CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE - SEED-CAKE-BEAR-TRAP

The governor's eyes flickered over the report lying over his desk, written out and prudently redacted in all the right places. His face was impassive. Tanner squirmed uneasily in her seat, kneading her skirt slightly, even as she relaxed into her cape and acted the role of the competent judge. Which she was. Definitely. A full week had passed, a full week of interviewing the right people, hiking from one end of the colony to the other several times a day, exploring all the nooks and crannies she possibly had access to. In some respects, she was content. The interviews revealed a suite of... concerns that had manifested. Some members of the work crews complained that their overseers weren't properly attentive to certain issues, particularly with regards to safety and problematic members of certain teams. Not all the overseers, just some were magnets for complaints. The barber issue was recurring, of course. Tanner had even tried to follow up on the bouncer angle, asking people in private if they were having any difficulties with those truncheon-armed fellows. Not a single complaint, which... worried her, a little, but... no, no, the idea of there being some sort of cartel of bouncers intimidating everyone like they were members of the Erlize was simply too far-fetched. Still, she'd included it as a footnote that there were no complaints, and she read the governor's expression for any hint of surprise or disbelief.

A chambermaid trotted close, carrying a tray of tea and small seed-cakes. Tanner winced internally. Seed-cakes. Those things sprayed crumbs like it was their sole purpose in life. The idea of covering her dress in little fragments of cake, depositing them on the carpet, in the furniture, in the cracks between floorboards... she flashed forward to a few weeks from now, when the governor was found gnawed to pieces by a horde of rats, this chambermaid tearing her hair out while weeping, insisting that the rats were attracted by her seed-cakes, and how she deserved to be impaled on the city walls as a reminder of her failure, while Tanner squirmed and sweated and slowly liquefied out of sheer guilt. Found, days later, as a fleshy puddle in her house, the air still heavy with her miserable burbling. And then Marana would slip in the puddle and break her neck.

All of this was entirely plausible. She was a judge, she basically had a certificate that read 'this person has sound judgement', so, yes, if she said this was plausible, it was very bloody plausible.

Tea was workable, though.

She could definitely go for the tea.

The chambermaid... hm. Odd. Redhead. Big shock of red hair, actually. Something odd about that. Not just because of the redhead mutant from outside the city, just... well, the colony was about a third Fidelizhi citizens, about two thirds locals, and out of the locals, almost all of them had dark hair. Peat-coloured, that was the word. Rich and brown, never going beyond some occasional streaks of blonde. Very few redheads.

Anyway.

The governor's cough drew her attention back to the desk - he was looking over the report, one eyebrow dragged slightly lower than the other by his scars, making him seem almost sardonic. His voice, though, was as avuncular as ever.

"Well. This is all... fairly regular, within acceptable boundaries. I'll look into the barber business. Obviously we can't bring any barbers in now, now that everything's been closed off for the winter. But... hm, maybe we can look into getting some of these part-time domestic barbers to do a little more. I'll have my people look into it. One detail, though, one detail concerns me slightly... you mention, here, that you observed a few curfew breakers. Minor detail, of course. Do you... think you could elaborate?"

Tanner flushed. Didn't want to be a rat when it came to tiny offences, but... honestly, the colony was doing well. The locals had an air of relief simply to be out of Fidelizh, back to the snowy wasteland of their home. Out of the riverbed shantytown, anyway. And fair enough. That thing was hot, dusty, cramped, unsanitary, undignified... no wonder they'd been eager to return. The Fidelizhi colonials seemed fairly subdued as well. Not sure if that was the winter sapping away the desire to complain unceasingly (Tanner always noted that the number of briefs for smaller issues increased during the summer months), or just her own status as an outsider, but... either way. Either way. The colony was peaceful. The curfews seemed harsh, but she didn't hear gunshots at night, so clearly the military weren't being too heavy-handed. The Erlize didn't even seem to have an enormous presence, though she wasn't going to assume she could readily identify an undercover officer.

"Well, there's... on my first night in my house, there was someone looking through my windows after curfew. Ran away once I saw them. I think it might've been a child, nothing serious."

Didn't mention the unlocked door - that was her own fault, she assumed. Didn't mention how she was still uncertain over whether it was a child or not.

"Anything else?"

