Shorts Stories: Imperial Radch

by Ann Leckie

  "Your point?" asked Qefahl Brend, voice smooth and dangerous.

  "I have no interest in seeing anyone die," said the governor of Harime. "Least of all Brother Seven-Brilliant-Truths-Shine-Like-Suns. I have been troubled for some time over what seems to be to be our taking the Game's conclusion for granted. I speak not just of the populace but also ourselves, the governors. It was meant to ensure that anyone seeking office truly desired the will of She-Who-Sprang-From-The-Lily, but what does it mean, now we aren't risking ourselves? I suggest a return to something approaching the original terms of the Game. Not your death, Tetrarch, but your retirement to a life of prayer and asceticism. Surely that will satisfy She-Who-Sprang-From-The-Lily. What could be sweeter to Her than lifelong devotion?"

  Qefahl Brend gave a bark of laughter. "Do as you like, I have no reason to retire." Silence for just a moment, Ultimately-Justice standing quiet and solid, Seven-Brilliant-Truths still looking fixedly at Her-Breath-Contains.

  The abbot bowed towards the governor of Harime. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you actually imagined that Qefahl Brend might sacrifice his ambition for the good of Noage Itray. But we both know him too well. No more games, Governor, make your serve in earnest."

  Unfazed, the governor of Harime said, "There is also the matter of the tetrarch's bribing White Lily's middle court to throw the game."

  "We have proof," added Sister Ultimately-Justice. A dizzying wave of anxiety passed through Her-Breath-Contains. Did she expect him to admit what he'd done?

  Abbot Shall-I-Alone-Escape-Death shook his head in dismay. "Tampering with election results! That's a serious charge. You have proof, you say?"

  "The player confessed," said Ultimately-Justice. Her-Breath-Contains thought of the sound of the man's leg breaking, and swallowed back a small, distressed sound.

  "Governor," said the governor of Harime, "if I make my accusation—and my evidence—public you will almost certainly lose most of your support. The matter will come before the Council of Four and you will ultimately be forced out of office in favor of someone else. Depending on who that is—and who your enemies are—you may end up imprisoned, or even executed." He paused, and then said, "You may avoid this by retiring to a hermitage, and appointing your brother Qefahl Aresh governor in your place."

  Qefahl Aresh. Her-Breath-Contains barely remembered going by that name, it felt foreign to him.

  "Qefahl Aresh is only a child," said Qefahl Brend contemptuously. "And besides, he's on retreat and cannot be found."

  "It will be as She wills," said the Harime governor. "If you do not agree, or if you cannot find Qefahl Aresh, then I will bring my accusation and my evidence to the Council of Four."

  Silence. Seven-Brilliant-Truths seemed not to have heard anything, was still looking at Her-Breath-Contains.

  After a few heavy moments of silence Shall-I-Alone-Escape-Death said, "Oh, if only Qefahl Aresh were here now."

  "You have conspired against me!" Qefahl Brend accused.

  "No," said the abbot, smiling. "But I know an opportunity when I see one." He put a hand on Her-Breath-Contains' shoulder.

  Every favor comes with a price. Ultimately-Justice hadn't had to tell Her-Breath-Contains that, he'd already known it. But the balance wasn't so lopsided as she seemed to imply. He had already done her a favor. That would have a price that he could collect someday. He wasn't a child, wasn't stupid. In fact, everyone here would owe him—the governor of Harime, soon to be the tetrarch, Seven-Brilliant-Truths, the abbot. "I'm Qefahl Aresh," he said, and then, lightheaded and anxious, wished immediately that he hadn't spoken.

  The governor of Harime did not so much as twitch an eyebrow. He was nearly as impassive as Sister Ultimately-Justice.

  "Well, well," said abbot Shall-I-Alone-Escape-Death. "Imagine that."

  "Congratulations, abbot," said Qefahl Brend bitterly. "You have the governorship."

  "No," said Shall-I-Alone-Escape-Death, voice gentle. "Qefahl Aresh does." Her-Breath-Contains suppressed a shiver.

  "You agree, then?" asked the governor of Harime.

  "Not to a hermitage! Surely, abbot . . ."

  "Tampering with election results," the abbot said sadly, "is a very serious charge."

  "Damn you!" said Qefahl Brend. "Very well, let Aresh be governor, for whatever good it will do any of you."

  "Governor," said Ultimately-Justice then, and with a start Her-Breath-Contains realized she was talking to him. "I wish to reiterate the proposal regarding Brother Seven-Brilliant-Truths-Shine-Like-Suns."

