House of Reeds

the Fleet battle group – and the prince, once his presence was known – might incite the natives to violence long before the troublemaking priests had finished clearing and grading the field of battle. 'Security?'

'Well…' The lead engineer's face twisted sour. 'Are…are th ese creatures trustworthy?'

'The Arachosians?' Itzpalicue laughed breathily. 'Don't they seem trustworthy with their wicked kalang knives and long muskets? With such peaceful faces and polite ways?'

'Mi'lady!' The engineer did not spit on the floor, but she knew he wanted to. 'The Arachs are notorious thieves and murderers, brigands with chains of fore-teeth around their necks, scales pitted and scarred from a hundred brawls…muskets? You've provided them with some odd-looking muskets! Muskets don't take clips of Imperial Standard 8mm 'firecrackers,'do they? No, I don't trust them at all.'

'They've not set aside their long knives for our new toys, have they?' The old woman sat up a little straighter, concerned.

'No.' The engineer shook his head. 'Most of them are carrying muskets, axes, stabbing swords, bandoliers of grenades…'

'Good. Very good.' Itzpalicue was relieved. 'Lachlan-tzin, you can trust the Arachs while they are waiting for the other half of their payment. After that…well, we will be far from here. The Jehanan princes can clean up the mess. So, while no one offers them a more generous array of toys, you can trust them to keep you and your technicians safe.'

The Йirishman shrugged, nervous but wanting to believe.

'What about surveillance in the cities?' Itzpalicue had begun to key up screen after screen of surveillance channels on her displays, each sub-pane no more than a palm wide. Most of them were still dark and inactive.

'Tomorrow,' Lachlan replied, squaring his shoulders. 'We're waiting for the nymast to fly up at dusk before we launch the spyeyes. I have three crews – protected by your trusty Arachs – laying out the hives on appropriate rooftops tonight.'

The old woman raised an eyebrow, fixing him with a piercing glare.

'The nymast,' the engineer said, a little stiffly, 'are night-flying avians which feed on the insect cloud which rises over the city at sundown. I thought…I thought we should be careful in releasing the spyeyes… It is possible someone might mark the launch and…'

'Wise.' Itzpalicue dismissed the rest of his explanation with a sharp twitch of her fingers. 'The Jehanan are neither savages nor fools. They have eyes and the wits to understand what might be seen. What about asset tracking? Do we have a trace on every Flower Priest active on Jagan?'

Lachlan nodded, shoulders settling. 'Sixteen groundside controllers, all running under Imperial merchant passports from a variety of authorized pochtecan based at the Sobipurй spaceport or in Parus itself. We tagged them within a day of arrival. There are another seven operating under double-cover in the hinterlands… Four are locked, and we're running down the other three.'

The old woman nodded, considering. The numbers matched those provided by the Flower Priests. 'These seven are presenting themselves as agents of 'Swedish Naval Operations and Research'?'

'Yes. We've tentative pheromone, scent and skin flake idents on them; but given the relatively few number of Imperials working on Jagan…we should be able to keep track of them fairly easily.'

'I assume they are already hard at work?'

Lachlan nodded, sandy hair falling into his eyes. 'Sowing mischief, mi'lady. Selling arms and ammunition, filling the hearing pores of local revolutionaries with wild tales…blackening the Emperor's name with a will. Within three weeks, I would guess, every local potentate will be sweating tears in his sleep, wondering when the sky will open and the invasion fleet will descend. The usual Swedish line of propaganda.'

'Good.' Itzpalicue swept her eyes across the feeds. 'And every marginal sect leader, patriot, malcontent and outlaw will be hyping himself into a frenzy. Someone must save civilization from the invaders, of course. Have you identified the princes who will step forward?'

'The darmanarga moktar – Those-Who-Restore-the-Right-Path?' Lachlan's forehead creased. 'No. Not yet. The 'Swedish' agents are still sounding out possible allies among the kujen. Do you want me to anticipate them?'

