“Then why did you come?” asked Ingray.
“I had no choice. When one is a poor junior cousin of a sister’s daughter’s affines, one does not refuse.” Ingray wondered what possible reason Zat could have for bringing along a resentful junior cousin who she could not speak to or, Ingray suspected, speak about directly. But before she could ask, Hevom continued. “A person with a hereditary seat on the Directorate and a great deal of money can have a disproportionate effect on the Directorate’s priorities.” Ingray suspected he wasn’t speaking generally but was mentioning Zat as specifically as he could. “The Directorate devotes whole sessions to discussing ancient history and finding the means to make expeditions like this one. But do they give any attention at all to …” He seemed to stop himself, and think better of what he meant to say. “Or do they think of sending representatives to the Conclave?” He made a disgusted noise. “I would rather be home pressing that far more important issue. We can’t leave the human vote up to the Radchaai! They’re sure to oppose the AIs joining the treaty, but it’s absolutely vital that they be accepted!”
“I don’t know,” said Ingray, watching the little pink mech clamber onto a huge glass block as Zat reached the crown of the hill and sat down in the shade of a slender rovingtree. “What if it’s a Radchaai ploy to begin with? The AIs are their own ships and stations, they built them and programmed them. They’re impossible to separate from Radchaai space.” It was one of many reasons the Radchaai were so frightening. “If they’re accepted into the treaty, then it’s possible the Radchaai will have two voices in treaty affairs, not just one.”
“I would agree with you,” said Hevom. “Except for the fact that it’s become increasingly obvious that the Radchaai are fighting each other. The news from Athoek alone should be enough to make that clear. Anaander Mianaai is tearing herself apart, and has lost control of at least some of her artificial intelligences. I don’t think it’s a deception; there would be other, far less damaging ways of achieving the same ends.”
“A sudden attack of conscience, for instance,” suggested Garal. “Demanding the conclave herself, instead of being apparently forced into it in such a humiliating way. And if that’s the case, treaty recognition of their AIs will tear Radch space apart.”
“Or make the whole idea of Radch space meaningless,” agreed Hevom.
“But independent AIs,” Ingray protested. “Independent warship AIs!”
“By the treaty, they can’t interfere with us,” Hevom pointed out. “If the Conclave refuses to admit them, and the Radchaai lose control of them—”
“Which it seems they have already, at least partially,” Ingray concluded. “Yes, I see. Put that way, it does seem best if the machines are admitted to the treaty.” Just saying it made a shiver start at the back of her neck.
“Every human government that can should be sending forces to the Conclave, to be sure Translator Seimet Mianaai speaks for humans, not Radchaai.” Hevom spoke emphatically, angrily. “Instead we’re spending money and time on this. Your pardon, excellencies, but I find it very frustrating. And of course I can’t speak of it as I’d like to.”
“No, of course,” replied Ingray. “We understand entirely.” Though she didn’t, not really.
“Well,” Hevom said, clearly still angry. “Well. Excuse me, excellencies. I’m supposed to examine the area where the glass meets the water.”
“How does he know he’s supposed to do that,” asked Garal, as Hevom stalked away toward the riverbank, “if Zat never speaks to him? She never even looks at him.”
“I don’t think anyone understands the Omkem except the Omkem,” said Ingray. Most Omkem Ingray had met seemed entirely normal, except for things like this.
“Indeed,” said Garal. “Why don’t we walk around ourselves, and look for some likely spots? And maybe keep an eye on what areas your Omkem guests are most interested in.”
“I don’t think you can claim to have buried the vestiges in the hill,” Ingray said, gesturing toward the mass of bright-colored glass boulders that made up the hillside. “I don’t think it’s possible to dig very far down there, and it’s not like you’d forget putting them there.”
“Not likely, no,” Garal agreed. “But somewhere near here, I’d say. This is where the Omkem seem most interested. Let’s walk a bit, and keep an eye on where else they might be poking around.”
Ingray and Garal spent an hour or two strolling along the trail that ran by the river and curved around the glass-bouldered hill, or wandering into the grass beside the trail. Hevom walked up and down the riverbank, occasionally stopping and stooping to splash a hand in the water or peer more closely at something by his feet. Despite the looming hillside, he was nearly always in view. Zat sat on the top of the hill, her back against a slender rovingtree. Her small bright pink mech bobbed into sight every now and then among the hillside glass, once or twice climbing out of the rocks and toddling over to Zat, and then away, back into the boulders again, its luminous pink bright against the blue, purple, yellow, red, and green of the glass.
At length, Ingray and Garal’s walk returned them to the basalt slab. Hevom looked up from whatever it was he was doing by the water and walked toward them. “Well,” said Ingray, quietly, “even if we don’t find any suitable site, it’s a lovely day.” Under the sunlight she had begun to relax, in a way she hadn’t for weeks, all that time on stations and ships. She hadn’t realized how much she missed the light and the breeze, and open spaces.
“I’ve been thinking,” said Garal, also quietly, though it would take Hevom a minute or two to come within earshot, “we might be able to get away with the hill. I could claim it was dark and I was in a hurry. Or”—with a glance at Hevom—“I could say I threw them in the river.”
“Oh!” That was an excellent idea. Except that it didn’t quite match what they’d already said to Danach. “I suppose you might not have mentioned that particular detail, and don’t remember quite exactly where you threw it in.” She thought a moment more. “We should find out what their interest in the river is. If they’re going to be spending time dragging things up from the bottom, we could make sure it was wherever they were going to be doing that.”
“Has there been any movement on the hilltop?” Hevom asked as he came up to where they stood talking.
It took Ingray a moment to understand that he was asking if there had been any word or sign from Zat. “No, there hasn’t been.” She glanced up at the hilltop. Zat was still seated, leaning against the rovingtree, for all the world as though she hadn’t moved all morning.