Like Father, Like Son
Nekantor stared at the locked door for a long time. Tagaret had locked it. He’d locked it because he couldn’t face the truth, that an Imbati was pursuing them for reasons unknown. But Tagaret always locked the door. Tagaret wanted to keep secret games.
The door must not be locked.
Nekantor left the wall and sat beside the door again. The lock was brass, bright and new on the bronze door—heavier than the last lock, and it would be harder to unlock. Each lock was heavier than the last. Tagaret would get a palm lock if he could, trying to keep his secret games, but palm locks couldn’t be bought; no one could make them anymore. And so Tagaret would lose again, because now he would pick this lock, just like the last one, and the fourteen before that. Of course, Tagaret would be angry. But Tagaret was harmless even when he was angry, and the door must not be locked.
Imbati Aloran, now—he wasn’t harmless. Was he harmful? Well, but he wasn’t harmless; he was different, and unexplained. Presuming to appear in play session to spy on him and Benél, claiming to be doing research? Research?
Unacceptable.
He and Benél had spoken about it afterward. In private, after the other boys had left, they’d tried to understand Imbati Aloran. Benél was good; Benél was strong, very strong, able to keep seven boys in thrall to the First Family. But there were a lot of things he didn’t understand, which was why it was important to explain things to him. When he understood, he was powerful.
But this time Benél wasn’t the only one who didn’t understand.
Unacceptable.
How to explain Imbati Aloran? Not an assassin for Father’s Sorn, nor an information gatherer, because he wasn’t marked to service. Tagaret was right—infuriating. The will of gentlemen was the reason why Imbati lived and moved. How could Aloran do anything at all with no will behind him? Gnash Tagaret! He’d made this harder on purpose.
And he was trying to hide behind the locked door.
Nekantor took a wire from his pocket and put it into the lock. It felt like a tight lock, with not much movement in the wire. Benél would come tonight, soon. When Benél came, he’d stand beside him, speak in his ear, and go with him wherever he was going. All the others might squabble amongst themselves, but one thing didn’t change: Benél listened to him, and all the others followed where Benél led them.
A sudden sound: the front door again. Thieves? Assassins? Benél didn’t have his palm coded; you couldn’t open a palm lock with a wire.
But then, Imbati Serjer’s obsequious voice: “Welcome back, Master, Lady.”
“Oh, Serjer, it’s so good to see you again.”
“Thank you, Lady.”
“Serjer, help us get this luggage in.”
“Yes, sir, right away.”
That’s who it was. Father and Mother, scheduled to arrive tonight, for good, after five years and a voyage up on the surface. They wouldn’t like him at Tagaret’s lock. He removed the wire. He gritted his teeth. Gnash Tagaret for locking the door—the door should not be locked.
“Tagaret! Nekantor!” Father’s voice called from the sitting room, full of power like boulders grinding. Oh, he remembered that power: the stones that had once framed the world. Nekantor moved away from Tagaret’s door as Father came in through the double doors.
Father was fat, and his hair was gray. Fifty-seven, and he had power, won in countless power games—but it took Kinders fever to give him the prize of his career. Speaker of the Cabinet now, and soon he’d be in the confidence of the Eminence Indal, so the Eminence Indal would listen to him. Garr was already in the secret confidence of Herin, the Heir to the throne.
Herin of the Third Family owed Father everything. All the Pelismara Society knew the story of how Dest of the Eleventh Family had been assassinated during the last Heir Selection; Dest had been Herin’s most powerful rival. It was Father who’d made that happen—but even after picking the lock on his office and searching the files, Nekantor still couldn’t guess how he’d done it. The Arissen police had never tied it to him and never would. Nobody could play power games like Father, and now he stood with his mouth at the ears of both the Eminence and the Heir. That was power.
“Father,” Nekantor said. “Welcome home. Congratulations on your promotion.”
“Nekantor,” said Garr. “Good to see you, son.”
“Nek, love, how are you?” Mother’s hand messed the hair behind his ear.
