Ancillary Justice (Imperial Radch #1)(91)

Seivarden was silent a moment, watching the door they had exited from.

“Well,” I said. Seivarden looked back to me. “I guess if you’re coming back I’d better pay you so you can buy some more decent clothes.”

An expression I couldn’t quite read flashed across Seivarden’s face. “Where did you get yours?”

“I don’t think I’ll pay you that much,” I said.

Seivarden laughed. Took a drink of her tea, another piece of fruit.

I wasn’t at all certain she’d really eaten. “Are you sure you don’t want anything else?” I asked.

“I’m sure. What is that thing?” She looked toward the last bit of my algae-covered supper.

“No idea.” I hadn’t ever seen anything quite like it in the Radch, it must have been recently invented, or an idea imported from some other place. “It’s good, though, do you want one? We can take it back to the room if you like.”

Seivarden made a face. “No, thanks. You’re more adventurous than I am.”

“I suppose I am,” I agreed, pleasantly. I finished the last of my supper, drained my tea. “But you wouldn’t know it to look at me, today. I spent the morning in the temple, like a good tourist, and the afternoon watching an entertainment in my room.”

“Let me guess!” Seivarden raised an eyebrow, sardonic. “The one everyone is talking about. The heroine is virtuous and loyal, and her potential patron’s lover hates her. She wins through because of her unswerving loyalty and devotion.”

“You’ve seen it.”

“More than once. But not for a very long time.”

I smiled. “Some things never change?”

Seivarden laughed in response. “Apparently not. Songs any good?”

“Pretty good. You can watch back at the room, if you like.”

But back in the room she folded down the servant’s cot, saying, “I’m just going to sit down a moment,” and was asleep two minutes and three seconds later.





20


It would almost certainly be weeks before Seivarden even had an audience date. In the meantime we were living here, and I would have a chance to see how things stood, who might side with which Mianaai if things came to an open breach. Maybe even whether one Mianaai or another was in ascendance here. Any information might prove crucial when the moment arrived. And it would arrive, I was increasingly sure. Anaander Mianaai might or might not realize what I was any time soon—but at this point there was no hiding me from the rest of herself. I was here, openly, noticeably, along with Seivarden.

Thinking of Seivarden, and Captain Vel Osck’s eagerness to meet her, I thought also of Hundred Captain Rubran Osck. Of Anaander Mianaai complaining she couldn’t guess her opinion, could rely on neither her opposition nor her support, nor could she pressure her in order to discover or compel it. Captain Rubran had been fortunate enough in her family connections to be able to take such a neutral stance, and keep it. Did that say something about the state of Mianaai’s struggle with herself at the time?

Did the captain of Mercy of Kalr also take that neutral stance? Or had something changed in that balance during the time I had been gone? And what did it mean that Inspector Supervisor Skaaiat disliked her? I was certain dislike was the expression I had seen on her face when I had mentioned the name. Military ships weren’t subject to dock authorities—except of course in the matter of arrivals and departures—and the relationship between the two usually involved some contempt on one side and mild resentment on the other, all covered over with guarded courtesy. But Skaaiat Awer had never been given to resentment, and besides she knew both sides of the game. Had Captain Vel offended her personally? Did she merely dislike her, as happened sometimes?

Or did her sympathies place her on the other side of some political dividing line? And after all, where was Skaaiat Awer likely to fall, in a divided Radch? Unless something had happened to change her personality and opinions drastically, I thought I knew where Skaaiat Awer would land in that toss. Captain Vel—and for that matter Mercy of Kalr—I didn’t know well enough to say.

As for Seivarden, I was under no illusions as to where her sympathies would lie, given a choice between citizens who kept their proper places along with an expanding, conquering Radch, or no more annexations and the elevation of citizens with the wrong accents and antecedents. I was under no illusions as to what Seivarden’s opinion of Lieutenant Awn would have been, had they ever met.


The place where Captain Vel customarily took tea was not prominently marked. It didn’t need to be. It was probably not at the very top of fashion and society—not unless Osck’s fortunes had soared in the last twenty years. But it was still the sort of place that if you didn’t already know it was there you were almost certainly not welcome. The place was dark and the sound muffled—rugs and hangings absorbed echoes or unwanted noises. Stepping in from the noisy corridor it was as though I had suddenly put my hands over my ears. Groups of low chairs surrounded small tables. Captain Vel sat in one corner, flasks and bowls of tea and a half-empty tray of pastries on the table in front of her. The chairs were full, and an outer circle had been pulled around.

They had been here for at least an hour. Seivarden had said to me before we left the room, blandly, still irritated, that of course I wouldn’t want to rush out to tea. If she’d been in a better mood she would have told me straight out that I should arrive late. It had been my own inclination even before she spoke, so I said nothing and let her have the satisfaction of thinking she’d influenced me, if she wished to have it.