The old woman shook her head slowly, eyes fixed on one of the v-panes. The motion of her retinas caused the pane to unfold, filling the display with vibrant color and motion:

Hundreds of brightly painted kites were dancing above the rooftops – somewhere in the city where an Imperial spyeye was already aloft – weaving and ducking in grayish air. As she watched, one of the kites, diamond-shaped with a stubby tail, controlled from the ground by what seemed to be an adolescent Jaganite, swerved across the path of another. For a moment, their controlling strings tangled and Itzpalicue blinked – was that a spark? Then one cord parted and a black and white striped kite tumbled out of the sky, string cut.

The old woman's eyes unfocused as she took in dozens of screens. 'Let them do their work. No wasted effort, child. And Lachlan-tzin, you're prudent to wait until dark to launch the other hives – the natives are fond of aerial sports. We must be able to see everything before we can begin our own operation.'

And then, wrenching her attention away from the fluttering sky, perhaps I can find my…prey. Her hands splayed across the displays. An odd, tight feeling was growing in her chest. A constriction of breath, an irritation plucking beneath her breastbone. Cold…almost metallic. That is how you feel, my enemy. Not like a Swede or a Dane or any of the scattered nations defeated by the Empire. Slowly, she licked her lips, considering. I doubt there is a HГ¶gkvarteret operative within thirty light-years…but within the week, every Imperial and Jaganite on this tired old world will think the shadows are crawling with HKV agents.

Itzpalicue closed both eyes, letting her mind settle. Will all this be enough? she wondered, trying to let her impression of the enemy come into focus. For the moment, there was only a confused sense of wrongness, of emptiness. I have nothing but a feeling – a half-felt disturbance in the pattern of this civilization – to incite this conflagration. Will I catch him – her – it – this time?

The old Mйxica wondered if the Flower Priests realized this world had been chosen for their War of Flowers at her insistence. That the arrival of Villeneuve and the prince had never been in doubt, not from the moment the Mirror began to act. I doubt it! Hmmm…I wonder…

She opened her eyes, fixing the patient Lachlan with a piercing look. 'I need your researchers to find me something. A shrine or temple or great work of art. Something every Jehanan citizen knows by name…something beloved, an example of the glory of ancient Jagan. The closer to a city, the better.'

'Does the size of the specific object matter?' The Йirishman's hands were already busy on his control panel. 'Jehanan artifacts, or something from a previous period?'

'Size and source are inconsequential – name recognition and emotional response are more important.'

Lachlan nodded, looking up. She could see he had already guessed her desire. 'I offer you two possibilities, mi'lady: two Arthavan-period shrines – the 'Wind King Temple' at Fehrupurй and the great statues of 'Kharna and the Hundred Princes' at Jihnuma. Both are within city bounds.'

Pictures of the edifices appeared on Itzpalicue's display. She pursed her lips in appreciation. 'Exquisite.' A finger drifted across the pictures. 'This sky…the air is filled with pollution?'

'Every city within the valley of the Phison is plagued with smog, acidic rain and almost toxic levels of industrial vapor waste.' Lachlan glanced sideways at one of his secondary displays. 'Do you wish to see rates of decay and damage? We don't have them on file, but I'm sure…'

'The fact of the matter is inconsequential. How quickly can a xenoarchaeo-logical team be routed to Jagan?'

'No need.' Lachlan tapped up a series of citizen profiles. 'Civilization on Jagan is of sufficient age that the University of Tetzcoco already has a dig underway outside Fehrupurй. Apparently the remains of an Arthavan-period planetary capital are located there. Hmm…sixty University staff, about four thousand diggers…we can pull profiles on all the Imperials if need be.'

'Not now.' Itzpalicue brushed away the spyeye feeds open on her displays. 'Only a thought. Now, how extensive is our infiltration of the rural, township-level communications networks?'

Landing Field Six