Burning Bright

Ransome pretended to glance up at the dome, not really seeing the roiling clouds, controlled his anger with an effort. Ji-Imbaoa had threatened him with prosecution if he returned to HsaioiAn; this was a particularly clumsy maneuver. He looked back at the Visiting Speaker, said politely enough, “Probably when such a generous commission is offered me. Do you think your t’ueanaowould be interested, Na Speaker?” He deliberately used the word that meant more than just family or household unit, that carried connotations of political rank and power as well, and saw from the sudden convulsive clenching of ji-Imbaoa’s hand that the implications had struck home. Chauvelin was still a member of the tzu line; Ransome carried some of the same prestige by virtue of his patronage.

Ji-Imbaoa mastered his annoyance instantly, though the fingers of his free hand were still crooked slightly, and the red-painted fingerclaws rapped gently against his thigh. “Perhaps we shall,” he said. “I am sure such a—thing—would please my dependents. You would come if we asked?”

Ransome bowed slightly, perfectly aware of where this game could lead if not precisely judged. He could not let himself be trapped into a commission, even if it meant seeming to back down. “If the price were right, and the time were convenient, and I were committed to no other business, yes, of course, Speaker.” He paused, then added, “And, of course, assuming that all issues of freedom could be resolved. Some people take offense at images when none is intended; it seems—safer—to settle that ahead of time, than risk displeasing anyone.”

Ji-Imbaoa showed teeth in an approximation of a human smile. The expression was delicately close to the bared teeth of insult, but not quite; Ransome admired his control even as he bit back anger. “I’m sure we could work out appropriate compensation,” the Visiting Speaker said, and looked away, lifting a hand to beckon another guest. The woman turned toward him at once, and ji-Imbaoa took a few steps to meet her, bringing the group’s attention with him. Ransome hesitated for a moment longer, tempted to protest this dismissal, but made himself turn away.

Lioe was standing just inside the doorway. “Were you having fun?” she asked, and Ransome made a face.

“How much of that did you hear?” He touched her shoulder lightly, easing her out into the more dimly lit hallway. The walls here were painted a deep red, the rich color of wine held up to a light. Golden vines coiled along the ceiling just below the hidden lights.

“Most of it, I think. I gather he doesn’t like you.”

“Not much,” Ransome agreed. Lioe kept looking at him, one thin eyebrow lifted in an expression that reminded him suddenly of Chauvelin, and he touched her shoulder again, steering her toward one of the side rooms. It was little more than an alcove, pillared walls painted in a coppery brown, the pillars themselves painted with more delicate vines, the lighting concealed in thick clusters of sea grapes that dangled from the heads of the pillars. Bench-seats had been built into the side walls, and the space between the central set of pillars on the rear wall had been turned into a display recess. The shelves were filled with odd objects, and Ransome was startled to recognize one of his own story eggs among them.

“All right,” Lioe said, “why doesn’t this Visiting Speaker like you?”

Ransome hesitated again, then grimaced. “I’m not trying to put you off, I just don’t know where to begin.”

Lioe laughed. “You make friends easily, I see.”

Ransome smiled back. “All right. For one thing, he and Chauvelin are from opposite factions, and Chauvelin has been my patron for years. For another—” He stopped, took a breath. “When I was younger, I worked for a local company, worked in HsaioiAn, on Jericho, and I got into trouble there. I offended some people as well as breaking a few laws, but because I was only houtathen they couldn’t do anything about it—the insults, I mean. They enforced the laws. Now that I’m min-hao, though, they can take notice of those insults, and ji-Imbaoa—aside from being personally stupid and therefore an irresistible target—is closely related to someone with a serious grudge against me.”

“That does explain a lot,” Lioe said, after a moment. She cocked her head to one side, clearly reviewing his conversation with the Visiting Speaker. “Given all that, though, was it wise to antagonize him?”

“Probably not,” Ransome admitted. “But he really is irresistible.”

Lioe shook her head, but she was smiling. “I hope you and your patron get along.”