She fairly shook with rage, but fear chilled her mind to clarity. Of a sudden she saw the reaction to take with this man, and grinned. “I shall,” she said. “Thank you for the courtesy, Pol Hald.”
“What self-possession you have, Meth-maren.”
“Shall I leave Meron?”
“Stay,” he said, and laughed, with a flourish of his chitined hand. “You have what Ruil never had: a sense of balance. I know neither of us would be safe under those terms. There’d be a new plot by suppertime.”
She regarded them through slit lids. “‘Then you leave Meron.”
He laughed outright, brushed past her, into her home. Morn followed.
She thumbed the safety of her gun and stared at them, watching their hands. Pol folded his arms and nodded a gesture to his cousin. “Go on,” he said, “Morn. You’ve no interests here.”
Morn surveyed her up and down, his gaunt face untouched by any emotion. Without a word he strode to the door and closed it behind him.
And Pol settled in the nearest chair and folded his arms, extended his long legs before him. His death’s-head face quirked into an engaging smile.
He ate the dinner she served him; they sat across the table from one another: he made a proposal which she declined, and laughed rather regretfully when she did so. Pol’s humour was infamous, and infectious; and he hazarded his life on it now. She refrained from poisoning him; he refrained from using whatever weapons he surely carried on his person. They laughed at each other, and she bade him good night.
He and she turned up at the same social events thereafter, in the busy winter season of Kontrin society on Meron. They smiled at each other with the warmth of old friends, amused at the comment that caused. But they never met in private.
And eventually there was an attempt on her life.
It happened on Meron, a year after Pol and Morn had taken themselves elsewhere, in separate directions, Morn to Cerdin and Pol to Andra. It happened in the night, on an. other Kontrin’s estate, a Delt, Col a Helim, who was her current, but not exclusive interest. She was twenty-one. Col died. She did not. None came back from that attempt, but they were azi who had done it, and their past was wiped, their tattoos burned away. She swore off Delts, suspecting something local and involving a rival, and moved and engaged a small estate on Silak.
Word reached her there that Lian had died . . . assassination, and no one knew now how long he would have lived, so the longest human life in the Reach reached no natural conclusion and Kontrin everywhere had been frustrated. The attempted coup was a failure, and the assassins all died miserably, the penalty of failure and the revenge of Kontrin who had considered Lian’s long life a talisman of luck, an example of their own immortality.
Moth held Eldest’s place, first in Council. The Council thus remained much as it had been, and Raen took no interest in its affairs . . . took no interest in the present for anything political. There was no more Kethiuy, although the nightmares lingered. She was mildly amused in one respect, for she reckoned at last that the attempt on her had been connected to Lian’s impending fall; but that had faded, the conspirators (Thel and some lesser Houses) decimated, and matters were settled again. The Family knew where she was at all times, and if she had been of continuing importance to any cause, someone would have attempted to enlist her or to assassinate her in the fear that she belonged to some other cause. Neither happened. The remnant of the House of Thon on Cerdin established itself as the new liaison with the hives. Raen settled again on Meron and, when she heard how Thon had usurped the post with the hives, she pursued vices in considerable variety and nuance and gained a name in Meron society. She was twenty-four.
She had her privileges: those never failed; and she had no lack of anything money could buy. She amused herself, sometimes within Kontrin society and sometimes in moody withdrawal from all contact. She looked on betas and azi with the disdain of her birth, which was natural, and her tedious lifespan, which was (since Lian’s assassination) indefinite, and her power, which was among betas as fearsome as it was negligible where she would have desired to apply it.