Burning Bright

“I don’t care about discretion,” Chauvelin began, and bit back the rest of his words. He said, more carefully, “There isn’t time for discretion. I have reason to think that the Visiting Speaker and Damian Chrestil are working together here on Burning Bright, not as enemies, and I think that their real connection is something in HsaioiAn. The last thing my lord would want is to see Damian Chrestil elected governor of Burning Bright.”

“Do you think that’s likely?” Haas asked, but her hand was busy again, transferring notes to the household computers.

“I wouldn’t bother you if I didn’t,” Chauvelin said, and Haas waved her free hand in apology.

“I’m sorry, Tal. It’s just—the je Tsinraan have been making real inroads at court in the last week, and my lord is eager not to antagonize them.”

“My lord’s existence annoys them,” Chauvelin said dryly. “I don’t think he would care to do much about it.”

Haas grinned in spite of herself. “I know.” She looked down at the tabletop, and Chauvelin guessed that there was a screen concealed in its surface. “I’ll see what I can find out for you. C/B Cie. does a lot of business on the jericho-human worlds, and on Jericho itself, for that matter.”

“Which worlds?” Chauvelin asked.

“I know,” Haas said, with a touch of impatience, “over half of them are client-bound to the je Tsinraan. I’ll find out.” She looked down again, ran her hand over a control bar hidden in the table’s carved edge. “I’m glad you called me, Tal. This could be something important.”

Certainly it’s important to me, Chauvelin thought. He said, “I’d appreciate an answer as soon as possible.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Haas answered. “Between your weather and my ignorant staff—well, I’ll do my best.”

No one of lesser rank than yours is allowed to blame her staff for failures. Chauvelin bowed again, more deeply. “Thank you for your help, Sia Speaker.”

“Thanks for the information, Tal,” Haas answered, and signaled for her system to break contact.

Chauvelin touched his own remote to close down his end of the transmission, leaned back on his heels to watch the characters cascade across the screen. If there was a connection between the je Tsinraan and the Chrestil-Brisch—more specifically, between ji-Imbaoa and Damian Chrestil—and if he could prove it, then it should be possible to parry ji-Imbaoa’s threats. And if the connection went deep enough, it might be sufficient to discredit the entire je Tsinraan. That was probably too much to hope for, he knew, and he sighed as he pushed himself up off the low cushions. A nice thought, but not to be counted on.

A chime sounded gently from the speaker set into the wall beside the door, the red pinlight flicking on as well, and Chauvelin touched the remote again to establish the connection. “Yes?”

“I beg your pardon, Sia,” je-Sou’tsian said, “but there’s something that needs your urgent attention.”

Chauvelin lifted his eyebrows at the blank space, but answered the tone as much as the words. “I’ll be in the breakfast room in three minutes.”

“Thank you, Sia,” je-Sou’tsian answered, and the pinlight faded. Chauvelin sighed— I wonder what new disaster I’ll have to deal with—and let himself out of the reception room.

Je-Sou’tsian was ahead of him in the breakfast room, the curtains half-drawn across the long windows. Beyond them, beyond her shoulder, Chauvelin could see the distant wall of cloud, a little higher on the horizon now, dark against the milk-white sky. The garden looked subdued in the dimmed light, only the stone faces in the paths still reflecting the minimal sunlight.

“Your pardon, Sia,” je-Sou’tsian said again, and Chauvelin dragged his eyes away from the approaching storm.

“It’s all right,” he said. “What’s happened?”

“The Visiting Speaker has not come home today.” There was a tension in the set of je-Sou’tsian’s hands and arms that made Chauvelin frown even more deeply.

“It’s later than he usually stays away, certainly, but is it important?”

“Sia, I don’t think his household knows for certain where he’s gone. At least none of the ones left here. And they are worried, if only because they don’t know what’s happening.”

Have I left things too late? Chauvelin suppressed the stabbing fear, said, “So what happened, do you know?”

Je-Sou’tsian made a quick gesture, one-handed, the equivalent of a shrug. “As best I can tell—and I’m reading between the lines for much of this, Sia—the Visiting Speaker left the house last night just after dark, saying he wanted to experience the Carnival. His household expected him back sometime this morning, but he hasn’t arrived, and they haven’t had word from him. By midday, his chief of household was worried enough to ask me if I had heard anything.”

“Who does he have with him?” Chauvelin asked.