Burning Bright

She murmured something inaudible in response, but there was an amusement lurking in her gold-flecked eyes. Chauvelin bowed over his clasped hands, hsai fashion, and moved away.

Je-Sou’tsian bowed slightly at his approach, but her hands were still, suppressing whatever she was feeling.

“What is it, Iameis?” Chauvelin said, and kept a smile on his face with an effort of will.

The steward’s hands moved slightly, shaping anger and apology. Her fingerclaws, gilded for the occasion, glowed in the buttery light. “I’m sorry to have troubled you,” she said, her tradetalk even more precise than usual, “and indeed I wouldn’t have if it hadn’t been Sia Ransome you were speaking with, but several members of the Visiting Speaker’s household have asked permission to use the intersystems link. They’ve also asked that our technicians not oversee the linkage.”

Chauvelin bit back his first response, knowing he was on firm ground here. “I’m hurt that the Speaker’s people should imply distrust of my household, knowing as I do the Speaker’s respect and friendship. You may tell them that, word for word.”

Je-Sou’tsian bowed again. “I will do so, with pleasure.”

She started to back away, but Chauvelin said, “Iameis. Is there anything else?”

The steward hesitated for a heartbeat, then gestured negation, the movement solid and decisive. “No, Sia. But I thought that should be nipped in the bud.”

Chauvelin nodded. “I agree. Keep an eye on them, Iameis.”

“Of course, Sia.” Je-Sou’tsian bowed again, and backed away.

Chauvelin stared after her, furious at ji-Imbaoa for trying such an obvious and infantile trick. What can he think he’ll gain from that? And why in all hells does he have to do it now, when I can’t do anything about it? The answer was too obvious to be considered, and he made himself put it out of his mind, turning away to greet a stocky man who served on the board of the Five Points Bank. He answered mechanically, his mind on ji-Imbaoa, and on Ransome and his new friend, and was not sorry when the banker excused himself, heading for the buffet. He stood alone for a moment, found himself scanning the crowd for Ransome. The imagist was standing near one of the windows that overlooked the garden, Lioe beside him, tall against the glass. Her coat blended with the golden light caught in the mirrorlike panes, drawing her into the reflections like a ghost; in contrast, Ransome was looking pale and interesting. It was hard to tell, these days, if it was deliberate or inevitable. Chauvelin suppressed the worry, reminding himself that he could always query the medsystems records if he really wanted to know. But whatever the cause, the look worked: Ransome had dressed with millimetrically calculated disorder, plain-slashed jerkin hanging open over equally plain shirt and narrow trousers, his unbrushed boots a well-planned disgrace. He made a perfect foil for Lioe’s severe elegance, and Chauvelin felt again a stab of jealousy. Who in all hells is she, that Ransome should behave like this?

“Good evening, Chauvelin,” a familiar voice said, and Chauvelin turned without haste to bow to Burning Bright’s governor.

“A good evening to you, Governor.”

Kasiel Berengaria nodded back, the gesture as much of a concession as she would ever make to hsai etiquette. She was a stocky, broad-bodied woman, comfortable in a heavily embroidered coat and trousers; a massive necklace of Homestead Island pearls made a collar around her neck, and held a seabright pendant suspended just at the divide of her full breasts. The skin exposed there was weathered, like her coarse, salt-and-pepper hair, and the short hands with their broken nails. “I haven’t seen the Visiting Speaker tonight, Chauvelin.”

Chauvelin picked his words carefully, well aware of the amusement in her mismatched eyes. One was almost blue, the other green-flecked brown: a disconcerting effect, and one he was certain she enjoyed. “The Visiting Speaker has been holding court in the inner room, Governor. I’m sure he’d be glad to see you.”

Berengaria made a face. “I doubt it. Or at best, no happier to see me than I am to see him.”

Chauvelin smiled in spite of himself. “Quite possibly.”

“You have had an interesting time of it, with him in your household.”

“Interesting is a good word,” Chauvelin said. He and Berengaria were old adversaries, almost friends by now; she preferred the Republic to HsaioiAn, but Burning Bright before both of them. It was a position he understood perfectly, and he had always admired her skill.

“One hears that the je Tsinraan are rising in favor at court,” Berengaria went on.

“One of them made a decent profit for the All-Father on Hazuhone,” Chauvelin said. She would already know at least that much; there was no point in denying it. He shrugged, carefully casual. “I must say, I doubt it will last.”