The Sardonyx Net (36 page)

Rhani wondered what the Council would do in this situation. Referendum procedures were fairly fixed. “Why, Imre?” she said.
 

“Because,” Imre said, “I think it likely that A-Rae will find sufficient signatures to ratify his petitions.”
 

“Oh.” Rhani rubbed her chin. If that were so...."Do you also think he will win the referendum?” she said. Odd, she reflected, how we speak as if A-Rae were alone in his opposition to slavery. Talk about wishful thinking....
 

Imre looked grim. “It's possible. It must be made plain what will happen to Chabad if he does.”
 

“Not only to Chabad,” said Aliza. “To the sector. The Council has a responsibility to meet. What do you think?”
 

Rhani's stomach rumbled. “I think I need my breakfast, Aliza,” she said. “I shall eat, and talk to Zed, and call you. Will that be satisfactory?”
 

Imre smiled. “Of course, my dear,” he said. “Meanwhile, you should expect a call from Ferris. He is agitated.”
 

“Thank you, Imre.” She did not want to talk with Ferris Dur, not now. She waited until the line had cleared, and then instructed the com-unit to hold all calls. Then she turned, to find Dana by the window and her brother seated on the bed.
 

Zed said softly, “I would very much like to have one uninterrupted hour alone with Michel A-Rae. Just one hour.” His fingers curled. Dana flinched, and Rhani saw it.
 

“Zed-ka, that would not help matters at all,” she said.
 

“It would relieve my feelings,” said Zed. He scowled. “You know, ever since he first spoke to me while I was still on the Net, I've had the feeling that we've met somewhere, not here.” He shook his head. “I must be wrong.”
 

Rhani wondered if he could be right. “Do we have any associates among the Hype police, Zed-ka?”
 

He laughed. “I doubt it, Rhani-ka. They have a reputation for being incorruptible and unapproachable.” He slapped the PINsheet. “Can A-Rae do this? I know a Federation official has to be of specific rank to make such a call.”
 

Rhani said, “I'll ask the lawyers. But I'm sure he can.” She watched the con-line light blink on, to tell her that someone had called and left a message. She wondered if it was Ferris. “Imre thinks the petitions will have enough signatures to ratify a referendum.”
 

“I heard,” Zed said. “I hope he's just being cautious.” Shoulders slumping, he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.
 

“Zed-ka, when did you leave the Clinic last night?” Rhani asked, alarmed.
 

“After midnight.”
 

“Zed-ka—” Rhani put her fists on her hips, prepared to scold, and remembered Dana's presence. She could not be angry at Zed in front of Dana. “Dana,” she said, “you may go.”
 

He bowed, and left the room. Rhani advanced on her brother. He rose. “Rhani,” he said gently, cupping her cheek with his palm, “I know what you want to say. Don't.”
 

It stopped her. His fingers curved around her cheek. She wanted to shout, to tell him that he could tell her anything, that if something was wrong she needed to know, that she trusted him and always would.... Dark patches stained the skin beneath his eyes.
 

Unable to scold, she hugged him lightly and stepped back. “Let's eat.”
 

“I'm not especially hungry,” he said. Picking up a muffin, he broke it and handed her the larger piece. “I wish Corrios would make egg tarts.”
 

“I'll ask him to,” Rhani promised. She bit into a blueberry. The sweet juice spurted onto her tongue. Blueberries, like all fruits and vegetables, were imported to Chabad. Forty years back an agricultural commune from Sabado had brought in citrus tree stock and had erected massive greenhouses. With careful temperature control, the commune insisted, they could produce three crops a year, and the Levos Family, against advice, had invested money in the plan. It had all sounded workable, but within two years the greenhouses had had to be abandoned. Those advising the investors had not bargained for the unrelenting alkalinity of Chabad's soil.
 

Zed tore apart a second muffin. “These are pretty good,” he said.
 

Rhani ate another piece slowly, watching the sunlight pattern the walls. She sat on the bed, leaning back on one palm. “Zed-ka,” she said, “have you ever wondered how historians will write about us in their books?”
 

His eyebrows went up. “What put that in your mind?”
 

She pointed to the PINsheet. “That. If Michel A-Rae has his way, they will say that under its fifth generation of inhabitants, Chabad's economy collapsed.”
 

“Do you think that he will?” Zed asked.
 

“I don't know,” Rhani said. “I hope not. Lisa Yago helped to found this colony. Irene was a member of the first Council. Orrin went to Nexus. Our mother built the Net. What will they say about me?”
 

“What would you like them to say?”
 

Rhani said, “I would love to have them tell how Rhani Yago established Chabad's independence from outside influence by purchasing the dorazine formula from The Pharmacy.”
 

“Oh ho,” Zed said. He smiled at her. “I should like that, very much.”
 

“Or,” she said, “they might also say that Rhani Yago changed the political and economic structure of Chabad by uniting the influence and fortune of two great Families in the person of her daughter.”
 

He froze for a moment, eyes shuttering, gaze turning inward, smile gone. Then he said, “You have decided to do it.”
 

She nodded. “Yes.”
 

His mouth quirked suddenly with amusement. “Have you told Ferris Dur?”
 

“Not yet.”
 

“I see,” he said. “Thank you for telling me first. Are you doing this to placate history, Rhani-ka, or to appease our mother's shade ...?”
 

I am doing it because I want to, Rhani thought, and because I have found a way to do it that will afford me pleasure.... But this, above all, she could not say to Zed.
 

“It seems right,” she said, determined not to grow angry. “Domna Sam used to tell me to trust my intuition.”
 

“Pilots are taught that, too,” Zed said. He gazed around the room. “Our mother never had any to trust.”
 

