by the civil war over the past fifty years, and crack the manpower monopoly effectively controlled by the marriage-brokering old grannies"-she watched Brilliana for signs of surprise, but didn't see any-"and that debating society and talking shop Huw's into. There's even Clan Security, for heaven's sake! Which is more like the, the Russian KGB, than something you'd expect in a post-feudal society like the Gruinmarkt. Am I right?"
She waited for Brill to say something, but the silence dragged out. After a few seconds, she cleared her throat and continued. "So, I upset a bunch of applecarts, and the fallout included Matthias going over the wall. I expect someone's been trying to negotiate with the feds, buying time, patching things up. And I expect everyone's been scrambling to secure a workable Plan B for their particular faction. I'm not going to ask what the hell ClanSec or the Council or whoever thought they were doing, messing around with stolen nukes, it's immaterial; I just want to note that it was a really bad idea, because from the feds' point of view it turned the Clan from a minor irritant into a serious menace. You can negotiate with a nuisance, but you shoot menaces-isn't that right?" She put her glass down and looked at Brill. After a minute, she asked: "Well?"
Brilliana looked uncomfortable. "I can't talk about… certain… matters without getting permission first. But broadly speaking"-she looked at Miriam appraisingly-"you are speculating along the right lines." She coughed. "But please, refrain from airing your speculation in public? Lest other factions conclude that you know more than you do, and attempt to silence you."
Miriam's left eyelid twitched. "I've had enough of that, thank you. Since even my dear mother is prone to, to…" It was too painful to continue. She rested one hand on her lap. "And what that bastard yen Hjalmar tried to do. Did." A long pause. "It's only been about six weeks. I could get an abortion. If I'm pregnant."
Brill looked at her oddly. "If you did that, you'd be throwing away your best leverage." She took another sip of brandy. "Because it's Creon's get, and you've got a fistful of witnesses to the betrothal, even-by implication-the pretender. That's the throne to the Gruinmarkt, Miriam."
"And it's my body." Miriam looked at her half-empty glass and twitched, then she picked it up again and swallowed it in a single mouthful. "Not that that seems to mean much to you people."
Brilliana reached out and grabbed her hand. "Helge!"
"What?" Miriam glared at her across the breakfast bar. "This world is not fair or just. But I swore I would look after you-"
"-Who to?"
"To you, and to your uncle: but that is not important. I swore an oath to protect you. I must tell you that as long as you carry the heir to the throne of Niejwein, nobody in the six families will dare to lift a finger against you. And if, if we are still alive in eight months, things will be different. The pretender will be dead and Angbard will need a regent's council and at a minimum you will be on it. He told me, if necessary"-her voice cracked-"tell her that if she does this thing, all debts are canceled."
"And if I don't?" Miriam made as if to pull her arm back, but paused. "You know there are no guarantees. I'm old for this. Miscarriages aren't that unusual in older pregnancies. And there's only a fifty-fifty chance it's a boy, anyway. What if it doesn't work?"
"Then at least you tried." Brill moderated her voice. "You came back willingly: That weighs in your favor. The more you do for us, the harder it becomes for your enemies to belittle or ignore you. Thus has it ever been."
"You make it sound as if the Clan runs on honor."
"But it does!" Brill's expression of surprise took her aback. "How else do you control an aristocracy?"
"I don't think I'll ever understand you guys." Miriam watched while Brill refilled both their glasses. "Hey. Suppose I'm pregnant? You want to go easy with that."
"What's that got
She waited for Brill to say something, but the silence dragged out. After a few seconds, she cleared her throat and continued. "So, I upset a bunch of applecarts, and the fallout included Matthias going over the wall. I expect someone's been trying to negotiate with the feds, buying time, patching things up. And I expect everyone's been scrambling to secure a workable Plan B for their particular faction. I'm not going to ask what the hell ClanSec or the Council or whoever thought they were doing, messing around with stolen nukes, it's immaterial; I just want to note that it was a really bad idea, because from the feds' point of view it turned the Clan from a minor irritant into a serious menace. You can negotiate with a nuisance, but you shoot menaces-isn't that right?" She put her glass down and looked at Brill. After a minute, she asked: "Well?"
Brilliana looked uncomfortable. "I can't talk about… certain… matters without getting permission first. But broadly speaking"-she looked at Miriam appraisingly-"you are speculating along the right lines." She coughed. "But please, refrain from airing your speculation in public? Lest other factions conclude that you know more than you do, and attempt to silence you."
Miriam's left eyelid twitched. "I've had enough of that, thank you. Since even my dear mother is prone to, to…" It was too painful to continue. She rested one hand on her lap. "And what that bastard yen Hjalmar tried to do. Did." A long pause. "It's only been about six weeks. I could get an abortion. If I'm pregnant."
Brill looked at her oddly. "If you did that, you'd be throwing away your best leverage." She took another sip of brandy. "Because it's Creon's get, and you've got a fistful of witnesses to the betrothal, even-by implication-the pretender. That's the throne to the Gruinmarkt, Miriam."
"And it's my body." Miriam looked at her half-empty glass and twitched, then she picked it up again and swallowed it in a single mouthful. "Not that that seems to mean much to you people."
Brilliana reached out and grabbed her hand. "Helge!"
"What?" Miriam glared at her across the breakfast bar. "This world is not fair or just. But I swore I would look after you-"
"-Who to?"
"To you, and to your uncle: but that is not important. I swore an oath to protect you. I must tell you that as long as you carry the heir to the throne of Niejwein, nobody in the six families will dare to lift a finger against you. And if, if we are still alive in eight months, things will be different. The pretender will be dead and Angbard will need a regent's council and at a minimum you will be on it. He told me, if necessary"-her voice cracked-"tell her that if she does this thing, all debts are canceled."
"And if I don't?" Miriam made as if to pull her arm back, but paused. "You know there are no guarantees. I'm old for this. Miscarriages aren't that unusual in older pregnancies. And there's only a fifty-fifty chance it's a boy, anyway. What if it doesn't work?"
"Then at least you tried." Brill moderated her voice. "You came back willingly: That weighs in your favor. The more you do for us, the harder it becomes for your enemies to belittle or ignore you. Thus has it ever been."
"You make it sound as if the Clan runs on honor."
"But it does!" Brill's expression of surprise took her aback. "How else do you control an aristocracy?"
"I don't think I'll ever understand you guys." Miriam watched while Brill refilled both their glasses. "Hey. Suppose I'm pregnant? You want to go easy with that."
"What's that got
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