Luet was at the door of the salon when it opened and a young woman burst in, forcing her back inside the room.
"Mother, this is abominable!" cried the visitor.
"Sevet, I'm so delighted to see you after all these months-and without a word of notice that you were coming, or even the courtesy of waiting until I invited you into my salon."
Sevet-Aunt Rasa's oldest daughter. Luet had seen her only once before. As was the custom, Rasa did not teach her own daughters, but rather had given them to her dear friend Dhelembuvex to raise. This one, her oldest, was mated with a young scholar of some note-Vas?-but it hadn't hampered her career as a singer with a growing reputation for having a way with pichalny songs, the low melancholy songs of death and loss that were an ancient tradition in Basilica. There was nothing of pkhalny about her now, though-she was sharp and angry, and her mother no less so. Luet decided to leave the room at once, before she overheard another word.
But Aunt Rasa wouldn't allow it. "Stay, Luet. I think it will be educational for you to see how little this daughter of mine takes after either her mother or her Aunt Dhel."
Sevet glared sharply at Luet. "What's this- are you taking charity cases now?"
"Her mother was a holy woman, Sevya. I think you may even have heard the name of Luet."
Sevet blushed at once. "I beg your pardon," she said.
Luet had no idea how to answer, since of course Luet was a charity case and therefore mustn't show that she had been offended by Sevens slur.
Aunt Rasa saved her from having to think of a proper response. "I will consider that pardon has been begged and granted all around, and now we may begin our conversation with perhaps a more civil tone."
"Of course," said Sevet. "You must realize that I came here straight from Father."
"From your rude and offensive manner, I assumed you had spent at least an hour with him."
"Raging, the poor man. And how could he do otherwise, with his own mate spreading terrible lies about him!"
"Poor man indeed," said Aunt Rasa. "I'm surprised that little waif of a mate of his would have the courage to speak out against him-or the wit to make up a lie, for that matter. What has she been saying?"
"I meant you , of course, Mother, not his present mate, nobody thinks of her?
"But since I lapsed dear Gabya's contract fifteen years ago, he can hardly regard me as having a duty to refrain from telling the truth about him."
"Mother, don't be impossible."
"I'm never impossible. The most I ever allow myself is to be somewhat unlikely."
"You're the mother of Father's two daughters, both of us more than slightly famous-the most famous of your offspring, and all for honorable things, though of course little Koya's career is only at its beginning, with not a myachik of her own yet-"
"Spare me your rivalry with your sister, please."
"It's only a rivalry from her point of view, Mother- Idon't even pay attention to the fact that her singing career seems a bit sluggish at the outset. It's always harder for a lyric soprano to be noticed-there are so many of them, one can hardly tell them apart, unless one is the soprano's own loving, loyal sister."
"Yes, I use you as an example of loyalty for all my girls."
For a moment Sevet's face brightened; then she realized her mother was teasing her, and scowled. "You really are too nasty with me."
"If your father sent you to get me to retract my remarks about this morning's events, you can tell him that I know what he was planning from an undoubtable source, and if he doesn't stop telling people that Wetchik was plotting murder, I'll bring my evidence before the council and have him banned."
"I catft-I can't tell Father that!" said Sevet.
"Then don't," said Aunt Rasa. "Let him find out when I do it."
"Ban him? Ban Father^
"If you had studied more history-though come to think of it, I doubt that Dhelya taught you all that much anyway-you'd know that the more powerful and famous a man is, the more likely he is to be banned from Basilica. It's been done before, and it will be done again. After all, it's Gabya, not Wetchik or Roptat, whose soldiers roam the streets, pretending to protect us from thugs that Gabya probably hired in the first place. People will be glad to see him go-and that means they'll find it useful to believe every bit of evidence I bring,"
Sevet's face grew grave. "Father may be a bit prone to rage and a little sneaky in business, Mother, but he's no murderer."
"Of course he's not a murderer. Wetchik left Basilica and Gabya would never dare to kill Roptat without Wetchik there to blame it on. Though I think that if Gabya had known at the time that Wetchik had fled, he would certainly have killed Roptat the moment he showed up and then used Wetchik's hasty departure as proof that my dear mate was the murderer."
"You make Father sound like a monster. Why did you take him as a mate, then?"
"Because I wanted to have a daughter with an extraor- dinary singing voice and no moral judgment whatsoever. It worked so well that I renewed with him for a second year and had another. And then I was done."
Sevet laughed. "You're such a silly thing, Mother. I do have moral judgment, you know. And every other kind. It was Vasya I married, not some second-rate actor."
"Stop sniping at your sister's choice of mate," said Aunt Rasa. "Kokot's Obririg is a dear, even if he has no talent whatsoever and not the breath of a chance that Koya will actually bear him a child, let alone renew him."
"A dear," said Sevet. "I'll have to remember what that word really means, now that you've told me."
Sevet got up to leave. Luet opened the door for her. But Aunt Rasa stopped her daughter before she left.
"Sevya, dear," she said. "The time may come when you have to choose between your father and me."
"The two of you have made me do that at least once a month since I was very small. I've managed to sidestep you both so far, and I intend to continue."
Rasa clapped her hands together-loudly, a sharp report like one stone striking another. "Listen to me, child. I know the dance that you've done, and I've both admired you for the way you did it and pitied you for the fact that it was necessary. What I'm saying to you is that soon-very soon-it may no longer be possible to do that dance. So it's time for you to look at both your parents and decide which one deserves your loyalty. I do not say love, because I know you love us both. I say loyalty."
"You shouldn't speak to me this way, Mother," said Sevet. "I'm not your student. And even if you succeeded in banning Father, that still wouldn't mean I'd have to choose between you."
"What if your father sent soldiers to silence me? Or tolchocks-which is more likely. What if it was a knife he paid for that slit your mother's throat?"
Sevet regarded her mother in silence. "Then I'd have a pichalny song to sing indeed, wouldn't I?"
"I believe that your father is the enemy of the Oversold, and the enemy of Basilica as well. Think about this seriously, my sad-voiced Sevet, think deep and long, because when the day of choosing comes there'll be no time to think."
"I have always honored you, Mother, for the fact that you never tried to turn me against my father, despite all the vile things he said about you. I'm sorry you have changed." With great dignity, Sevet swept herself from the room. Luet, still a bit stunned by the brutal nature of the conversation under the veneer of elegant speech, was slow to follow her out the door.