Iain Banks: The Business

So. Why am I doing this? Because it seems like the right thing to do. How do I know it is? I don't. But at least I don't have to tell lies to myself to justify what it is I am doing; I don't have to think, Well, they're not really humans, or, They'll thank me later, or, It's us or them, or, My country right or wrong, or, History will vindicate me. None of that sanctimonious bullshit.

I'm doing what I'm doing because I think good will come of it in the long run, and that almost nothing bad will come of it in the short run anyway, so even if I'm wrong maybe I can change my mind. Though I doubt I will. Either way, nobody's going to die. Nobody is going to suffer. Maybe I'll live to regret it, and it's possible some others will too, but even then I'll try to take as much of the hardship on myself, what little of it — I hope — there may be.

This makes it all sound far too selfless. Actually there's a lot of self in this. All the same, part of me is recoiling in horror at all this. Part of me is thinking, You're going to do WHAT? What is this shit? Because in one way of looking at it, this is just another example of the same old sad self-sacrificial martyrdom crap I've lamented in my gender throughout my life. We have spent so many generations thinking of others, thinking of our families and thinking of our men, when all they do in return is think of themselves. Just in the last few generations, finally able to control our own fertility, have we been able to act more like men and contribute more with our brains than our bodies. I loved feeling that I was helping to make a case for my half of the species being worth more recognition than that due to a womb alone. And yet here I am going back on all that, or seeming to.

But what do we really want? Freedom, I guess. And I demand the freedom to do what seems right to me from first principles, and not the freedom always to behave selfishly, or always to do what a man would do in the circumstances, or always to do the opposite.

'Suvinder?'

'Kathryn. Where are you?'

'I'm in Delhi airport.'

'Delhi? Did you say Delhi? In India?'

'Yes. I'm trying to get a flight to…Well, where would you suggest? To connect with Air Thulahn.'

'You are returning so soon? I am…I am amazed. My God. This is wonderful! You're really coming back?'

'Yes. Ah, about that flight.'

'Oh, yes. Fly to either Patna or Kathmandu. Let me know which flight you can get. I'll send the plane. Oh, Kathryn, this is wonderful news! How long will you be staying?'

'I don't know yet. That depends.'

'Will you be staying here? In Thuhn? You would be very welcome to stay here in the palace.'

'That's very kind. I'd love to. I'll have my old room, if it's still free. See you later.'

'How wonderful! Yes!'

'You're kidding me!'

'No.'

'You're going to say yes?'

'That's the idea, Luce.'

'Fucking yeah! You're going to be a fucking queen?'

'I suppose I'll have to be, if I'm to take your advice about consummating the relationship.'

'What a total fucking twenty-four-carat weapon-grade hoot! Can I be a bridesmaid?'

'Look, it still might not happen. He might have already changed his mind. Or he might change it when he realises it could all really happen. Some guys are like that. It's the anticipation, not the realisation.'

'What the hell are you talking about?'

'You're right; I'm talking nonsense. I guess I just don't want to take anything for granted. I'm nervous.'

'You sure about this, now? You aren't verbalising the chance of it not happening because deep down you really don't want it to happen, are you?'

'I'm sure. I've decided.'

'But you still don't want to fuck the guy.'

'Not particularly. But that isn't everything.'

'Maybe not, but you don't even love him.'

'That's not everything either.'

'It's a hell of a lot!'

'I know. I might be doing exactly the wrong thing. But I'm going to do it anyway.'

'So why are you doing it?'

'Because he's a nice guy. Because he's a good man, and he needs somebody like me on his side.'

'You've met hundreds of guys like that! You never married them!'

'They weren't in the position he's in.'

'Hold on. So, ultimately, you're only marrying him because he's a prince and he's going to be the King.'

'Umm. Yes.'

'Jesus H. Christ. That's not only, like, not romantic, that's just, like, breathtakingly business-like and self-centred. Fucking hell, I'd be having severe qualms about doing something like this, and I'm a self-centred, monomaniacal bitch.'

'No, that's not why I'm doing it. I'm doing it because he's in a position of real power in a place I hardly know but I'm already half in love with. And he is a good man. But there's going to be so much change there. Not as much as some people were expecting, but a hell of a lot, and I don't know that Suvinder can handle it all by himself. I don't think he thinks he can, either. And I'd worry about who'd be advising him. Don't you see, Luce? For the first time in my life I can really do some good. Or fail in the attempt.'

'What you're saying is their country needs you.'

'I suppose I am. Sounds a bit presumptuous, put like that, but yes.'

'You're the fucking Peace Corps.'

'I'm the fucking Marines, Luce.'

'Yeah, but seriously, can I be a bridesmaid?'

Pip and James — I'd learned the flight crew's names this time — whisked me over the hills and far away, from Kathmandu to Thulahn. Bumpy but clear. Shared the plane with some monks and a lot of freight. Monks very friendly; learned a lot more Thulahnese words. They giggled and looked away when I changed into my Thulahnese clothes. I made sure my little artificial flower was secure and looking spruce.

Thuhn was sparkling under a fresh coat of snow. Langtuhn Hemblu met me at the airfield with the ancient Roller after the usual dive-bomber landing. There were a few very tiny pointy-hatted children with parents there, but the rest were at school. No Suvinder: he had to be at some important dedication ceremony down-valley.

'I take you there?' Langtuhn asked, smiling.

'Why not?'

We set off down the valley in the crystalline depths of a perfectly clear, blue day suspended beneath the sky-high peaks. Langtuhn and I had to walk the last bit up to the colourful crowd gathered round a giant newly refurbished prayer windmill the size of a house. There were lots of flags, lots of people, lots of banners and bunting and braziers and fuming censers, all fluttering or guttering in the cool, thin breeze. The crowd of smiling, quilted people parted for Langtuhn and me as we made our way up to the ceremonial platform where three walls of saffron-robed monks looked on and Suvinder, dressed in his own flower-garlanded robes, stepped down from a throne on a dais and held out his hands.

'Kathryn. Welcome back.'

'Thank you,' I said, bowing. I went up to him, took his offered hands, and kissed him on both cheeks. His hands were dry and. warm. He smelled of incense. I whispered, 'If the offer still stands, Suvinder, I accept. The answer is yes.'

I pulled away. He looked confused for a moment. Then his mouth fell slackly open, before forming itself into a huge smile. His eyes glistened. Flags and banners snapped around us. A hundred faces looked on. Beyond, the prayer windmill, still bound by ropes and cables, creaked and strained in the wind, waiting to be free. Suvinder nodded, seemingly unable to speak, and with my hand in his, led me to the dais at the rear of the platform.

They found another chair for me, so that I could sit at the Prince's side for the rest of the ceremony.

It was traditional for each guest to offer something to the fire in one of the braziers. When my turn came, I pulled a couple of shiny discs from my pocket and threw both of them into the flames.