Provenance

by Ann Leckie

  “Ah, I knew Danach would be in it somewhere.”

  “I asked Danach for his jacket, and he tossed it to me but it landed on the ambassador’s eyes—she’s got nearly a dozen of them. And I ran out of the room before she could take it off and see where I’d gone, and I went right to the groundcar and came here.”

  After a moment Nuncle Lak set down eir cup of serbat and sighed. “I remember when you first came to Netano’s house. You were such a quiet little child. At last, I thought, my sister has brought someone sensible into the family.”

  Ingray blinked, astonished. “Really?” Lak wasn’t given to drama or overstatement. E was unfailingly calm and, when e needed to be, brutally straightforward.

  “I know, it’s kind of ridiculous in light of the last few days, isn’t it.” E sighed again. “I’m glad at least to see you and your brother working together.”

  “I don’t … we aren’t really …” Ingray was at a loss. But it was true—Danach had understood what she’d meant when she’d asked for his jacket, and helped her when he didn’t have to.

  “When the family is threatened, or the stakes high enough, he’ll do the right thing. If your mother would have … but no, that’s a conversation for another time.” E shook eir head. “So I’m guessing you aren’t here to ask for advice, or, ascended saints help me, instruction.”

  “No, Nuncle, I do need advice!” Ingray protested. “I promised Pahlad I’d be there when the prolocutor talked to em, and I know that maybe wasn’t a good idea, but it was my own choice, and I can handle whatever happens after that.” Maybe. She wasn’t actually sure she could. “But the Geck ambassador is a whole other thing.”

  “So you haven’t completely taken leave of your senses,” observed Lak. “That’s something, anyway.” E closed eir eyes, then opened them again, gazing unfocused somewhere in front of em. Probably reading or listening to something. At length, e said, “The Geck demanded to see Captain Tic Uisine as soon as they came into the system, but the captain had left dock by then and had filed a route that would take him to one of the non-Hwaean outstations. He’ll have left Hwae-controlled space by now.”

  He probably hadn’t, not legally speaking. The non-Hwaean outstations were most of them quite distant. But no doubt it was convenient to be able to tell the Geck that Captain Uisine was out of reach. “It shouldn’t matter,” Ingray said. “He’s a citizen of Tyr, and the chief executive of Tyr Siilas herself refused to hand him over to the Geck. We wouldn’t want to make trouble with Tyr Siilas. And besides, he’s human and the Geck have no authority over him.”

  “Which makes me wonder why the Geck want him so badly,” said Lak. “But you’re right, we can’t hand him over. If nothing else it would set a bad precedent for our dealings with the Geck. Which, to be entirely honest, really shouldn’t exist to be an issue at all. We’ve never had to talk to the Geck about anything before. The damned Radchaai ambassador to the Geck ought to be handling this, but I’m told just now that the ambassador, who is in fact aboard the Geck ship, claims she can’t do anything about it. What good is she then?”

  “I don’t know, Nuncle.”

  “Captain Uisine has probably done us at least a small favor by fleeing. It’s odd, though, that he got advance word of the Geck arriving, when only a few people knew at that point.” E waited a moment, as if expecting Ingray to say something. When she didn’t, e asked, “Is the ship stolen?”

  Wary of lying directly to Lak, Ingray replied, “He had all the documents, like I said. Clear back to the shipyard.”

  “That wasn’t what I asked. Which I suppose answers my question. So why did you go to Tyr Siilas to begin with? And what did you buy there? You’ve come back with no money at all.”

  She needed a moment to find a plausible answer to that question, so she picked up the cup of serbat.

  “Ingray,” said Lak as she took a sip, as though e had been struck by a terrible thought, “you didn’t go to a broker and ask them to bring Pahlad Budrakim out of Compassionate Removal, did you? Please tell me you didn’t.”

  Ingray’s mouth was full of serbat, and she couldn’t find a way to swallow it, or spit it back into the cup. Then she managed to move again, managed to make her throat work, to set the cup down instead of dropping it. To say, maybe even calmly, “That would be ridiculous.” But she knew she had taken too long to answer.

