Ambassador 4: Coming Home (6 page)

“Pretty much in those words,” Nicha said.

I nodded. There was nothing wrong with Nicha’s ears.

Veyada blew out a breath and shook his head. “It’s almost like he’s here to deliberately cause as much conflict as possible.”

“I said he’s an arsehole.” Thayu crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m impressed with Cory for still trying ‘to make him see’ what effect he’s having on us. I’m pretty sure that it’s all deliberate. Whatever we know about Aghyrian history is full of this sort of stuff. They were—are—manipulative people, whose aim it was to ‘win’ discussions, political shitfights or actual armed conflicts.”

“Which makes it very hard to have any kind of meaningful negotiation with them,” Veyada agreed.

I could see in Thayu’s face that she didn’t want a negotiation. Nicha was probably leaning that way, too. Veyada’s expression was grim, as if he realised that likely there
wouldn’t
be a meaningful negotiation, and Ezhya had probably asked me to intervene on the remote off-chance that I could stop a bad situation sliding into a war.

And damn, it, I hated letting Ezhya down, but it sure as hell wasn’t looking good.

I sighed, leaned my head into my hands and sighed again.

I had to try. I had to keep my cool and keep plodding along. I had to keep a straight course. Take things one step at a time. Concentrate on the little things in the hope that they would add up to a big thing.

Change of subject. I gestured at the screen. “Veyada, legally, what am I allowed to do with all this correspondence?”

“What would you like to do with it?”

“Dump it in Delegate Namion’s account so at least I can work again. I don’t understand why all these people are asking me these questions—well, no, that’s not true; of course I do know—but he’s Chief Delegate, so if he wants to play he should play.”

“I told you that you should stand for the position,” Thayu said.

I snorted. She
had
to be kidding.

Veyada said, “Legally speaking, we’re dealing with two conflicting issues. One: your correspondence is yours and you are responsible for it. On the other hand,
gamra
bylaws say that Delegates should not step outside the task assigned to them without consulting others.”

Nicha snorted. “Have you ever done anything that’s
inside
your assigned task?”

I said, “Veyada, does that mean ‘Do as you wish’?”

“You got it.”

“Hmm. Delegate Namion will be pissed with me if I send him the correspondence. He will also be pissed with me if I don’t send it.”

“So: send?” Thayu said.

“Yeah. Why not? At least he can’t accuse me of keeping information from him.” And I wouldn’t have to worry about all those messages in the three seconds he would take to blow up and come blast my ear about it.

Come to think of it, I didn’t even know him well enough to be certain that blasting ears was his style. “Let’s do it. Give me the other stuff that needs to be dealt with.”

Thayu sent me a much trimmed-down list of messages. In fact, once I had dealt with a decent number of messages by simply filing them, scheduling them or replying
Yes
or
No
, I started to see the last messages that had arrived in the account before I left, before the entire world was turned upside down.

The last one I had opened was a message from Marin Federza—

Crap. I should make some inquiries about him.

“Thay’, have you seen or heard from Federza since coming back?”

“Thankfully, no.”

“Me neither,” Nicha said. “No great loss.”

“I’m kind of serious. He was deposed as leader of the Aghyrians, sacked from his position as Trader Delegate, shot at when he was in my apartment, had the windows shot out of his apartment and his office trashed, and didn’t come to the last assembly meeting before we left. He’s not here and no one seems to be worried about it.”

“He probably turned up and has simply gone back to his Trader life. He’s got a house and an office in town. And since he’s a Trader, he’s probably travelling.”

Nicha was probably right, but it didn’t dispel my unease. Federza didn’t seem the type of person who would just quietly disappear. “If I send him a message, that will get to him wherever he is, right?”

“The Trader Guild has their own satellites, so yeah. It will even bypass the regular public Exchange channels and, if he’s off world, it will have no lag time or booking time.” He still sounded as if he wondered why I bothered.

So I sent Federza a message, with apologies for my sudden absence and some other vague stuff. It was all strict business, and it was bullshit, but I would feel a lot better if he replied. I disliked the man deeply, but that didn’t mean I wished him ill.

