Thrawn shook his head. “Perhaps later, but not yet. The Springhawk and Grayshrike are both damaged and effectively disarmed, offering only limited support for such an incursion.”
“I realize that,” Samakro said. “I’ll just point out that if we wait too long, whoever might still be down there could finish whatever they were doing and disappear.”
“Unlikely,” Thrawn said thoughtfully. “Whatever their purpose, it isn’t simply a grab-and-run. Not when they invested the time and effort to foment a civil war in order to keep the locals from interfering. No, I believe it’s a long-term investment and will keep until we can bring back a proper force.”
“Yes, sir,” Samakro said.
Which didn’t mean that the Battle Dreadnought’s masters might not summarily shut down their operation, taking whatever losses were necessary, rather than face a full Chiss battle force. Still, Thrawn’s instincts on this whole mission had been pretty much on the mark, while Samakro’s had been mostly off it. Not really a good position to argue from. “And after we’ve talked to the Magys?”
“We meet with Senior Captain Lakinda,” Thrawn said, gazing out the viewport. “And try to solve the mystery of what’s going on here.”
For Yoponek and his betrothed, the next five weeks were undoubtedly a dream come true. Thanks to the Agbui, the two Chiss—who had once worried about limited finances and resources during their wandering year—now had free passage, mostly free food, and final decisions on where their cultural nomad hosts traveled next.
For Haplif, those same five weeks were filled with careful observation, equally careful cultivation, and putting up with a lot of enthusiastic and nonsensical drivel from his guests.
It also brought his first real comprehension as to why he’d had such trouble penetrating the Ascendancy’s social and political structures.
Nine Ruling Families. Forty Great Families. Neither of those numbers was fixed, either—as recently as fifty years ago there had been ten ruling families, and at times throughout the historical record there had been as many as twelve and as few as three. Once, if Yoponek’s stories about the Stybla and the dawn of the Ascendancy were accurate, there had been only one.
The good news, at least for Haplif’s purposes, was that both Yoponek and Yomie were members of the Coduyo family, one of the Forty. The bad news was that neither of them had much knowledge of the current state of family politics. Haplif heard a great deal of gossip from them, plus a lot of history and historical anecdotes from Yoponek, and between them he was able to pull out a few important names. But there was never any hint that either of the travelers had the connections he needed to get a face-to-face with any of those names.
And connections were definitely needed. The Mitth and Obbic were allies, for example, with the Irizi and Ufsa aligned against them. The Chaf had a mild degree of opposition going with the Mitth, but weren’t particularly enthusiastic about the Irizi, either. The Dasklo and Clarr had their own rivalry going on in parallel with the others, while the Plikh and Boadil seemed to shift alliances as the need, the mood, or possibly just the current solar cycle required. And that didn’t even count the snarled social and political networks inside the Forty and between them and the Nine.
Plus there were the thousands of other families across the Ascendancy, some of which aspired to join the Forty, others of which were content to jockey for local power with other local families. Without contacts and an up-to-date mapping of the political landscape, there was no chance of getting anywhere.
It wasn’t just annoying, though it was certainly also that. The looming problem was that Jixtus’s timetable marked certain must-make tether points, and at the moment Haplif was on the edge of falling dangerously behind those goals. Shimkif, whose job was mainly to manage the ship and crew and who didn’t have to concern herself with all these cultural nuances, had already been on his case about it, and her reminders were getting more and more pointed.
And she was right. If Yoponek and Yomie didn’t come through soon with something useful, Haplif would have no choice but to cut the two Chiss loose and start over. That approach carried its own risks, not the least being that he might fall so far behind schedule he would never catch up. But at least then the Agbui could fly free again without having to cater to the travel whims of a couple of spoiled brats.
He had privately decided to give them two more days when the deadlock suddenly and unexpectedly broke.
“—and then old Yokado allegedly told Lakuviv to take a hyperspace leap straight back to Celwis,” Yoponek said, finishing yet another story with his usual flourish, nearly choking on his cromas nectar as he tried to drink, talk, and laugh at the same time. Yomie, sitting beside him, merely drained her own cup in silence. Clearly, she’d heard this one before. “It wasn’t the first time a Xodlak Councilor tried to get a Coduyo Patriarch to do what he wanted in front of witnesses,” Yoponek continued. “There are at least two other recorded instances in the past hundred fifty years. But even if it wasn’t the first, it was definitely the loudest.”
“I’m sure it was,” Haplif said, smiling perfunctorily, his mind racing across the tangle of names and connections Yoponek had just spread out in front of him. Celwis, a minor world in the grand scheme of things, but notable as a stronghold of the Xodlak family. Xodlak and Coduyo, two of the Forty who usually got along quite well together, both of whom had once been among the Ruling Families. Councilor Lakuviv, a local Xodlak official on Celwis who clearly had ambitions and frustrations and sounded like he might be open to someone offering relief on both counts.
It was the best entry point Haplif had seen yet. It might also be the best he was going to get. “Sounds like an interesting person,” he commented, taking the flask of nectar from the salon’s side table and topping off Yoponek’s cup.
“Yokado? I don’t think so.” Yoponek took a sip. “I mean, yes, he’s our Patriarch, but aside from that I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone call him interesting.”
“Not Yokado,” Haplif corrected, offering Yomie a refill. She shook her head, as he’d expected her to. “This Councilor Lakuviv. I don’t suppose you know him personally?”
“Me? Oh, no. Not at all.” Yoponek shook his head, as if his words hadn’t made it clear enough. “I’ve barely even heard his name. What makes you think he’s interesting?”
“A fiery spirit who directly and confidently pursues what he wants?” Haplif waved a hand in an all-encompassing gesture he’d picked up from his guests. “Such people are rare and priceless. Even without his position in the Xodlak family, that spirit alone would make him interesting.”
“Mm,” Yoponek said, taking a sip. “I suppose we can only guess about that.”
“Why can we only guess?” Haplif asked. “Why can’t we go meet him?”
Yoponek’s eyes widened. “What, you mean go to Celwis?”
“Why not?” Haplif countered. “We’ve already agreed he would be worth meeting and talking to. Our purpose in traveling the Chaos, after all, is to learn all we can about the cultures we meet. This Councilor Lakuviv would be well worth the journey.”
“I suppose,” Yoponek said, still sounding hesitant.
“Look at it this way,” Haplif urged. “You’re a student of history and historical figures. This Lakuviv—well, I have a strong sense he’s going to be one of the key figures to historians yet to come.” He lifted a finger. “Only you would get to see him now. You would get to see history as it’s being made.”