"...well, I've heard footsteps in the past few days, usually at night. And every so often I see someone sneaking home after curfew, presumably after drinking a bit too much at a private residence. Nothing serious."

The governor looked at her carefully.

"Are you sure it's not serious?"

Tanner nodded rapidly.

"Oh, quite sure. No breaking and entering, no evidence of any crimes... obviously, it's up to you and your men how breaking curfew is enforced, but at the time I saw nothing that demanded my action, especially given the context, and, well..."

She wanted to shrug, but fought down the urge. Unprofessional. Trying to explain that, as a judge, she ought to have nabbed any curfew-breakers and hauled them to the nearest soldier. But given that she was only meant to be doing reconnaissance, with some minor judgements, she... made an executive decision to not do anything. Still, felt a tiny flare of nervousness. Wondered what Sister Halima would say on the topic. The governor drummed his fingers over the desk, eyes fixed on her.

"Who tends to be breaking curfew?"

She blinked.

Thought.

"...locals, I suppose. But that's... likely just because they're the majority of the population. And I'm not sure about any of the unknown curfew-breakers."

"Can you be sure they're locals?"

"Well, I'm basing this on hair colour, mostly."

The chambermaid, who was still present, seemed to stiffen slightly. Not sure if the governor noticed, his attention was riveted on Tanner, who felt like she was about to start crisping up around the edges, like a piece of paper left in sunlight for too long.

"Hair colour?"

"Locals. I mean, Rekidans, they have... dark hair. Brown. Fidelizhi tends to be lighter, on average. And the texture is slightly different. And there's some differences in facial features, but when it's dark it's fairly hard to see anything."

"Hm. I'll look into it."

Tanner paled slightly.

"Well, it was only a tiny number of sightings, they all seemed very harmless, and I don't want to give the impression that I'm..."

She trailed off, and the governor's face curled into a small smile.

"A grass?"

"...I suppose. I don't want to damage any relations with the colony. At this stage..."

"No, no, I understand. No intention to make your life harder, honoured judge. We're just trying to nip this in the bud. I want to see if my men have noticed anything, and if not, why not. We have curfew because it's necessary for maintaining law and order, especially out here. Mutants aren't common, but the last thing I want is for people to be unused to staying put in their homes when we tell them to. Staying put, and staying quiet. Doing what we say, when we say it, without complaint. Didn't have the habit of that in the shantytown back in Fidelizh, need to work extra-hard to establish it here. But we'll be delicate about it. Like you said. It's not a problem - just something to keep an eye on."

He paused.

"And you, young miss, I expect to stay silent on this matter, hm?"

The chambermaid nodded very many times in quick succession, and Tanner felt a knot of concern form in her stomach. The girl's face was completely neutral, but... still.

"Yes, sir. Definitely, sir. Not a word."

"Good. We're talking high policy here, very high policy. And if news gets out, I'll know who spilled the beans."

The governor had a friendly look to him, but the chambermaid was already shaking like a leaf. Her face remained still, though. Her voice never wavered. Yet the shivering continued. Even the governor seemed a little disconcerted with the effect he was having, and tried to broaden his smile, relax his stance. For crying out loud, the poor thing was shaking so hard that she was liable to drop her entire tea tray. Tanner tried to smile a little at her. Didn't seem to work. The tink-tink-tink of colliding teapots and milk jugs was a faint accompaniment as the governor soldiered on admirably, realising that continuing to place any level of attention on the girl was probably only going to make things worse.

"Now, moving on... overseer business, I'll look into that, simple enough. Drinking habits, that's interesting, should've thought that dreadful stuff they get out of the Ina trees would suffice... well, I suppose habits change. Gods, hard to think about the fact that half of these locals were born in Fidelizh, or barely remember Rekida when it was intact. Shameful of me, assuming their taste in liquor would remain the same. Well, let it not be said I'm overly reticent, happy to open the gubernatorial cellars. Could make a pleasant midwinter affair, hm? Governor dispenses all his wine at once, the people get to have a bit of fun... still have a few pigs living, could be a good centrepiece. Any more issues with people trying to measure your head?"

"Not really, sir."

Mostly true. Mostly.

"Good. Glad that's cleared up. And... you still haven't applied for reimbursement for that time you spent over a kaff when you arrived - do try to, will you?"

Tanner froze.