He shook it away. “I’m fine, Mother.” Mother was pretty and didn’t have power. She got him servants who were no good. Imbati Aloran—she was trying to get him Imbati Aloran as a servant? No, Imbati Aloran worked for ladies. That was it: Imbati Aloran could work for Mother. But Imbati Aloran played games, and no one should hire an Imbati who played games.
No matter. He could play games better than any Imbati, if it came to that.
“Where’s Tagaret?” Mother asked.
Nekantor lashed a glance at the locked door. “In his rooms. Locked, in his rooms.” He fingered the wire, in his pocket.
“Tagaret!” Father shouted.
The lock clicked open. Ohhh, so satisfying, like slipping into warm water. Tagaret came out and shook Father’s hand. Tagaret was taller than Father, and thin, and his hair was not gray. But Tagaret was harmless, too stupid to take part in power games, and wouldn’t listen when things were explained to him. Only three in his gang, and he refused any talk of becoming Heir—how absurd.
“Father, it’s great to have you home,” Tagaret said. “Any trouble on the Roads?”
“None on the Roads,” said Father. “But we were delayed having to use rampways into town. I’m starting to think they’ll never get the Alixi’s Elevator fixed.”
“That’s too bad. How was the trip, Mother?”
Father grunted. “Your mother and I slept most of the way. How’s school? Have you been reporting your grades to the Arbiter of the First Family Council?”
Tagaret scowled like a baby. “Of course I have, Father. School is going fine.”
Enough silliness. Nekantor stepped forward. “Father, the important news is that the Kinders fever hasn’t become an epidemic. Its source is still under investigation. The Eminence Indal is in fine health. His partner has not achieved another pregnancy. But the Heir Herin’s partner has carried their second child to seven months, so it looks good.”
Father glanced over. “Thanks for telling me, Nek. I’ll have to congratulate him.”
Serjer and Father’s Sorn crossed to the master bedroom carrying luggage. Mother’s Eyli crossed empty-handed. Useless Imbati. Imbati Aloran played games, but he could carry luggage at least.
“The surface is always a nervous place, Tagaret,” Mother said. “But I’m so happy to see you—look at you, you’re taller than me.” Tagaret hugged her, and she hugged him back tight.
“I missed you so much,” Tagaret said. “I’m so glad you’ll be back for our birthdays.”
Father clapped his hands together. “We would never have missed your political debut, anyway. I’ve been planning it for months. You’re going to burst onto the scene with the entire First Family behind you.”
Tagaret was harmless and did not know how to plan. With Tagaret’s stupid attitude, it would be a lot of work. But Father was back. Father would explain things to him. Father would make him listen.
No sign, yet, of Benél. Nekantor looked down to where the gold watch on his wrist said two minutes to nine. “Benél will come in a few minutes,” he said. “I’m going out with him.”
Father frowned. “You can’t go out tonight, Nek,” he said. “We’ve just gotten back. It wouldn’t be appropriate.”
“Well, but if he’s already got it planned,” Mother said.
“Nonsense, Tamelera. You’re not going, Nek.”
Not going. But he was going; he was going out tonight. As soon as Benél c
ame, he would go with him. “I’m going,” he said.
“Nekantor—” said Father.
Tagaret and Mother made uncomfortable faces. He wanted to scream at them.
“Master, a message,” Serjer announced, striking his messenger pose, turning his eyes Higher to relay the voice of his betters. “To Garr of the First Family. May we stop by tonight to welcome you back and discuss cabinet strategy? In anticipation, Fedron of the First Family.”
Mother shook her head. “Well, as we’ve just gotten back—”
“That’s great,” said Father. “Any time before ten is fine.”
Mother dropped her hands into her skirts. “But, Garr, it’s not appropriate.”
“Show some sense, Tamelera,” said Father. “This is the cabinet we’re talking about.”
“But you just said,” Mother said, closing fists. “This is our first night with our sons in five years!”
