As she did that first night, when the siblings were all gathered in Xi’an to celebrate the birthday of Rennered Wu, the crown prince, whom Nadashe had so recently begun negotiations with, in regards to a marriage.
“He’s a prick,” Ghreni had said, to his sister, after the three of them had departed the festivities and decamped to the Nohamapetan apartments, not too far from the imperial palace.
“I kind of like him,” Amit replied. Amit was lounged on a chaise, a glass of Nohamapetan shiraz in his hand. The shiraz was contraband, or would be if anyone other than the Nohamapetans themselves were to drink it; the House of Patric owned the monopoly on grapes and all their products. But when the Interdependency was formed, and the monopolies parceled out, the existing Nohamapetan grape stock was grandfathered in, for the family’s private use only. The house’s famous shiraz, acknowledged to be one of the finest outside the now-lost environs of Earth, was now accessible only if one was a Nohamapetan. Or one of their guests, for a small private party or perhaps even something more intimate. It was not unheard of for especially fervent oenophiles to proposition Nohamapetans on the chance there might be a particularly vintage bottle in the offing.
“You would,” Ghreni said. From his point of view, Rennered Wu and his brother were cut out of the same boring, playboy-ish cloth. Ghreni didn’t dislike Amit, nor did Amit dislike Ghreni, but in their adult years they didn’t spend all that much time with each other. They both had friends who were more suitably interesting to each of them.
Ghreni didn’t spend that much time with his sister, either, although not for lack of interest. It’s just that Nadashe had plans. When they involved Ghreni, he saw her. When they didn’t, he didn’t. The fact that she had dragged them both back to her apartments, minus their escorts for the evening, meant that her plans involved them in some way.
But she wasn’t telling them what they were yet, so Ghreni decided to needle her, just for fun. “And what’s your excuse, Nada? Why are you consorting with that stiff Rennered?”
Nadashe, standing behind Amit’s chaise, reached over and took her brother’s wineglass from him and took a swig. Amit protested mildly but shut up when it was returned to him. “You mean, aside from the fact that one day he will be emperox and that allying with the imperial house will give our family an unassailable position among the guilds, and that one of my children will be the next emperox, forever embedding our interests into the fabric of the Interdependency?”
“Yes,” Ghreni said. “Besides that.”
“He’s an acceptable dancer.”
“Well,” Ghreni said, looking over to his brother, who rolled his eyes. “That’s something.”
“There’s also another reason, which is why I brought the two of you here tonight.” She took the glass from Amit again.
“Stop that,” Amit said.
“No,” Nadashe said, and walked the glass over to the bar. “I need you sober for this part. You’ll get the glass back when I’m done.”
“I already don’t like whatever this is,” Amit said.
“What’s going on, Nada?” Ghreni asked.
“Just the future,” Nadashe replied, and then told the house computer to dim the lights and bring a presentation on a monitor. The presentation contained a map of the Interdependency, with the major Flow streams highlighted, all centering on Hub.
“This is the future?” Amit asked.
“This is the present,” Nadashe said. Then she snapped her fingers and the map changed—not the star systems of the Interdependency but the Flow streams, which rearranged themselves, drastically in some cases. Most notably, the space around Hub, previously crowded with the inward and outgoing vectors of the Flow, was now populated by only three streams, two incoming and one outgoing. A different system was now the hub of the majority of Flow streams, its space crowded with the representations of the traffic going in and going out.
It was End.
“This is the future,” Nadashe said.
Ghreni got up and walked closer to the monitor, studying the new map. “Where did you get this?”
“I have a friend from university who grew up to be a Flow physicist,” she said. “My friend was casting about for something to do her doctoral thesis on and she came across a monograph about a potential long-term shift in the Flow. The person who wrote the monograph never did anything with it. She tracked down his information and he’d become a tax collector for the Interdependency. So she followed up, worked the data, and came to the conclusion that after more than a thousand years of relative stability, the Flow streams are about to shift, probably to this map.”
“When?” Amit asked.
“She says the data indicate it’s already starting. First slowly but then quicker and quicker. It’ll probably start in the next decade.” Nadashe pointed at the monitor. “This map is likely to be what the Interdependency looks like in thirty years, she says.”
Ghreni furrowed his brow. “‘Likely’? What does that mean?”
“She’s modeling what she sees as the most probable pattern of collapses and shifts, based on her data set. She says this pattern has an eighty-five percent probability of being what things will be once the pattern stabilizes. And when it stabilizes, it’ll likely hold for another thousand years.”
Ghreni pointed. “And she’s sure End is going to be the place all those streams are going to focus on.”
Nadashe nodded. “She says that’s actually the most predictable part of the shift. It’s happened before, apparently. The shift of the Flow streams. Her data suggests the locus of the Flow activity switches off between Hub and End every thousand or two thousand years. There’s a less than one chance in a hundred thousand that some other system will be the focus of the Flow streams.”
“All right, but so what?” Amit said.
“So whoever controls the system the Flow streams are focused in controls the Interdependency,” Ghreni said.
“At least one brother is paying attention,” Nadashe said, smiling.
“But we don’t control that system,” Amit pointed out. “We’re in the Terhathum system.”
“That’s the present,” Nadashe said, and then pointed again at the monitor. “This is the future.”
“There’s already a Duke of End,” Ghreni told his sister.
“There is one,” Nadashe agreed. “But historically they don’t stick around very long. They get deposed often enough that when there’s yet another rebellion, the Interdependency’s policy is to let them fight it out and then pass on the dukedom to whoever’s left standing.”
“You want to depose the current duke?”
“No, I want you to depose him, Ghreni.”
“What? Why me?”
“Because Amit’s busy preparing to take over the family business, and I’m busy trying to merge our line with the emperox’s. You’re the only one not currently busy.”
“I’m busy,” Ghreni said, and he was. He was a vice president of marketing for the house, which was a suitable position for him, given his age and work experience. After a certain point in time he’d leave that position to become part of the house board of directors and he’d have the option of coasting, just as third children of all the major houses did.
“You’re not that busy. And besides if we put you in charge of our interests on End, that would be a promotion. Which would look good for you, and is a natural progression in your career.”
“But it’s on End.”
“And?”
“There’s nothing on End. That’s why it’s called End.”
“The future is on End, Ghreni. We’re going to need you there so we can be ready when it happens.”
“You’re already planning to marry into the imperial house, Nada,” Amit said. “If you’re going to do that, then why do we even need Ghreni on End?”
“You want to answer that one?” Nadashe asked Ghreni.