Seivarden gestured abortively, arms still tightly crossed, one elbow lifting slightly. “It doesn’t sound like it’s worth the trouble.”
Inspector Supervisor Skaaiat gestured ambivalence. “You’ll be fed and sheltered here in any event, citizen.” She turned to me. “And you, honored. You’re here as a tourist?”
“Yes.” I smiled, looking, I hoped, very much like a tourist from the Gerentate.
“You’re a very long way from home.” Inspector Supervisor Skaaiat smiled, politely, as though the observation were an idle one.
“I’ve been traveling a long time.” Of course she—and by implication others—were curious about me. I had arrived in company with Seivarden. Most of the people here wouldn’t know her name, but those who did would be attracted by the staggering unlikelihood of her having been found after a thousand years, and the connection to an event as notorious as Garsedd.
Still smiling pleasantly, Inspector Supervisor Skaaiat asked, “Looking for something? Avoiding something? Just like to travel?”
I made a gesture of ambiguity. “I suppose I like to travel.”
Inspector Supervisor Skaaiat’s eyes narrowed slightly at my tone of voice, muscles tensing just perceptibly around her mouth. She thought, it seemed, that I was hiding something, and she was interested now, and more curious than before.
For an instant I wondered why I’d answered the way I had. And realized that Inspector Supervisor Skaaiat’s being here was incredibly dangerous to me—not because she might recognize me, but because I recognized her. Because she was alive and Lieutenant Awn was not. Because everyone of her standing had failed Lieutenant Awn (I had failed Lieutenant Awn), and no doubt if then–Lieutenant Skaaiat had been put to the test, she would have failed as well. Lieutenant Awn herself had known this.
I was in danger of my emotions affecting my behavior. They already had, they always did. But I had never been confronted with Skaaiat Awer until now.
“My response is ambiguous, I know,” I said, making that placatory gesture Inspector Supervisor Skaaiat had already used. “I’ve never questioned my desire to travel. When I was a baby, my grandmother said she could tell from the way I took my first steps that I was born to go places. She kept on saying it. I suppose I’ve just always believed it.”
Inspector Supervisor Skaaiat gestured acknowledgment. “It would be a shame to disappoint your grandmother, in any event. Your Radchaai is very good.”
“My grandmother always said I’d better study languages.”
Inspector Supervisor Skaaiat laughed. Almost as I remembered her from Ors, but still that trace of gravity. “Forgive me, honored, but do you have gloves?”
“I meant to buy some before we boarded, but I decided to wait and buy the right sort. I hoped I’d be forgiven my bare hands on arrival since I’m an uncivilized foreigner.”
“An argument could be made for either approach,” Inspector Supervisor Skaaiat said, still smiling. A shade more relaxed than moments before. “Though.” A serious turn. “You speak very well, but I don’t know how much you understand other things.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Which things?”
“I don’t wish to be indelicate, honored. But Citizen Seivarden doesn’t appear to have any money in her possession.” Beside me, Seivarden grew tense again, tightened her jaw, swallowed something she had been about to say. “Parents,” continued Inspector Supervisor Skaaiat, “buy clothes for their children. The temple gives gloves to attendants—flower-bearers and water-bearers and such. That’s all right, because everyone owes loyalty to God. And I know from your entrance application that you’ve employed Citizen Seivarden as your servant, but…”
“Ah.” I understood her. “If I buy gloves for Citizen Seivarden—which she clearly needs—it will look as though I’ve offered her clientage.”
“Just so,” agreed Inspector Supervisor Skaaiat. “Which would be fine if that’s what you intended. But I don’t think things work that way in the Gerentate. And honestly…” She hesitated, clearly on delicate ground again.
“And honestly,” I finished for her, “she’s got a difficult legal situation that might not be helped by her association with a foreigner.” My normal habit was expressionlessness. I could keep my anger out of my voice easily. I could speak to Inspector Supervisor Skaaiat as though she were not in any way connected with Lieutenant Awn, as though Lieutenant Awn had had no anxieties or hopes or fears about future patronage from her. “Even a rich one.”
“I’m not sure I’d say it quite that way,” began Inspector Supervisor Skaaiat.
“I’ll just give her some money now,” I said. “That should take care of it.”