  Lak sighed. “I told Netano it wasn’t right to make you children compete. I told her from the start. And I warned her to be careful about rewarding her children for taking big risks. But she was going to do things her way, no matter what I said. I think she realized her mistake when Vaor left. I know you and Danach both think e was sent away, but e wasn’t. E left to get away from Netano—to get away from the whole household, but it’s Netano who made that household. And I know you probably don’t believe this, but it upset Netano very much. Our own mother was … well. There’s a reason my sister didn’t have children until after our mother died, and a reason none of those children are biological ones. Netano very much did not want to be the same kind of parent as ours had been. So Vaor leaving, that was …” Nuncle Lak shook eir head. “I think Netano has tried to change how she deals with you two, but my sister is who she is. And besides, the damage is done. Although, even so, I always thought it would be Danach who would do the outrageously ambitious and destructive thing.”

  Ingray found she had nothing to say, not even a protest.

  “Who did you go to—Gold Orchid, I assume? And they took your payment, then, and brought you Pahlad?”

  It hadn’t been anywhere near that straightforward, but … “Yes,” Ingray acknowledged.

  “I have some thinking to do about this,” said Lak, into her silence. “There are some complicating factors you aren’t aware of, and that at the moment I can’t tell you about. And no matter what, if this business about Pahlad comes out there will probably be nothing either your mother or I can do to protect you. It probably won’t come out—I suspect there isn’t a representative in the Assembly who hasn’t done one or more deals with a Tyr broker that would get them in serious trouble. Them or a family member. And I can think of several reasons the government would prefer word of such a thing never got out. But I can’t make you any promises.”

  “Of course not,” she agreed. Not even sure anything around her was real except the overwhelming sense of shame and doom. Why had she done it?

  “Well, it is what it is. Take the groundcar to Planetary Safety. If the ambassador follows you there, tell her very politely—and in front of witnesses—that you really can’t talk to her and that her being onworld without authorization is likely a breach of the treaty.”

  “I did that, at home.”

  “Good. Tell her again. And then don’t say anything else to her. I’ll have your mother send a message to the Radchaai ambassador to the Geck, complaining of harassment.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Thank me,” said Lak, “by telling me everything the prolocutor says to Pahlad. I’m very interested in how quickly Ethiat Budrakim turned around, when he heard Pahlad was back, and even more interested in the fact that he’s come himself and not sent his daughter, even given the Geck being here. There’s something else going on that I can’t see. You don’t happen to know what it is, do you?”

  “No, I don’t. I swear I don’t.” But e was right. Ingray was sure e was right, now that e’d said it. Realized, though she should have seen it before now, that Pahlad had had eir own agenda from the start, from, at least, the moment e had agreed to stay on the ship and come back to Hwae. Ingray’s plans had been incidental to that. Pahlad’s arrest was apparently also incidental to that agenda. “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry won’t unbreak the cup,” said Lak. “Now, go. I’m keeping people waiting right now who really shouldn’t be kept waiting. And, Ingray, just … you haven’t taken any advice in this so far, and I despair of you beginning now, but whatever you do, I beg you, keep me informed.”

  “Yes, Nuncl
e,” Ingray said.

  9

  In the groundcar, Ingray dropped Pahlad’s black bag onto the floor, settled back into the seat, and closed her eyes. The ride from Netano’s offices to the district’s Planetary Safety headquarters was a short one—she could have walked it, would have on another day, but she didn’t want to run into someone she knew, or worse, someone from a news service. Or worst of all, the Geck ambassador.

  The moment she had the thought, a whispery, whistling voice said, in Yiir, “Excellency Ingray, please don’t scream.” She opened her eyes. The voice continued. “It’s me, Tic Uisine. You don’t strike me as the screaming type, but just in case.” The bag at Ingray’s feet had sprouted a single stalked eye and three weirdly jointed, hairy legs.

  She sprang to her feet—or tried to, and hit her head on the ceiling of the groundcar.

  “Is there an emergency?” asked the car’s control panel as Ingray collapsed back into her seat with a cry of surprise and dismay. “Authorized voice confirmation required within fifteen se …”

  “No emergency,” said Ingray, pressing herself into the seat back, as far away from the suddenly appeared spider mech as possible. “What …” She wasn’t sure she had any more words than that.

