House of Reeds

coverage. We've sorted out twelve primary detonations and one secondary. The first set were anti-matter cascades, the last a fusion explosion. A ship's reactor core by the emissions signature.

'Which ship?' Itzpalicue reached into her mantle and squeezed an oliohuiqui tablet from a sewn-in pocket. The round pill felt grainy and sharp under her fingertips. 'The Tepoztecatl?'

We think not, he replied. The orbit position was wrong – best guess says it was the merchanter Beowulf, which had recently arrived with a cargo of recycled aluminum blocks and miscellaneous 'spare parts'.

'More guns for the local trade. Well, they'll not be missed. The native princelings seem to have accumulated enough fuel for a hot little war as it stands.' The old woman placed the tablet under her tongue, feeling a familiar bitter taste well in her mouth. 'And the detonations themselves?'

Orbital mines. The Йirishman's voice was flat. The Imperial Development Board's satellite network down to the meter. Civilian power plants replaced with military grade anti- matter packs and converted into cheap bomb-pumped x-ray laser platforms. The Tepoztecatl didn't mount the armor to shrug off even a single hit…

'A long-prepared trap.' Itzpalicue blinked as everything around her became very sharply defined. 'Do you concur?'

I don't know how long someone spent setting this up… Lachlan clicked his teeth together in thought. But someone here has been preparing for battle. We're not picking up any signs of another ship in the system, so I think the mines were used as a cheap way to cripple or destroy any assets we had in orbit. A one-off cast of the patolli beans, if you will. Costing nothing if the gambit failed, but carrying the potential for inflicting heavy casualties…

'This entire world is a snare for us, for the Regiment, for the xochiyaotinime.' The old woman's voice was perfectly confident, and in the thought-accelerating clarity of the morning-glory extract dissolving into her bloodstream, all known data aligned and portentous signs emerged from the chaos of noise and data around her. 'Someone knew we chose this world for the Flowery War – someone acquainted with our policies and customs.'

Can you be sure? Lachlan's voice quickened in disbelief. Everything they've done could have been put in place on a very short timetable. Six months, perhaps a year. How long ago was Jagan chosen?

Itzpalicue consulted the serried ranks of her memory, plucking out one dusty tome loitering in the back of her mind. Pages unfolded before her, yielding brilliant visions of red and black, the smell of dried flowers and the echo of chanting voices. 'The Flower Priests are not hasty,' she said. 'They have been planning their exercise here for almost four years.'

Plenty of time to prepare, the Йirishman mused, if this enemy cabal has an ear inside the Temple of Mayahuel, or among her servants abroad on this world.

'Not a cabal,' the old woman said sharply, 'pawns and decoys aplenty, yes – minions dancing on unseen strings – but only one hand on the thread of destiny. Only one true enemy.'

Lachlan did not respond, and Itzpalicue knew he was frowning, staring at an empty v-pane, wondering how to disagree. A flood of eager confidence rushed in her veins, straining her voice, making her words tumble like a swift stream. 'We have our own ears here, Lachlan-tzin! Our own eyes. To hold such a trap secret for so long requires the tightest of conspiracies. Supremely trustworthy confederates. All of this has been arranged by a single mind. One enemy! As I have feared and suspected. But he shows his hand at last. Now I begin the see the outline of a face!'

Lachlan held his peace; Itzpalicue could hear him breathing and the muted chatter of the technicians in the distant room. She fought down the urge to giggle or shout aloud. She knew she was right. She was certain the bitter god guided her thoughts unerringly and they were clear, clear as a placid stream under willows.

Most of our data network is back up, the Йirishman said in a neutral tone. I will route you a copy of everything coming into main operations.

'Good.' Itzpalicue felt her voice shine with bright colors. 'My hunters are afield – their scanners still work – as soon as he reveals himself, we will strike.'

You know your quarry is in Parus? Lachlan tried to hide the skepticism in his voice, but failed.

'No.' The admission was painful. She had tried to acquire the services of more mercenaries from the highland tribes, but spending the time to win their trust and establish her power fully in their minds had taken too long. 'But the Legation is here, and the darmanarga conspiracy will gauge failure or success by its capture. I believe…he will keep close watch upon them, for even if this is only a spine- prick to bleed us, such a victory would be hard to resist.'

Very well. The Йirishman's tone held a disbelieving sigh. We are launching the reserve spyeyes now. We should have about twenty percent coverage within the hour.

The old woman smiled, bony hands flat upon her knees, eyes half-lidded, waiting and listening to the flood of sound surging around her. Her perception expanded, filling the world, penetrating even the most minute crevice, winging across the rooftops, hearing the distant voices of men in battle and pain.

The smell of blood and incense was sharp in her nostrils. Again, she felt young and strong, as if the years had dropped away, a heavy, jeweled mantle discarded upon the floor.

The Junction of Provincial Route Twenty-Two and the Railway

North of the Mйxica Mandate at Sobipurй

The sick, sinking feeling rushing up in Heicho Felix's stomach slammed into a stone wall as the air-breathing turbines on the Fleet shuttle suddenly regained comp control. The engine fans shrieked up to an ear-piercing whine and kicked over, igniting. The pilot, who had been struggling to deadstick the shuttle into the nearest river, felt his ship come alive.

He jammed on full thrust and slewed his control yoke over and back, sending the shuttle clawing for altitude.

Massive acceleration slammed Felix back into the shockchair for an endless, crushing time. Then, suddenly, they leveled off and the aircraft banked sharply. For the first time in their headlong flight, Felix took a breath, realizing the enemy missile team in the shantytown had failed to peg them with a second rocket and comp control had come back on-line. Still rattled, she tucked loose hair back behind her ears and tuned the eye-v on the inside of her visor back to the cameras in the nose of the shuttle. The whine of her suit systems had never been so welcome.

The tiled roof of a farmhouse flashed past, followed immediately by the blur of a wide field flooded with water, green shoots poking up from the mud. The Heicho grimaced, stomach churning with vertigo. The shuttle pilot was clinging to the deck like a baby to the teat, roaring over roads lined with flowering hedges, fields gleaming with sheets of water, and long stretches of trees planted in regular rows. The slender figures of Jehanan on the ground were glimpsed for fractions of a second and then left behind. Felix felt dizzy, thinking I'm glad I'm not a bleeding pilot… and toggled her view to one of the side- mounted cameras.

With more distance between the lens and the landscape, the frenetic passage of the shuttle didn't upset her stomach so much. She saw broad plains stretching out to the horizon, dotted with conical mounds surmounted by villages. Every square meter seemed to be tilled, planted, farmed or covered with clusters of tiny, compact houses. Heavy rain clouds scudded across the bucolic landscape, chasing their own shadows across byre and barn alike.

A trail of dust rising from a long dike caught her eye and she zoomed the camera. An elevated road sprang into focus and at first Felix thought she was watching a column of vehicles from the 416th Tarascan Rifles regiment burling down the highway. Then her mind sorted out the jumble of exhaust, dust, dull gray vehicles and marching columns of antlike figures. The AI in her comm link steadied the frame, causing details to spring into view, sharp and clear.