  Her-Breath-Contains quickly gestured assent. "Yes. I agree to it."

  "Excellent!" said Shall-I-Alone-Escape-Death. "I'm sure we can come up with a suitable ceremony, and Seven-Brilliant-Truths will live to play more games."

  Seven-Brilliant-Truths, silent all this while, turned to Ultimately-Justice. "Sister!" he said. "You have more faith than I do, and I've mocked you for it. Will you forgive me?"

  "I forgive you," said Ultimately-Justice, solid, even. Impassive.

  "I was so sure it would be you who would die. So sure. I forgot . . ." he stopped, blinked. "I forgot it's Her will we do and not ours. Even though She showed me Herself, so often. I've spent my whole life, since I was a boy, telling myself I was devoted to Her, but I wasn't, I was devoted to myself. And now She makes my deception plain, even to myself." Seven-Brilliant-Truths stepped to where Her-Breath-Contains stood, with the abbot's hand still on his shoulder, and knelt. "Returned one!" he cried. "I should have paid attention, I should have listened to you and the abbot! Please forgive me!"

  Both Qefahl Brend and the Harime governor looked nonplussed. "Brother Seven-Brilliant-Truths," explained the abbot, "believes that Her-Br . . . that Qefahl Aresh is the saint Hold-Her-Commands-As-A-Mirror-To-Your-Heart, returned."

  Qefahl Brend scoffed.

  "I should have asked your blessing before the game," Seven-Brilliant-Truths said. "I should have asked the blessing of She-Commands-Me-And-I-Obey." He took Her-Breath-Contains' hands in his and kissed them. Her-Breath-Contains was appalled.

  "I swore I would surrender to Her will, even to the point of losing my life," said Seven-Brilliant-Truths. "And if I walk away from this, I'll know that my faith is a lie. Plan your new ceremony for next time."

  "What?" Her-Breath-Contains was having trouble understanding what it was Seven-Brilliant-Truths was saying, though suspicion had started a horrible feeling in his empty stomach.

  "Are you sure, Brother?" asked the governor of Harime. "No one here would blame you."

  "That's right," said Her-Breath-Contains hastily.

  "And understanding the Goddess' will isn't easy," said the abbot. "We can all of us only do our best."

  "She commands me," said Seven-Brilliant-Truths. "And I obey. Sister understands."

  "Yes," said Sister Ultimately-Justice, not even blinking.

  * * *

  Seven-Brilliant-Truths' death was like everything Sister Ultimately-Justice did—sure and precise.

  Afterwards Her-Breath-Contains and the abbot walked towards the Blue Lily goal line, followed by Blue Lily's middle court and back court carrying Seven-Brilliant-Truths' body. Her-Breath-Contains couldn't afford to make a sound until he was past the line. Seven-Brilliant-Truths' blood was still fresh on his clothes. He wanted to strip them off, wanted to erase from his mind the sight of Seven-Brilliant-Truths slumping forward, his head in Ultimately-Justice's hands.

  He stepped over the goal line. Qefahl Brend, waiting there, said bitterly to Shall-I-Alone-Escape-Death, "It doesn't matter what happens as long as you have what you want."

  It took Her-Breath-Contains a sick moment to realize Qefahl Brend was talking about himself, not Seven-Brilliant-Truths.

  "We're alike that way," said the abbot, with equanimity. How calm the abbot was! But Shall-I-Alone-Escape-Death had won three election games, done three times what Sister Ultimately-Justice had just done. "In other ways, not. I'll send you icons for your he
rmitage. Of the saint Seven-Brilliant-Truths-Shine-Like-Suns and one of She-Commands-Me-And-I-Obey." He looked at Her-Breath-Contains. "I don't have to urge you learn from She-Commands-Me-And-I-Obey, do I, Governor."

  Her-Breath-Contains thought of overheard conversations, of the saint Hold-Her-Commands-As-A-Mirror-To-Your-Heart, drowned before he could tell his successor that the most secure room in the monastery was, in fact, bugged. Of the abbot telling him there was power in knowing something others didn't know. Thought of Sister Ultimately-Justice, her strong arms, the smell of her skin, the knife in her hand, Seven-Brilliant-Truths . . . no, not that, not that . . . her voice in his ear, warning him to be careful of the abbot. I'll help you if I can.

  "No, abbot," he said. "You don't."

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  ANN LECKIE has worked as a waitress, a receptionist, a rodman on a land-surveying crew, a lunch lady, and a recording engineer. The author of many published short stories, and former secretary of the Science Fiction Writers of America, she lives in St. Louis, Missouri, with her husband, children, and cats.