It was awkward, asking for money. She was happy to soak up the cost, really. But, coward that she was, she just nodded, smiled uncomfortably, mumbled a few apologies... regardless. A few more pleasantries were exchanged, but the meeting was more or less over. No comments on what he expected now, now comments on how the future ought to play out... Tanner, for a moment, could see meetings like this stretching into the future. She wasn't trusted enough to pass judgements, not by most of the locals, so all she was doing was interviewing, cataloguing complaints... honestly, if she could deal with the barber and booze situation, she felt like she'd be in their good books overnight, might get some more work her way. But she was feeling slightly more comfortable with her position. Slightly. With a smile, the governor dismissed her from his office, and she retreated carefully, handing her cup and saucer to the still-shivering chambermaid. The girl didn't meet Tanner's eyes. The man from the Erlize, Mr. Canima, was nowhere to be seen as she left, and Tanner... may've increased her pace significantly at this realisation. Didn't want to get caught by him, forced into an awkward conversation of some kind, forced to simply endure his presence. Not that she disliked him! Of course, for the record, she had nothing but positive respect for Mr. Canima, and his institution, and his officers, and his suits. She had nothing but respect for him, even if he could arrest her at any moment, interrogate her, lock her up for long periods, or, if the rumours were true, take her behind a shed and plant a happy little bullet between her eyes. That was basically irrelevant, honestly, she never thought about it, or about how his eyes might look when he put her in the ground. Or, worse, sent her away in disgrace. She was getting used to things here, if she was sent away, she would genuinely evaporate. And panic-shuffling away from a member of the Erlize was not a good look to have. A few soldiers gathered around the entrance nodded greetings to her, and she was about to breeze past with a polite nod and smile when...

"Ah, honoured judge. Been a while!"

She paused.

Oh, goodness.

The officer from that outpost. The one who'd welcomed her and Marana to Rekida, arranged for an escort into the colony, given them warm food after all that time in the bitter, bitter snow... must've rotated back to the colony itself. His sun-tanned face crinkled into a smile, and he stood politely. He was tall, strong, well-developed. Dark curly hair, thick military moustache, and his sleeves were rolled up the elbow, exposing sinewy arms flayed of all their fat by the sun, by the weight of his rifle, by constant marching. Indeed, the thick hair on his arms was faded to the shade of corn-silk, such such was his exposure to sunlight, and the skin around his eyes was wrinkled from squinting. He couldn't have been terribly old, probably barely older than herself, but... well, being out and about tended to give someone a quality of weight which made them seem much older indeed, in a way that life inside a legal labyrinth didn't. Even so, she towered over him. She smiled faintly.

"Oh. Ah. Hello, sir. Sorry, I meant to reach out to you sooner - just to thank you for the, well, warm meal."

The officer smiled crookedly.

"Oh, nothing to thank me for. Colony treating you well, miss?"

"Oh, it's perfectly fine. Are you... rotating back to guard here, then, sir?"

"More or less. Not that I'm complaining - if you'll pardon the expression, the cold out there during the night could freeze the, uh, finger off a brass monkey."

One of the other soldiers snorted. Tanner blinked. What a strange notion, but oddly quaint.

"Oh. I see. Well, welcome back."

The snorting soldier leant forwards, a richly stuffed cheroot dangling from between his teeth like a great brown tongue.

"Mind if I ask something?"

"Oh, of course. What is it?"

She really had to stop beginning all her sentences with 'oh'. It was just because she... well... it always felt like emerging from meaningless noise was a kinder way to begin a sentence. Going from silence to speech was like being in a dark room and suddenly bang, a bright light flashes, and you reel backwards screaming in fright and anger as your pupils dilate and you go irreparably blind for the rest of your life. But going from 'oh' to a sentence was like... wandering in mist, and suddenly, a little wink of light through the clouds. There's no blinding flash, just a little guiding flicker. If anything, you're glad to see it. That was why she went 'oh' so often. And 'ah'. And 'um'. She was just acclimatising the other person to the sound of her voice, to the oncoming speech. Like the alarm which came on before a train rattled past. It was just decent, wasn't it?

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Also, it gave her time to think about what to say without creating an awkward silence which made her start to shrivel into dust out of sheer embarrassment.

"Do you wrestle?"

Tanner's face stiffened.

And all thoughts of the verbal kingdom of Prevarications, be it the species of 'um', the genus of 'ah', the family of 'well', or even the phylum of 'oh', vanished from her mind. Her voice was stern.

