by Patty Jansen
While we waited, Veyada declared casually that he was going to find the bathroom.
He opened his feeder and I could sense him walking down a set of stairs into a semibasement where sounds were hollow.
And, suddenly, Sheydu was there. They were indeed in Rotterdam. To Veyada’s question whether they had what they needed, she said they did, whatever that meant. They would stay in Rotterdam overnight and we’d try to meet up with them tomorrow once we knew the court schedule. I asked them about information surrounding the trial, especially in relation to the protesters outside the courthouse, and if there were major issues.
Sheydu said no.
But what about protesters outside the courthouse, I asked her.
She seemed surprised that I wanted to hear about them.
Just some people unhappy with what they’ve got, she said and couldn’t see how it was related to the case, or the Pengali, or us.
To appease me, she sent me one of the news items. They were poor people from Africa, a quick skim revealed.
I’m not sure that this is terribly relevant to us, she said.
At this point, lacking further information, I cautiously agreed.
I was wondering how to bring up Margarethe, and the action of thinking about it sent a signal to Veyada and he let me know both to shut up and that it had been taken care of.
So I shut down the link, not being as good with controlling my thoughts as they were. The waitress had arrived with a tray full of goodies. She unloaded coffee, tea, a plate full of pastries and a sippy cup of apple juice for Ayshada.
He squirmed in his high seat, worming his legs under him so he could reach the pastries. Thayu gave him one and he took a huge bite, spilling pastry flakes and powdered sugar all over his face and the front of his cute overalls.
He was so much better behaved when that Pengali brat wasn’t running around.
“It is really hard not to tell the mother to teach the kid some manners,” Thayu said, having followed my thoughts.
“Feel free to tell her.”
“It’s not my place.”
Meaning it was my place, and yes, it might well come to that. “I can try, but I doubt she’ll listen.”
Thayu’s face turned dark. “I’m getting really sick of their poor behaviour masquerading as Pengali culture. They want us to accept them? Then let them start behaving politely.”
Thayu, having grown up in a military household and trained as spy, was about orders, responsibilities and promises. Lack of structure and clear authority annoyed her even more than it annoyed most Coldi.
Veyada returned and we drank and talked about the weather and tourist things. Nicha was quite interested in the beach suburb I’d mentioned and, apparently, a tram still went to it.
We finished our coffee. Ayshada had reduced two whole pastries to a set of crumbs. He had crumbs all over his face and sticky little hands, which Nicha wiped down. Fortunately, he was also getting tired, and he let himself be strapped into the pram before cuddling up with his blanket.
Thayu gave him a tender look. It was hard to believe that we would have a little brat like that, and somehow, I still couldn’t believe that it had been so easy.
We walked back to the hotel. By now, the sun was sinking, the light turning golden, and people on scooters and bikes were filling the streets on their way home from work.
Ayshada would have enjoyed seeing that two-wheeled traffic, but he was fast asleep.
We had a security meeting in the conference room at the top of the stairs, where the oval table was barely visible under all kinds of equipment. Evi and Amarru’s guards had completed a thorough scan of the hotel. They had located a few listening points and had established that we were being monitored from the second floor of an office block across the canal.
Again, I had no idea how they knew this, but security was security and they did what they did best. In those types of conversations, I was a fly on the wall and I didn’t ask questions. I just let my security do their work.
After the meeting I spoke briefly to Jemiro, too, and asked him if he needed anything, but the young man was painfully shy and he looked like a stunned rabbit every time I asked him a question. I wondered how much good he was going to be in the courtroom. Enough to satisfy the court’s demands, but I was sure going to rely on Ynggi for translation, and so I went to check with Ynggi to make sure that he’d be up and ready tomorrow morning for when the lawyers were going to turn up.
The Pengali all sat on the floor in their room in a very serious-looking meeting. I asked if there was an issue, but apparently, they were deciding “the order of statements”, whatever that meant. Yes, Ynggi would be ready. He’d make sure the others would be ready, too.
Then I spoke to Devlin, and he told me that because Jemiro was not from one of the major keihu families, he would live in constant fear that people with higher social standing would come and take his job away if he drew too much attention to himself.
It was an odd thing to say, but little surprised me about the keihu anymore. On the surface, they looked civilised and polite, but that veneer wore off quickly when you started poking, and it revealed a nasty world of rivalry and backstabbing between the major families.
“The old Pakiru, Jemiro’s grandfather I’m guessing, got badly into debt and the family couldn’t pay their creditors. They had to move to another part of town. They now run a handful of eateries.”
Not the most glamorous business in Barresh.
“How did he even get his education then?”
Devlin shrugged and spread his hands. “I guess we all lost track of the family.”
I felt a little more favourably disposed towards Jemiro after that. He must be a very determined man to have climbed this far out of that hole.
I went back to our room and did some reading, but I spotted Thayu’s eyes falling shut a few times, and we decided it had been enough for today. The shower was hot, and the bed big and comfortable, and Thayu’s arms soft and warm. Before I drifted off to sleep, Thayu said, “Have you noticed that we’re the only guests here?”
