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“It’s been waiting to happen,” Ship replied. “But to be honest at first I thought it wouldn’t. I underestimated how much better Lieutenant Seivarden does emotionally when Fleet Captain is here.”

“Medic’s on watch,” Seivarden said, still curled into herself on her bunk.

Sitting in Command, Medic said, “Fleet Captain can’t always be here. Does she know this is happening?”

“Yes,” Ship said to Medic, and to Seivarden, “Pull yourself together, Lieutenant. I’ll have Amaat Four bring you tea, and you can get cleaned up and then you need to talk to Lieutenant Ekalu and let her know she’s going to be in command for a few days. And it would be good to apologize to her, if you can do that in a sensible way.”

“Sensible?” asked Seivarden, raising her head up off her knees.

“We’ll talk while you’re having your tea,” said Ship.

I had upset the staff at the detention center with my insistence on seeing Queter. They had, I suspected, appealed to the district magistrate, who did not dare call me to account. Besides, she wanted something from me, so instead of complaining to me, she invited me to dinner.

The district magistrate’s dining room looked out onto steps down to a wide, brick-paved courtyard. Leafy vines with sweet-smelling white and pink flowers tumbled out of tall urns, and water trickled down one wall into a wide basin in which fish swam and small yellow lilies bloomed. Servants had cleared supper away, and the magistrate and I were
drinking tea. Translator Zeiat stood beside the basin, staring fixedly at the fish.
Sphene
sat on a bench in the courtyard outside the tall, open doors, a few meters from where Kalr Five stood straight and still.

“That’s a song I haven’t heard in years, Fleet Captain,” said the district magistrate, where we sat drinking tea, looking out on the darkening courtyard.

“I apologize, Magistrate.”

“No need, no need.” She took a drink of her tea. “It was one of my favorites when I was young. I found it quite romantic. Thinking of it now, it’s very sad, isn’t it.” And sang, “
But I will sustain myself / With nothing more than the perfume of jasmine flowers / Until the end of my life
.” Faltering a bit at the last—she’d taken her pitch from my humming and it was just a touch too high for her comfort. “But the daughters breaking the funeral fast are in the right. Life goes on. Everything goes on.” She sighed. “You know, I didn’t think you’d come. I was sure Citizen Queter meant merely to annoy you. I almost didn’t pass the request on.”

“That would have been illegal, Magistrate.”

She sighed. “Yes, that’s why I did pass it on.”

“If she asked for me in such extremity, how could I ignore her?”

“I suppose.” Outside, Translator Zeiat bent lower over the lily-blooming basin. I hoped she didn’t dive in. It struck me that if she had been Translator Dlique, she might well have done exactly that. “I wish, Fleet Captain, that you would consider exercising your influence with the Valskaayan fieldworkers on Citizen Fosyf’s tea plantation. You have no reason to be aware of it, but there are people who would be glad of any excuse to damage her. Some of them are in her own
family. This work stoppage is just giving them opportunity to move against her.” This was hardly a surprise, given Citizen Fosyf Denche’s penchant for cruelty. “The local head of Denche is an extremely unpleasant person, and she’s hated Fosyf’s mother since they were both children. The mother being gone, she hates Fosyf. She’ll take the plantation away from Fosyf if she can. This might give her enough leverage to do it, especially since so many intersystem gates are down and the Lord of Denche is unreachable just now.”

“And the workers’ grievances?” I asked. “Have they been dealt with?”

“Well, Fleet Captain, that’s complicated.” I failed to see what was complicated about paying workers fairly, or providing them with the same basic rights and services due any citizen. “Really, the conditions on Fosyf’s plantation aren’t much different from any of the others in the mountains. But it’s Fosyf who will take the brunt of this. And now some of the more troublesome of the Xhai are getting into the act. You may know there’s a small, ruined temple on the other side of the lake from Fosyf’s house.”

“She mentioned it.”

“It was nothing but weeds and rubble when we arrived six hundred years ago. But lately we’ve had people claiming it’s always been a sacred spot, and that Fosyf’s house is actually a stop on an ancient pilgrimage trail. Fosyf herself encourages the belief, I suppose she finds it romantic. But it’s ridiculous, that house was built less than a hundred years before the annexation. And did you ever know a pilgrimage spot that wasn’t surrounded by at least a town?”

