glanced at Seth, as if surprised to find him still there, and then obeyed the Magistrate: “You needn’t go to Palija Kadi yourself,” he said more composedly. “The decision of the Pledgechild may be secured through me or some other intermediary, Magistrate. The danger to you is such that—”
“I’ve decided to go, Deputy Emahpre.”
“Why?” Emahpre asked.
“It’s my word that determines in which direction Trope moves, and the Sh’gaidu are Tropiards—even if they sometimes seem to disown us, and we them.”
“Sometimes!” Emahpre said. “They reject both union with us and repatriation as enfranchised citizens.”
“My responsibility requires that I go to them directly with this proposal, Deputy Emahpre. My position requires it.”
Seth watched Emahpre strut away along a bank of consoles as if to regroup his wits. Even if he walked like a marionette, he was obviously far from being the Magistrate’s puppet.
Jerking about and jabbing a finger at Vrai, he said, “Your word need not arrive in the Sh’gaidu basin in your own person in order to be implemented. If you’re killed there—”
“I won’t be killed.”
“If you’re killed there, Magistrate, you will have sacrificed yourself—the leader of Trope—not to state ends, but to private ones I’m totally unable to fathom.”
Seth asked, “Are the Sh’gaidu prone to violence, then?”
“Precisely the opposite,” Vrai said.
“Precisely what they’re prone to is a matter of conjecture,” the Deputy rejoined. “Which is precisely why they remain under state surveillance.”
The Magistrate approached his deputy with his hands spread, but halted an arm’s length away and dropped them to his sides. “Alone among our magistrates, I’ve dealt humanely with these people. Why should they wish to kill me? I don’t fear them, Deputy Emahpre, and I intend to go.”
“Why?”
To Seth the question had the ring of insubordination. The Magistrate, he saw, reacted almost as if he had been slapped, turning his face and then walking a step or two aside.
Still, Vrai did not resort to Tropish: “I’ve come to my position”—a strange, gravid pause—“honestly, Deputy Emahpre, and I intend to fulfill its responsibilities to their most exacting letter. Tomorrow morning, I accompany our visitors to Palija Kadi. No more about this, please.”
“Very well,” said Ehte Emahpre crisply. “But it’s my intention to go with you. Until the morning, then, Kahl Latimer.”
He performed a bobbing bow and stuttered off into the open labyrinth of the J’beij.
Outside, it was far colder than Seth recalled. The sky was a dolorous purple behind the massive red-brown planes of the buildings, and a wind came careering along the plateau from the northwest. Seth saw that their transcraft was no longer on the landing terrace. His heart misgave him, and he grasped the Magistrate’s sleeve.
“We’ll go to Palija Kadi in a Tropish aircraft!” the Magistrate shouted in response to his unspoken query. “Yours has been towed away to clear the landing terrace for other vehicles!” He pointed to the east.
Among the silver-strutted remotes on a distant landing field Seth saw the Dharmakaya ’stranscraft. It was too big for the playmates it was grouped with, even though it looked alien-seeming and tiny because of the distance.
Relieved, Seth shouted, “Where are we going?”
“Our dormitory for state visitors! Your seconds are already there!”
The dormitory on the eastern edge of Huru J’beij didn’t much resemble the J’beij itself. It was faceted like an enormous piece of garnet, with tall rectangular windows resembling the panels in the Magistrate’s command table. Following his host, Seth entered a foyer glassed about like an aquarium. He turned around to find that the sky was not discolored by the dormitory’s tinted windows. He could see out without hindrance, but no prying Tropiard could see in. Nor could the wind rattle the immense
“I’ve decided to go, Deputy Emahpre.”
“Why?” Emahpre asked.
“It’s my word that determines in which direction Trope moves, and the Sh’gaidu are Tropiards—even if they sometimes seem to disown us, and we them.”
“Sometimes!” Emahpre said. “They reject both union with us and repatriation as enfranchised citizens.”
“My responsibility requires that I go to them directly with this proposal, Deputy Emahpre. My position requires it.”
Seth watched Emahpre strut away along a bank of consoles as if to regroup his wits. Even if he walked like a marionette, he was obviously far from being the Magistrate’s puppet.
Jerking about and jabbing a finger at Vrai, he said, “Your word need not arrive in the Sh’gaidu basin in your own person in order to be implemented. If you’re killed there—”
“I won’t be killed.”
“If you’re killed there, Magistrate, you will have sacrificed yourself—the leader of Trope—not to state ends, but to private ones I’m totally unable to fathom.”
Seth asked, “Are the Sh’gaidu prone to violence, then?”
“Precisely the opposite,” Vrai said.
“Precisely what they’re prone to is a matter of conjecture,” the Deputy rejoined. “Which is precisely why they remain under state surveillance.”
The Magistrate approached his deputy with his hands spread, but halted an arm’s length away and dropped them to his sides. “Alone among our magistrates, I’ve dealt humanely with these people. Why should they wish to kill me? I don’t fear them, Deputy Emahpre, and I intend to go.”
“Why?”
To Seth the question had the ring of insubordination. The Magistrate, he saw, reacted almost as if he had been slapped, turning his face and then walking a step or two aside.
Still, Vrai did not resort to Tropish: “I’ve come to my position”—a strange, gravid pause—“honestly, Deputy Emahpre, and I intend to fulfill its responsibilities to their most exacting letter. Tomorrow morning, I accompany our visitors to Palija Kadi. No more about this, please.”
“Very well,” said Ehte Emahpre crisply. “But it’s my intention to go with you. Until the morning, then, Kahl Latimer.”
He performed a bobbing bow and stuttered off into the open labyrinth of the J’beij.
Outside, it was far colder than Seth recalled. The sky was a dolorous purple behind the massive red-brown planes of the buildings, and a wind came careering along the plateau from the northwest. Seth saw that their transcraft was no longer on the landing terrace. His heart misgave him, and he grasped the Magistrate’s sleeve.
“We’ll go to Palija Kadi in a Tropish aircraft!” the Magistrate shouted in response to his unspoken query. “Yours has been towed away to clear the landing terrace for other vehicles!” He pointed to the east.
Among the silver-strutted remotes on a distant landing field Seth saw the Dharmakaya ’stranscraft. It was too big for the playmates it was grouped with, even though it looked alien-seeming and tiny because of the distance.
Relieved, Seth shouted, “Where are we going?”
“Our dormitory for state visitors! Your seconds are already there!”
The dormitory on the eastern edge of Huru J’beij didn’t much resemble the J’beij itself. It was faceted like an enormous piece of garnet, with tall rectangular windows resembling the panels in the Magistrate’s command table. Following his host, Seth entered a foyer glassed about like an aquarium. He turned around to find that the sky was not discolored by the dormitory’s tinted windows. He could see out without hindrance, but no prying Tropiard could see in. Nor could the wind rattle the immense
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