“Whereis the happy bride-to-be, by the way?” he asked.
“At our lawyer’s, where I will soon join her.” Roland moodily studied himself in a glass, then twitched at his lapels again. “A few last little wrinkles of the marriage contract need to be ironed out.”
“I’ve been assuming the wrinkles on the contract are the whole point of the marriage,” Martinez said, “since I hadn’t till last evening actually seen the joyful couple together, or heard the groom so much as mentioned.”
“You would if you hadn’t spent so much of the last few days asleep.” Roland stepped to the front door, put a hand on the polished brass knob, hesitated, and then turned to Martinez. “But why be surprised that they don’t know each other particularly well? Why be surprised that marriage is about money and property and inheritance? Why else bother with it?”
“That carefree, fey romantic spirit of yours,” Martinez said, “will get you in trouble one day.”
Roland gave a grunt of annoyance and launched himself out the door. Martinez followed.
“So what gems are going to fall into our collective laps as a result of this alliance?” he said as he fell into stride with his brother.
“Lord Oda is the nephew of Lord Yoshitoshi,” Roland said, his eyes fixed forward. “Lord Yoshitoshi had two children—the eldest, Lady Samantha, has been disinherited for reasons that have never been disclosed publicly, but which are assumed to be…” He searched for words.
“The usual,” Martinez finished.
“Yes. The usual.” Roland frowned. “The youngest child and heir, Lord Simon, died at Magaria. That leaves Lord Yoshitoshi’s brother Lord Eizo as the heir. And Lord Oda ishis eldest child.”
“And the presumed heir to Clan Yoshitoshi. Very good. But presumably Lord Oda’s increased prospects didn’t escape the attention of other clans with eligible women. How did we happen to land him for Vipsania?”
Roland’s stolid face took on an expression of grim satisfaction. “Lord Oda’s only thepresumed heir,” he said. “The elder Yoshitoshis are very strict—remember the disinherited daughter? — and Oda’s got some younger siblings who want the title. Oda also has some debts he preferred his father and uncle not know about—”
“Debts?” Martinez began to choke on laughter.
“The usual.” With a sidelong smile.
“So you bought up his debts, and…”
“The debts will be canceled after the marriage ceremony,” Roland said. “The only thing holding us up was that Lord Yoshitoshi insisted on interviewing Vipsania personally. He let us know just yesterday that she passed her audition.” He smiled. “Now we’ll see how Vipsania runs a video company.”
Martinez tried to stifle his rising hilarity. “Video company?”
“Clan Yoshitoshi and its clients own a majority interest in Empire Broadcasting. That’s two entertainment channels, four devoted to sports, and one to information, broadcasting in all of forty-one solar systems not counting the ones the Naxids currently occupy. We’re going to ask Lord Yoshitoshi to let Vipsania run it. We think he will—he considers broadcasting a plebeian pursuit, nothing like the high culture here in the acropolis that really matters to him.”
Surprise quelled Martinez’s laughter. “Vipsania knows how to run a major broadcasting corporation?”
“She’llhire people for that.” Irritably. “The point is that she’ll be in a position to influence the public about…” He made an equivocal gesture with his hand. “…about whatever we think suitable. As, for example, why you aren’t being given a meaningful command.” He shot Martinez a shrewd glance from under his heavy brows. “You won’t have a problem with an adulatory documentary about your exploits, will you?”
Martinez felt a waft of pleasure at the idea, immediately followed by caution. “Perhaps,” he said. “But it won’t be the public who decides my assignments.”
“I’d prefer something more subtle myself, but we can always keep the broadcast in reserve.” Roland nodded to an acquaintance passing on the street. “The wedding will be very soon, by the way—we’re starting to get the point where I want to get as many of my kinfolk off the planet as possible.”
“I’ve been telling you that for over a month.”
Roland chose to ignore the comment. Passing down the walkway, he and Martinez negotiated their way through a pack of glits—fashionable, decorative young people who chattered their way past, leaving behind a waft of laughter and hair pomade. Glits had been in the mode before the Naxid revolt, but the seriousness of the war seemed to have suppressed them: these were the first Martinez had seen since his return.
“If only we can get you and Walpurga married before the time comes to leave,” Roland continued, after the glits had passed.
Martinez only smiled. Roland gave him a sharp look. “Do you actually have someone in mind? Someone who isn’t awarrant officer, that is?”
Martinez increased what he hoped was the mystery of his smile. “Perhaps I do. How are Walpurga’s prospects?”
“Nothing concrete, though there are a number of possibilities.”
“Get her and Vipsania and Proney and yourself off the planet. Do itnow, whether they’re married or not.” He tried to put all his urgency into the words. “Bad things are going to happen here. I think the Fleet’s going to get another pasting.”
Roland gave a grim nod. “Yes. I think you’re right.”
And where do your schemes go then?Martinez wanted to ask. But the words never passed his lips: he was afraid that Roland might admit that had been betting on the Naxids all along.
“Which brings us to the reason I’m following you down the street,” Martinez said. “I need an interview with Lord Chen, and I need it as soon as possible.”
Roland gave him a frowning look. “This isn’t about your posting, is it?”
“No. It’s about…” Martinez realized how absurd this sounded even as he said it. “I have a plan to redeploy the Fleet and save the empire.”
To Martinez’s surprise, Roland stopped dead on the pavement, then raised his arm and engaged his sleeve display.
“Personal and urgent from Lord Roland Martinez to Lord Chen,” Roland said. “I need you to meet my brother, and the meeting must be at once. Please respond.”
He lowered his arm and looked up at Martinez.
“Right,” he said. “Now it’s up to you.”
“And you developed this plan yourself?” Lord Chen asked. He had received Martinez—graciously, under the circumstances—in his garden, amid the scent of the purple lu-doi blossoms growing on either side of the walkway. The afternoon was well advanced, and the garden largely in shade, overhung by the sunlit, winged Nayanid gables. It was growing chilly.
“I—” Martinez hesitated. “I developed it with Lady Sula.”
Lord Chen nodded. His dark eyes were thoughtful. “Our two most celebrated officers,” he said. “That speaks well for these ideas. But you realize that this isn’t simply a military decision. It’s political, and of the highest possible order.”
“Yes, my lord.” Ithad occurred to him that the government leaving Zanshaa for the first time in twelve thousand years was very possibly an act of some significance.
Chen frowned. “I’ll send the plan to my sister, for comments.”
Martinez had hoped he would. Squadron Commander Chen had been orbiting the system for over a month now, staring into the oblivion of Wormhole 3, through which the Naxids would come from Magaria with annihilating force and missile batteries blazing. It was very possible that she would welcome any plan that would enable her to evade that confrontation.
“I’ll presume on Squadcom Do-faq’s patience and send the plan to him as well,” Martinez said.