Ingray’s room was hardly the largest in the house, but it had its own small bath (enormous luxury after the even smaller facility on Captain Uisine’s ship) and a window that looked out onto the rainy garden. Garal sat on a bench by a gold-and-mother-of-pearl-inlaid dressing table, drinking serbat, wearing a lungi Ingray had found, though it wrapped nearly twice around em and ended several more inches above eir ankles than was strictly fashionable. As e drank, e looked at the vestiges hung on the wall behind the dressing table, and Ingray found herself just a bit embarrassed. Invitations to parties that mattered to no one but her, including one to her own majority dinner. A few mass-produced vestiges, from places Ingray had visited, garish pink or orange blobs of glass or plastic or wood with place names and dates printed on them; a few leaves and flowers cased in resin; a strip made up of a dozen or so small folded and interlocked pieces of paper, from a friend she barely remembered and hadn’t seen since she’d come to live with Netano Aughskold. Garal, the expert, surely knew a valuable vestige when e saw one. What must e be thinking, looking at these?
It shouldn’t matter. She had never cared about the kind of vestige collection that had so absorbed Danach. She sat on her rolled-up mattress, toweling the ends of her hair dry, reminding herself that there were other, more important things to worry about. “Are you,” she asked, setting her towel into her lap for a moment, “thinking what I’m thinking?”
E turned away from eir examination of her vestiges. “Are you wondering just exactly how big a bribe those two would have brought to get Netano Aughskold to help them get permits to dig up Eswae Parkland?”
Ingray blinked in surprise. “Not exactly.” She already knew how much that might cost. Or at least, she knew how much it would take for Netano to entertain these people and maybe lead them to believe she might get them the permits they wanted. It would be a very large number. And probably a cut of the future sale of any usable pieces of ruin glass they (or anyone else) wanted to remove, just as a sweetener on top. Picking up her towel again, she said, “You’re right, though, it must be huge. But the Omkem Federacy has been trying for the past five or six years to get the Assemblies of Hwae to agree to let a military fleet through our gate to Byeit.”
“Because the Omkem/Byeit gate is down, and that was Omkem’s most convenient access to Tyr.”
“Yes,” Ingray agreed. “They want to restore that gate but they can’t do it unless they control both ends of it, the Omkem end and the Byeit end. And the Omkem Federacy has ships that can make their own gates, but I suppose they don’t have enough of them to recover Byeit.” She set her towel in her lap. “They really don’t like having to make that extra gate trip through Hwae to get to Tyr.”
“No, of course they don’t,” Garal replied. “And if I were a Tyr executive, I’d have been very happy to see the Omkem/Byeit gate go down. The Omkem Federacy may not be as large as it used to be, but it’s never been content with just being able to go somewhere. They’d much rather own it outright.”
Or at least run it. And Omkem, unlike Byeit (or Hwae for that matter), didn’t share a gate with Tyr. If the Omkem Federacy wanted to resume their unfettered access to Tyr and its dozens of gates, they’d have to rebuild that Byeit gate somehow. “I wonder what Mama is thinking, taking such a large contribution from them.” Certainly such a large amount of money coming to Netano from the Federacy would look as though it was meant to secure political favors, no matter these visitors’ stated purpose. And Ingray had spent far too long in Netano’s household to believe any contribution was innocent.
“I thought that was odd, too,” agreed Garal. “But isn’t it coming up on campaign season? She could use that money to have another go at prolocutor, and win or lose, if the Omkem try to call in too many favors she couldn’t go wrong publicly denouncing their expansionist ambitions and their transparent attempt to manipulate Hwaean affairs. My …” E closed eir mouth suddenly on the rest of what e had been about to say. “I doubt there’s a politician in this system who hasn’t taken Federacy money in one form or another. Netano may be thinking that, or thinking another run at prolocutor is worth it. I’m not sure this is a good decision on her part, though.”
Ingray paused for a moment before replying. “Surely it’s obvious to the Federacy that if she were one of the four prolocutors she wouldn’t be able to do the things they probably want and keep her office? She’ll have to repudiate them if they try to get anything substantial out of her. So maybe that’s not what these people are after.” Except if Ingray’s guess was right, the amount of money would doubtless raise suspicions that Netano’s political opponents could use to their advantage.
Before Garal could reply, the door to the hallway opened, and Danach came in, a tray in one hand. “A servant was bringing you some bread and cheese to tide you over till supper, but I told em I’d do it.” He smiled insincerely.
“How nice of you,” said Ingray with just as much sincerity as he set the tray down on a small table.
Danach sat on the floor, next to the table. Leaned against it in a way meant to show off his height and breadth to advantage—he knew he was Netano’s favorite, and he knew he was far better-looking than Ingray. Still smiling, he said, “So I’d ask you how much you were willing to pay me to not tell Netano what you’re doing, but as far as I can tell you’re completely broke.”
This—this was an old, familiar game. Ingray widened her smile. “I wasn’t aware there was anything I was doing that Mama might want to know,” she said, sweetly. “And I’m sure if there were, you’d eventually tell her anyway, no matter how much I paid you.”
“Well, for one thing, you lied when you said you hadn’t gotten the news about the Geck until you were halfway down the elevator,” said Danach. “I talked to Oro and he told me he met you on the station—you looked a mess, he said—and told you himself. You were just off a ship from Tyr Siilas. So I knew you were on your way home. With someone else, whose fare you were paying. It made me curious, so I took a look at who it was and, Ingray, if you’d wanted a false identity for someone you should have come to me. Whoever did this one was more or less competent, but what documentation they provided you didn’t stand up to a really determined search. Before you even stepped off the elevator I knew that Garal Ket didn’t really exist. I’ve been wondering all this morning who it was you’d gone to such trouble to bring home. I considered offering you a ride from the transport hub, but I thought it would be awkward if it seemed like I was involved with whatever you were doing. Turns out, I was right.” He looked over at Garal, staring down into eir cup of serbat. “What are you doing here, Pahlad Budrakim? I thought we were well rid of you.”
Garal straightened in eir seat on the dressing table bench, eir slouch disappearing. E smiled faintly and Ingray was struck again by how much e could look like Pahlad Budrakim. “Hello, Danach. I’d say it was nice to see you again, but you’re still a malicious little shit.” E turned to Ingray. “When we talked at Tyr Siilas, you said you and I had never met. But we have, it was just a long time ago. Do you remember your first formal reception? It was during campaign season and all the news services were there and you must have been just out of the public crèche. You were very small. And your somewhat older sibling Danach kept pinching you, probably trying to make you cry and disgrace yourself in front of not only Netano but the entire public.”