Rules of Conflict (25 page)

Jani smiled.

Nema stalked toward them, his off-white overrobe billowing behind
him like a churning wake. “Such argument. I left Cabinet Ministers in order to
hear more.” In person, his skin appeared darker than Jani remembered from the
winter, gold-brown rather than ocher, the result of frequent trips to the Death
Valley enclave.

Burkett stood at attention. “NìRau, permit me to apologize—”

“For what, General? Open disputation is most seemly. Most as
idomeni. Otherwise, humanish are so as walls, we do not think you alive.” Nema
looked each of them in the face, a born-sect taboo he seemed determined to
topple single-handed. His eyes widened as he bared his teeth, resulting in a
startling, and to some, unpleasant expression.

They don’t see what I see.
To Jani, Nema’s rictus
sardonicus was the welcoming grin of an old friend. An
aggravating
old
friend. Presumptuous. But nevertheless . . .

Nema stepped between Jani and the rattled general and gripped her
chin between his thumb and forefinger. “You have brought me my Eyes and Ears.”
He tilted her face back and forth. “
alète onae vèste, Kièrshiarauta
,” he
said to her, voice pitched higher than normal as a show of regard.
Glories
of the day to you, toxin.

“
alète ona vèste, Nemarau.
” Jani pitched her voice high as
well, and added a greeting gesture, crossing her left arm over her chest, palm
twisted outward. She tried to tilt her head to the left and offer the
traditional single nod, but Nema’s firm grip prevented her. “NìRau, I can’t
move my head.”

“Apologies, nìa.” His hand dropped away, and he stepped back. “So,
you have come to assist me with this stupid food business. Such ignorance. You
are most well?” His voice held a touch of skepticism, but he restrained the
gestures that would have clarified his feeling. Whatever Lucien had been
telling him, he either didn’t believe, or didn’t like it.

“NìRau Tsecha.” Burkett’s eyes held that wild look most humans
acquired after they’d been around Nema for more than five seconds. “We didn’t
expect to see you this afternoon.”

“I know that, General.” The glint in Nema’s amber-on-amber eyes
indicating that dashing the expectations of humanish Burketts was all part of
the fun. “But when I heard my Eyes and Ears was to be here—” His gaze fell on
Hals, and he bared his teeth again. “Ah, Colonel Hals, you have met challenge!
Onì nìaRauta Hantìa will be most pleased—she thought you dead.” He took her by
the arm and towed her down the hall and into the documents examiners’ meeting
room.

Burkett bent close enough to make Jani flinch. “This does not end
here, Captain.” He turned and whispered something to the Security officer
before disappearing into the Diplomatic meeting room.

Jani followed the still-stunned stragglers down the hall to the
examiners’ room, realizing after a few steps that the Security officer shadowed
her. She probed her arm again. The ache had intensified in the last few
minutes—the muscles in her lower arm had started to twitch.
What the hell is
this?
Delayed reaction to Pimentel’s prodding and poking?

“My, my, my.”

Jani turned. Exterior Minister Anais Ulanova stood in the nearest
doorway, regarding her with the cool arrogance Jani recalled from her first
visit to Chicago. In deference to idomeni religious sensibility, she wore a
wrapshirt and trousers in dark brown rather than the usual Exterior burgundy. A
younger woman stood next to her. Ivory skin and hair. Pale blue eyes glittery
with nerves. She wore black and grey, the official Interior colors. McEnnis,
Jani recalled from news reports. Evan’s interim replacement.

“Captain Kilian.” Ulanova nodded. “Although I recall you went by
the name ‘Risa Tyi’ when you visited us last.” She leaned toward McEnnis and
whispered something in her ear. The woman’s eyes widened.

Jani smiled at McEnnis, who took a step backward. “I can imagine
what she’s told you about me. Some of it might even be true. I hope for your
sake you can figure out which is which—you need that skill dealing with her.”
She waved farewell and started down the hall. “I’ll give Lucien your regards,
ma’am, the next time we come up for air.” The look of outrage that Jani saw on
Ulanova’s face just before she slipped into the examiners’ room was worth the
little fib.