Chapter 8
* * *
THAYU WAS RIGHT, we were the only guests in the hotel.
I’d noticed that the place seemed unusually quiet and wondered about it. Now it seemed that someone had gone all out on the expenses. I guessed they really wanted to convict Robert Davidson of murder.
Or they really wanted us to remain out of contact with the rest of the world until Abri had presented her evidence.
I guessed it was the court’s right to order that, but just what was going on outside the courthouse that somebody didn’t want us to see and that the receptionist had so casually mentioned to me? On second thoughts, how casual had that mention really been? So the protesters were “dangerous”, right? They were so dangerous that we needed to be warned off and steered in the other direction, just in case we saw . . . what? That the police were lacking in control? That some people didn’t like Robert Davidson’s companies? We already knew those things.
And what did Margarethe want to tell me and was the fact that I’d been unable to contact her really an unfortunate congregation of events?
That question kept going through my mind while I lay there staring into the dark after having woken up in the middle of the night, unable to go back to sleep.
Years of living at gamra and living with several people who were highly trained spies had given me a sensor for when something was off. That sensor was firing at full strength right now, even if I had no idea if there was a threat, where it came from, if it was directed at us or who we could confide in to talk about it. In fact, I wasn’t sure we had much to talk about.
Our communication was being blocked—but that was understandable because of the court.
We were warned not to meet with the protesters outside the courthouse—but that might be out of genuine concern for our safety, never mind that we were well equipped to look after ourselves, although being outnumbered could be a
dangerous factor.
We needed to know more before we could ask for any help, but the thought of sending my team out to investigate made me feel ill. Out of all of them, only Nicha was confident in Isla. Thayu was breathing softly in her sleep next to me, and I didn’t want to put her in any danger.
As soon as it started to get light, and I could hear someone talking downstairs at the entrance of the hotel, I got out of bed.
Thayu was still fast asleep, on her stomach with her face scrunched into the pillow. I took care not to wake her, dragging all my clothes into the bathroom to get changed there. That was more difficult than it sounded. Gamra people put a lot of stock into signals sent through one’s clothing, and I’d spent some time considering what I’d wear. My regular outfit, including the shirt with the gauze-thin sleeves and embroidered vest over the top, was out. It was much too cold for that here. So I had asked Eirani to procure me a slightly thicker shirt that I could wear under the vest. I’d been tempted to discontinue my adaptation medication that made me more comfortable in the humid heat of Barresh, but sudden changes in adaptation tended to cause severe nausea, and I could certainly do without that. So I had taken the temperature retaining suit that a manufacturer on Asto had made to my measurements and I put that on underneath all my clothes.
From the bathroom, I quietly slipped into the upstairs hall. The Pengali were up, or at least the door to their room was open. Through the opening I could see a mess of blankets on the floor and wished good luck on the cleaners who would have to sort it out. The door to Nicha’s room was closed, but I met Nicha downstairs in the foyer, where a few of the others also hung around waiting for the breakfast that was already spreading delicious smells through the foyer.
Nicha was reading something; Ayshada ran after Idda, zigzagging between the couches in the foyer, both of them making far more noise than was comfortable at this early hour.
Reya was talking to Amarru’s guards; Mereeni sat on her knees next to Eirani, who had dragged over a display table and was looking at advertising displays of cooking utensils. The two women were pointing and laughing, and making movements with their hands as if demonstrating what each unfamiliar appliance on the display might be for. Karana sat on Eirani’s other side. She thought it was extremely funny. Her high laughter echoed through the hall.
I thought I understood my association’s issues with Mereeni: because she was from Hedron, they didn’t know how weak or strong the sheya instinct was in her, so they had no idea how to treat her.
But seeing her sit there, I could understand why Amarru had sent her. Would any Coldi so easily talk to Eirani in this way? The members of my association spoke to Eirani, but never without inhibition. In our household, I interacted with the staff, because that was my task, being the leader of the association.
Mereeni just talked to everyone regardless of position, the way she talked to a bunch of keihu people now and had talked to the Pengali yesterday. What was more, she acted genuinely interested in everything, from fish to cooking utensils.
And Veyada didn’t like it.
He sat on a bench across the hall, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at her. And she didn’t have the sheya instinct or she wouldn’t have so utterly, pathetically ignored him.
Which probably pissed him off even more. I knew I should go to him and show solidarity, but a big part of me wanted to slap him in the face and tell him to stop it and loosen up.
Except he couldn’t and, knowing Veyada, that probably embarrassed him immensely. I sat down next to him, and utterly failed at finding something meaningful to say. So we ended up talking about the weather—the fucking weather—while avoiding the subject that made him so uncomfortable, and while that subject’s laughter echoed through the hall.
After the sunny weather yesterday, the sky was bleak, with low clouds chasing each other over the city. No rain, fortunately, but it didn’t look or feel warm.
But weather wasn’t a very interesting subject, so we did swing around to work.
“Are you happy working with Amarru’s lawyers?” I asked before I could spend too much time worrying about the wording.
