A Prison Unsought by Sherwood Smith, Dave Trowbridge Page A

as it was, succeeded in being the only breach of our security.
Arthelion is quite docile now.”
ARES
    The Tetrad Centrum Douloi met over breakfast the next
morning, the most favored dish the doings of their fellows the previous
evening.
    A soft sigh emanated from Caroly ban-Noguchi’s select guests
when Vannis Scefi-Cartano appeared at last. Caroly firmly hid both her relief
and the hot pulse of irritation at the effectiveness of the former consort’s
entrance. Framed against the tall window behind her, the muted white of her
garments echoed the pallid presence of the Arkadic Enclave, a limb of which was
visible away spinwards along the oneill’s curvature, like a frozen moonrise.
    As the servant ushered Vannis down the shallow arc of steps
into the carefully tended hanging garden, everyone took in her severely simple
linen walking suit, the trousers loose above her plain slippers. Raised brows
semaphored to pursed lips: Who else would dare?
    Caroly reflected bitterly that no one else would dare, for
the Aerenarch might turn up. He must now be invited to everything. Vannis is presuming on a Family connection
that doesn’t exist, unless she seduces Brandon into making it.
    Vannis sensed that critical scrutiny but gave no sign as she
surveyed the setting. Whomever Caroly had displaced had an excellent eye. At
least for the floral arts. Delicate blossoms from countless worlds breathed
scented air into an open room comprising interlocking geometric shapes of
chrome and glass and white tile, a style that seemed to re-emerge every couple of
centuries, and which Vannis thought better suited to transit stations and trade
concourses.
    Wealthy Polloi ,
she decided, greeting her hostess. Half the guests clung to elaborate
formality. The other half had attempted a simplifying effect; she read from this
that her social supremacy was more solid, but not secure. Not yet.
    Caroly gestured her toward a low seat with a charming view.
Not quite the most important position in the room—that, Vannis saw, was held by
Tau Srivashti—but not the least, where Rista numbered among a cluster of
unknowns. Vannis took her place, sprinkling greetings and compliments around
her.
    Ting!
    The neurally-inducted chime of Vannis’s boswell indicated
another priority drop, but it wasn’t Brandon. Vannis helped herself to a tiny
cup of fresh-roasted coffee as conversation resumed around her.
    “. . . and yet another ship came in
early this morning.” Charidhe ban-Masaud rivaled NorSothu nyr-Kaddes in her efforts
to be first with any rumor. Weeks ago, that had been welcome news, but now,
Vannis could see in the subtle tightening of lips, the lack of spontaneity in
the polite comments, that most were thinking the same thing she was: Where will they put them?
    A girl not yet twenty with looped and bejeweled rainbow
braids said in a too-protracted drawl, “Anyone on it?”
    She appeared to be some years off yet from her Enkainion.
The boredom was as false as the drawl; Vannis observed the flickers of
amusement in the guests, before Charidhe gave the girl a quiet smile of rebuke,
the Of course, or why would I bring it
up? was all the more potent for being unspoken.
    The girl fussed with her breakfast cup to hide her
mortification. Vannis felt no sympathy.
    Charidhe turned to their hostess, the pale gems in her body
art glimmering. “A Masaud courier, as it happens, who bore news that a large
group of refugees from the Mandala were located by Captain KepSingh about a
month ago.”
    “How many?”
    “Who?”
    “Where were they hiding?”
    Polite expressions from the guests except for Tau Srivashti,
who stilled; the smooth fit of his wine-colored tunic did not alter for
breathing. Who was he listening to with such covert attention?
    Charidhe went on, “. . . and Burinka’s
co-husband, a courier lieutenant in the Navy, told her that one is a laergist
who was supposedly assigned to the Aerenarch’s Enkainion. Now we’ll be able to
find out exactly