Carlyle breathed deep. “You’re right. You are right. I’m sorry I snapped. I’m not a Nurturist, really, I’m not. I don’t object to set-sets. It makes me uncomfortable, but I recognize why it’s right that it’s allowed. I embrace the principle. And maybe what you’re doing here is actually beneficial, I just…”
“You’ve had a hard three days.” Bryar Kosala clapped her fellow Cousin on the shoulder like a drinking buddy. “Come on, Carlyle. I’m going to take you to lunch and answer all your questions about Mycroft Canner, and Jed Mason, and all this. Sound good?”
Carlyle relaxed into a slump at last. “Wonderful. I can’t thank you enough.” He turned eagerly to the door, and hope beyond. But paused. “One more question, Madame?”
“As many as you like, my dear,” she invited, that portrait face smiling so perfectly.
Carlyle had to steel himself. “Who named your child? Was it you?”
“Jehovah Epicurus Donatien D’Arouet Mason?” she recited.
Carlyle looked to Thisbe. “Donatien is the given name of the Marquis de Sade.”
Madame nodded confirmation. “All the Prince’s ba’pas picked out pieces of His name. As a sensayer, I don’t think you would want me to reveal to anyone who chose which.”
Finally Carlyle had a smile for her. “That’s true. Thanks for catching me.”
She smiled back. “I still know how to think like a sensayer. I also think Jehovah is a good name for a person who saves lives by wielding theology instead of a gun.”
Carlyle took a slow breath. “Heloïse’s fiancé was the Emperor, wasn’t it? The ‘great and worthy man’ who could approach Jehovah Mason as a father to a son? The Emperor was supposed to marry Heloïse just like the Director married Danaë. That’s a pretty uncomfortable age gap.”
“That’s two questions,” Chair Kosala chided. “Come on, Carlyle, no more politics for you today, you’re politics-ed out. I prescribe a good French restaurant.” She glanced back over her shoulder. “See you later, Director, President Ganymede.”
Carlyle lingered, a stubborn foot in the doorway. “Thisbe, will you be all right here?”
“With my own President?” Thisbe shot back, chuckling. “Mycroft’s making you paranoid, Carlyle. I’m thrilled to be here.”
“All right. I’ll see you…”
“Around,” she finished for him.
I held the door for the two Cousins as they left. Kosala glanced down at me. “I might call you, Mycroft, if Carlyle has questions later.”
“I’ll be ready, Chair,” I promised as I closed the door behind.
“Mycroft Canner.” I heard Carlyle whisper my name like an incantation just before the door closed. Perhaps we smelled alike to him, me and Madame, the same kind of monster, as when a remote village starts finding bodies in the woodland edge mauled by claws and jaws too huge to be common woodland fauna, and it does not matter whether the killer be wolf or bear or dinosaur, the threat is still the same: extinct things rising. Torture, humanity was supposed to be past that. Gender, we were supposed to be past that, too.
With the Cousins gone, Madame stretched back across her sofa, glowing with satisfaction like a cat between two naps. “Well, gentlemen? Did you get a good look?”
“That’s the child, no doubt,” Andō answered gravely.
Ganymede nodded agreement. “Thisbe, that young sensayer of yours is a Gag-gene, and must be kept away from here at all costs, for his own sake more than anything. Children can leave this house, and he is proof. Will you watch him for me?”
Thisbe’s cheeks stayed still, but I saw her eyes sparkle with delight: another secret for the spellbook. “Of course, Member President.”
“Good, now come with me. We’re getting you back home, and then I’m meeting with your bash’ about this whole affair. If you have problems they’re the whole Hive’s problems. Time we settled them.”
I have rarely seen so eager a nod from Thisbe. “Thank you, Member President. We’ve been hoping for some more direct intervention.” She turned to the hostess now. “And thank you for your hospitality, Madame. It’s been most enlightening.” She laughed at her own joke. “I’d love to come again, if I may.”
“Why, I’d be delighted, dear Thisbe. I shall talk to membership about an invitation for you.” Madame kissed her goodbye on both cheeks.
Duke Ganymede can slide like a dancer, strut like a cock, or march like a soldier. Here he chose the last, dragging Thisbe toward the door by force of command.
I opened the door for them, and handed him the sack with Thisbe’s boots and weapons. «Thisbe’s arts, your Grace.»
The Duke does not thank slaves.
Director Andō rose now. “I’ll go too, if we’re done here.”
“Yes, we’re done. Thank you, Hotaka. I knew if anyone could recognize the child it would be you and Ganymede. See you tonight?”
The Chief Director kissed her hand before departing. “Until tonight, Madame.”「I expect your presence tonight too, Mycroft,」he ordered, raising his eyes to me for the first time since I had entered.「We’ll have work for you.」
「Yes, Chief Director.」
I closed the door behind him. Then I faced Madame, alone at last in her salon. «Nicely played, Madame. Very nicely played.»
She appreciates that sort of compliment from me. «Thank thee, Mycroft. Now»—she shooed me like a pigeon—«to thy work.»
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SEVENTH
The Interlude in Which Martin Guildbreaker Pursues the Question of Dr. Cato Weeksbooth
Call logged 11:11 UT March 26, 2454
Seneschaclass="underline" “Not often notre Maître asks a question like that.”
Guildbreaker: “Dominic! Where are you? Are you hurt?”
Seneschaclass="underline" “And He asked it in front of Caesar no less. ‘Do the Utopians ever turn down an application to join the Hive?’ He looked straight at Aldrin when He asked it, too, He actually looked! And did you see how pale Mycroft turned when he heard it? I’m surprised the little stray’s tracker didn’t summon Papadelias.”
Guildbreaker: “Dominus is really worried about you. The others may not see the difference, but I can tell.”
Seneschaclass="underline" “Well? Do they turn applications down?”
Guildbreaker: “The Utopians? No, never, I had Aldrin check.”
Seneschaclass="underline" “You don’t see it, do you?”
Guildbreaker: “I do see it. There’s someone Dominus thinks would want to be a Utopian but isn’t, so they wondered if their application was rejected. I’ll act on it. But you need to come back and tell us what’s happening. What have you been doing for the last three days?”
Seneschaclass="underline" “Seconds before that question, He’d asked Aldrin how long until the next Mars launch. Here’s your hint: I heard notre Maître ask Cato Weeksbooth the same thing earlier that day, how long until the next Mars launch, and He got just as accurate an answer. Then He asked Weeksbooth how long the Saneer-Weeksbooth bash’ had been Humanist and the blessed little coward didn’t know.”
Guildbreaker: “Cato Weeksbooth?”
Seneschaclass="underline" “I’ll leave it to you. I’ve found richer hunting.”