I don't like the situation. There's nobody here I can replace either of you with. Will you hang on a while longer?'
He did not know how to refuse. A veot did not refuse duty. He was ashamed at having even
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thought of doing so, and hated her again for causing him that shame.
The first sentence of the message was enigmatic, not in Old Music's usual style but flowery, indirect, like a coded warning. Teyeo of course knew none of the intelligence codes either of his country or of the Ekumen. Old Music would have to use
hints and indirection with him, 'Love of god and country' could well mean the Old Believers and the Patriots, the two subversive groups in Gatay, both of them fanatically opposed to foreign influence; the Envoy could be the child playing with fire. Was she being approached by one group or the other? He had seen no evidence of it, unless the man in the shadows that night had been not a knifeman but a messenger. She was under his eyes all day, her house watched all night by soldiers under his command. Surely the makil, Batikam, was not acting for either of those groups. He might well be a member of the Hame, the asset liberation underground of Voe Deo, but as such would not endanger the Envoy, since the Hame saw the Ekumen as their ticket to Yeowe and to freedom-
Teyeo puzzled over the words, replaying them over and over, knowing his own stupidity faced with this kind of subtlety, the ins and outs of the political labyrinth. At last he erased the message and yawned, for it was late; bathed, lay down, turned off the light, said under his breath, 'Lord Kamye, let me hold with courage to the one noble thing!' and slept like a stone.
The makil came to her house every night after the the-C.9.S 78 3-*A>
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ater. Teyeo tried to tell himself there was nothing wrong in it- He himself had spent nights with the makils, back in the palmy days before the war. Expert, artistic sex was part of their business. He knew by hearsay that rich city women often hired them to come supply a husband's deficiencies. But even such women did so secretly, discreetly, not in this vulgar, shameless way, utterly careless of decency, flouting the moral code, as if she had some kind of right to do whatever she wanted wherever and whenever she wanted it- Of course Batikam colluded eagerly with her, playing on her infatuation, mocking the Gatayans, mocking Teyeo — and mocking her. though she didn't know it. What a chance for an asset to make fools of all the owners at once!
Watching Batikam, Teyeo felt sure he was a member of the Hame. His mockery was very subtle;
he was not trying to disgrace the Envoy. Indeed his discretion was far greater than hers. He was trying to keep her from disgracing herself- The makil returned Teyeo's cold courtesy in kind, but once or twice their eyes met and some brief, involuntary understanding passed between them, fraternal, ironic.
There was to be a public festival, an observation of the Tualite Feast of Forgiveness, to which the Envoy was pressingly invited by the King and Council. She was put on show at many such events. Teyeo thought nothing about it except how to provide security in an excited holiday crowd, until San told him that the festival day was the highest holy day of the old religion of Gatay, and that the Old Believers fiercely resented the imposition of the foreign rites over their own. The little man seemed genuinely worried. Teyeo worried too when next day
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San was suddenly replaced by an elderly man who spoke little but Gatayan and was quite unable to
explain what had become of San Ubattat- 'Other duties, other duties call,' he said in very bad Voe Dean, smiling and bobbing, 'very great relishes time, aha? Relishes duties call.'
During the days that preceded the festival tension rose in the city; graffiti appeared, symbols of the old religion smeared across walls; a Tualite temple was desecrated, after which the Royal Guard was much in evidence in the streets. Teyeo went to the palace and requested, on his own authority, that the Envoy not be asked to appear in public during a ceremony that was 'likely to be troubled by inappropriate demonstrations.' He was called in and treated by a Court official with a mixture of dismissive insolence and conniving nods and winks, which left him really uneasy. He left four men on duty at the Envoy's house that night. Returning to his quarters, a little barracks down the street which had been handed over to the Embassy Guard, he found the window of his room open and a scrap of writing, in his own language, on his table: Pest Fis set up for assasnatwn.
He was at the Envoy's house promptly the next morning and asked her asset to tell her he must speak to her. She came out of her bedroom pulling a
white wrap around her naked body. Batikam followed her, half-dressed, sleepy, and amused. Teyeo gave him the eye-signal go, which he received with a serene, patronising smile, murmuring to the woman, 'I'll go have some breakfast. Rewe? have you got something to feed me?' He followed the bondswoman out of the room. Teyeo faced the Envoy and held out the scrap of paper.
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'I received this last night, ma'am,' he said. 'I must ask you not to attend the festival tomorrow.'
She considered the paper, read the writing, and yawned. 'Who's it from?'
'I don't know, ma'am.'
'What's it mean? Assassination? They can't spell, can they?'
After a moment, he said, 'There are a number of other indications — enough that 1 must ask you — '
'Not to attend the festival of Forgiveness, yes. I heard you.' She went to a window seat and sat down, her robe falling wide to reveal her legs; her bare, brown feet were short and supple, the soles pink, the toes small and orderly. Teyeo looked fixedly at the air beside her head. She twiddled the bit of paper. 'If you think it's dangerous, Rega, bring a guardsman or two with you,' she said, with the faintest tone of scorn. 'I really have to be there. The King requested it, you know. And I'm to light the big fire, or something. One of the few things women are allowed to do in public here.... I can't back out of it.' She held out the paper, and after a moment he came close enough to take it. She looked up at him smiling; when she defeated him she always smiled at him. 'Who do you think would want to blow me away, anyhow? The Patriots?'
'Or the Old Believers, ma'am. Tomorrow is one of their holidays.'
'And your Tualites have taken it away from them? Well, they can't exactly blame the Ekumen, can they?'
'I think it possible that the government might permit violence in order to excuse retaliation, ma'am.'
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She started to answer carelessly, realised what he had said, and frowned. 'You think the Council's setting me up? What evidence have you?'
After a pause he said, 'Very little, ma'am. San Ubattat —'
'San's been ill. The old fellow they sent isn't much use, but he's scarcely dangerous! Is that all?' He said nothing, and she went on, 'Until you have real evidence, Rega, don't interfere with my obligations. Your militaristic paranoia isn't acceptable when it spreads to the people I'm dealing with here. Control it, please! I'll expect an extra guardsman or two tomorrow; and that's enough.'
'Yes, ma'am,' he said, and went out. His head sang with anger. It occurred to him now that her new guide had told him San Ubattat had been kept away by religious duties, not by illness. He did not turn back. What was the use? 'Stay on for an hour or so, will you, Seyem?' he said to the guard at her gate, and strode off down the street, trying to walk away from her, from her soft brown thighs and the pink soles of her feet and her stupid, insolent, whorish voice giving him orders. He tried to let the bright icy sunlit air. the stepped streets snapping with banners for the festival, the glitter of the great mountains and the clamor of the markets fill him, dazzle and distract him; but he walked seeing his own shadow fall in front of him like a knife across the stones, knowing the futility of his life.
'The veot looked worried,' Batikam said in his velvet voice, and she laughed, spearing a preserved
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fruit from the dish and popping it, dripping, into his mouth.
'I'm ready for breakfast now, Rewe,' she called, and sat down across from Batikam. 'I'm starving! He was having one of his phallocratic fits. He hasn't saved me from anything lately- It's his only function, after all. So he has to invent occasions. I wish,
