When our questions to one another waned, we began the second night’s work early. By mutual agreement, we began to question others, first Russell, then me. Any of the Silks or the Gordons could be asked to speak. If asked, they could not refuse. I intended to work my way through the two youngest of the four generations of Silks—four fathers and five unmated young sons—and have them come to the free-standing microphone one by one to answer my questions and any that Russell or the Council members might want to put to them. The unmated young ones were of the greatest interest to me. They were the ones I most wanted to be heard and seen by the Council. I thought my own scent would reach them and trouble them, and perhaps they would have a harder time keeping their minds on any lies they meant to tell. But now it was Russell Silk’s turn. The first person he called was Daniel Gordon.
“Did you actually see the attack on your community that the child Shori Matthews says she defeated?” Russell demanded.
“She did not say she defeated it,” Daniel answered. “She and several Gordon symbionts worked together to defeat it.”
“Did you see this!”
“It happened during the day,” Daniel said. “No Ina other than Shori could have seen it. Over half of our symbionts saw it, though. They not only helped fight off the attack, but captured two of the attackers alive so that they could be questioned. Shori captured the third. She prepared the captives for interrogation but did not touch any of our symbionts.”
Russell stared at him, frowned as though he did not believe him, and changed the subject. “Have you ever known Shori to seem confused or uncertain of her surroundings, her intentions, her perceptions?” he asked.
Daniel shook his head. “Never.”
“Have you ever heard Shori show disregard for the welfare of other Ina?”
“No, never.”
Russell shook his head, as though in disgust. “And yet, isn’t it true, Daniel, that Shori Matthews has bound you to her as her mate?”
“She has not,” Daniel said.
Russell looked at the Council members. “I believe this to be untrue,” he said. “He was seen taking the child into his quarters.”
There was a moment of silence. Council members looked carefully at Daniel, breathing deeply to examine his scent. Finally two of them spoke.
“He is not bound,” Alexander Svoboda said.
Elizabeth Akhmatova echoed, “He is not bound.”
They were, according to what I’d heard, the oldest male and female Council members. One by one, the other members of the Council nodded, either accepting their elders’ perceptions and judgment or coming to the same conclusion by way of their own senses. Alice Rappaport took several deep breaths, making a show of taking in Daniel’s scent and judging it. She was the last to nod.
I wondered who had seen Daniel and me together, come to their own conclusions about what we were up to, and then run to tell the Silks all about it. Had it been the Marcu family who was staying in Daniel’s house? Or perhaps it had been someone outside who saw him approach me and take me into his house. Or was it a Silk symbiont? If symbionts could be used as weapons, they could also be used as spies.
Russell looked surprised by the Council’s conclusion. “You have no connection with Shori then?” he asked Daniel.
“We are promised to one another,” Daniel said. “When this is over, when she’s older and physically mature, my brothers and I will mate with her.” He looked at me and smiled. I couldn’t help smiling back at him.
Council member Ana Morariu said, “Do you believe the things Shori has told us tonight?”
“I do,” Daniel said. “I’ve seen some of it for myself. I was present when the captives were questioned. Shori and my fathers and elderfathers questioned them. I saw, I heard, I breathed their scent. Because of that, I believe her.”
“Are you sure that’s why you believe her?” Russell demanded. “Would you believe her if Shori were already mated with other people or if you were?”
He repeated, “I was present when the captives were questioned. I know what I saw and heard.”
They didn’t make him say it a third time. I think they saw that they could not move him, and their senses told them that he believed that he was speaking the truth. Martin Harrison, of all people, had explained this to me days before. “Of course, the Ina can’t sense absolute truth,” he’d said. “At best, they can be fairly certain when someone fully believes what he’s saying. They sense stress, changing degrees of stress. You do that yourself, don’t you? You smell sweat, adrenaline, you see any hint of trembling, hear any difference in the voice or breathing or even the heartbeat.”