Van started to ease past the older blond officer in resplendent whites adorned with braid and metals, who was talking to a willowy woman—also blonde, with skin almost as white as the officer’s uniform. Then Van stopped, smothering a cynical smile. “Sub-marshal Taylor. It’s good to see you.”
The sub-marshal looked up from his tête-à-tête with the woman, a fleeting expression of annoyance crossing his face. “Yes? I don’t believe—”
“Of course not. You wouldn’t. Commander Van Albert, Taran RSF. I’m Commander Cruachan’s replacement at the embassy.” Van raised his voice to carry, but only to the point where it would seem that he was trying to make himself heard over the crowd. “I’ve attempted to set up a courtesy call several times, but you’ve obviously been more than a little occupied.” Van emphasized the last phrase slightly, then inclined his head politely toward the woman before turning back to face the sub-marshal, and lowering his voice a trace. “I won’t trouble you further this evening, but I do hope we can get together before too long.”
“Ah…yes…we should do that, Commander.”
“I’ll be in touch, Sub-marshal.” Van nodded once more, and then slipped along the wall.
“That was nasty.”
Van turned to see Emily Clifton standing beside an ornate and polished antique acoustical piano that was so spotless that Van wondered if it had been played in the last century. Beside her was a slender man in a white formal jacket.
“You caught me.” Van shrugged helplessly.
“The marshal wasn’t too happy. His look at your back was like a laser,” she said, before gesturing to the man. “Raoul, this is Commander Van Albert, our RSF attaché. Commander, this is Raoul de-Levain, my counterpart here at the Keltyr embassy.”
Van bowed slightly. “I’m pleased to meet you, Raoul.”
Raoul smiled humorously. “After what you did to the marshal, I’m glad that you are pleased to meet me.”
“I am pleased to meet you,” Van replied. He detected an accent in the man’s old Anglo, but couldn’t place it. It certainly wasn’t anything like that of Commander Salucar. “As for the sub-marshal, I occasionally forgive, but I never forget.” He smiled as he finished the words.
“They do neither,” Raoul observed.
“So I understand.”
Emily raised her eyebrows. “This is supposed to be a friendly reception, not the starting locale of the next interstellar war.”
Van bowed slightly. “I understand. I’ll attempt to remember that all is serene and peaceful here in the Galactic Arm.”
“Commander…” Emily shook her head in mock-despair.
Raoul bent toward Emily, whispered a few words, then bowed to Van. “I must go, but it has been a pleasure meeting you, Commander. A pleasure indeed.”
Once the Kelt had moved away, Van eased closer to Emily, respectfully closer. “What was the parting comment, if I might ask?”
Emily smiled, then leaned and whispered into his ear. “He said you are a refreshingly honest change from your predecessor.”
Van couldn’t help but feel her momentary warmth close to him, but that feeling was gone almost as soon as she moved back after her words died away. “I suspect that means that I’m hopelessly direct, and doomed to failure.”
“Only in the reception and drawing rooms, Commander.” Emily stiffened.
Van could sense the comm pulse, since it was embassy-linked, but not the content, directed as it was to her.
“Dr. Hannigan needs something for the ambassador.” Emily offered a crooked smile and slipped away.
Van continued onward, eventually finding Ayrllis Salucar in the drawing room off the second reception area, talking to an older man in a formal white jacket. Easing back and waiting, Van studied the DeVelle print on the wall—a scene of ancient warriors in leather and bronze caught by the first light of the rising sun. Van could admire the artistry, but had to question whether an ancient warrior leader would have bothered with a formal dawn consultation with lesser chieftains right before a battle.
When the older man stepped away, Van moved toward Salucar. “Commander…I just wanted to pay my respects. I wouldn’t want to be accused of neglecting you.”
A smile crossed the dark-haired Kelt officer’s face. “Unlike some, you do listen.”
“I do try.” Van half turned and gestured toward the crowd. “This is quite a gathering.”
She nodded. “That’s why all the embassies are happy to rotate it. We’ve had to bring in some serving help, and screening them was another chore.”
“You’ve got extra surveillance in place, don’t you? And some of those servers are probably reporting to you?”
“Now…we shouldn’t get too professional at the moment, Commander.”
“Then I won’t. How long have you been with the embassy? I trust that’s not too professional?”
“Close, but acceptable. Two years and three months. I had the Martel before that.”
“Cruiser?”
“Old and very light cruiser,” Salucar replied.
“And they decommissioned the Martel after your tour?”
“They did. It doesn’t surprise you at all.”
“I wrote a book similar to that, once,” Van said dryly.
The barest hint of a quizzical look flashed across her face, then vanished. “Some patterns repeat themselves, I suppose.”
“Always. The trick is to discover which pattern and who benefits. I’ve always figured out the pattern, just too late to be as effective as I’d have liked to be.”
“You weren’t late in the Regneri affair,” she pointed out.
“I was in what came later,” he said.
Salucar nodded. “Those kinds of patterns.” She stiffened ever so slightly. “I must excuse myself. There are a few things to check before Premier Gustofsen arrives.”
After Salucar moved away, Van made his way toward one of the buffet tables, where he took one of the small blue-green china plates, edged in silver, and filled it with miniature sandwiches of various sorts, not one of which was more than a mouthful, two thin slices of melon topped with prosciutto, and a few anachad nuts. Then he waited at the table serving as a bar, until the tall blond bartender got to him.
