Thrawn Ascendancy Book 3: Lesser Evil
- Автор: Зан Тимоти
- Год: 2021
- Язык: английский
- Год: Random House
- ISBN: 9781473596580
- Жанр: Боевая фантастика
Электронная книга - «Thrawn Ascendancy Book 3: Lesser Evil». Краткое содержание книги:
“Not at this time,” Thooraki said. “But you might want to remind him that the friendship of the Mitth family is worth having.”
Thrawn had estimated it would take him ten minutes to arrive at the bistro Thrass had specified. Just out of curiosity, Thrass set a timer; and exactly eight minutes after his call there was movement at the corner of his eye as someone pulled out one of the small table’s three other chairs. “Hello, Thrawn,” Thrass said, looking up.
The rest of the greeting froze in his throat. The middle-aged man sitting down beside him was a complete stranger. “Excuse me, but this table is taken,” he said.
“My apologies for the intrusion,” the stranger said calmly. “I thought it would save time if I joined you, given that we’re both here to meet the same person. You’re Aristocra Mitth’ras’safis, I presume?”
Thrass felt his eyes narrow. As a fairly low-level functionary in the Syndicure, his name and face were not exactly at the front edge of public knowledge. “I am he,” he said cautiously. “And you?”
“Stybla’ppin’cykok,” the other said. “Senior aide to Patriarch Stybla’mi’ovodo. Congratulations on finalizing that Tumaz shipping contract, by the way. And right out from under the Irizi, too. Whoever the Mitth principal was on that negotiation, she’s quite skillful.”
“I’m sure she is,” Thrass murmured. Not only did this man know about the deal the Mitth had just worked out with the Tumaz family, but he apparently even knew that the head of the Mitth negotiating team was a woman. “You’re very well informed.”
Lappincyk shrugged. “The Stybla don’t exactly dominate the list of the Forty,” he said, as if that fact had somehow escaped Thrass’s notice. “We have to compensate for our lack of influence and successes by keeping track of everyone else’s.”
“How the mighty have fallen,” Thrass said under his breath.
“We prefer to think of it as how the mighty have graciously stepped down,” Lappincyk said. “Speaking of Mitth successes, your Lieutenant Mitth’raw’nuru seems well on his way to becoming one of them.”
“I agree,” Thrass said. “The key word being your. Thrawn is a Mitth, and we have every intention of keeping him.”
“A reasonable goal,” Lappincyk said. “Though I would remind you that intent and result don’t necessarily coincide. I imagine the Stybla could offer him more incentives than the Mitth have, at least thus far.”
Thrass gave him a knowing smile even as his stomach knotted up. Now, when it was too late, he wished he’d pressed Patriarch Thooraki harder on the whole incentives question. With Thrawn currently at the very lowest Mitth rank, anything higher that was offered would be a strong inducement to be rematched. Even to a family like the Stybla. “Perhaps,” he said, trying to sound casual. “Of course, he would have to assess the relative advantages of being a Mitth versus being a Stybla.”
“Lieutenant Thrawn is intelligent enough to make that calculation,” Lappincyk said, giving Thrass a knowing smile of his own. “Or will it soon be Lieutenant Larawn? The name has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”
A figure among the stream of pedestrians a block away caught Thrass’s eye: Thrawn had rounded the corner and was striding toward them.
“So tell me, Aristocra Thrass,” Lappincyk said, his smile fading. “What can you offer Thrawn that I can’t?”
“Is that a question or a challenge?”
“Take it however you wish.” Lappincyk nodded down the street. “But take it quickly. Once he sits down, he will hear my proposal.”
Thrass looked at Thrawn, his mind racing. What could he offer? Higher status? He wasn’t authorized to do that. Advancement in military rank? That was completely in the hands of the Defense Hierarchy Council. Money? Ridiculous.
There was nothing. Nothing except maybe …
“You see in him a shiny new piece the Stybla can add to the political board,” he said, looking back at Lappincyk. “But that’s all you see.”
“And you think the Mitth see more?”
“I don’t know what the Mitth see,” Thrass said. “All I know is what I see.”
“Which is?”
Thrass took a deep breath. The young, socially awkward cadet fascinated by artwork. The unique ability to understand that artwork, while beneath the intellect was the quiet pain of a hidden loss. The newly commissioned officer who had already shown such a depth of tactical ability that he’d attracted allies like Junior Commander Ziara and General Ba’kif to his side.
What exactly did he see in Thrawn?
And then, Patriarch Thooraki’s last admonition to him drifted up from his memory. Now he finally understood what the Patriarch had really been saying.
“What I see,” he said, “is a friend. My friend.”
For a long moment the two of them locked eyes. Then a small smile tweaked at Lappincyk’s lips. “Really,” he said. “Interesting.”
There was a motion across the table. Thrass turned, slightly startled to see Thrawn sit down. Focused on Lappincyk and his own musings, he’d completely missed the other’s final approach.
And it had indeed been exactly ten minutes.
“Hello, Thrawn,” he greeted the other, reaching across the table for a quick formal grasp of forearms. “I’m glad you could make it.”
“As am I,” Thrawn said. “Thank you for working around my schedule.” He looked at Lappincyk. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“No, we haven’t,” Lappincyk acknowledged. “I’m Stybla’ppin’cykok, senior aide to Patriarch Stybla’mi’ovodo.”
Thrass braced himself. This was it. Lappincyk would make his offer, and Thrass had nothing to counter it.
And then, to his surprise, Lappincyk pushed back his chair and stood up. “And I was just leaving,” he added. “Enjoy your meal and your conversation.” He looked at Thrass, and it seemed to him there was an odd sense of satisfaction in his nod. “Both of you.”
“A friend of yours?” Thrawn asked as Lappincyk wove his way into the pedestrian flow.
“Actually, we just met,” Thrass said, frowning at Lappincyk’s back. What in the name of Csilla had just happened? Had the Stybla been playing him? Him and Patriarch Thooraki? If they had—
If they had, so what?
Really, so what? This depth of political game was far beyond Thrass’s position or skill. The Patriarchs and Speakers and high-level Syndics could play if they wanted. Not Thrass. All he was here for was to have lunch.
With a friend.
“But never mind him,” he continued, pulling up the bistro’s menu and swiveling his questis around so that Thrawn could also see the listing. “Let’s get our order in. After that, I want to hear more about this Junior Commander Ziara who single-handedly saved your career.”
“It wasn’t quite like that,” Thrawn protested mildly.
“Then tell me how exactly it was,” Thrass said. “Because when I tell the story later to prove to people why the Mitth are the finest of the Ruling Families, I want to get all the details right.”
“What if the details don’t support that slightly biased conclusion?”
“Oh, I’m sure they will,” Thrass said with a smile. “Really, the only thing that will change about the story is how smug I let myself sound when I tell it.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Patriarch Thurfian’s childhood was far behind him, but he could still remember bits and pieces of it. One of the most vivid memories was of a stormy day when he and his three siblings had tired of other activities and started a spontaneous indoor game with rules that were mostly made up, and only when the need for one arose. Madcap running had quickly become part of it, the chase ranging through the entire house with noise and laughter and a fair amount of bumping into walls and furniture. Their mother’s secretary had intervened twice, and the housekeeper and security guard once each. None of them had achieved any noticeable success.