Selemei only sighed, and Pelli slowed, falling into a droop.
“Pelli, big girl, may I have that back? Bring over your puzzle if you want to play. Bring it over here next to us.”
Pelli lifted the emerald-helmed warrior and stared at it.
Selemei turned her attention back to the board and pointed to a junction. “I’ll put it there, whenever Pelli brings it back.” She glanced over. “Please, baby.”
Aven moved one of her pieces forward on a left diagonal.
“Not there,” said Corrim. It was the first he’d spoken in hours. He draped himself over the back of the couch next to her. “She’ll get you in entrapment. Use the inverse move instead.”
Aven pulled a face at him. “Mother, what happens if a piece crosses the whole board?”
It walks right off into darkness, like at the edge of the city-caverns. Like at the end of the world. Like in my dreams. And then it has to keep going anyway. One breath, one step, in this place with no air and no light.
Pelli’s soft fingers were tickling her hands. Selemei took a breath, and stroked them, and found the golden warrior had been returned, wearing a hat of twisted white paper. “Thank you, big girl. All right, so, Aven. The game changes once a warrior is able to cross the board, because—”
The vestibule curtain swished open, revealing Imbati Ustin.
“Mistress.” Ustin bowed. “I apologize for the interruption. I’ve learned that an emergency Cabinet meeting has been called for tonight. If you wish to attend, we must hurry.”
Hurry? What should I do? Selemei stood, searching the space around her for reasons to feel prepared. I should tell the children. “Children, I’m going to step out for a few minutes. It won’t be long. Corrim, why don’t you take my place at kuarjos? Pelli—” She bent and kissed her. “I love you, big girl. Be back soon, all right?”
“Mama back,” Pelli answered.
Selemei searched the room again, but found only absence and grief. “Am I ready?” she asked.
Grivi offered his arm. “You are dressed for guests, Mistress. That will be perfectly appropriate.”
Ustin nodded. “I’ll brief you on our way.”
Selemei tried to project confidence on her way to the front door so as not to alarm the children. It would be all right. Fedron would be there. She wouldn’t be alone.
And she had to be there.
“Mistress,” said Ustin, walking behind her right shoulder. “We must have you seated in the Cabinet room before any of the other members arrive. Can you walk faster?”
“Oh, yes.” She’d been fighting the urge to run along the carpeted hall; all she needed to do was give in slightly. And hold tighter to Grivi’s hand. She skipped a little, taking extra hops on her right foot.
“There are two types of votes, Mistress,” said Ustin. “Procedural votes are the ones that allow cabinet business to continue. For those, simply follow your cousin Grobal Fedron’s lead.”
“All right.”
“There are two legislative votes scheduled, so far as I know, in addition to the Indelis proposal.”
“Two?” The carpet ended where the corridor gave into the Residence’s central section. Selemei misstepped. Pain stabbed down the back of her left leg. “Aah!”
She hung on Grivi’s arm. The pain had flashed and gone, but not gone completely; it echoed. She gritted her teeth. This isn’t going to work. Why am I even trying?
Elinda help me, how can I not?
“Mistress,” Grivi murmured, “May I carry you?”
She shook her head vigorously. “No, no. It’s already bad enough—if people saw us…” Catching a silent exchange of looks between Ustin and Grivi, she frowned, and then realized the problem. The Cabinet chamber was upstairs. “How can I get upstairs, Ustin? I have to be there!”
“I have an idea,” Ustin replied. “Grivi, if you both would please meet me at the door of the Household Director’s office.” She loped off beneath the arch into the public foyers of the central section.
“Mistress,” said Grivi, slowly. “Can you walk?”
Hard to answer that question, but, “I will.” She managed it by focusing on the floor. Polished stone in one room, a carpet with geometric patterns in black and green. Ancient tile in the foyer before the Hall of the Eminence, worn to white mostly, but near the walls, still showing an intricate branching design in gold. Step by step.
The Imbati Household Director kept an office just beside the main front entrance; its bronze door was uncurtained because of the frequency of messengers, and today it stood open. Ustin returned to them as they drew nearer.
“I’ve spoken to Assistant Director Samirya,” she said, in a low voice. “We have permission. Let’s take her elbows.”
Grivi gave a reluctant-sounding grunt, but then Selemei found herself lifted a finger’s breadth from the floor and ushered at high speed toward the door. Just as they reached it, the two Imbati turned her sideways—and they went through.
Selemei gulped. This was not Grobal territory. On a tall metal stool sat a golden-skinned woman with straight hair pulled severely back from her crescent-cross Household tattoo. She looked up from an ordinator screen full of glowing green symbols, and regarded them with a fierce unwavering gaze.
“This once, Ustin,” she said.
Selemei was swept sideways again, and found herself in a tiny room with featureless metal walls, so close between Ustin and Grivi that they could not help but touch her. She clasped her hands together so as not to give offense in return.
The room lifted.
Selemei gasped. “An elevator?”
“It’s for messengers,” Grivi rumbled.
“And emergencies,” added Ustin. “I just hope we’ll be in time.”
Perhaps this brief respite had been just what she needed, because her leg took her weight better when she tested it. Here on the second floor, the open entrance of the elevator was covered with a curtain. Ustin stepped out, but swiftly ducked back in again.
“Gro—people in the hall, Grivi,” she said. “Let’s cross, while we still have Samirya’s permission.”
“Cross?” Selemei asked. She leaned on Grivi to enter the main hallway. Over there, beneath the arches, stood the cluster of men in question; strangers from other Families, with their Imbati. Even this far off, their raised voices sounded aggressive.
“Cabinet members, but they’re still attended,” said Ustin. “I’m guessing we have maybe three minutes before they go in.”
Again the two Imbati lifted her by the elbows, sweeping her across the hall, where Ustin lifted a curtain and let them through a door. Here the corridor was narrow and dim, and Grivi could only support her from behind. She tried to hurry, in spite of the risk. She didn’t belong here. What argument could Ustin possibly have used to justify allowing a Higher like her into the servants’ Maze?
Around a corner to the right was more light, through a series of windows on the left side. She gratefully used their stone sills to support herself, and then a door opened on her right.
She could feel eyes staring down at her as she entered—but they were only the painted eyes of dead Eminences. The room was empty.
Ustin and Grivi helped her ensconce herself in one of the tall-backed brass chairs. Xeref’s chair. It had none of his warmth or softness.
“Mistress.” Ustin pressed a paper into her hand. “These are the votes you will need to cast. The most important thing is, you must say you occupy this seat for the First Family.”
“I’m representing the First Family.”