A bit higher up in the list was a message from Menor that I hadn’t read. It said that he was going home to Hedron for a brief visit. In case we needed his services, he provided a list of dates that he’d be available. Very clinical and professional, avoiding the term “sperm donor”.

Thayu stopped me staring at the screen and came to stand next to me.

“Oh,” she said in a low voice. “Have you replied anything to him?”

“Wasn’t that your decision?” I met her eyes. “We can call him now and you can be pregnant this week. The little Azimi brat can have a playmate.”

“Hey!” Nicha protested. “You’re talking about my son.”

Thayu said, “What if we happen to be in the small percentage of people who do interbreed and I have a third child. I don’t want to have to abort if it’s yours.” Tears glistened briefly in her eyes. “I don’t want to forfeit my right to live on Asto. You will have to be careful, too.”

“Does the two-child limit apply to me?”

“You’re Domiri clan. I think it does.”

“Veyada would know,” I said.

“It doesn’t,” Veyada said, without looking up from his screen.

And as usual, Thayu was avoiding the final decision. I’d already had myself tested for compatibility on the off-chance and it was negative. The big Aghyrian population database showed absolutely no instances of crossbreeding between humans and Coldi. Earth humans did have Aghyrian roots, but they were buried very deep.

While this discussion had been going on, I’d kept an eye on the screen. There was no reply yet from Federza, not even an automated one.

Well, that was interesting. I was too busy and besides it was probably too late in the day by now, so I made a note to contact the Barresh Aghyrians tomorrow. Meanwhile I sent another message to his Barresh office. The Trader’s office would often reroute messages through the Trader Guild’s satellites. Probably something urgent had come up and he was off world.

But I still didn’t like it.

I went to the admin office downstairs to check on the staff working there. They were looking after all my regular things: the household, bills, my accounts,
gamra
correspondence. I couldn’t imagine how I’d once been lost for things to get these people to do. In the near future I would probably have to hire more staff.

When I came back from downstairs, Devlin was looking for me. “I have an urgent communication for you.”

I went with him into the hub, where he pulled up
gamra
’s live video communication channel. He entered our code, and Delegate Namion’s face appeared.

Well, that hadn’t taken him long at all.

Devlin said, “The Delegate is here.”

“Good. Let me talk to him.”

“In private?”

“No.”

Damarcian faces had a habit of always looking unfriendly and hawkish, but his face took on a super-annoyed expression when his eyes met mine through the screen.

After we had exchanged cool greetings, he started, “A couple of things I want to raise with you. I just received your message regarding the dig site. I’m afraid that this is a matter outside my authority. You will need to contact the Barresh Council to get access to the site.”

“I already have.”

“Then there is nothing more I can do for you.”

“The captain has the whole history of the civilised world in his hands. He needs access to the site—”

“The council will decide who needs what.”

“They will deal with it so much more urgently is there is a supporting message from you.” I used the imperative-you, which was probably a fairly rude choice but I was tired and my patience was running out.

His nostrils flared. “Listen, Delegate.
We
did not ask for this man to come here.
You
insisted on bringing him—”

“I did so because his absence would neutralise the ship and would possibly give us information on these people and their aims.”

“You did so of your own accord and without consultation.”

“Tell me how I was meant to have consulted anyone from a secret place where the Exchange has no coverage!”

But there was no point in arguing and I would do best to shut up, because in typical fashion, I’d probably soon put my foot in it. And he was right: it had been my decision. A poor one, as it turned out to be. I still didn’t see how I could have done anything better.

“Very well, I will deal with the captain’s impatience my way. I can’t guarantee you’ll like it, and would really appreciate some support, but if there is going to be none . . .  Is there anything else you wished to talk about?”

“Yes. Delegate, can you explain what this deluge of correspondence is doing in my inbox?”

