats favored by Arcadian women in public.
A portly man in his fifties, with thinning hair and a bushy white beard, took off his hat and stepped forward to shake hands with Atticus. “Mr. Marley,” the man said, “it’s a pleasure to receive you at my home.”
“It’s a pleasure to be back in Arcadia,” returned Atticus warmly. “And to be truly in Arcadia, not just skulking on the border in clandestine meetings. This is the kind of get-together we’ve needed for a long time, if we truly want to make progress.” He stepped back and ushered a politely-waiting Lucian forward. “Senator, may I present our host, Carl Carter, Director of the Committee of Foreign Affairs and Special Assistant to the President. Director Carter, this is Lucian Darling, senator now and possibly our future consul.”
“Just Carl will do.” Their Arcadian host vigorously shook Lucian’s hand and seemed sincere in his enthusiasm. “I’m delighted to welcome you on behalf of our president and show you our great country’s finest hospitality. You’ll get to meet him tomorrow when you tour the capital. Tonight, we thought you’d like to rest a little outside the city.”
Lucian was in full show mode. “It’s an honor to be at your home, and I look forward to whatever you have to share with us.”
Everyone’s so polite and so happy to be here, Justin noted to himself. Listen to the word choice. Honor. Pleasure. Delighted. You’d never guess our two countries’ soldiers are constantly skirmishing along the border.
Would you prefer that here? asked Magnus.
No, said Justin. I’d prefer to be inside.
Even in early evening, the temperatures were high, the air hanging stagnant and humid around them. The bus had had nominal air conditioning, but there was nothing to protect them now from the heat as they stood in the dusty yard. The comfort of indoors seemed to be a ways off, however, as both sides went through formal introductions of their important officials. A number of the Arcadians were familiar to Justin from his briefings, and he mentally linked up these real-life faces to what he’d read in the bios. As they’d expected, none of the Gemman women were given introductions. Of the twelve Arcadian women, three were introduced as Carl’s wives, with another five being the head wives of other officials. That meant the four who weren’t introduced were Carl’s concubines, something Justin found staggering.
He’s got seven women. Should I be jealous? he asked the ravens. After an assessment of the women, he decided he wasn’t. Carl’s youngest wife and one of the concubines were somewhat attractive, but the others were heavily marked by Cain.
Some of the Arcadians are jealous of your women, noted Horatio. Justin had noticed that as well. The older officials had given the