Chu-sa Hadeishi? This is Thai-i Sagamish – I'm attached to Resident Petrel's staff -
Yes, the Naval attachй. Has something happened? Where are you?
Flying into Parus by aerocar. Kyo, have you seen the latest news reports? Is there fighting in the city?
Itzpalicue raised an eyebrow. The senior lieutenant sounded panicked. She tapped up his personnel record and started scanning through the entries, half an ear devoted to the two men talking.
Things were quiet when I went to bed, Hadeishi said in a very dry voice. Why the call, Thai-i ?
I live in the suburbs, Sagamish replied, still sounding on edge. Just after midnight my house was attacked – vandalized – graffiti on the walls warned me to leave Jagan before the old ways were restored and the Empire swept away.
Has this happened before in your district? The sound of the Chu-sa tapping up the latest situation reports was clear in Itzpalicue's left ear. He sounded very calm. Have you been attacked before?
Slicks throwing rocks at my car. Two of my servants quit – I believe they were threatened.
Do you know why? Hadeishi's voice changed tone, making Itzpalicue curse softly, wishing the transmission were carrying video as well. She opened another v-pane, showing the data sources from the Cornuelle, but a tap into the captain's workstation was not available.
I've heard…I'm sorry, Chu-sa, I shouldn't be bothering you with this. Legation comm section is shut down at this hour…I was hoping to reach your bridge watch officer for a situation report.
You're on the shortlist of groundside personnel to route directly to me, Hadeishi said wryly. What did you hear?
I've heard plenty, Sagamish said, now almost calm. It is said the Fleet is going to tear down all the old temples and put statues of the Emperor in their place; that the kujen is going to accept the quill as the official currency in Parus and its dependencies; that prince Tezozуmoc has been sent to be the new planetary viceroy; that the kujen has agreed to sell six hundred thousand Jehanan of the lowest caste to Legate Petrel for blood-sacrifice on AnГЎhuac. Those are the things I've heard – or my informants have heard – in the last three days.
The Emperor is very busy, it seems. Hadeishi's voice was tinged with dismay. Next there will be secret weather satellites causing famines and droughts to inflate the demand for imported grain.
The old Mйxica woman coughed in surprise, her lips twitching into a grim smile. "That is for later," she muttered caustically. "If this world becomes unruly. Or the pochteca cartels need a few extra quills at end of quarter."
Thai-i - none of these things are fact, to my knowledge. Have you heard differently?
No, sir. The sound of aerocar fans in the background changed. Itzpalicue could tell they were shifting into vertical landing mode. Unbidden, a v-pane opened in a relatively clear section of her panel, showing a video-feed from the Legation. A late-model aerocar, splashed with angular Jehanan script in vivid green paint, was setting down on the staff landing stage. Legate Petrel has been very, very strict about keeping a low profile, adapting to native customs, treating fairlywith the princes… I don't know who is spreading this…it's not us, not the Fleet or Armystaff…
How many, Hadeishi said slowly, in a thoughtful tone, Imperial citizens have business on Jagan?
I don't know, Sagamish replied and the sound of venting fans whined down to nothing. What kind of merchant or tourist is going to spread those kinds of rumors? Be bad for business, I think…
True. The Chu-sa did not sound convinced. Let me know if anything else happens.
Hadeishi closed the connection and stood with a grimace. Even with the unobtrusive assistance of his medband, two hours of sleep was just not enough to clear his head. He yawned and wrapped his robe tighter. Like everything else on the ship, the flannel-lined silk was threadbare. Old Yejin was a deft hand with needle, thread and a fabric sealer, but all things – even high-quality cloth – gave way in time to wear. He sat on the bed, trying to marshal his thoughts, but he was too tired. The best he could do was key himself a note for Sho-i Smith to review local comm traffic in case someone was stirring up trouble on the planet.
Then he fell back into bed and was instantly asleep.
"Lachlan, what did he hear?" Itzpalicue turned her fierce dark eyes on the Йirishman.
Lachlan shook his head slowly, unkempt hair falling into his eyes. "We've…nothing scheduled on the Flower Priest agitation plot for his district. Must be either the darmanarga-moktar or locals copying what they've heard has happened elsewhere."
"Coordinated action? Or is the lid starting to come off? Did the attachй provoke something with his neighbors?"
The young Йirishman shrugged, spreading his hands. "If a local animosity cell has triggered, they're not organizing by comm. The build-out schedule for the wireless network won't even reach this suburb for another two years. So any organization will be face-to-face and we've no tap on that."
Itzpalicue nodded in understanding. These kinds of operations were always much easier on planets with pervasive comm networks. Here, hoary old rumor had legs like Painal and leapt from city to city with a speed rivaling a t-relay. "Re-route a Flower Listener into his neighborhood today. See what they can pick up. And have analysis section pull an incident map for the last two days for the whole land of the Five Rivers. This feels…"
She stopped, shaking her head. The agitation pattern running up to the outbreak of hostilities was still quite clear. All of her data sources – both from the Flower Priests, her own comm intercepts and groundside informants – pointed in the same direction. Another week of steadily rising tension would rupture equilibrium somewhere – indicators were good for the shantytown districts of eastern Parus to erupt first, followed by the noble cabal and the princedoms trying to capitalize on the wave of popular hatred. There seemed little need for the Flower Priests to try and ignite the tinder themselves. The xochiyaotinime were past masters of this kind of exercise. The right kind of wind always seemed to blow hot enough to strike sparks.
Itzpalicue squinted at the young Йirishman, who was staring bleary-eyed at one of his displays. His medical readout on her panel indicated he was running on stimulant fumes.
"Lachlan – take yourself off duty for the next ten hours. Take a sleepyhead and rest. Nothing is going to break today. But soon, very soon, we will be quite busy."
He nodded, stretching, and Itzpalicue closed the comm herself. Almost time to send my Arachosians out hunting, waiting for a break in the clouds hiding my prey.
A nagging feeling stole over her, though the old Mйxica tried to ignore the concern that her opponent – if there was indeed a subtle force acting against Imperial influence – might have stolen away from the field of heroes. She had drawn an empty net from dark waters before.
Itzpalicue pricked her upper arm, letting the stabbing pain clear her mind of such phantoms.