“Well that’s—hm. Jainan.” Professor Audel peered at him, her eyes sharp in her wrinkled face. “You’re not J. Erenlith who published that thesis on regoliths, are you?”
“I—” Jainan said, then stopped, flustered. Kiem suppressed his I-told-you-so grin. “I—that was a long time ago.”
“Excellent!” Professor Audel said. “I suspected it was a nobility pseudonym. That explains why I never found the author. We must get you in for a consultation.”
For some reason Jainan glanced sideways at Kiem. “I don’t know if I can commit to that.”
“Have you moved into another field?” Professor Audel asked. “Surely you can still do a consultation.”
“That—depends,” Jainan said. He looked at Kiem again. “Am I likely to have time?”
“Time?” Kiem said, bemused. As far as he knew, Jainan’s schedule wasn’t packed, or surely they’d have had people chasing Bel already. On the other hand, if Jainan didn’t want to do it, the time excuse was a good one, but why ask him? “Well, depends what else you’re planning to pick up. Up to you, of course.” He couldn’t help adding, “For what it’s worth, I think it’s a good idea.”
Jainan inclined his head. “I would be glad to consult, Professor,” he said. “Though I can’t promise I remember anything useful.”
“You never forget how to calculate,” she said. “And fresh eyes will be invaluable. Now, about the solar radiation. Did you consider the knock-on impact of the inner system adjustment—”
Kiem didn’t understand one sentence in three of the conversation that followed, but he watched, absorbed, as Jainan quietly but fluently rose to the professor’s challenges with answers Kiem couldn’t even begin to grasp. It was like watching a musician transform when they picked up a violin. After a few minutes, though, Kiem realized from Jainan’s sideways glances and derailing attempts that Jainan was concerned he was bored. As it would be completely inappropriate for Kiem to say, No, I could watch you do this all day, he murmured something instead about leaving them to it and went to find the Chancellor and badger her about outreach programs.
That led to ten conversations with other people. Kiem enjoyed these events; he did have to accept several compliments on his marriage, but somehow that didn’t feel as awkward now as it might have been. “I see Audel’s cornered your partner,” one adjunct remarked, as they both stood in front of an artwork doing something thematic with coat hangers. “Does he want rescuing?”
“He’s fine,” Kiem said. He considered name-dropping Jainan’s thesis but refrained because he wasn’t entirely sure how to pronounce some of the words in the title.
“Audel must be over the moon,” the adjunct said knowingly. Kiem thought he might be in engineering as well. “She’s been waiting to get her hands on someone who worked on Kingfisher.”
“Kingfisher?” Kiem said blankly.
“The mining operation,” the adjunct said. He turned away from the coat hangers and tilted his head. “You know? Prince Taam ran Operation Kingfisher. The Thean mining venture—you must know, it was in the news when the extraction probe exploded. Two people died.”
Kiem didn’t remember. He didn’t usually pay attention to news that didn’t involve him. “I don’t think Jainan’s working on that. He’s not military.” Surely if Jainan was working on an operation he’d have meetings in his schedule, deadlines, that sort of thing. Kiem honestly had no idea what a normal job involved. “Two people died?”
“Deep-space mining is no joke, Your Highness,” the adjunct said. “That’s why the military runs it.”
When Kiem went to find Jainan again, Professor Audel had roped in some of her graduate students to the discussion. Whatever it was that had brought Jainan’s dark eyes to life had intensified, and when he raised one slim hand to make a point, Kiem had to stop himself from staring again. Kiem slowed his steps, reluctant to interrupt. But when Jainan caught sight of him, he politely extracted himself from the conversation of his own accord and was by Kiem’s arm a few moments later. “Sorry. I got caught up.”
“Me too,” Kiem said. “Lots of well-wishes to pass on to you. Consider them passed on. Someone mentioned Operation Kingfisher?”
“Taam’s operation,” Jainan said at once. He frowned, puzzled. “Did they want to talk to me about it? Someone else is in charge now.”
Kiem wasn’t going to bad-mouth Taam in front of his bereaved partner. “Just a mention,” he said hastily. “Complimentary!”
“I wasn’t involved in it, really,” Jainan said, sounding almost regretful. “There was an obvious conflict of interest for a Thean. I’m sorry, I’m holding us up—did you want to leave?”
“Well, unless Professor Audel wants to adopt you,” Kiem said. “She looked well on the way to it.”
Jainan paused. “Does that cause any problems for you?”
“Me?” Kiem said. “Oh, you mean with the charity links and stuff? No, no, it’s great for me, the more we do for the Chancellor, the more I can push her to put resources into outreach. And that gets three separate education execs off my back.”
“I’m glad,” Jainan said, and he did actually—for the first time since Kiem had met him—sound pleased.
Kiem grinned. “Roaring success,” he said. “Let’s get lunch. We both need a break. Ready for the Auditor?” He didn’t realize he’d offered Jainan his arm until Jainan took it. Then it was too late, but Jainan seemed as relaxed as Kiem had ever seen him.
“Of course,” Jainan said. As they emerged from the hall into the courtyard, a light dusting of snow started to fall.
CHAPTER 6
The Auditor’s temporary office, deep in the palace, had once been an innocent reception chamber before the Galactic delegation turned it into a cave for Resolution business. The walls were now covered with screens, though the screens didn’t act the way Kiem was used to; they unrolled like tapestries and had a solidity that a light-screen lacked. They showed lists of data and images, seemingly unconnected to each other, and the junior staff moving around the covered walls somehow manipulated the images without obviously gesturing at them.
Some of the displays Kiem expected, like the prominent web of faces and names that showed the treaty representatives. The Emperor was at the top. Connected to her by a web of lines were a handful of faces Kiem didn’t know, but their clothing styles suggested they were the vassal representatives. Next to each one was an Iskaner prince. CONFIRMED glowed in pale letters beside each face. There were two gaps: he and Jainan must be the last two to be instated.
It wasn’t only the screens that were weird. Parts of the room were sectioned off by curtain-like shimmers. Some of them were slate gray, hiding whatever was beyond them, but some were transparent: two staffers stood behind one in a corner, obviously talking, but no sound made it through the shimmer.
Another slate-gray curtain fuzzed and parted like water as the Auditor stepped through it. Kiem took a sharp breath. He was never going to get used to the Auditor’s face, like a cloud of luminous gas had swallowed half of it. He didn’t know where to look.