House of Reeds

the day, too, not the usual flat rate.'

'Really?' Parker brightened. 'Including transit time? Can I see that?'

Gretchen handed over the chit, feeling disoriented, and raised her head to search the massive v-pane filling one entire wall of the cavernous hall. Thousands of ships passed through Tadmor every week. One of them would carry her team to Bharat. Hope it's a real liner, she grumbled to herself, not a tramp with berths over the reactor.

Then she thought about how long it would be until she saw her children and her mother, walked in the realspruce forest behind the steading breathing cool, fresh air, and had to fight down tears. Fucking Company. I am so tired of this. She rubbed her eyes.

'Hey,' Parker said, watching her face with alarm. 'Hey now boss, it's just a couple weeks. Look – they're estimating a week to Bharat, two weeks there and then another week back to New Aberdeen. You can route through Toroson instead of Coromandel Station and it'll be faster. With triple-time, it's like working three months in one! You could spend nine weeks on vacation instead of three and still be ahead, quill for quill.'

'Rrrr…' Magdalena's ears flicked back, showing what she thought of that. The Hesht never mentioned her own pack, or expressed the slightest interest in returning to the Ark of her birth, but she considered Anderssen her 'hunt-sister,' and Gretchen's cubs, therefore, were her cubs as well. Her opinion of Parker varied, but most of the time she treated him like a younger brother, which meant cuffing him, claws retracted, at least once a day. 'Another month until she sees her cubs? How many feathers is that worth?'

'They're called quills,' Parker replied, handing the Hesht the chit. 'Not feathers, fur-brain.'

Magdalena bared her incisors at the human male. 'You need feathers to make a quill, stinky.'

'I have to go,' Gretchen said, interrupting them before her two companions really started to bicker. 'But you don't. I could log a call saying you'd already boarded your own ships…'

Magdalena sniffed, ears back, and held up the travel chit. 'Where hunt-sister goes, I go. Not for feathers' – her plushy black nose wrinkled up – 'but to make sure you see your cubs and den again.' The Hesht caught sight of Parker's grimace. 'No one knows this world – any untasted meat is dangerous!'

'But…but…' Parker glared at b oth of them. 'My mum is expecting me for dinner in two weeks! What am I going to tell her?'

'Buy her some nice fresh meat,' Magdalena sniffed, 'with all those extra quills you'll earn.'

Jagan

Fourth Planet of the Bharat System

A brisk chime disturbed the meditations of a tiny old woman sitting cross-legged on a rumpled, unmade bed. The room was dark, lit solely by the glow from dozens of v-pane screens. Bundles of cable snaked everywhere, disappearing through holes cut into the floorboards. She was breathing steadily, first through one nostril, then through the other.

The chiming became insistent – drowning out the muted sound of pedicab horns and passing trolleys – and beetle-black eyes flickered open.

The old woman turned her attention to the flashing glyph on the panel, a wizened thumb mashing the winking shape of a running man. A v-pane unfolded, revealing the shaved head of a Flower War Priest, forehead marked by broad stripes of soot and ash.

'My lady Itzpalicue.' The man inclined his head nervously. In the near-perfect fidelity of the display, she could see sweat beading beneath the paint anointing his brow. 'There is news of Battle group Eighty-Eight Tecaltan. They are inbound now from the forward Fleet base at Toroson.'

'When will they arrive?' Her voice was creaky and dry, dead branches rubbing against stone, but the sharp expression on her face betrayed a keen intelligence. Her high, classically Mйxica cheekbones were marked with lines of red-stained pinprick scars. 'Who commands the Flingers-of-Stone?'

'Villeneuve, my lady.' The Flower Priest's expression changed subtly, shading from barely hidden fear to nearly-open delight. Itzpalicue suppressed a surge of irritation with the openness of the man's thought processes. An agent of the Empire, she thought, should show some self-control. 'We have already forwarded the officer rosters and ship manifests to your network.'

'So…Duke Alexis has his frontier command at last.' The old woman's wrinkled lips twitched up slightly, black eyes glittering with delight. 'I am pleased the Admiralty saw fit to grant your request. I am sure he is delighted as well.'

'How could the Frenchman fail to be pleased?' The Flower Priest made an expansive gesture, mostly lost in the narrow focus of the v-pane pickup. 'Four Mitla-class fast dreadnaughts, a dozen Kasei-class heavy cruisers and a veritable armada of smaller ships. Two Marine regiments, thousands of support personnel…everything an ambitious junior admiral could want.'

'Everything he needs to fight a minor war on some forgotten planet on the edge of the Empire. A pity his reputation will be stained by the inevitable result…' Itzpalicue turned a portion of her attention to the officer rosters flipping past in her secondary data-feed. The documents opened, paged and closed with blurring speed. An unexpected sense of relief glowed for a moment as she digested the information. 'Have your analysts examined the commanders' list for the battle group?'

'Yes, my lady. They are entirely acceptable for our purposes. Almost all are barbarians…or at least not citizens born of the Four Hundred Houses. No one important is liable to be killed or injured.'

'Well, your enterprise should go well, then.' Itzpalicue inclined her head. 'Did you expect the presence of the prince Tezozуmoc?'

'Yes!' The priest's face swelled fat with self-congratulation. 'A lucky stroke! The Light of Heaven recently spoke with our master about his youngest son's poor reputation. Of course we were happy to oblige his desires…as they run alongside our own. The boy will be thrust into the forge fire…'

Itzpalicue snorted delicately, a dry whispery sound. 'Forge fire? In this flowery war you're arranging? More like the flame of a candle, I think.'

'Not so!' The priest had forgotten his earlier trepidation and now soot-blackened eyebrows converged over a sharp nose. 'The Xochiyaoyotl is not play-acting, my lady! The divine fluid will be spilled in full measure, pleasing both the Holy Mother and her Son. The boy may die gloriously, as befits a Mйxica prince on the field of battle, or he may triumph as Imperial arms will surely prove victorious over the barbarians. Either outcome will suit our purpose – and please the Light of Heaven! – well enough. Prince Tezozуmoc's reputation will be given new luster, whether he lives or dies, you may be assured of that.'

I would not call the Jehanan 'barbarians,' the old woman mused, as their civilization predates even the simians of AnГЎhuac who gave birth to our noble race…and the thrice-blest Light of Heaven. She considered the Fleet rosters on the secondary displays. 'Have you chosen the ship to sacrifice as Elder Warrior?'

'No…' The Flower Priest sniffed, annoyed at having his contemplation of the Emperor's incipient favor disturbed. 'My acolytes are reviewing the Fleet records now.' He paused, peering at her with a tinge of apprehension. 'Do…do you have a recommendation?'

Itzpalicue made a show of pausing to consider, though she had already grasped sufficient detail from the data- stream to know that while there were commanders on the list who could play the traditional role, none of them were just right. Then she said: 'The Mirror bows to the experience of the xochiyaotinime in this matter.' She favored him with a tight, wintry smile. 'Should circumstances change, however, do not fear but I will render any advice deemed necessary.'

'Of course.' The Flower Priest managed to nod genially.

The old woman could see fear pricking in his face, making the priest twitchy and nervous. Most Imperial citizens had a remarkably similar reaction when confronted with an agent of the Mirror Which Reveals The Truth. Itzpalicue, who had served the Imperial security ministry for her entire adult life, would have been affronted if she had not been regarded with trepidation and near-horror. And not without cause, for the Mirror wielded enormous power within the Empire, answering only to the Emperor himself, and keeping many secrets.

One lowly Flower Priest could easily disappear, particularly with Xochiyaoyotl in the