Imbati Grivi lifted the pot, nodded, and refreshed her now-cooled teacup. Selemei sighed, pressing its edge into her lower lip, inhaling the steam. In a way, the utter failure of her subtlety had taught her what was out there—fear, despair, thirst, fury, and lots and lots of arguing. Keir had come out unscathed, at least.
But her own satisfaction with Xeref’s proposal had not. Teifi demonstrated that any legislation of this nature would be strongly resisted; and Ryoe was correct that gentlemen would seize upon any excuse to dismiss restrictions on their behavior, even if it passed.
“Grivi,” she said, “how soon can we be ready to go out?”
“I know of nothing that would prevent us going now, Mistress.”
“I need to discuss this with Xeref. Our proposal needs some revisions.”
Once she had given herself permission to go to Xeref’s office—this was official legislative business, after all—her resolve outpaced her ability to walk there. Selemei left the suites wing and began to cross the central section, but her left hip twinged; she squeezed her Grivi’s hand for a pause. By the tall bronze doors of the Hall of the Eminence, she cast an eye about, but saw only Imbati child messengers flitting through, and Arissen guards, powerful and still in their orange uniforms. No one to care if she shook her leg a bit.
After a few seconds, she tested her weight on the foot. Workable. A bit more slowly, they crossed into the offices wing. Xeref’s was the first door on the left.
All five young men in the front office stopped what they were doing as she walked in. One of them was her son, Brinx. He sprang up from the steel desk he’d been leaning on, and straightened the hem of his malachite-striped coat.
“Mother? Holy Sirin’s luck!” he exclaimed, grinning. “Fedron sent me over here only ten minutes ago; we’ve been going over the minutes of the last Cabinet meeting. If you’d come five minutes earlier, I’d have been busy; five minutes later, and I’d have been back next door.” He kissed her cheek. “Would you like to come see where I work?”
Selemei smiled. As a child, Brinx had told stories to her for hours—even conversed with the vaulted ceilings when no one else was available. These days, she was seldom the recipient of that bright attention.
“I’d love to, treasure, but I’ve come to see your father.”
Brinx pulled a sober face. “Of course. Shall I take you in? I don’t think he has another meeting for at least sixteen minutes.”
“Yes, please.”
Brinx resumed bubbling while she followed him to the inner door. “You’re lucky that he’s in there by himself right now. He’s had all sorts of meetings today, and messengers—we’ve gotten five of them at least. Six, I think, actually. Yeah, six. It’s because of the stir, of course. The one Father started when he announced his Indelis proposal. We’ve never been so busy—” He pushed the door open a crack. “Sir? Father, Mother’s here.”
“Selemei? Come in, come in!” Xeref came to her quickly; his blue eyes searched her with concern, but when she smiled at him, he brightened. She released Grivi’s hand to take his.
“Everything’s fine, dear,” she said. “I need to talk to you about the proposal.”
“I hope you’re not worrying, Mother,” said Brinx. “Our conversations are going well.” He raised one finger. “ ‘Give them the respite, gentlemen. Think first of the health of your partner if you wish a healthy child, and the blood of the Race will grow stronger!’”
“We don’t vote for another week or so,” Xeref explained. “This is the part where we sound people out and argue for the idea. Our most powerful argument is exactly what Brinx says, and people are responding well to it. I’m optimistic.”
Hearing her earlier thought put so differently made her doubt any of these gentlemen were serious about real retirement. “Have you changed any part of the proposal?” she asked. “Added anything?”
“No. Why do you ask?”
“Well, have you talked with anyone about how to enforce it?”
“Mother, don’t worry,” said Brinx. “Kartunnen will do as they’re told.”
Kartunnen? She flashed him a look. “It’s not them I’m worried about, Brinx, it’s the gentlemen. No one will want to give up their chance to benefit the Race. They’ll cling to excuses.” The incredulity on his face forced her to search for examples that filled her with distaste. “No, she wasn’t injured enough; or, no, we had a good doctor so she wasn’t really in any danger.”
Brinx pursed his lips into the same wanting-to-protest moue that he always had as a child. She rolled her eyes and turned to her partner.
“You know they will, Xeref.”
Xeref looked at her in silence for a moment. “Yes,” he sighed. “I imagine they will. Should we specify that the doctor must have assessed the risk of death at greater than fifty percent?”
She shuddered. “Do Kartunnen do that? Isn’t that… heartless of them?”
“Not every time, I don’t imagine.”
“Fifty percent seems low,” put in Brinx. “Maybe it should be sixty.”
“Brinx,” said Xeref, “you might want to think carefully before you say something like that. I wrote the proposal for your mother.”
“Wasn’t it for Lady Indelis?” Brinx exclaimed, but his face fell quickly from puzzlement to shock. “Oh. Mother, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”
Selemei found his hand and squeezed it. “Well, you can see, can’t you, why we can’t have this be negotiable?”
“I see what you’re saying,” said Brinx. “The problem is, negotiation is exactly what this part of the process is for.”
“But, treasure, that’s what I’m doing right now. Negotiating it.” Selemei turned back to Xeref. “How many men do you know who would be willing to bargain the continuation of their families against their partners’ lives? How many are doing this already? Speaking over a doctor’s word in the name of ending the decline?” Xeref was too frustrating in his silence. “Xeref,” she insisted. “You know how easy it is to speak over a doctor’s word. How dangerous it is.”
“Father, did you—” Brinx began, but Xeref raised his hand and stopped him with a glance.
“Selemei, my jewel, you’re right. But no one will agree to give up such power to Kartunnen.”
“The power doesn’t need to be in the Kartunnen,” she explained, carefully restraining her tone. “Neither should it be; as Lowers, they lack final authority. Put this in the law itself. Make a list of risks, of injuries, and how serious they are. Take it out of everyone’s hands, as if it were the will of Elinda.”
“Father, you’d still have to get the list from a Kartunnen,” said Brinx.
“Brinx, I know how to get lists from Kartunnen,” Xeref replied, and Brinx blushed. “Thank you, Selemei. I’ll send my Ustin tomorrow morning.”
“Come see my desk, Mother,” said Brinx.
“I’m not finished, though,” Selemei said. “There’s another problem. A more serious one. A more private one.”
“Which one?” Xeref asked.
She squirmed inside. Might this be easier to discuss if Brinx weren’t here? Possibly, but saying ‘rape’ was awful, regardless. She dodged the word. “Well, we’ve talked about the will of Mother Elinda, but we haven’t spoken about her partner.”
“Father Varin?” Brinx raised his eyebrows. “Do you mean what punishment to levy for transgression? That’s for the joint cabinet to decide.”
She sighed. “Brinx, love, I’ll lend you my copy of the Ancient Stories when your brother has finished reading it.” Selemei opened her hands to Xeref, who was staring at her silently, with a wrinkle deepening over his nose. “Remember, Father Varin gnashes the wicked in his fiery teeth in atonement for his own transgressions.” Still, no recognition in Xeref’s eyes. “The transgressions that led Mother Elinda to reject him.”