Or did her sympathies place her on the other side of some political dividing line? And after all, where was Skaaiat Awer likely to fall, in a divided Radch? Unless something had happened to change her personality and opinions drastically, I thought I knew where Skaaiat Awer would land in that toss. Captain Vel—and for that matter Mercy of Kalr—I didn’t know well enough to say.
As for Seivarden, I was under no illusions as to where her sympathies would lie, given a choice between citizens who kept their proper places along with an expanding, conquering Radch, or no more annexations and the elevation of citizens with the wrong accents and antecedents. I was under no illusions as to what Seivarden’s opinion of Lieutenant Awn would have been, had they ever met.
The place where Captain Vel customarily took tea was not prominently marked. It didn’t need to be. It was probably not at the very top of fashion and society—not unless Osck’s fortunes had soared in the last twenty years. But it was still the sort of place that if you didn’t already know it was there you were almost certainly not welcome. The place was dark and the sound muffled—rugs and hangings absorbed echoes or unwanted noises. Stepping in from the noisy corridor it was as though I had suddenly put my hands over my ears. Groups of low chairs surrounded small tables. Captain Vel sat in one corner, flasks and bowls of tea and a half-empty tray of pastries on the table in front of her. The chairs were full, and an outer circle had been pulled around.
They had been here for at least an hour. Seivarden had said to me before we left the room, blandly, still irritated, that of course I wouldn’t want to rush out to tea. If she’d been in a better mood she would have told me straight out that I should arrive late. It had been my own inclination even before she spoke, so I said nothing and let her have the satisfaction of thinking she’d influenced me, if she wished to have it.
Captain Vel saw me and rose, bowing. “Ah, Breq Ghaiad. Or is it Ghaiad Breq?”
I made my own bow in return, taking care that it was precisely as shallow as hers had been. “In the Gerentate we put our house names first.” The Gerentate didn’t have houses the way Radchaai did, but it was the only term Radchaai had for a name that indicated family relationship. “But I am not in the Gerentate at the moment. Ghaiad is my house name.”
“You’ve already put it in the right order for us then!” Captain Vel said, falsely jovial. “Very thoughtful.” I couldn’t see Seivarden, who stood behind me. I wondered briefly what expression was on her face, and also why Captain Vel had invited me here if her every interaction with me was going to be mildly insulting.
Station was certainly watching me. It would see at least traces of my annoyance. Captain Vel would not. And likely would not care if she could have.
“And Captain Seivarden Vendaai,” Captain Vel continued, and made another bow, noticeably deeper than the one before. “An honor, sir. A distinct honor. Do sit.” She gestured to chairs near her own, and two elegantly attired and bejeweled Radchaai rose to make way for us, no complaint or expression of resentment apparent.
“Your pardon, Captain,” said Seivarden. Bland. The correctives from the day before had come off, and she looked very nearly what she had been a thousand years ago, the wealthy and arrogant daughter of a highly placed house. In a moment she would sneer and say something sarcastic, I was sure, but she didn’t. “I no longer deserve the rank. I am the honored Breq’s servant.” Slight stress on honored, as though Captain Vel might be ignorant of the appropriate courtesy title and Seivarden meant merely to politely and discreetly inform her. “And I thank you for the invitation she was good enough to convey to me.” There it was, a hint of disdain, though it was possible only someone who knew her well would hear it. “But I have duties to attend to.”
“I’ve given you the afternoon off, citizen,” I said before Captain Vel could answer. “Spend it however you like.” No reaction from Seivarden, and still I couldn’t see her face. I took one of the seats cleared for us. A lieutenant had sat there previously, doubtless one of Captain Vel’s officers. Though I saw more brown uniforms here than a small ship like Mercy of Kalr could account for.