Thrawn Ascendancy Book 3: Lesser Evil
- Автор: Зан Тимоти
- Год: 2021
- Язык: английский
- Год: Random House
- ISBN: 9781473596580
- Жанр: Боевая фантастика
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“I’m not surprised,” Thrass said, steering them toward the nearest drink station. “The Mitth are famous for our ceremonies. How long are you staying on Avidich?”
“Just the one night,” Thrawn said. “I was given special dispensation to come here, and I can’t afford to be away any longer than necessary.”
“Sounds rather petty to me,” Thrass said with a sniff, snagging two of the drinks and handing one to Thrawn. “Coming all the way here only to turn around and hurry back. What would extending your leave an extra day really cost? Two downmarks? Three? We could probably even get them canceled.”
“I appreciate the offer,” Thrawn said. “But since I’m already working off fifty, I don’t think—”
“Fifty?” Thrass felt his eyes widen. “What in the world did you do?”
“I was caught where I wasn’t supposed to be during the voyage from Rentor,” Thrawn said, a little ruefully. “I’m not even sure why I’m here tonight. Surely my rematching ceremony could have waited another few weeks.”
“On that one, at least, I can enlighten you,” Thrass said, feeling rather proud of himself for having figured it out during dinner. “See that woman over there wearing the violet outerwrap robe with the pale-blue trim? That’s the Irizi Patriel for Avidich. The local Patriels are always invited to these ceremonies, though usually they’re too busy to attend. But the Irizi generally at least send a representative.”
“Interesting,” Thrawn said, as he sipped at his drink. “I was told the Mitth and Irizi were rivals.”
“That’s rather like saying Csilla is cold,” Thrass said drily. “No, their attendance is less courtesy and more wanting to keep tabs on what we’re up to. At any rate, one of their big goals in life is to get as many of their people into the Defense Force and General Ba’kif’s new Expansionary Defense Fleet as they can, and our Patriarch decided he’d rather have three military rematches to unveil than two. A quick word to Colonel Wevary, a one-day travel pass, and here you are.”
“I see,” Thrawn said, the frown on his face suggesting that he didn’t see at all.
“But that’s politics,” Thrass continued. “I’m just sorry you can’t stay longer. The Patriel’s art collection is hardly to the standard of the Csilla homestead, but it’s excellent in its own right. I’d hoped to give you the grand tour and see what other details you could glean from the pieces.”
“I—that would be most enjoyable,” Thrawn said, an odd hesitation in his tone.
“It wasn’t a demand,” Thrass assured him. “Only if you’d like to.”
“Oh, I would,” Thrawn said. “It’s simply … you’re blood, are you not?”
“I’m a cousin,” Thrass corrected. The first few times he’d made that assertion, he remembered distantly, he’d felt a certain level of guilt. Now it didn’t bother him at all.
Though it was clearly bothering Thrawn. Not a surprise, really, given the cadet’s current low ranking and how seriously newcomers to the family took the unspoken rules regarding proper etiquette. “But a difference in our status doesn’t mean we can’t talk or look at artwork together,” he added.
“I understand,” Thrawn said. Again, Thrass sensed that he really didn’t. “Someday, perhaps, you can give me that tour. But for now, I really should retire for the night. My flight leaves early.”
“Of course,” Thrass said. “Sleep well, Cadet Thrawn, and safe travels. I trust we’ll meet again.”
“I hope so, Aristocra Thrass.” Thrawn’s lip twitched in a rather self-conscious smile. “For the next two years, at least, you’ll know exactly where to find me.”
“I don’t get to Naporar very often,” Thrass said. “But if I’m ever there, I’ll be certain to look you up.”
“Thank you,” Thrawn said. “Good night.”
“Good night.”
For a minute Thrass watched as Thrawn made his way across the reception room floor, weaving past the conversational groups with a grace that contrasted starkly with his less nimble conversational and social skills. The man was definitely an odd doklet.
But at least he was an interesting odd doklet. So few odd doklets were. It might be worth a few minutes every now and again to pull up the cadet’s Taharim records and see how he was doing.
In the meantime, there were other people here that a Mitth cousin ought to at least say hello to. Starting, unfortunately, with that haughty Irizi Patriel over there. Picking up another drink for fortification, he headed through the crowd.
And as he did so, he found himself looking at the tapestries and paintings adorning the room. Wondering what exactly Thrawn had seen in them.
CHAPTER TWO
A week ago, Mitth’urf’ianico mused, when he’d been merely Syndic Prime Thurfian, he’d been accustomed to rising every morning at six. Now, as Patriarch Thurfian, the most powerful person in the Mitth family, his workday was beginning a full two hours earlier.
“It will get easier, Your Venerante,” Senior Aide Mitth’iv’iklo assured him as he sent yet another stack of files to Thurfian’s questis. “I remember Patriarch Thooraki getting up every day at four o’clock when he first became head of the family. But after a couple of years he was able to sleep in until five-thirty.”
“Really,” Thurfian said, eyeing him. Thivik had been with the Patriarch’s Office a long time, but he didn’t look that old. “I didn’t know you were with him that early in his administration.”
“Oh, I wasn’t with the Patriarch directly,” Thivik said. “I was merely an aide to one of his officials. But we all talked together.”
“Of course,” Thurfian said, briefly wondering what the officials, aides, and assistants were saying about their newest superior.
Nothing very complimentary, he suspected. Patriarch Thooraki had been a strong and effective leader, well liked by his staff and most of the senior Mitth officials. He’d cast a long, wide shadow across both the family and the Ascendancy, and it would be a long time before Thurfian or anyone else would even come close to filling that shadow.
Maybe that was one reason why the Speaker and Patriels had all turned down the position and instead nominated Thurfian for it. He could only hope it wasn’t their only reason.
“Your nine o’clock appointment has also arrived,” Thivik continued. “He’s waiting in the main anteroom.”
“Thank you,” Thurfian said, frowning at him. The words had been perfectly proper, but there’d been just a hint of a disapproving tone beneath them. “Is there a problem?”
“Of course not, Your Venerante,” Thivik assured him. “You’re the Patriarch. You may meet with whomever you wish.”
“Only why am I meeting with an Irizi syndic?” Thurfian prompted.
Thivik hesitated. “You may meet with whomever you wish,” he repeated, this time with clear reluctance. “It merely seems to me that you send a strange message by seeing one of our adversaries before you’ve even met with all of our own Patriels and Councilors.”
“An interesting point,” Thurfian agreed. “Did it occur to you that I might want to send a strange message? That I might want to signal to the Irizi and the Ascendancy in general that we may be entering a new era of cooperation between families?”
“Your Venerante, that’s—” Thivik broke off, his throat working as he seemed to search for words. “Our rivalry with the Irizi extends far into the past, on both sides.”
“Perhaps it’s time we revisited that rivalry,” Thurfian said.
“Your Venerante—”
“Which isn’t to say that I’m going to be handing over the keys to the homestead,” Thurfian continued. “I intend to make it clear that if we’re to reconcile with the Irizi, it will be on our terms, not theirs.”