Ghreni made himself look thoughtful and silent and waited for Mount to notice. “What is it?” Mount finally said.
“This wasn’t something I was supposed to talk about.” Ghreni made himself talk haltingly. “For the last few months, the duke has quietly had me treating with the rebels to find out if there’s a way out of this mess. Their resources are stretched thin and so are ours. Both our sides are looking for an acceptable way out. But now the duke is dead. The rebels will want the ducal throne. If we don’t act quickly the rebellion will fracture into competing factions of leaders claiming the dukedom for themselves, which will make it worse for everyone else on End.”
“What do you suggest, then? That I do make this Onjsten woman the duke?”
Ghreni shook his head. “Has the duke’s death made the news yet?”
“No,” Mount said. “For the moment, all anyone knows is that the Count of Claremont is upstairs. They don’t know he,” Mount pointed at the duke, “is down here. That won’t last, though.”
“I can reach Onjsten as soon as you and I stop talking. Let me offer her an immediate truce, acceptance of several of the rebels’ political goals, and a title for her.”
“Which title?”
“Countess.”
“Of Claremont?” Mount said, sarcastically.
“Possibly, if it becomes vacant after a trial. But you said several counts have fled. Give her one of those vacant titles. Lesser titles for her lieutenants. General amnesty for her fighters. We can end this now, with a single call.”
“That’s a lot for a single call to do,” Mount observed.
“It’s not the call, it’s the months of work before it,” Ghreni said. “Her people and I already have most of this hammered out in principle. This would just be us implementing it.”
“And if Onjsten doesn’t agree?”
“Then I tell her the Imperial Marines are stepping in.”
Mount stiffened. “We have no intention of doing that, Lord Ghreni.”
“Of course not! But she doesn’t have to know that, and it makes fine leverage. I’ll be saying ‘Have everything you want or the Interdependency will crush you.’ It’s motivation to act.”
“You’re confident you can do this?”
“I think it’s the best chance we have right now. And the best chance we’ll have for a long time.”
Mount nodded. “Do it.”
“The thing is, Sir Ontain, I don’t have the formal power to do any of this. Yet.”
Ghreni waited for Mount to figure out what it was he was saying, which didn’t take long, because Mount wasn’t stupid. Then Ghreni had to wait while Mount weighed everything that had just happened in his head. He watched as microexpressions flashed across Mount’s face—the realization that Ghreni had basically walked him into a trap where Mount would have to give him what he wanted; irritation that he’d been that easily maneuvered; suspicion that Ghreni might have orchestrated the assassination outright for this very purpose; veiled admiration if that was in fact the case; recognition that this rebellion was a goddamned stupid mess and that the sooner it was over, by whatever means, the better off everyone would be; resignation that this sneaky little Nohamapetan was probably the best chance Mount had to get this whole shitshow off his hands quickly.
Ghreni knew Mount was going to offer him the dukedom probably a few hundredths of a second before Mount did.
“All right, Lord Ghreni,” Mount said. “Get a cease-fire in the next hour and a truce in the next twenty-four and you’re acting duke. I’ll start the paperwork for the recommendation to make it stick. But I want to be clear with you about this, my young friend. If I discover that the assassination of the duke is in any way different than how you’ve related it to me here, your dukedom is going to be a three-meter-by-three-meter cell for the rest of your natural life. And I will make it my personal business to assure you live a very long life indeed. Are we clear?”
“Of course, Sir Ontain.”
“Then congratulations, Lord Ghreni, provisional Duke of End. Get to work.” Mount strode out of the morgue. Ghreni suppressed the urge to pump his fists in joy.
One hour later he’d secured the cease-fire and dispatched people to get to work on the treaty. He hadn’t had to threaten General Onjsten with the Imperial Marines, of course; she was working for him anyway.
Two hours later he’d informed Captain Wimson of the Red Rose that payment for the ship damages and the weapons would be forthcoming pending Ghreni’s formal installation as acting duke, so please be patient and don’t have him murdered.
Three hours later the new acting Duke of End was informed that the Count of Claremont was awake and cognizant. Ghreni decided to pay him a visit, and ordered everyone, including the six Imperial Marines, to wait on the other side of the door. They complied, although not happily. Ghreni took the chair in the corner of the room and sat it next to the hospital bed, so he could talk very quietly to the count.
“I’m the Duke of End now,” he said to the count.
“Congratulations,” the count said, after a moment. There was a distinct lack of enthusiasm to his voice.
Nevertheless Ghreni nodded. “Thank you. Now, here’s the thing. You and I need to get our stories straight. The story is, you assassinated the duke for ordering me to kidnap your son. You two had an argument, you pulled your pistol, he pulled a bolt thrower, you don’t remember anything after that because the stun bolt messed with your memory.”
“You want me to confess to murder.”
“Yes. Yes, I do.”
“Not a great plan you have, Lord Ghreni.”
Ghreni ignored the count’s refusal to upgrade his title. “Here’s what I’ll give you in return. You’ll be sentenced for the murder but I’ll allow you to serve your sentence under house arrest at Claremont. You’ll abdicate your title and I’ll make sure it goes to your daughter rather than it being taken from you in disgrace. You’ll give up your job as imperial auditor and I’ll install someone of my own choosing in that role. But I’ll make sure you keep your pension and I’ll add a stipend to it to keep up your residence. You keep your mouth shut about everything to everyone, including your daughter. Oh, also, you tell her not to try to murder me in the night.”
The count snorted at this. Ghreni pressed on.
“If you agree to everything, in five years, I’ll pardon you. I’ll say that the late duke had threatened you and your family to such an extent you felt you had no choice. You were under extreme duress. And since I was there for all of it, I’m in a position to confirm that. So that’s it. Confess, five years at home, and then a pardon.”
The count laughed, weakly.
“Why are you laughing?” Ghreni demanded.
“Lord Ghreni, you have no idea what’s coming in the next five years,” the count said.
“On the contrary, Claremont, I do. Changes are coming. End is going to become the heart of the Interdependency. All paths will lead to here.”
“No. No paths will lead to here. In five years we’ll be alone. It’s a physical certainty.”
Ghreni began to feel uncomfortable and realized it was the count’s last sentence that did it. “What do you mean?”
“Why do you think I sent my son away, Lord Ghreni. At this specific time?”
“To escape the fighting here, and to complain to the emperox about me kidnapping him.” The latter was why Ghreni wanted Marce out of the way if he couldn’t be retrieved. Ghreni wasn’t sure how much pull the Count of Claremont had at the imperial court, but he knew Nadashe and Amit wouldn’t appreciate a report from End about his actions making their lives harder.
The count shook his head. “I had him leave now because if he didn’t, it would be impossible for him to ever leave.”
Ghreni was puzzled. “Are you talking about the Flow stream?” What would an imperial auditor know about Flow streams? The count’s specialty was taxes, not phys—
“Oh my God,” Ghreni said, and openly stared at the count. “You’re him.”
The Count of Claremont seemed puzzled but amused. “Who am I, Lord Ghreni?”