Melissa Scott - Shadow Man

“What they—what we want,” Jhirad said, “is for Reiss to withdraw his statement.”

Tatian’s eyebrows rose in spite of himself. That was the last thing he had expected from these two; Valmy and Jhirad had always treated trade cases fairly, within the Concord’s laws, and they didn’t usually back down if they thought their superiors were making a mistake. On the other hand, Temelathe had never asked for help before. “Why?”

“Shan Reiss has more friends among the Modernists, and in the Black Watch, Stiller and Black Casnot, than anyone needs right now,” Jhirad said. “And the case is sensitive. Destany Casnot is being sponsored by Timban ’Aukai, who’s heavily into trade.”

Tatian nodded. “I’ve heard of her.”

“Who hasn’t?” Valmy murmured.

“Tendlathe is really opposed to trade,” Jhirad went on, “which would be more useful if he wasn’t also opposed to us—off-worlders in general, I mean, not just the IDCA.”

“That’s nothing new,” Tatian said.

“No. The problem is, they—Destany and ’Aukai—are going to be represented by local advocates, and they’ve picked a group that’s downright notorious for defending people in trade. The word on the street is that one of the three—”

“Haliday Stiller, if you know that name,” Valmy interjected.

“I do.” The herm who tried to challenge gender law, Tatian thought, and lost. Warreven’s partner.

“—is just looking for a case that will let 3im challenge the whole gender system.” Jhirad smiled again, the expression wry. “You may begin to see our problem.”

Tatian nodded again. Under other circumstances, the IDCA would be glad to see the legality of the Haran sex trade questioned in the local courts, but not when it meant questioning the off-world presence as well. Tendlathe could get entirely too much power out of this case; better to get concessions from Temelathe instead, do him a favor, and wait for a more propitious moment to attack trade.

“On top of all that, or as a result of it, Temelathe has been screwing around with the Stiller election lists,” Jhirad said, and Tatian frowned at the apparent inconsequence. “Bear with me, Tatian, it all fits.”

“Go ahead,” Tatian said, and leaned back in his chair. He heard himself doubtful and knew the others did, too.

“He’s taking a hell of a chance,” Valmy said, almost to herself. “There are a lot of people pissed off about it.”

Jhirad nodded. “Basically, he’s arranged for Stiller to nominate two unsuitable candidates for seraaliste . One is a man named Daithef, who’s considered pretty much a joke, and the other is Warreven, who is one of the advocates involved in this case. We think he’s trying to get Warreven out of the courts and is either trying to bribe 3im— seraaliste is a powerful position, the person who holds it is one of the more important Important Men—or at least get 3im out of the way, keep 3im away from trade cases for the next calendar year. It’s also possible he’s trying to bring 3im back into his party. You know—no, you probably don’t know, it was before your time—Temelathe wanted 3im to marry Tendlathe, and I think he, Temelathe, would still like to have Warreven on his side.”

“Warreven said no to that,” Valmy said, “and rumor says 3e’s saying no to the nomination, too.”

Tatian blinked, trying to imagine the person he’d seen—long hair and pointed chin, strong bones beneath skin like silk, loose vest and trousers and the clashing metal bracelets, casually kind and as casually sexual, like and not like any indigene he’d met before—married to Tendlathe Stane. The idea, the casual switch of legal gender, was too alien, and he shied away from it. It was just as strange to think of Warreven as Stiller seraaliste : it was odd to think that he might be negotiating with 3im next year.

“You know 3im?” Valmy asked.

The words were casual, but the look that accompanied them was not. Tatian smiled ruefully. “I literally ran into 3im yesterday at the Courthouse. We talked—3e gave me the name of a technician who might be able to work on my implants.”

“You’ve been—running into—a lot of awkward people lately,” Valmy said. “All of them in trade.”

Tatian sighed. “So tell me about the fem.”

“%er name’s Astfer Stiller,” Jhirad began, and Valmy made an irritated noise.

“ρe’ll give you clan and kin before ρe answers your questions. You’ve been on Hara too long, Stevi.”

“%e’s a paralegal—an advocate of sorts, but trained to handle Concord law, too,” Jhirad went on, as though ρe’d never been interrupted, “%e’s a known member of the New Agenda movement, and %e’s been doing work for Haliday on trade cases.”

“Which one is New Agenda?” Tatian asked.

“They propose that the Centennial Meeting be asked if Hara should rejoin the Concord as a full member world,” Valmy said. “And they really don’t like Tendlathe. It was New Agenda members who stood up in the Watch Council and said he shouldn’t be confirmed as Temelathe’s heir.”

Tatian whistled softly. That had taken courage, and it hadn’t done any good: Tendlathe’s status had been officially acknowledged the year he himself came to Hara.

“You begin to see how it all fits,” Jhirad said. “This may be about trade, about one emigration case, but there’s a whole lot of other things connected to it. And because of that, we—the IDCA, and through us, Customs and maybe even ColCom—have a chance to get some real influence on the government here. I’m asking you to ask Reiss to withdraw his statement.”

Damn . Tatian shook his head slowly, knowing only too well how Reiss would respond to that request. I’m going to murder the little bastard for getting me, the company, mixed up in this… “And what happens to what’s-his-name, the guy who wants to emigrate, if Reiss agrees? It’s going to matter to him.”

Jhirad looked away. Valmy said, “I don’t know. I can’t promise anything, Tatian. But if it comes up now, with Reiss’s name on it, our bosses are going to push for a trade investigation of NAPD.”

“And that’s blackmail,” Tatian said.

“I suppose,” Valmy answered. “But that’s how it’s been put to me.”

“This is not a good time to play politics,” Jhirad said, and pushed ρimself slowly to ρis feet. “Unless, of course, you’re us. Talk to Reiss, Tatian. The worst of the pressure should be off by Midsummer. That’s not long.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Tatian said. “But I don’t make any promises.”

“Fair enough,” Jhirad said equably, and slid open the door. Valmy followed him out, letting the door slide closed again behind her.

Tatian sat for a long moment, staring at the pale cream fiber that covered the walls. What Jhirad and Valmy were asking was technically illegal; more than that, it would be hard to get Reiss to go along with it, even if he were given a direct order to withdraw his statement. He, Tatian, would have to invoke Masani’s rules against trade, the threat of firing, and he hated to do that when he knew perfectly well that Reiss wasn’t profiting from his games. On the other hand, he understood the temptation IDCA was facing. To have the chance to intervene in Hara’s government, not just legally but actually at the Most Important Man’s personal request, was too good a chance to pass up. He sighed, ran his hand, flat-palmed, across the shadowscreen to wake the desktop. The IDCA agents were right when they said this was politically a difficult time, and more than that, they were also right when they hinted that NAPD was being dragged into trade. And that, the Old Dame had made very clear, was not to happen. He would do what the IDCA agents wanted, ask—no, tell —Reiss to take back his statement, but he would do it because he could not risk NAPD’s becoming involved in trade.