“You’re saying,” said Strigan, disbelieving, appalled, “that the Presger set the Garseddai up in order to compel Anaander Mianaai to negotiate.”
“I am speaking of Mianaai’s reaction, Mianaai’s motives. I don’t know or understand the Presger. But I imagine if the Presger meant to compel anything, it would be unmistakable. Unsubtle. I think it was meant merely as a suggestion. If indeed that had anything to do with their actions.”
“All of that, a suggestion.”
“They’re aliens. Who can understand them?”
“Nothing you can do,” she said, after five seconds of silence, “can possibly make any difference.”
“That’s probably true.”
“Probably.”
“If everyone who had…” I searched for the right words. “If everyone who objected to the destruction of the Garseddai had refused, what would have happened?”
Strigan frowned. “How many refused?”
“Four.”
“Four. Out of…?”
“Out of thousands.” Each Justice alone, in those days, had hundreds of officers, along with its captain, and dozens of us had been there. Add the smaller-crewed Mercies and Swords. “Loyalty, the long habit of obedience, a desire for revenge—even, yes, those four deaths kept anyone else from such a drastic choice.”
“There were enough of your sort to deal with even everyone refusing.”
I said nothing, waited for the change of expression that would tell me she had thought twice about what she had just said. When it came, I said, “I think it might have turned out differently.”
“You’re not one of thousands!” Strigan leaned forward, unexpectedly vehement. Seivarden started out of her sleep, looked at Strigan, alarmed and bleary.
“There are no others on the edge of choosing,” Strigan said. “No one to follow your lead. And even if there were, you by yourself wouldn’t be enough. If you even get as far as facing Mianaai—facing one of Mianaai’s bodies—you’ll be alone and helpless. You’ll die without achieving anything!” She made a breathy, impatient sound. “Take your money.” She gestured toward my pack, leaning against the bench I sat on. “Buy land, buy rooms on a station, hell, buy a station! Live the life that was denied you. Don’t sacrifice yourself for nothing.”
“Which me are you talking to?” I asked. “Which life that was denied me do you intend I live? Should I send you monthly reports, so you can be sure my choices meet with your approval?”
That silenced her, for a full twenty seconds.
“Breq,” said Seivarden, as though testing the sound of the name in her mouth, “I want to leave.”
“Soon,” I answered. “Be patient.” To my utter surprise she didn’t object, but leaned back against a bench and put her arms around her knees.
Strigan looked speculatively at her for a moment, then turned to me. “I need to think.” I gestured acknowledgment and she rose and went into her room and shut the door.
“What’s her problem?” asked Seivarden, apparently innocent of irony. Voice just slightly contemptuous. I didn’t answer, only looked at her, not changing my expression. The blankets had marked a line across her cheek, fading now, and her clothes, the Nilter trousers and quilted shirt under the unfastened inner coat, were wrinkled and disheveled. In the past several days of regular food, and no kef, her skin had regained a slightly healthier-looking color, but she still looked thin and tired. “Why are you bothering with her?” she asked me, undisturbed by my scrutiny. As though something had shifted and she and I were suddenly comrades. Fellows.
Surely not equals. Not ever. “Business I need to attend to.” More explanation would be useless, or foolish, or both. “Are you having trouble sleeping?”
Something subtle in her expression communicated withdrawal, closure. I wasn’t on her side anymore. She sat silent for ten seconds, and I thought she wouldn’t speak to me anymore that night, but instead she drew a long breath and let it out. “Yeah. I… I need to move around. I’m going to go outside.”
Something had definitely changed, but I didn’t know quite what it was, or what had caused it.
“It’s night,” I said. “And very cold. Take your outer coat and gloves and don’t go too far.”
She gestured acquiescence, and even more astonishingly, put on her outer coat and gloves before going out the two doors without a single bitter word, or even a resentful glance.
And what did I care? She would wander off and freeze, or she would not. I arranged my own blankets and lay down to sleep, without waiting to see if Seivarden came back safe or not.