The windowless meeting room proved hotter than the hallway by
several crucial degrees. Judging from the mutterings Jani heard, summerweights
felt itchy and clingy; dress blue-greys would have been downright dangerous.

She only felt mildly warm herself, but if another twelve-hour
marathon stretched before them, who knew how she’d hold up?
But that’s a big
if.
She glanced behind her and saw the Security officer standing in the
doorway, watching her. A lieutenant, his mainline red bars switched out for
religiously insignificant dark green. Unarmed, since he technically stood on
idomeni soil, but far from helpless, judging from his muscular arms and chest.

If I tried to bolt, he’d just pick me up and toss me over his
shoulder.
Or break her in half, depending on how much of a fuss she made.
She approached him slowly, arms at her sides, hands open and visible.
“Lieutenant.”

He nodded. “Ma’am.”

“May I ask why you’re following me?”

“After you meet with nìaRauta Hantìa, I’m to escort you back to
Sheridan, ma’am.”

“Odds are I’ll be needed here.”

“General Burkett’s orders, ma’am.”

Right.
Jani walked to the central U-shaped table, where
Nema stood surrounded by the members of Foreign Transactions. Most faces held
shock or surprise. Ischi’s shoulders shook. Hals had covered her mouth with her
hand. Even Vespucci grinned.

“And only the player standing in the net can use hands?” Nema toed
weakly at the floor. “All the others have to
kick
?”

“Like this, nìRau.” Ischi mimed a short, hard pass to Vespucci,
who in turn pretended to block the nonexistent soccer ball into the floor with
his formidable stomach.

“Really? Such I do not understand.” Nema looked at Jani, his posture
crooked with dismay. “Why did you never tell me of this, nìa!” He clasped Ischi
by the arm and pulled him to one side, gesturing for Vespucci to follow. The
sounds of crumpling parchment soon emerged from the huddle. The two men then
broke away and kicked a paper ball back and forth as Nema stood on the side and
scrutinized every move.

Jani watched the exhibition until she grew conscious of a stare
boring through the side of her face. “Colonel.”

Hals sauntered to her side. “Captain.” She peeked around Jani and
nodded toward the strapping lieutenant. “Is he here for you, me, or us?”

“Me. As soon as Hantìa and I meet, Burkett wants me out.”

“Then we must meet now,” entoned a voice from behind. Feminine,
but grating, like nails down a slate. “So that I can laugh as you leave.”

Jani turned slowly. She kept her eyes straight ahead, so she would
look the idomeni in the upper chest, not the face. Tan robes. The lower curves
of shoulder-grazing gold oval earrings. Light brown hair twisted into short
helices and wrapped with silver cord. Same regal posture she remembered from
Academy. Same damned voice. “Hantìa.”

“Kièrshia.” The Vynshàrau stepped back and studied her.
Side-to-side examination, followed by top to toe, looking everywhere but in her
eyes. “You are not what you were.” She tilted her head slightly to Jani’s
right, a posture of moderate respect acknowledging their shared past.

Jani tilted her head to the left, mimicking Hantìa’s regard, as
she allowed herself oblique glances at the jutting cheekbones and squarish jaw.
“Only physically.” She lapsed readily into High Vynshàrau; it seemed more
appropriate, somehow. “In my soul, I am as ever.”

“You left your soul at Knevçet Shèràa. So you are as nothing.
That, I always knew.”

Jani twitched the fingers of her left hand, a gesture of
disregard. She heard no other voices, and knew all eyes were on the two of
them. “You are not an archivist, as was planned.”

“No.” A bow of head as right hand reached up and gripped left
shoulder. A posture of sadness. “NìRau ti nìRau Cèel had need of me here.” The
hand dropped. Hantìa straightened. “A great need, and truly.” She turned to
Hals, and switched back to English. “Colonel.”

Hals nodded stiffly. “Hantìa.”

“We must work now. Soon, there will be too many damned papers to
count.” Hantìa stalked toward the other Vynshàrau examiners, who had gathered
on the opposite side of the room.

