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you've rigged.
"Constantine isn't my passu.
"Either he is your passu, or you are his.
Aiah can't find the strength to dispute this simple logic.
Besides, her grandmother might well be right.
"Your longnose lover is back in Jaspeer," Galaiah adds. "He's been calling
the family and trying to find you.
Sadness catches at Aiah's throat. "Gil?
"You haven't called him, either, hanh?" Galaiah is gleeful she'd never
approved of Aiah taking up with a Jaspeeri. She holds the traditional
Barkazil opinion that the rest of humanity is only useful as prey for the
artful, devious, and highly superior Cunning People.
It's precisely that attitude that the Barkazil are a magical species above the
laws that govern lesser beings that led to the self-destruction of the
Metropolis of Barkazi, and therefore to Galaiah's journey as a refugee to
faspeer. Aiah has always refrained from pointing this out to her grandmother.
"I didn't know Gil was back from Gerad," Aiah says, perfectly aware of the
inadequacy of her excuse.
There's a buzz on the commo array and a flashing green light, the signal
that someone else is trying to call. "Excuse me, Nana," Aiah says. "I'm
getting another call. Hold on a moment.
She pushes the hold button, then turns the dial that switches the solenoids in
the commo array. There's a click and electric buzz, and then Aiah answers.
"You left messages for me." It's Constantine's baritone, and Aiah's warm blood
sings in her ears at the sound of it.
"I couldn't get back to you earlier," he says. "What did you require?
Aiah tries to organize her thoughts. "I needed to talk to you . ..," she
begins, and then begins to look frantically for her list.
"You're in your suite? May I come see you?" The voice takes on a lazy,
self-satisfied tone. "I would like to relate my latest triumphs. I am
pleased to report that it has been a very good day.
"Yes. Of course.
"I'm just a few corridors away. I'll see you in a couple of minutes.
He presses the disconnect button, and Aiah jumps for the switch to connect
herself to Galaiah.
No time to bathe and change. Damn it.
"Nana? That was business. I've got to go.
"Give me your phone number!
"Yes." She gives it.
"I got a question!" the old lady says.
"Yes. Quickly.
"Can you get jobs for some of your family?
The question stops her dead. "I don't know," she says.
"Most of us have never had a good job.
"Let me think. I'll call you again. Okay?
"Call your mother!
The imperious command rings out just as Aiah presses the disconnect button.
She brushes her hair, checks herself in the mirror, wishes again there was
time for at least a shower. She puts on the priceless ivory necklace that
Con-stantine bestowed upon her, then anoints herself with the Cedralla
perfume Constantine gave to her their last time together, before he flew off
to Caraqui and the coup.
Memories, scent and sensation, worn about her body like little charms. She
can only hope the tiny magics will do the job.
When she opens the door to his knock, Constantine rolls into the room like the
irresistible tide. He's no longer wearing the proper velvet suit of the
minister, but clothing meant for ease and comfort: a blousy black shirt, a
jacket of soft black suede imprinted with a design of geomantic foci, suede
boots, no lace. The clothing suits him better than the confining garb of the
politician, provides him a physical scope to match the ranging of his mind.
"The cabinet meets daily," he says, "and all the news is good.
"Would you like to tell me the details over a bottle of wine?
"And food, if you've got it." He prowls to the kitchen, opens the
refrigerator, gazes inside.
Aiah scurries after. "I can throw something together, if you like.
He turns, his massive hands close on her shoulders, and he propels her firmly
to a chair next to the dining room table. His scent eddies along her nerves.
"Sit," he says. "I'll cook.
"You don't know where
"Yes I do. All these suites are built alike.
Aiah surrenders the fact of his touch, this near-embrace, make surrender all
too easy and allows herself to sit. She has been in the kitchen so little she
has no real notion it's hers. She cocks her head and regards him from this
new angle. "I didn't know you could cook, Minister.
An amused glow warms his brown eyes. "I didn't say I could cook well. But I
have absorbed at least a few principles of cooking which I hope, in this case,
will prove universal.
He takes off his jacket, opens the pantry door, gazes in thoughtfully. Plucks
things from the shelf and finds a saucepan. He cocks an eye at her.
"I take it all this dates from the previous administration?
Aiah shrugs. "Who has time to shop?
"I wish you would remember to eat from time to time." His big body prowls
the confined kitchen with perfect assurance. He surveys his finds, then
reaches for a knife.
"Our main course will have to come out of cans. And the vegetables are far
from fresh, but I will try to make do.
"There are few sights as attractive," Aiah observes, "as that of a man
cooking.
"Wait till you see how dinner turns out before you judge how attractive I am.
He sets water boiling, opens cans, and finds a bottle of wine on the built-in
rack. "Do you know," he says, looking in drawers for a tool to remove the
bottle cap, "that thirty percent of the population of Caraqui are on the
government payroll?
"The drawer on your left, Minister. We have that many civil servants?
"Civil servants plus the dole, yes. Besides a civil service so bloated that
it defies comprehension the Keremaths wanted everyone on their payroll the
government owns a surprising number of commercial firms. All the
communications companies save for the broadcast station controlled by the
Dalavans, the Worldwide News Service, the video networks, construction and
shipping firms. Factories. Fisheries. Office buildings. Even restaurants!
And if you add the firms that the Keremaths owned personally, the total is [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] - zanotowane.pl
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