“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?”
“You’re him! The Flow physicist! The one whose work Hatide Roynold based hers off of.”
Claremont continued to look puzzled for a moment, but then Ghreni saw a sort of slow realization come over his face. “I know that name. I remember that name. She sent me some of her work and a list of questions years ago.”
“And you didn’t respond.”
“No, I didn’t. I had been ordered by the emperox not to discuss my work with anyone.” Another expression popped onto Claremont’s face then. Concern. “You think her work is accurate, don’t you? You think the Flow streams are moving to End. That’s it, isn’t it?”
Ghreni’s mouth gaped.
Claremont slapped the side of his bed. “That is it! That’s actually it!” Claremont started laughing, a loud, almost agitated noise. One of the marines opened the door and poked a head in to investigate. Ghreni angrily waved him away.
Eventually Claremont got control of himself, wiped a tear away from his eye, and looked at Ghreni. “Oh, you sad, ambitious fool,” he said.
“What do you know?” Ghreni asked.
“I know that Hatide Roynold was sloppy with her math. I know if she didn’t check some of her base assumptions, she’s probably iterating wildly away in a direction that has no basis in reality. Has any of her work you’ve seen had peer review?”
“No,” Ghreni said.
Claremont nodded. “Of course not. She’s like me—snapped up by a patron and working alone. Peer review is important, Lord Ghreni. Until Marce was old enough to start checking my work, I was flying blind. Made some stupid mistakes I just didn’t see. Roynold was making them too. I know, I saw them. She probably never corrected them.” Claremont leaned forward and weakly poked Ghreni in the chest. “And you, you ignorant grasping poltroon. You didn’t know any better.”
Ghreni actually flinched from the poke. “What are you saying?” he asked.
Claremont smiled and then lay back into his bed. “What I’m saying is nothing, Lord Ghreni. Not until you decide to send a report back to your house, detailing your sudden ascendance to the dukedom. You are going to be doing that, yes?”
“I am.” The report would go out on a mail drone, a small unmanned craft that floated in space right outside a Flow shoal, onto which electronic communication—personal letters and pictures, business communications, reports, intellectual property that could be digitized—was recorded. Once a day one of these drones headed into the Flow with its stash of information; once a day a drone appeared out of the Flow, with letters, communication, IP, and so on to transmit to End. The mail was always late, because End was far away from everything. But it always arrived.
Claremont nodded again. “File your report. Send it. And then when it happens, you come back to me, and I’ll tell you my terms.”
“When what happens?”
“You’ll know it.”
“And what terms do you think you’ll be able to dictate?”
“I’d like not to have a murder on my record, for starters. After that, we’ll see. But I’ll tell you this, Lord Ghreni, you have this all wrong. I don’t need you. You, on the other hand, might need me. More than you know. So go write your report. I’ll stay quiet until you get back.”
Claremont actually made shooing motions, dismissing Ghreni. More out of bemusement than anything, he left.
*
Ghreni went to his office at the House of Nohamapetan building—it would take a while to move his concerns into the ducal palace, a thought that sent a thrill down his spine—and composed his report to Nadashe. The report was both in code and encrypted. Then he sent it on a secure beam to the mail drone, and waited for a receipt that it had been. The receipt came minutes later, along with the timer for the departure of the drone, which would be on its way in under half an hour. Ghreni noted the receipt and then busied himself with other work, primarily fielding reports from the team writing up the truce with the rebels.