Law of Survival by Kristine Smith Page B

the Haárin.
    â€œI do not know what your craftspeople can bring to us,”Shai said. She, too, watched Dathim. Her back had unbent, but her voice still held the guttural sharpness of anger.
    Anais waved a small, bony hand. “Precedent exists in the colonies. I know of several instances in which humanish craftspeople worked in idomeni buildings, and your tilemaster mentioned several more when he escorted me through the public portions of the embassy.”
    Dathim the tilemaster, having now lost his ability to mention, tossed his polishing cloth aside and resumed insetting bits of tile.
    Tsecha pushed past Derringer and Lescaux so that he stood at Anais’s shoulder. “How easily you accept our Haárin’s presence when they have something you want, Ana—”
    â€œWe will discuss this in private, Minister Ulanova,” Shai interrupted. She backed out of the altar room, pushing the crowd behind her as if they formed one body. “In my rooms.” She beckoned in a humanish manner for Anais to walk with her. Tsecha watched in befuddlement as they proceeded down the hall, humanish and Vynshàrau alike trailing after, until only he and his Lucien and his Jani remained.
    â€œWhat did I tell you? They’ve shut you out. You need to take care, nìRau.” Jani did not look at Tsecha as she spoke. Instead, she watched Dathim Naré tap and arrange.
    Only once did Dathim look at her. Their eyes met for only the briefest time; he then returned to his work, taking care to position himself so that she could not watch his hands, or see over his shoulder.

CHAPTER 7
    Jani trudged up the access road that ran along the idomeni embassy property. The blue-green groundcover that the Vynshàrau had imported from Shèrá gave way to terrestrial grasses and shrubs as she entered the “demilitarized zone” that served as boundary between the embassy and the Exterior Ministry. Her back ached. Her stomach growled. The L station lay a few hundred meters ahead, elevated tracks and silver bullet cars glinting in the afternoon sun.
    The Exterior Minister’s disruption of the afternoon’s agenda had released Jani from an afternoon’s diplomatic servitude and prevented another confrontation with Derringer. With luck, Anais’s determination to have the Haárin tilemaster redecorate her annex would keep the colonel occupied for several days. That probably wouldn’t give Jani enough time to figure out why someone tried to set up Nema as a traitor to his people, but it would let her do some initial fact-finding.
    Shai’s had it with him. Jani didn’t believe Shai had arranged the faked precis—that would have scaled heights of Byzantine treachery beyond the reach of most humans. But if she suspected that he had betrayed the idomeni, she would send him back to Shèrá in restraints. And there Cèel would be waiting, eager to mete out the justice that had been denied him so many years before, and repay Nema for bringing humanish into their lives. Nema had talked his way out of execution once. He wouldn’t be allowed to do so again.
    Jani stepped onto the grassy berm when she heard thehum of a skimmer approaching from behind, and turned as it slowed to a stop beside her. A deep gold sedan, lightened to gilt by the sun.
    The passenger-side window lowered. “Jan!” Kern Standish called through the gap. “You need a ride?” He jerked his head toward the woman sitting beside him in the passenger seat. “I’m dropping off Dena at Commerce—I can swing by Armour no problem.”
    â€œWe tried to catch you after the meeting, but Gene tackled you first.” Dena Hausmann, the Commerce Finance chief, raised her hand to shield her eyes from the sun. She was a straw blonde with skin almost as pale as John Shroud’s—even the weaker autumn light overwhelmed her. “He didn’t look happy. Did you have a