“These are all questions I’ve received from the public about
gamra
in relation to the Aghyrian ship. I’m not qualified or authorised to answer them. I believed they were best suited to your office, but if you wish someone else to deal with it, tell me where to send them.” Let’s play innocent.

He harrumphed. I was sure he saw the choice where I was leading him: accept more work or admit that he didn’t have a clue. His face remained blank, but I was sure he didn’t like it.

He snorted again. “All right. Send everything to my office.”

“Thank you. I will.”

“In fact, Delegate, reroute everything from that address to my office.”

That
was not at all what I had in mind. “But it’s my
gamra
correspondence address.” What the hell?

“I will make sure that your correspondence gets returned to you. I doubt you have the staff to deal with this on top of everything else.”

That was definitely true, but crap, I didn’t want to send him all my correspondence for him to sift through. Imagine him reading the letters from Raanu.

I scrambled for something to say. I absolutely did not have the authority to refuse him. In fact, I had more authority to refuse Ezhya than I had to refuse the Chief Delegate. Never mind that Ezhya would never ask me anything half as invasive as that.

Because Ezhya trusts me
.

That was the bottom line. Delegate Namion trusted me as much as I trusted him. And it
was
my
gamra
address, which technically, belonged to him.

Shit.

“Well, yes. I think . . . I can arrange that.” I’d have to notify a few people not to send me anything until I got control of my account back.

But damn it, damn it.

He signed off and I went on a mad scramble to notify people to use my private account. Raanu, Asha, damn it, Margarethe Ollund. My father.

I was in the middle of scrolling through my incoming messages to see if any other private messages needed to be sent to my other account when Thayu came into the room.

“Are you coming for dinner?”

“Yes, just start without me. I’ll be there soon.”

“By myself?”

Now I looked at her properly. “No one else here?”

She shook her head.

Yeah, I couldn’t let her eat by herself. I rose and took her hand, warm and dry in mine.

It had gone dark outside while I’d been in the hub, with just the faintest glimmer of orange remaining over the western horizon.

In the living room, Eirani was just coming to the table with a tray.

“Where is everyone?” I asked, while pulling back a chair.

“Veyada and Sheydu went out. They said not to wait.” Eirani set the tray down. “They didn’t say how long they were going to be.”

“They booked a slot at the shooting range,” Thayu said.

Eirani continued, “Deyu went with them. The young master Reida really wanted to come. Sheydu said that he was too impatient and told him to study. He’s sulking in his room.”

I thought that was a bit harsh. Reida had been studying a lot and had behaved very well recently. It seemed to have gotten through to him that being chosen to work here was a privilege and he’d do well not to waste this opportunity.

That said, Veyada was very strict on taking weapons seriously, not necessarily a bad thing. Guards should know how to use weapons but could not be trigger-happy. Reida had probably been a bit too keen.

Nicha was having dinner in his room with Xinanu, Eirani informed us.

So Thayu and I sat at the big table by ourselves. It was strange and empty and would have been romantic had I not been so annoyed at Delegate Namion’s orders. I told Thayu about it.

“He wants you to send everything to him?” She seemed surprised.

“Yeah. Shows how much he trusts us.”

“Is he even allowed to do that?”

“I’m sure he is. It’s my
gamra
account. I shouldn’t be keeping any secrets from anyone.”

“That’s ridiculous. He’s using this to weaken your standing.”

“Obviously. But tell me what I can do about it. There are avenues of appeal, but how attractive are they going to be in case I ever need his help?”

She snorted. Coldi did writs, not appeals. They did not tend to become dependent on people whose cause they fundamentally didn’t support.

It was not as if I’d had any choice in the matter. I held up my hands. “All right, all right. Don’t say it.”

“Will you stand next time the position comes up?”

“Will there be a next time?” Chief Delegates were elected for life, until they died, resigned, were forced to step down or—in the odd case—were murdered.

“I’m sure there will be. Soon.”

“I hope you’re right.”

How and when this would happen, I had no idea, but I knew I wouldn’t stand, no matter how much Thayu wanted me to. If nothing else, I was far too involved with Asto to be an acceptable candidate.