The second day Tovera was the earlier home. Adele knew something must have happened from the way neighbors looked sidelong at her, angry and very frightened, but she didn’t ask questions. It was almost chance that she found the mortality report and learned there’d been three of them, swinging down from the roof to enter through the window. The eldest had been fourteen.
There were no further incidents. That was good, because Adele couldn’t convince herself that being young and arrogant was properly a capital crime . . . but neither was she willing to be a victim simply because she existed. The Mundys had supplied their share of such victims during the Proscriptions.
Adele separated her own actions from those of Tovera and others: she didn’t see the faces of those boys when she awoke at two in the morning. She had company enough of her own at that hour.
She read: as President of Strymon, Leland Vaughn had paid lip service toward recognizing Cinnabar hegemony, but the Senate suspected that he had ambitions toward greater independence. It was suggested that the president send his son Delos to Cinnabar for his education. The word “hostage” was never used, but all parties were clear regarding the reality of the situation. Vaughn, with an RCN squadron led by a battleship in orbit above his planet, perforce agreed.
The educational record of young Delos was not a scholar’s, but Adele could tell even from the bare bones of the scores that the potential was there. Education simply wasn’t Vaughn’s first priority—nor yet his third, very likely, though it was hard to be sure how important the partying really was to him.
What were important were first, learning the power structures of the Republic of Cinnabar; and second, ingratiating himself into those structures with the determination of a buck pursuing a doe. The officials guiding Vaughn around Harbor Three were highly placed, but the personages who might have directed them to the task were among the elite of the Republic.
Adele permitted herself a half-smile. Corder Leary appeared in the list of those who’d exchanged hospitality with Vaughn.
Three years after Delos arrived on Cinnabar, Leland Vaughn was murdered—by “persons unknown,” but his half-brother, Callert Vaughn, was prepared to instantly step into the presidency. Delos, now eighteen, had applied to the Senate for permission to return home.
Permission was refused. Callert had made a prompt submission to Cinnabar . . . and had bribed the senatorial envoy sent to assess the situation, as files provided by Mistress Sand clearly indicated. Strymon remained as much an ally as she’d ever been; the Republic would gain no advantage from stirring matters up. As for Delos—he had a secure income that would buy him anything he could want except for the thing he did want: passage home.
The cooler in the kitchenette moaned as the current dropped beneath what its compressor required, then picked up again. This district was subject to frequent power cuts, and occasionally the tap water slowed to a rusty dribble. It didn’t concern Adele; they used the cooler more to keep vermin from the cheese and crackers than to chill food anyway.
Callert Vaughn had ruled Strymon until eight months ago, when riots against Cinnabar influence had broken out in the capital. Mobs killed several Cinnabar merchants and burned the building used by the Cinnabar observer mission; the Observer and her husband had escaped on a freighter leaving the planet hastily, but the local staff had been massacred.
Then Callert was killed—”by a stray bullet” claimed Friderik Nunes, the former head of the Presidential Guard and now regent on behalf of Pleyna Vaughn, Callert’s twelve-year-old daughter. The riots stopped as suddenly as if a switch had been turned off.
Delos Vaughn had again petitioned to return home. His request was pending, but Adele’s sources expected another denial. Pleyna had offered reparations and the apologies of her government for damage to Cinnabar interests. The Senate would probably decide that letting Delos return would merely reinflame a situation that had just returned to stability.
So long as he lived, Delos Vaughn would remain a club with which the Senate could threaten whoever was in power in Strymon: be good or we’ll send Vaughn back to raise a rebellion against you. But there was very little chance that Vaughn would ever be allowed to leave his gilded cage here on Cinnabar.