Hals cocked her head. “Did she just say what I thought she said?”

“She’s been taking English lessons from Nema.” Jani smiled, but
her good humor faded as she watched the lieutenant cross the room toward her.

“Ma’am.” He stopped in front of her and gestured in the direction
of the door. “This way, please.”

Jani looked at Hals, who watched her warily.
I could stand my
ground, and fight to stay.
Nema would rush to her aid—he’d probably even
offer her asylum.
Wouldn’t that do wonders for diplomatic relations?
Ulanova might even persuade Cao to send in armed troops to take her back. Not
that they’d succeed, but the invasion itself would constitute a declaration of
war.

What do I care—I’d be free.

But at what cost? She looked at Ischi, who bounced the paper ball
from knee to knee. At the other members of FT, who grinned and watched. She
didn’t even know their names.

Better I don’t—the list is long enough.
No more, if she
could help it. No more.

“All right, Lieutenant.” She took one last look at the unadorned,
sand-colored space, then fell in behind.

“
Nìa?
” Nema broke away from Ischi and Vespucci and beelined
toward them. “Where are you going?”

“Back to the base, nìRau. General Burkett’s orders.”

“
Orders?
” The pitch of his voice lowered so he sounded
hoarse. His shoulders rounded. “Is it not true that to stand here is to stand
in Rauta Shèràa? Is it not true that in this room, my word is as orders?”

The lieutenant’s eyes widened as the tall,
angry
ambassador
closed in. “Sir.”

“So do I order you to leave this room, Lieutenant.”

“Sir—nìRau—General Burkett—”

Jani stepped between the lieutenant and the oncoming Nema. “NìRau!
Please!”

“Go to your paper, nìa! Obey me!” Nema’s guttural voice sounded a
distinctly idomeni warning. He waited for Jani to back away before closing in
on the hapless Security guard. “I will speak of this to General Burkett, who
gives orders within my walls!” He grabbed the young man by the arm. The
lieutenant tried to pull away—his eyes widened when he realized he couldn’t
break the Vynshàrau’s grip.

“
So
.” Nema pushed him out the door and directly in the path
of a young diplomatic suborn, who sidestepped neatly.

“NìRau ti nìRau? You are needed.” She spoke English with a heavy
Vynshàrau accent, swallowed
t
’s and back-of-the-throat
r
’s.

“Not now, nìaRauta Vìa.”

“
Now
, nìRau ti nìRau.” Vìa rounded her shoulders in a
posture of aggravation. Not as hunched as Nema, but the twist and twirl of her
right hand indicated that it was only a matter of time. “Exterior Minister
Ulanova and Suborn Oligarch nìRau Lish are discussing taxation of Elyan Haárin
settlements.”

“
Discussing
, nìa?”

Vìa hesitated, then raised her right hand, palm facing up, in
silent plea.

Nema’s voice dropped to a John Shroud-like resonance. “My Anais
makes trouble, as always. I would challenge her myself, but she is too short to
fight.” He looked at Jani, and his posture saddened. “I see my nìa Kièrshia for
so short a time, and now I must leave!” He walked back to Ischi and took the
wad of paper from his hand. “I must play goalie.” He tossed the parchment ball
from hand to hand as he strode out of the room.

Jani turned back to the table, which held surveys and maps and
other documents applicable to the Strip negotiations. She couldn’t recall the
last time she’d seen Nema that angry.
And all because of me.
“How much
longer do you think I have to live, ma’am?”

Hals sighed. “At least until you get back to Sheridan.” She
unholstered her scanpack. “Burkett wouldn’t want civilians to find the body.”

The verification session lasted six hours, not including
the forty-five-minute interruption for the Vynshàrau’s late-evening sacramental
meal. By the time they adjourned, Jani’s stomach ached from hunger and her
right arm had numbed and stiffened from pain. The meeting room smelled like old
socks. She hadn’t broken a sweat to speak of, but everyone else in FT looked
like they’d been caught in a shower. The only consolation was that she felt so exhausted,
Burkett’s welcoming scowl as he met her in the hallway didn’t make her feel
worse.