“One or two, actually,” I replied. “Though generally not temples with priests that needed supporting. It’s possible this
one didn’t have a resident priesthood.” The district magistrate gestured acceptance of my point. “Let me be frank, Magistrate. It’s
you
who are under pressure here.”

Anaander Mianaai had given me her house name, when she had declared me human, and a citizen. It was a name that said I belonged to the most powerful family in Radch space, a name no Radchaai could ignore. Because of what I was—the last remnant of a military ship that for some two thousand years had been intimately acquainted with the daughters of quite a few of the wealthiest, most prominent of Radchaai houses—I had, when I wished, the accent and the manners to match. I might as well use them.

“You’ve long been friends with most of the prominent tea growers,” I said, “but it’s become clear that the demands of the fieldworkers are just and it is—or it should be—a personal embarrassment to you that it took an attempted murder and a work stoppage for you to notice what was happening. You will be even more embarrassed when you’ve interrogated Citizen Raughd. You haven’t yet, have you.” Out in the courtyard, Translator Zeiat folded over one of the wide, round lily pads to look at its underside.

“I was hoping,” replied the magistrate, unable to keep her anger entirely out of her voice, “that she and her mother might be reconciled first.”

“Citizen Fosyf will only take her daughter back if it seems advantageous to herself. If you’re truly interested in Citizen Raughd’s welfare, interrogate her before you make any further attempts to reunite her with her mother.”

“
You’re
interested in Raughd’s welfare?”

“Not particularly,” I admitted. “Not on a personal level. But you clearly are. And I
am
interested in the welfare of Citizen Queter. The sooner you discover for yourself what sort
of person Raughd is, the better basis you’ll have for judging Queter’s actions. And the better basis for deciding if sending Raughd back to her mother is really going to be good for her. Consider how easily, how coldly, Fosyf disowned her, and consider that people like Raughd don’t spring from nowhere.”

The magistrate frowned. “You’re so sure you know what sort of person she is.”

“You can easily discover for yourself if I’m right. And as for my intervening in the dispute between the workers and the growers—I won’t. Instead I’ll advise you to meet with the tea growers and the leaders of the fieldworkers without delay and settle this matter in the way you know it must be settled. Then set up a committee to investigate the history of the temple on the lake and ways to resolve the dispute surrounding it. Be sure everyone with an interest in the matter is represented. Concerned citizens may direct their complaints to the committee, who can take them into consideration during their deliberations.” The district magistrate frowned again, opened her mouth to protest. Closed her mouth. “Anaander Mianaai is at war with herself,” I continued. “That war may reach Athoek, or it may not. Either way, because at least one of the intersystem gates between us and the provincial palace is down, we can’t expect any help or advice from them. We must see to the safety of the citizens here ourselves.
All
the citizens here, not just the ones with the right accents, or the proper religious beliefs. And we have, for whatever reason, the attention of the Presger.”

“At war with herself, you say?” asked the magistrate. “And the Presger here, as you yourself have just pointed out? I’ve heard rumors, Fleet Captain.”

“This is not the doing of the Presger, Magistrate.”

“And if that’s the case, Fleet Captain, where does your authority come from? Which of her sent you here?”

“If Anaander Mianaai’s war with herself comes here,” I said, “and citizens die, will it matter which Lord of the Radch it was?” Silence. Five had been watching Translator Zeiat, and I knew that she or Ship would say something to me if anything happened that needed my attention. I glanced idly toward the courtyard.

Translator Zeiat straddled the basin’s edge, one leg in the water, and one arm, shoulder deep. I stood and strode out to the courtyard, reaching as I did for Ship. And quickly discovered that neither it nor Kalr Five had told me what was happening because they were arguing with
Sphene
.

Arguing
was perhaps too dignified a word for it.
Sphene
’s close shadowing of Five apparently hadn’t produced the results it wanted, and while my attention had been on my conversation with the district magistrate it had been speaking to Five. Needling, with a success that was clearly demonstrated by the fact that neither Five nor Ship had brought it to my attention, and both were intent on replying in kind. As I came up next to Five,
Sphene
said, “Just sat there, did you, while she maimed you? But of course you did, and probably thanked her for it, too. You’re one of her newer toys, she can make you think or feel anything she wants. No doubt her cousin the fleet captain can do the same.”