“They are very knowledgeable. My understanding of local law is not nearly as extensive.”
That was not really what I asked, Veyada. “But there are no problems? I noticed that you seemed to have an issue settling your sheya.”
“She is from Hedron. They don’t have sheya.”
Did he believe that? They had it, or at least some people had it, maybe not as strong, but they definitely had it. If nothing else, she definitely had an effect on him. But he obviously didn’t want to talk about that, either.
And then, before I could muster up the courage to call both of them to me to get this sorted out, because that was what I would have to do, some commotion broke out.
Karana sprang to her feet, yelling, “No, Idda, no!”
She ran across the hall, where the Pengali brat sat atop the “child-proof” fence that stood around the pond. She would have jumped into the pond had not Ayshada gotten hold of her tail. He was pulling it, and she squealed, and Karana shouted for them both to stop it. She pulled Idda off the fence.
Ayshada laughed.
Idda wriggled loose and jumped from Karana’s arms onto the carpet. She scampered across the foyer. Ayshada took off after her. She jumped onto the stairs, and ran up to the upstairs landing, jumped on top of the banister and then—
“No!” I ran forward, but it was already too late.
She jumped—
—sailed across the atrium—
—into the pond in the hall.
Splash!
Water went everywhere. People yelled. The receptionist—a prim woman I hadn’t seen before—copped a fair bit of it.
Her mouth was open in utter horror.
That was enough. In a few steps, I was across the hall. I shoved the useless kiddie fence aside, fished the youngster out of the water—where she was already chasing the terrified goldfish—and carried her up the stairs two steps at a time. I charged into the Pengali’s room, where the door was still open and handed the brat, dripping and all, to her mother.
“Keep her with you or make her behave, or I’ll lock her in a room.”
Kita gave me a shocked, wide-eyed look.
“You want her to be safe, don’t you?”
“She must learn.” She sounded defensive.
“Yes. She must learn to listen and stop making people angry. I want you to help me stop her getting into trouble. I want her to return home safely.”
She held the youngster to her chest, the first time I’d seen her even touch the child in any kind of protective gesture.
Idda looked shaken, shoulders hunched, head low. She was shivering in her wet clothes.
“Go and dry her. Hey.” I patted Idda on the head. Her coarse hair felt rough against my fingers. “It’s not so bad. I just want you to keep out of trouble. Get dressed and come down to breakfast. Wear appropriate clothing.”
I went back down the hallway.
Ayshada stood at the top of the stairs, imitating the snorting Pengali laughter.
I had to bite my lip to keep a straight face.
In the foyer downstairs, Karana and Eirani were already helping the poor receptionist clean up the mess. Because that was what they did: clean up and do the thankless jobs. I should make sure that Eirani got out of the trip what she wanted.
We went into the dining room, which looked pristine with its cloth-covered tables with gold-rimmed cups and white plates.
Thayu had come down, looking much better and healthier than yesterday, and the Pengali were just coming into the dining room as well.
At least all of them had put on adequate clothing in the form of the clothes we had made for them. Normally, in Barresh, both Pengali men and women wore exceedingly short skirts that allowed free tail movement, and most of the time they went without shirt or wore tiny singlets that were loose to the point of being purely ornamental. No one in Ba
rresh had an issue with it. Pengali had patterned skin; it was not uncommon for women to go bare-breasted, and clothes were superfluous in that climate anyway. But it was cold here, and people got upset with nudity, so we had some more formal clothing designed based on the uniform worn by the Pengali who worked for the Trader Guild and the single Pengali Trader.
I explained the menu choices to the Pengali. They were disappointed that there was no fish. I’d definitely have to talk to the hotel about that, if the goldfish in the foyer were to hang on to their fragile goldfish lives.
But there were eggs, and this, apparently, was another thing that Pengali enjoyed. They also understood the concept of eggs, and agreed that it was food. They wanted them cooked, fried, poached or raw, and they each piled huge tottering mountains of eggs onto their plates, containing enough bad cholesterol to give a normal person a heart attack in five seconds flat.
I didn’t know how much they had slept overnight, but I had warned Abri that any meetings and the court proceedings would take place during the day, and she seemed to have understood that. Or so I hoped. They were chatty. They laughed, and ate with their fingers.
Veyada sat with the security people, and Mereeni was attempting to talk to Jemiro. I had no idea how successful she was, but he listened to her, and nodded, lips pressed together.
He wore his dark hair slicked back from his forehead, with curls tickling the collar of his shirt.
He must have finished eating; he sat straight like a rod, clutching his reader. He wore—of all things—an earthly business suit. It was a dark grey number, made from the smooth and slightly shimmering fabric that I had seen men in the street wearing yesterday.
Where had he obtained that? Then another thought: his family was in the restaurant business. If he was involved with Jasper Carlson, it could be that his family was involved with another slightly dubious character in Barresh: Huang Le, who owned the first-ever interplanetary Chinese restaurant, who was not favourably disposed towards gamra and who wanted nothing to do with any of us.