“None of them,” she said, with a shrug at all the empty tables and chairs, the memories of departed passengers, “none of them could dice with a Kontrin. Not one.” She grinned and laughed, and the grin faded to a solemn expression. She lifted the glass to him, ironic salute. “Your contract is already purchased. Ever borne arms?”
He shook his head, appalled. He had never touched a weapon, seldom even seen one.
She laughed and set the glass down.
And rose.
“Come,” she said.
Later, high in the upper decks and the luxury of the Kontrin’s staterooms, it came to what he thought it might.
BOOK FOUR
i
“Commercial,” Moth muttered, and steepled her wrinkled hands, staring at them to the exclusion of the several heads of Houses who surrounded her. She laughed softly, contemplating the reports of chaos strewn in a line across the Reach.
“I fear,” said Cen Moran, “I lack your perception of humour in the matter. This involves Istra, and the hives, and the surviving Meth-maren. I see nothing whatsoever of humour affordable in the combination.”
“Kill her,” said Ros Hald.
Moth turned a chill stare on him, and he fell silent. “Why? For trespass? I don’t recall that visiting Istra is grounds for such extreme measures.”
“It’s a sensitive area, Istra.”
“Yes. Isn’t it.”
The Hald broke eye contact. Moth did not miss that fact, but glanced instead at Moran and the others, raised querulous brows. “I think some Kontrin presence there might be salutary, provided it’s discreet and sensible. The Meth-maren’s presence is usually quiet toward non-Kontrin.”
“A hive-world, said Moran, “another hive-world, and critical.”
“The only hive-world,” said Moth, “without Kontrin permanently resident. We’ve barred ourselves from that . . . sensitive . . . contact point, at least by custom. Depressing as Istra is reputed to be, I suspect we simply lack enthusiasm for the necessary privations. But majat don’t seem to mind being there, do they? In my long memory, only Lian had the interest to visit the place after the beta City was set down there—and that was very long ago. Maybe we should reconsider. Maybe we’ve created a blind spot in our intelligence. Reports from Istra are scant. Perhaps a Kontrin should be there. It surely couldn’t hurt their economy.”
“But,” said Kahn a Belo, “this Kontrin, Eldest? There’s been trouble across the Reach. And the Meth-maren, of the hive-masters—of that House—the simplest prediction would tell us. . . .”
“We will let her alone,” Moth said.
“If it were put to a vote,” said Moran, “that sentiment would not carry. Than would be the logical choice, trustworthy. The Meth-maren, no.”
Moth looked at him steadily. A measure would have to be written up formally: some one of them would have to put his name on it as proponent. Someone would have to risk his personal influence and the well-being of his agents. She did not estimate that Moran quite meant it as an ultimatum: he was simply kin to the ineffectual Thons. There were more meaningful, more inflammatory issues on which opposition could rise. When challenge came, if it came in the Council at all, it would not be like this, on a directive for assassination; such things did not make good rallying points. Assassinations were usually managed by House or executive order, quietly and without embarrassments.
“Let her alone,” Moth said, “for now.”
There was a small and sullen silence at the table. Talk began quietly, drifted to other matters. There were excuses made early, departures in small groups. Moth watched them, and noted who left with whom, and reckoned that not a few of them were plotting her demise.
And after me, she thought with a taut, hateful smile, let it come.
She spread upon the table the reports which had occupied the committee, all the various problems with which the Council had to deal: over-breeding of azi, population stresses and economic distress among underemployed betas, turmoil in the hives, killings of greens and the lately-recovered blues by reds and golds on Cerdin. The Thon House, hive-liaisons in the place of Meth-marens, proved ineffectual: the reports skirted that fact and covered truth with verbiage.
And, persistently, reports that reds sought out Kontrin and made gifts, trespassed boundaries, turned up in beta areas.