Five, her ancillary-like calm gone, replied. Or maybe it was Ship who spoke, it was difficult to tell at that moment. “At least
I
have a captain. And a crew, for that matter. Where’s yours? Oh, that’s right, you misplaced your captain and haven’t been able to find another. And nobody aboard you
wants
to be there, do they.”

Ancillary-fast,
Sphene
rose from the bench it had been sitting
on and moved toward Five. I put myself between them, grabbed
Sphene
’s forearm before it could strike either of us.
Sphene
froze, its arm in my grip. Blinked, face expressionless. “
Mianaai
, is it?”

I had moved faster than any Radchaai human could. There was no escaping the obvious conclusion—I was not human. My name made the next (incorrect) conclusion just as obvious. “It is not,” I said. Quietly, and in Notai, because I wasn’t sure where the magistrate was just now. “I am the last remaining fragment of the troop carrier
Justice of Toren
. It was Anaander Mianaai who destroyed me.” I switched back to Radchaai. “Step back,
Cousin
.” It was motionless for an instant, and then almost imperceptibly it shifted its weight back, away from me. I opened my hand, and it lowered its arm.

I turned my head at a splash from across the courtyard. Translator Zeiat stood upright now, one leg still in the water, one arm soaked and dripping. A small orange fish wriggled desperately in her grip. As I watched she tilted her head back and held the fish over her mouth. “Translator!” I said, loud and sharp, and she turned her head toward me. “Please don’t do that. Please put the fish back in the water.”

“But it’s a fish.” Her expression was frankly perplexed. “Aren’t fish for eating?” The district magistrate stood at the top of the steps into the courtyard, staring at the translator. Quite possibly afraid to say anything.

“Some fish are for eating.” I went over to where the translator stood half in and half out of the water. “Not this one.” I cupped my hands, held them out. With a little scowl that reminded me of Dlique, Translator Zeiat dropped the fish into my outstretched hands, and I quickly tipped it into the basin before it could flip out onto the ground. “These fish are for looking at.”

“Are you not supposed to look at the fish you eat?” Translator Zeiat asked. “And how do you tell the difference?”

“Usually, Translator, when they’re in a basin like this, especially in a home, they’re on display, or they’re pets. But since you’re not used to making the distinction, perhaps it’s best if you ask before you eat anything that hasn’t explicitly been given to you as food. To prevent misunderstandings.”

“But I really wanted to eat it,” she said, almost mournfully.

“Translator,” said the district magistrate, who had come across the courtyard while the translator and I were talking, “there are places where you can pick out fish to eat. Or you can go down to the sea…” The magistrate began to explain about oysters.

Sphene
had left the courtyard while I was occupied with the translator. Quite possibly it had left the house. Five stood, once again her usual impassive self. Apprehensive of my attention, and ashamed.

And who had been responsible for that altercation? Ship had given Five words to say, but Five had not been dispassionately reading off Ship’s message. Ship’s words had appeared in Five’s vision more or less at the same instant as she spoke, and while Five had deviated slightly from Ship’s exact phrasing, it was clear that in that moment they both had been overtaken with the same urge to say the same thing.

Translator Zeiat seemed quite taken with the idea of oysters; the district magistrate was talking about beds around the river mouth, and boats that could be hired to take her to them. That was tomorrow settled, then. I turned my attention back to Five. Back to Ship. They both watched me.

I knew what it was to have Anaander Mianaai alter my thoughts, and attempt to direct my emotions. I didn’t doubt that the removal of
Mercy of Kalr
’s ancillaries had begun
with the Lord of the Radch doing just that. Nor did I doubt, given my own experience and the events of the past few months, that more than one faction of Anaander Mianaai had visited
Mercy of Kalr
and each at least attempted to lay down her own set of instructions and inhibitions.
I’ve been unhappy with the situation for some time
, it had said, when we’d first met, and likely that was as much as it was able to say. And
Mercy of Kalr
wasn’t vulnerable only to Anaander Mianaai. I had accesses that would let me compel its obedience. Not as far-reaching as Anaander Mianaai’s, to be sure, and to be used with the greatest caution. But I had them.