  Another stalked eye popped out of the surface of the bag. It had never been a bag. Or the spider mech was able to be a bag—that went some way to explaining how the ambassador might have gotten as far as Netano’s house with no one realizing she was even on the planet. “Did Pahlad … I mean Garal …” She tried to think which name Captain Uisine would recognize. Pahlad had been carrying the bag when Deputy Chief Veret had named em. “Did Pahlad know that …”

  “I just wanted to keep an eye on Pahlad,” the spider mech said, interrupting her, continuing on as though she hadn’t said anything. “Not that e needs it, necessarily, but it turns out e needs it.” Of course. The captain was far away, far enough to delay any communications with him. The ambassador had been delayed about a second. Captain Uisine was presumably even farther away. The spider mech continued. “Pahlad in the custody of Planetary Safety only has one outcome for Pahlad, and it’s not a good one. And that’s not even counting the Federacy’s involvement. I know you’ve realized that, because your shit of a brother mentioned it back at your mother’s house. You’ll have figured it out yourself, though. So the question is, what can we do about it?”

  Ingray waited a moment, to see if he was still talking, but he seemed to have stopped. “Why do you care?” she asked.

  “What kind of a question is that?” asked the spider mech, about a second after Ingray had finished speaking. “We don’t have time to waste. It seems likely to me that the Federacy consul is going to insist that Pahlad be handed over to them for Zat’s murder, even though Hevom obviously did it. Why he did it, I’m not sure. Maybe it’s something to do with Federacy politics, maybe it’s just feuding families, he is an affine after all. But the Federacy doesn’t mess around with things like Compassionate Removal. They’ll publicly execute Pahlad if they think that’s what they need to do. You know some influential people. So does Pahlad, of course, but they’re not going to be any help to em. Your mother is most of the way to the station by now, but that nuncle of yours seems like e might be willing to help you. Up to a point, at least. So if I know anything about you, you’re going to be confused for at least the next five or ten minutes, and then you’ll come up with something. But we don’t really have five or ten minutes, because we’re pulling up to Planetary Safety now, if I’ve counted right.” The spider mech pulled itself back into a bag shape. No, it really was a bag, even if it was also a mech, because Pahlad had kept things in it.

  “Wait, what?” Ingray asked as the groundcar stopped in front of Planetary Safety. “But, no, why are you doing this?” No immediate answer. Of course. And she couldn’t just sit here arguing with a bag. She picked it up and got out of the groundcar.

  “All right, five or ten minutes then,” whispered the bag, one second after she’d spoken. “That’s all we can afford. Now pick me up and let’s go.”

  Ingray didn’t answer. One second. That was all the delay was. The same as the Geck ambassador. She shouldered the bag, suppressing a shudder, and headed into the main entrance of Planetary Safety.

  She wasn’t sure who she should talk to, to complain about an alien ambassador bursting into her home, but she thought she might begin by asking to see Taucris. Taucris had confided in Ingray earlier, and she had always been friendly. And besides, she was well acquainted with Planetary Safety and would have a better idea of where to go than Ingray.

  But as soon as Ingray came through the main door into the vestibule, a spindly, three-legged mech came to life and lurched out of its corner. “Miss Ingray Aughskold, please follow me,” it said. “The assistant to the Deputy Chief of Serious Crimes will see you immediately.”

  “What?” asked Ingray, astonished. There hadn’t been even the merest chance for her to ask to see Taucris. “Has something happened?”

  “Miss Ingray Aughskold,” the mech said again, “please follow me. The assistant to the Deputy Chief of Serious Crimes will see you immediately.”

  “All right,” said Ingray, still puzzled. But something must have happened. “I’ll follow.”

