They didn’t come out from behind the desk, which was probably a point of some kind; Kiem ignored it and leaned over to shake hands.
“Kiem,” he said. “You knew that, nice to meet you, this is Count Jainan, you may know him.” Your people definitely do, he nearly said, but for once managed to stop himself. He needed Rakal on their side to sort this all out.
“Your Highness,” Rakal said, short and sharp. “Your Grace. You gave the impression this was an emergency. What is it that needs my attention at two minutes’ notice?”
“Oh, yes, sorry. Thanks for seeing us,” Kiem said, in a disarming tone that notably failed to disarm Rakal. “A couple of things, actually. Can we sit down?” He nodded to the couple of chairs grouped informally around a low table for guests. It was an automatic move: things always went better if everyone felt more casual.
Rakal stared back at him impassively and said, “If you like.” They didn’t move.
Kiem scrambled for a response. “Right.”
Rakal waited, palms resting on the desk, and raised their eyebrows at the short silence.
Kiem only hit this sort of person occasionally, and it was abysmal luck that Rakal was one of them. Some people, he’d found, just didn’t like him. Most people he met for the first time were either friendly or they were wary and would warm up to him when they felt they had his measure. Every now and then, though, he came up against someone who looked straight into him and had nothing but contempt for what they saw. He was getting that feeling with Rakal. Usually Kiem could mark those people down and avoid them. Avoiding this conversation was not an option.
Jainan was still as a statue beside him. Kiem took a deep breath and said, “For a start, you could have told us the Auditor thinks Taam’s death was murder.”
“Who told you that?” Rakal said evenly.
“The Auditor, actually,” Kiem said, “at about the same time as he refused to instate both of us. Was it?”
“The matter is being dealt with,” Rakal said. “We have it in hand and the Emperor has been briefed. There is no current need for you to know the status of the investigation.”
Kiem paused. He had never been allowed near Internal Security before, let alone had the authority to press them for case details. “Fine,” he said. “All right. I’ll drop it—on one condition: you get your people to fix Jainan’s security clearance. There’s been some kind of error.”
“What kind of error?” Rakal asked.
Kiem felt the sudden onset of doubt. If this had been a mistake by some administrator deep in Internal Security’s hierarchy, they could probably have solved it in ten minutes with a quick message. “Your people revoked his clearance, months ago—Jainan, how long?”
“Two years,” Jainan said quietly.
“See, two y—what?”
Rakal gave Jainan a measuring look. “Naturally I am aware.”
Kiem looked at Jainan as well, still trying to process the thought of two years. Jainan was standing a step back, as if he’d resigned himself to having no influence in whatever was decided. Kiem felt a sick lurch of something—guilt, anger—and didn’t even try to suppress it. He leaned forward and put his own hands on the desk. “Fix this,” he said, hearing an unexpected edge in his own voice. “He can’t talk to his family. Fix it.”
“Prince Kiem,” Rakal said levelly. “Let me make one thing very clear: I won’t be drawn into melodramatics on security issues.” They stopped Kiem’s incredulous protest with a raised hand. “I am aware that Count Jainan has a level two flag on his communications. This means he was considered a potential risk for leaking classified material. As you must also know, a level two flag does not stop him from contacting whomever he wants to outside the palace. It only means we ask him to clear it with us in advance so we can monitor it.”
“That’s not true,” Kiem said. “He hasn’t had any contact at all.”
Jainan shifted beside him, but didn’t have time to say anything before Rakal raised their eyebrows and said, “Indeed? Then someone is lying to you.”
“I am not lying,” Jainan said, low and colorless. “I was discouraged from contact—I am sorry if I gave a false impression.” Jainan’s eyes flicked between Rakal and Kiem, and then went back to the desk. “I accept the security measures the palace sees fit to apply. I apologize for bothering you.”
It would not help to shout. Kiem forced himself to breathe out and keep his voice under control. “It’s really not you who needs to apologize,” he said. “Agent Rakal. Your monitoring system isn’t bloody working, since your people have obviously just used it to hassle Jainan into cutting off contact. Which I’m sure made things much easier for them. Jainan is unhappy. The Thean Ambassador is unhappy. I am pissed off, and very few things piss me off. I want you to take that flag off his account.”
If Rakal hadn’t liked him before, now the hostility over the desk between them and Kiem was like something physical. “Your Highness,” Rakal said. “You cannot have a decision you don’t like changed just because you want it to change. I answer to the Emperor, not to every royal who wants to throw their weight around.”
Kiem recognized the sinking feeling of being backed into terrain where he couldn’t win. He switched tactics. “If you’d bothered to talk to Jainan, you might have realized you were barking up the wrong tree,” he said. “But you didn’t, did you? You just cut him out because he’s a foreigner. You didn’t even listen to him about the crash data.”
“What data?” Rakal said sharply.
“We got hold of the data you have on Taam’s crash,” Kiem said. “We think that log transcript came from a reference book. So either you have the wrong logs, or—”
Rakal turned straight to Jainan, clearly aware that Kiem wouldn’t understand an engineering log even if someone explained it to him in short words with a cheerful science animation for children. “Who gave you that data?” they said. “It should have been under a confidentiality seal.”
There was a horrible pause before Jainan said softly, “I’m not sure that’s relevant.”
“Someone a damn sight more helpful than you,” Kiem said. “Where are the real logs?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Rakal inputted something on their wristband. “This is a serious breach of security. Count Jainan, I will need you to delete the material you have obtained and to allow us access to review your account.”
“What?” Kiem said in astonishment. “He doesn’t have to do that. How is it Jainan’s fault that there’s something wrong with your evidence?”
“If permission is necessary,” Jainan said, then stopped.
“You copied them to my account as well, and I don’t give permission,” Kiem said. “What gives you the right to poke around in our personal lives?”
Rakal’s look gave Kiem pause, even as his indignation picked up steam, because he had come across several of Iskat’s more murderous fauna while on hikes and Rakal reminded him strongly of something with too many teeth. “Because, Your Highness,” Rakal said, as if this was something painfully obvious Kiem had failed to get, “your partner is a subject of interest in the investigation.”