Rhani was astonished. Zed rarely mentioned Isobel, and he had deliberately mentioned her twice in the last minute. He's upset, she thought; about Michel A-Rae, about me, about Darien Riis.... She did not want to think about
that
. On impulse, she leaned across the bed to the compartment in the headboard, and brought out the wrapped sculpture that she had bought at Tuli's.
 

“Zed-ka,” she said, “I was saving this to give you on Founders' Day, but I think I want you to have it now.” She passed it to him. “Be gentle with it, it's glass.”
 

He unwrapped it, methodically folding the paper and laying it aside. As the sculpture came free, it caught the light and glittered, and Rhani heard her brother's sharp intake of breath. It was a statue of a man standing on an ice slab; the man was blue, the ice black. The man held an ice hammer, and wore an ice suit with the hood folded back. Tuli had promised that the etched details would be exquisite, and they were: in the curves and hollows of the climber's tiny profile, the maker had managed to render Zed Yago's portrait.
 

“Do you like it?” she said.
 

“Rhani-ka, it's stupendous,” he said. He rotated it gently, face momentarily unguarded in his appreciation of beauty. “I love it. Thank you.” He kissed her forehead. Rising, he crossed to the door, carrying the radiant blue figure in both hands. “I'll put it in my room. I'll have to warn Amri not to touch it.”
 

As he reached the door, he turned back. “I'm going to the Clinic again today,” he said.
 

“Now?” Rhani exclaimed. He nodded. Wait, she wanted to cry, wait, we have to talk, I need your advice.... But he had gone. She heard his footsteps in the hall, the sound of a door sliding back, and silence.
 

The laboring aircooler wheezed. She sat rigid, fists locked on her knees. Finally she stood and went to the com-unit. She checked the message—it was indeed from Ferris Dur—and instructed the unit to connect her with Imre Kyneth.
 

A woman's image formed on the screen. “Good day,” she said, “this is a recording of Nialle Hamish, Domni Imre's secretary. Would you kindly leave your message?”
 

“This is Rhani Yago,” Rhani said. “Imre, I think we should wait a week to assess public reaction, and then call a Council meeting. Let me know if this seems good to you.” She switched off, waited a second, and called Ferris.
 

He came onto the screen immediately; himself, not a recording.
 

“Domna!” he said. “I hoped you would call.”
 

He was agitated; she could see that from the state of the fur trim on his robe. She braced herself to deal with it.
 

“You've heard, of course,” he said.
 

“I've heard,” Rhani said. “I've suggested to Imre that the Upper House request a Council meeting in a week.”
 

“Why wait?” Ferris said. “This petition is a threat!”
 

“A threat is not an attack,” Rhani said. “Besides, it seems more in keeping with our dignity if we do not appear to be frightened of it. If we meet now—” She let the sentence finish itself in his mind, and then said, “But the referendum is not why I called, Ferris. I called to give you my response to your proposal—the proposal of import to all Chabad....”
 

“Yes,” he said, leaning forward. “Yes?”
 

“Yes,” she said. “I will marry you, Domni Ferris.” She held up a hand before he could speak. “I will have my legal staff draw up the contracts for merger and settlement of our mutual properties upon a child.”
 

“Our child,” he said.
 

She said, “
My
child.” His jaw slackened as he understood. “That must be part of our agreement, Ferris, or else we do not have one.”
 

His brown eyes grew indignant. He twisted the robe's fur with both hands. “All right,” he muttered. “I can accept that.”
 

“I am pleased,” Rhani said, and switched off. She had not bothered to sit: now, leaning on the back of the chair, she breathed slowly, calming her senses, calming her mind.
 

She went to the bathroom, covered her hair, and took a shower. As the water streamed down her body, she looked at herself as if she were a stranger even to herself. She tried to imagine what it would feel like to be pregnant, and could not. I could ask Tuli, she thought. Tuli has a child. Tuli has a son. What if I should have a son? She imagined herself holding a boy child like the youngest Kyneth, with black hair, not reddish hair.... It would not matter, she thought. She stepped from the shower and toweled herself dry. Then, facing her mirror, she reached for the little vial of pills beside it.
 

One pill every seven days kept her infertile; she had been taking them for twenty-three years.
 

She watched in the mirror as a woman in a bathroom just like her own put a vial of pills into a disposal.
 

Then she went to the intercom. “Dana?” she said.
 

He answered, “Yes, Rhani-ka?” In the background she heard the lilt of music, and Anri asking a question.
 

“I want to talk to you,” she said. “Please come now to my room.”
 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Thirteen

 

 

The room was dark. Rhani had drawn the heavy curtains over the windows; Dana did not know why. She was sleeping now, curled on her side, head on the pillow. Her unbraided hair fell across her face and veiled her breasts: lips parted, in the shadowy bedroom she looked like a sleeping child. Dana bent closer. Her eyelids flickered but did not open; she was dreaming. He wondered what about. He stretched, feeling sad despite the lingering remembrance of pleasure. For three days now she had called him to her bed. The loving had been good, splendid and passionate, and yet—he sensed behind her gaze as she smiled at him and called his name the presence of another person, another face. He did not know whose.
 

Some previous lover's? he thought. Zed's? That frightened him. For the fiftieth time in three days he pictured Zed walking in and finding them in bed. “
I cannot always control him
,” Rhani had warned. The image made his scrotum contract. He lifted on an elbow. Rhani opened her eyes. She smiled, and stretched like a cat. “Hmm?”
 

He stroked her flat belly. Her skin was soft as silk. “Rhani-ka, I should go.”
 

“Why?” she said. Lunging, she wound her arms about his neck and pulled him to her. “Bored?”
 

He breathed her smell. “No,” he said into the side of her neck. “Oh, no.”
 

She released him. “What is it, then?” She teased him with one groping hand. He trapped it in his own.
 

“Rhani-ka, stop.”