The Revelation Space Collection

That’s all that mattered.’

‘Swimmers have occasionally reported encountering minds — essences — of the lost, Naqi. The impressions are often acute. The conformed leave their mark on the ocean at a deeper, more permanent level than the impressions left behind by mere swimmers. One senses that there must be a purpose to this.’

‘That wouldn’t be for me to speculate, sir.’

‘No.’ He glanced down at the compad and then tapped his forefinger against his upper lip. ‘No. Of course not. Well, to the matter at hand—’

She interrupted him. ‘You swam once, sir?’

‘Yes. Yes, I did.’ The moment stretched. She was about to say something — anything — when Sivaraksa continued, ‘I had to stop for medical reasons. Otherwise I suppose I’d have been in the swimmer corps for a good deal longer, at least until my hands started turning green.’

‘What was it like?’

‘Astonishing. Beyond anything I’d expected.’

‘Did they change you?’

At that he smiled. ‘I never thought that they did, until now. After my last swim I went through all the usual neurological and psychological tests. They found no anomalies; no indications that the Jugglers had imprinted any hints of alien personality or rewired my mind to think in an alien way.’

Sivaraksa reached across the desk and held up the smoky cube that Naqi had taken for a paperweight. ‘This came down from Voice of Evening. Examine it.’

Naqi peered into the milky-grey depths of the cube. Now that she saw it closely she realised that there were things embedded within the translucent matrix. There were chains of unfamiliar symbols, intersecting at right angles. They resembled the complex white scaffolding of a building.

‘What is it?’

‘Mathematics. Actually, a mathematical argument — a proof, if you like. Conventional mathematical notation — no matter how arcane — has evolved so that it can be written down on a two-dimensional surface, like paper or a readout. This is a three-dimensional syntax, liberated from that constraint. Its enormously richer, enormously more elegant.’ The cube tumbled in Sivaraksa’s hand. He was smiling. ‘No one could make head or tail of it. Yet when I looked at it for the first time I nearly dropped it in shock. It made perfect sense to me. Not only did I understand the theorem, but I also understood the point of it. It’s a joke, Naqi. A pun. This mathematics is rich enough to embody humour. And understanding that is the gift they left me. It was sitting in my mind for twenty-eight years, like an egg waiting to hatch.’

Abruptly, Sivaraksa placed the cube back on the table.

‘Something’s come up,’ he said.

From somewhere came the distant, prolonged thunder of a dirigible discharging its cargo of processed ore. It must have been one of the last consignments.

‘Something, sir?’

‘They’ve asked to see the Moat.’

‘They?’

‘Crane and her Vahishta mob. They’ve requested an oversight of all major scientific centres on Turquoise, and naturally enough we’re on the list. They’ll be visiting us, spending a couple of days seeing what we’ve achieved.’

‘I’m not too surprised that they’ve asked to visit, sir.’

‘No, but I was hoping we’d have a few months’ grace. We don’t. They’ll be here in a week.’

‘That’s not necessarily a problem for us, is it?’

‘It mustn’t become one,’ Sivaraksa said. ‘I’m putting you in charge of the visit, Naqi. You’ll be the interface between Crane’s group and the Moat. That’s quite a responsibility, you understand. A mistake — the tiniest gaffe — could undermine our standing with the Snowflake Council.’ He nodded at the compad. ‘Our budgetary position is precarious. Frankly, I’m in Tak Thonburi’s lap. We can’t afford any embarrassments.’

‘No, sir.’

She certainly did understand. The job was a poisoned chalice, or, at the very least, a chalice with the strong potential to become poisoned. If she succeeded — if the visit went smoothly, with no hitches — Sivaraksa could still take much of the credit for it. If it went wrong, on the other hand, the fault would be categorically hers.

‘One more thing.’ Sivaraksa reached under his desk and produced a brochure that he slid across to her. The brochure was marked with a prominent silver snowflake motif. It was sealed with red foil. ‘Open it; you have clearance.’

‘What is it, sir?’

‘A security report on our new friends. One of them has been behaving a bit oddly. You’ll need to keep an eye on him.’

For inscrutable reasons of their own, the liaison committee had decided she would be introduced to Amesha Crane and her associates a day before the official visit, when the party was still in Sukhothai-Sanikiluaq. The journey there took the better part of two days, even allowing for the legs she took by high-speed dirigible or the ageing, unreliable trans-atoll railway line between Narathiwat and Cape Dorset. She arrived at Sukhothai-Sanikiluaq in a velvety purple twilight, catching the tail end of a fireworks display. The two snowflake cities had only been married three weeks, so the arrival of the off-worlders was an excellent pretext for prolonging the celebrations. Naqi watched the fireworks from a civic landing stage perched halfway up Sukhothai’s core, star-bursts and cataracts of scarlet, indigo and intense emerald green brightening the sky above the vacuum-bladders. The colours reminded her of the organisms that she and Mina had seen in the wake of their airship. The recollection left her suddenly sad and drained, convinced that she had made a terrible mistake by accepting this assignment.

‘Naqi?’

It was Tak Thonburi, coming out to meet her on the balcony. They had already exchanged messages during the journey. He was dressed in full civic finery and appeared more than a little drunk.

‘Chairman Thonburi.’

‘Good of you to come here, Naqi.’ She watched his eyes map her contours with scientific rigour, lingering here and there around regions of particular interest. ‘Enjoying the show?’

‘You certainly seem to be, sir.’

‘Yes, yes. Always had a thing about fireworks.’ He pressed a drink into her hand and together they watched the display come to its mildly disappointing conclusion. There was a lull then, but Naqi noticed that the spectators on the other balconies were reluctant to leave, as if waiting for something. Presently a stunning display of three- dimensional images appeared, generated by powerful projection apparatus in the Voice of Evening’s shuttle. Above Sukhothai-Sanikiluaq, Chinese dragons as large as mountains fought epic battles. Sea monsters convulsed and writhed in the night. Celestial citadels burned. Hosts of purple-winged fiery angels fell from the heavens in tightly knit squadrons, clutching arcane instruments of music or punishment.

A marbled giant rose from the sea, as if woken from some aeons-long slumber.

It was very, very impressive.

‘Bastards,’ Thonburi muttered.

‘Sir?’

‘Bastards,’ he said, louder this time. ‘We know they’re better than us. But do they have to keep reminding us?’

He ushered her into the reception chamber where the Vahishta visitors were being entertained. The return indoors had a magical sharpening effect on his senses. Naqi suspected that the ability to turn drunkenness on and off like a switch must be one of the most hallowed of diplomatic skills.

He leaned towards her, confidentially. ‘Did Jotah mention any—’

‘Security considerations, Chairman? Yes, I think I got the message.’

‘It’s probably nothing, only—’

‘I understand. Better safe than sorry.’

He winked, touching a finger against the side of his nose. ‘Precisely.’

The interior was bright after the balcony. Twenty Vahishta delegates were standing in a huddle near the