THE LEFT HAND OF DARKNESS by Ursula K.Leguin

In the Round-Tower, a cold pompous little house, Faxe and I talked at some length before I had to see anyone else or make any formal statement or appearance. He asked with his clear gaze on me, “There is a ship coming, then, coming down to earth: a larger ship than the one you came to Horden Island on, three years ago. Is that right?”

“Yes. That is, I sent a message that should prepare it to come.”

“When will it come?”

When I realized that I did not even know what day of the month it was, I began to realize how badly off I had in fact been, lately. I had to count back to the day before Estraven’s death. When I found that the ship, if it had been at minimum distance, would already be in planetary orbit awaiting some word from me, I had another shock.

“I must communicate with the ship. They’ll want instructions. Where does the king want them to come down? It should be an uninhabited area, fairly large. I must get to a transmitter—”

Everything was arranged expeditiously, with ease. The endless convolutions and frustrations of my previous dealings with the Erhenrang Government were melted away like ice-pack in a flooding river. The wheel turned… Next day I was to have an audience with the king.

It had taken Estraven six months to arrange my first audience. It had taken the rest of his life to arrange this second one.

I was too tired to be apprehensive, this time, and there were things on my mind that outweighed self-consciousness. I went down the long red hall under the dusty banners and stood before the dais with its three great hearths, where three bright fires cracked and sparkled. The king sat by the central fireplace, hunched up on a carven stool by the table.

“Sit down, Mr. Ai.”

I sat down across the hearth from Argaven, and saw his face in the light of the flames. He looked unwell, and old. He looked like a woman who has lost her baby, like a man who has lost his son.

“Well, Mr. Ai, so your ship’s going to land.”

“It will land in Athten Fen, as you requested, sir. They should bring it down this evening at the beginning of Third Hour.”

“What if they miss the place? Will they burn everything up?”

“They’ll follow a radio-beam straight in; that’s all been arranged. They won’t miss.”

“And how many of them are there—eleven? Is that right?”

“Yes. Not enough to be afraid of, my lord.”

Argaven’s hands twitched in an unfinished gesture. “I am no longer afraid of you, Mr. Ai.”

I’m glad of that.”

“You’ve served me well.”

“But I am not your servant.”

“I know it,” he said indifferently. He stared at the fire, chewing the inside of his lip.

“My ansible transmitter is in the hands of the Sarf in Mishnory, presumably. However, when the ship comes down it will have an ansible aboard. I will have thenceforth, if acceptable to you, the position of Envoy Plenipotentiary of the Ekumen, and will be empowered to discuss, and sign, a treaty of alliance with Karhide. All this can be confirmed with Hain and the various Stabilities by ansible.”

“Very well.”

I said no more, for he was not giving me his whole attention. He moved a log in the fire with his boot-toe, so that a few red sparks crackled up from it. “Why the devil did he cheat me?” he demanded in his high strident voice, and for the first time looked straight at me.

“Who?” I said, sending back his stare.

“Estraven.”

“He saw to it that you didn’t cheat yourself. He got me out of sight when you began to favor a faction unfriendly to me. He brought me back to you when my return would in itself persuade you to receive the Mission of the Ekumen, and the credit for it.”

“Why did he never say anything about this larger ship to me?”

“Because he didn’t know about it: I never spoke to anyone of it until I went to Orgoreyn.”

“And a fine lot you chose to blab to there, you two. He tried to get the Orgota to receive your Mission. He was working with their Open Traders all along. You’ll tell me that was not betrayal?”

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