Commander Hatqueban asked, as though Chenns hadn’t spoken, “Who killed Excellency Zat?”
“Not me,” said Garal. “I was with Ingray the whole time, and besides I had no reason to kill her. She was arrogant and abrasive, it’s true, but that’s generally not something I consider grounds for murder.” The commander didn’t reply. “Ingray didn’t do it, either. You really ought to let her go.”
“No,” said Commander Hatqueban.
Garal looked at Ingray. “Sorry. I tried.”
“Is there another one with you?” asked Commander Hatqueban. “Another Geck? We can’t see any, but I’m sure it’s here.”
“No,” said Garal. “No, we didn’t bring anyone else here. We didn’t want to risk another … incident.” Commander Hatqueban didn’t answer or even move, and Garal continued. “You’d know if there was, you detected the ambassador, even though the Hwaeans never did. We’re not here for anything but what we already said we were. Anything more …” E made a wry expression. “That would be interfering with an internal human dispute, and that would break the treaty. I wish I could interfere, though. Ingray is my friend, and if anything happens to her …” Ingray hardly dared breathe, sure that if she moved one muscle she would fall sobbing to the floor.
“If anything happens to her, you won’t be able to do anything about it,” said Tibanvori sharply. “So you can just stop implying that you will, before we end up with another interspecies incident.”
“I’ll go with them,” Chenns said again. “If I don’t come back you’ll know something’s wrong.”
“It was an accident,” said Commander Hatqueban, to Ambassador Tibanvori. “Will you tell them that?”
“I’ll do my best,” Tibanvori said drily. “I make no guarantees. You really shouldn’t go around shooting at things.”
Still in the clutch of a mech, Prolocutor Dicat gave a bark of laughter. “You should talk, Radchaai.”
Tibanvori shot em an irritated glance. “I represent all humans in this matter. I don’t want the treaty broken any more than you do. But I can’t promise anything.”
“I suppose we’ll just have to live with that,” said the commander. She gestured at Chenns. “Go with them.”
As Chenns, Tibanvori, and Garal passed, Garal said, “I’m sorry, Ingray. I really can’t do anything.”
“I kn …” Ingray swallowed. “I know. The treaty …” Her voice failed her.
“At least there’s somebody sensible here,” said Tibanvori, and set off into the lareum, Chenns and Garal following.
Ingray couldn’t bring herself to turn and watch them walk away. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to move when Commander Hatqueban ordered them to start walking again. But she did, found herself walking alongside Nicale as though someone else were moving her legs and feet. The tears that had threatened just moments ago had receded, though she still felt the knife edge of panic. Once, when she had been small, and the Aughskolds were on their way to a public reception, Nuncle Lak had taken her hand and leaned down to tell her that if she was afraid, she should look around and take notice of all the people and things that were frightening, and then of all the ones that might help her. What if there’s no one and nothing? she’d thought but not dared say, but e had been right, it had helped, even just to know where the bathrooms were in case of a humiliating accident, or to notice who in the crowd were Netano’s supporters and disposed to think kindly of Netano’s children as a consequence.
There wasn’t much potential help here. Nicale, maybe, and the prolocutor. Chenns at least tried to seem kind, but of course he was going back to the lareum with … but Ingray wasn’t going to think about that. She was going to be calm and sensible, and walk alongside Nicale, behind Commander Hatqueban, down the corridor to the First Assembly Chambers.
As important as the First Assembly was, the room where it met was relatively small, at least as Assembly Chambers went—a little over twelve meters wide and long. There were after all only eight representatives in the First Assembly, one for each of six Hwaean outstations, Hwae Station itself, and the prolocutor, who presided and represented all of the First Assembly to the Overassembly. But the meeting room proper was circled by a wide gallery, set a meter higher than the center, with ramps down to where eight backed and cushioned benches and a few low tables surrounded a diorite plinth—just like the one that supported the Rejection of Obligations. Or had supported it. On this plinth, in its own glass case, sat the Assembly Bell—a deep, two-handled bowl of blue-and-purple glazed pottery. Next to it under the glass was a large plain wooden spoon.
The mech holding Prolocutor Dicat marched down the nearest ramp and settled em incongruously gently on a bench. Ingray and Nicale followed. “Sit,” ordered Commander Hatqueban, standing by the Assembly Bell plinth, still holding her gun, still entirely armored, and gestured at the benches. Nicale sat on a bench near the one Prolocutor Dicat sat on, and Ingray nearly collapsed onto the one beside Nicale. It was cushioned and definitely more comfortable than sitting on the hard lareum floor. That was good. That counted as a help, even if it was a tiny, mostly useless one.
The mech that had been carrying Prolocutor Dicat had moved up another ramp to stand on the far side of the room. Another had taken up a position at the door they’d come in. It seemed as though a session had been in progress when the Federacy had attacked. Things were strewn across the low tables between the benches—a cup and decanter here, a handheld and stylus there, even a pair of shoes sticking out from beneath the bench Ingray sat on. If Prolocutor Dicat had been here instead of in the lareum, e would have escaped entirely. Or, no, Prolocutor Dicat had been here. The younger one, at any rate. This Prolocutor Dicat had chosen to meet a crèche trip instead. There was a gilded decanter on the table nearest Ingray, and a cup half full of serbat. It had obviously been sitting there undisturbed for a couple of days at least.