  Taucris met Ingray in the corridor, outside her office. “I was just about to message you,” Taucris said as the spindly mech spun and lurched away. “Then I heard you’d come into the building. Prolocutor Budrakim is …”

  The next door along the corridor opened. Prolocutor Budrakim strode out, tall and broad, his square face chiseled and even-featured, his hair meticulously braided and gathered to the back—doubtless he knew his good looks were a not inconsiderable part of his power, and he never appeared outside his home in anything less than perfectly groomed and ordered fashion. He was saying, “I’ll speak to the Planetary Head of Serious Crimes. I will litigate if I have to. This is …” He stopped suddenly, catching sight of Ingray standing there.

  Ingray, trained since small to handle any interaction with Netano’s political opponents with aplomb, smiled quite automatically and said, with a small bow, “Prolocutor Budrakim. How good to see you.”

  “Miss Aughskold,” said Deputy Chief Veret, coming out of eir office behind the prolocutor. “I’m glad to see you. It appears that Pahlad Budrakim has refused to speak to anyone without you being present. The prolocutor is here wanting to speak to em, and has been unable to.”

  “Netano’s behind this,” said the prolocutor, to Ingray, ignoring the deputy chief. “You were the one who brought Pahlad here to begin with.”

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Prolocutor,” Ingray responded, smile still fixed on her face. “I’m happy to assist right now.”

  “Your assistance is not required. I demand to talk to Pahlad without anyone listening in or recording,” said Prolocutor Budrakim. “E is my child, after all.”

  “Prolocutor,” said Deputy Chief Veret, “as I have already explained, no one in the custody of Planetary Safety is ever allowed to speak to visitors without observation.” Eir Lim District accent was at odds with the punctilious formality of eir words, to Ingray’s ear. Doubtless to the prolocutor’s as well. “Any exceptions that may have been made in the past”—a slight, very slight hesitation—“were not under my authority, and are not relevant to me. My job is to uphold the law.”

  “I suspect you’ll be looking for a new job soon,” said the prolocutor, and Ingray realized that at least one of those exceptions the deputy chief had spoken of must have involved the prolocutor, and Pahlad emself. Which possibly explained Pahlad’s insistence on a witness now.

  “With all due respect, Prolocutor,” said Ingray, “I don’t think it’s fair to blame the deputy chief if it’s Pahlad who’s refusing to speak to you.” Felt panic as she spoke—Netano had taught all her children to be exactly polite to Ethiat Budrakim, to say whatever courtesy dictated but absolutely no more. “But I’m happy to help.”

&nb
sp; “Of course you are,” said Prolocutor Budrakim, only the barest trace of sarcasm in his voice. He turned to the deputy chief. “I told you not to call her.”

  “E didn’t,” said Ingray. “I happened to arrive just now on my own business.” The prolocutor scoffed. Ingray turned to Taucris, who had been standing in her own doorway all this time, watching silently. “Taucris, I need to consult you about something. Can I see you when we’re done with Pahlad?”

  “Of course,” said Taucris. “Come to my office when you’re ready.” And she stepped back and closed the door.

  Ingray turned back to Ethiat Budrakim. “I’m at your service, Prolocutor.”

  The same bare, dingy room, the same scuffed white bench. Pahlad apparently standing there, but of course e was only an image on the wall. Eir mouth quirked, just slightly, when e saw Ingray, but e otherwise stood silent, waiting.

  “I’m hurt,” Ethiat said, at length. “My own child won’t speak to me.”

  “I never said I wouldn’t speak to you,” said Pahlad. “I said I wouldn’t speak to you unless Ingray was here. Hello, Ingray, thank you for coming.”

  “You’re welcome,” said Ingray.

  “How did you get out of Compassionate Removal?” asked the prolocutor. “I’m sorry to say I found it beyond my means to keep you out, or get you out after.”

  “Let’s dispense with the lies,” said Pahlad. Calmly and seriously. “You said you would keep me out, or get me out if I went, but you never intended to do any such thing. I believed you when you said it, or things would have gone very differently, but I don’t believe it now. I’ve made every sacrifice for the good of the family that it was possible to make, and I’m done.” No vehemence, no anger in eir voice. Just a calm, matter-of-fact statement. “I’m sure that at the first opportunity I’ll be asked—again—what I did with those vestiges. Some of the guards here have already mentioned it, as it happens. It’s what I’m famous for.”