Now, this was interesting. Nekantor smiled. If tonight involved cabinet members, staying home might not be so useless after all. “Father,” he said. “I’ll stay here if I can be part of your meeting. Strategize about you claiming your place at the head of the First Family. You’ll have to show Fedron he’s not in charge of us anymore.”
Father scowled. “Nekantor . . .”
Then the doorbell rang, and Father waved them all toward the sitting room.
Nekantor ran, so no one could touch him. If this was Benél, then he would go with him.
Sorn opened the door like a good Imbati, and Benél was here, smiling. Oh, it felt good. It always felt good, when Benél smiled.
“Benél!”
“Nek!” Benél said—and to Father, “Good evening, sir. Nek’s coming out with me and the fellows.”
“I’m afraid he’s not,” said Father. “We’ve just gotten home.”
Benél stopped smiling.
No. Nekantor grimaced. His chest was hot, it twisted—he was going out with Benél tonight, and Benél was strong, and he would go with him. “I’m going with him,” he said. “Benél and I are going out tonight, with friends. We had it planned.”
“Why don’t I show you how I’ve arranged my rooms, Mother,” said Tagaret. They didn’t have power; they ran away. They disappeared through the double doors—
And Tagaret’s lock clicked.
The door must not be locked! He had to go out, away from the locked door. Benél was strong, and he would go out with him tonight. It was planned!
“Nekantor,” Father said. “Tonight you’re staying home with us.”
Nekantor stared him in the eye. “Oh, so I do get to strategize, then?”
“Don’t be ridiculous; this is men’s business.”
Nekantor frowned. Secret games—he closed and opened his hands. Father was not harmless like Tagaret. “Well,” he said, “if you can play games with your little gang, I don’t see why I can’t play with mine.”
Father’s face darkened, and he turned away toward the front door. “Good night, Benél,” he said stiffly. “Tonight’s not a good night.”
“Good night, sir,” said Benél. “I’m sorry, sir.”
Nekantor hissed under his breath. It was definitely not a good night. Father made it a miserable night. Father had power, and wouldn’t let him strategize, and wouldn’t let him go out tonight. But Benél was going out tonight, and here—in the suite—Tagaret’s door was locked. It should not be locked! It was too tight in here—too tight in here already, and Father turned with a breath, and was going to bind him tighter. Nekantor shoved through the double doors, ran down the hall, and locked himself in his rooms, so he wouldn’t feel the door that should not be locked, so he wouldn’t feel Benél going out when he did not go out. He hunted the bedroom, searching, touching, checking. Was anything wrong? Anything? No, nothing—here, there was nothing wrong, except that he was not going out.
His father banged on the door. “Nekantor!”
There was no need to answer. Father had power, but he didn’t have the key, and he couldn’t open a lock with a wire. He’d give up soon enough and go play with his own gang.
Nekantor sat on his bed and hugged his knees, staring into the calming perfection of the window shade that hung exactly straight. There had been one that hadn’t, and he had destroyed it—cut it in pieces with a knife, until it was not a window shade anymore. That had fixed it.
Tap. Tap.
A sound, behind the perfect window shade. He pulled it down carefully, so it rolled up perfectly. Benél’s hand, outside the window. Ahh, Benél was here, and tonight they were going out together. Nekantor opened the window very quietly; he could play games as well as anyone. Outside, Benél was smiling. It felt good.
“Come on, Nek. Get down here.” Benél was very strong, and caught him when he jumped from the windowsill.
Nekantor carefully straightened his trousers, his shirt, his vest, then followed Benél out into the grounds. The other seven gathered, telling stories and sharing rumors as they headed out into the city. Nekantor walked beside Benél, listening, remembering. He whispered plans into Benél’s ear, so Benél could understand.
When Benél understood, he was powerful.
CHAPTER FIVE
Resistance
Not until the lock clicked did it really hit him. Mother was here. She held him, and despite how much smaller she suddenly seemed, the warmth, the softness, the comfort were exactly the same. It pulled the last five years right out of him.
Tears rose in Tagaret’s eyes. “Oh, Mother, I can’t believe it . . .”
“Tagaret, my love, my darling,” she murmured into his neck. “I’ll never have to leave you again, I promise. Your father has always wanted this—the provinces couldn’t possibly offer him better.”
Tagaret closed his eyes. “Don’t say that, Mother. We’ll be together because we’ve always wanted this, not because it’s convenient for him.”
“Of course, darling. We—”
Father banged on the door, and Mother winced.
“Mother,” Tagaret said, “What if I don’t answer? Just for a few minutes.”
She gave him a tighter squeeze. “Well, I’m afraid the cabinet members are coming, and you do have a debut to think of.”
“I know that . . .”
She smiled. “But I’m sure you can impress them.”
Father banged again. “I hear the doorbell. Tagaret!”
“Coming, Father.” He and Mother went out arm in arm.
“Garr,” said Mother firmly, “A short visit only, please. We have family to think of.”
“Tagaret,” Father said. “Enough clinging.”
Tagaret clenched his teeth. He’d tolerate this business because it was necessary, but he wasn’t letting go. Father and Sorn led the way, and Imbati Eyli opened the doors for all of them to the sitting room. They were just in time to see Serjer admit Grobal Fedron—and Lady Selemei.
Tagaret held his breath. Fortunately, Lady Selemei gave no sign that she’d met him earlier.
“What a pleasure,” Father boomed. “Fedron, just the man I wanted to see. Come; explain to me the increase in the Pelismara Division’s harvest safety budget. Wysp problems, or Venorai theft?” He drew Fedron toward one of the sitting room couches, ignoring Selemei as if she were as invisible as the visiting manservants.
He could do better than that. “Welcome to our home, Lady Selemei,” Tagaret said.
“A pleasure, Tagaret,” the Lady replied. She shifted her cane into one hand and extended the other one to Mother. “It’s just wonderful to see you again, Tamelera—the collective intelligence of the Pelismar ladies declined precipitously with your departure.”
Mother took her hand. “That’s kind of you to say. I owe you a game of kuarjos, or perhaps dareli, if we can persuade Keir and Lienne to join us.”
Lady Selemei’s eyebrows shot up. S
he took one step toward Mother and whispered in her ear.
Mother cried, “Lienne Fell?”
Without thinking, Tagaret tried to move between them. “What?”
Mother drew him back again. “It’s all right, Tagaret. We had a friend—actually a childhood cousin of mine—it’s true I hadn’t heard from her. Now Selemei tells me she’s Fallen to take an Arissen man as her life’s partner. Almost two years ago. And no one told me.”
“Fedron and I sent a radiogram to Selimna,” Lady Selemei said softly. “I’m sorry; I assumed it had reached you.”
Tagaret nearly choked. “Your cousin turned her back on the Race, and Father didn’t tell you?”
Mother glanced fury toward Father, but her voice came soft and sad. “I can’t believe Lienne is gone. She was so bright, so noble. I never imagined—and think of her children . . .”
That was a cold thought. To have your mother abandon you to become Lower—change herself into something unrecognizable? Losing Mother to the provinces seemed nothing in comparison. Tagaret wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
“It was a tragic loss,” Selemei said gently. “We can still play dareli with three.”
Mother was clearly distressed. “Well, the cards would play differently,” she said. “And you’re busy, with the cabinet’s business . . .”
“I’d love to tell you about it,” Selemei said. “I think you’d find it very interesting—for example, the role the Imbati caretakers play in supporting unconfirmed children.”
Fedron called from over by the couches. “Lady Selemei, we need you!”
Father added, “Tagaret! You, too.”
Tagaret didn’t move. Gnash it. Gnash Father.
“I do hate to leave Fedron unprotected,” Lady Selemei remarked. “Perhaps we should all join them?”
“Tagaret!”
“Mother, do please join us,” Tagaret said. “Just for a minute.”
“All right, love.”
Father and Fedron were posturing at each other, chests thrown out like rival kanguans. Fedron looked visibly relieved when Selemei went to his side.
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