"I do not."

The soldier grinned.

"Shame."

The officer looked down imperiously at his colleague... comrade? Comrade. Looked down at his comrade, reached out, and flicked him behind the ear, almost making him drop his cheroot.

"No way to talk to a lady, lad. Keep up with that nonsense..."

He trailed off ominously, and the soldier rubbed at the sore spot, glowering slightly. Otherwise, though, he remained silent. Felt embarrassed by the whole affair, honestly. Still.

"I'm... very sorry to take up your time. Must be on my way, though. Good day."

The officer nodded, still seeming like he was on parade, even with his rolled-up sleeves and casual expression.

"Right-o, miss."

A pause.

"...corks, we don't actually know each other's names yet, do we?"

Oh no. He knew. She'd wanted to ask, but had forgotten during their first meeting, and how did you ask someone 'what's your name again'? Had she forgotten to ask, or had she just forgotten the name?

This was why Tanner identified most people by their faces, it was immeasurably easier. Unless they grew moustaches. Or had their faces bitten off by wild dogs. Or grew old. Or were trapped in a house fire. Or were in disguise. Or-

"Oh, goodness, I'm... terribly sorry about that. Tanner Magg."

"Bayai, miss. Sersa Bayai."

Sers... no, wait, yes. She'd not really worked with the military before, Sersa was the Fidelizhi equivalent of a sergeant. Maybe. Either way. She nodded, smiled, mumbled a few pleasantries, did everything she was meant to, and Sersa Bayai did his job admirably as well, being polite and non-awkward and all the things a good soldier ought to be. And with that... well, one of the soldiers gave the two of them a convenient out, just by inviting Bayai back to their collective card game. Tanner was able to make her excuses - she had plenty of things to do, of course she did, plenty of notes, and judgements, and... cape maintenance? Yes, yes, cape maintenance. That sounded believable.

And that was all.

Chambermaid, governor, secret policeman, soldiers, tea, Bayai... all of it, confined to the mansion, sitting on its pretty little hill, overlooking all the expanses of the colony.

Her cape blew behind her with a dramatic flair she didn't feel really suited her. And clutching it around herself made her feel like a giant bat. The wind was growing harsh.

She needed a drink.

The meeting was successful. Nothing bad happened. She even saw the little bear-trap that were the seed-cakes! And... had a conversation! With a moustachioed soldier she'd been continually putting off meeting!

...she still needed a drink. Boy, oh, boy, did she.

* * *

"...that's about the long and short of it."

Marana gave her a low look.

"Really? I thought you'd be discussing conspiratorial matters, or some such beastly business that'd make me feel morally repugnant for assisting you."

A pause.

"Well, glad that's not the case. Gods, it's strange being in a colony that's functioning. And young. And cold."

Tanner hummed over her drink, the inn still fairly quiet, even as the evening started to march its crimson, darkling way across the sky. The bouncer, a wiry fellow, all pointy elbows and thrusting chin and peat-brown hair pasted across his scalp with pomade, waited in the cold, stomping and striding to stay warm. Seemed to prefer the silence and cold to the hubbub of conversation. Fair enough. Marana lounged in her chair easily, one arm over the back, one leg crossed over the other. As always, she was slightly drunk, her nose almost as red as the setting sun. Give it time, though, and it'd grow brighter still, and would spread to the rest of her face like an erupting volcano, and once she was red, red, red... well, then it'd be time for bed. Even if Tanner had to carry her there. At least the locals here had the common decency not to jeer and fill the night with barbaric yawps.

"...still. Interesting business. How is he, the governor? I've not had the pleasure. Deliberately so, I must say, I always seem to be out when his men come to call."

Her voice was light, but her eyes were serious.

"...I suppose... tough? Avuncular? Intelligent eyes."

"I want to know what he's like, not why I might want to take him to bed, Tanner my darling."

Tanner narrowed her eyes.

"Shush. That's vulgar. And I was going to continue. He's... an ex-military man, I think. Scarred by the war, makes it painful for him to sit for long periods, makes his face slightly paralysed on one side. Responsive to the complaints I brought to him."

She paused, biting her lip. Looked around. The bouncer was outside. The innkeeper was in the back, she could hear him clattering around with a great tub of boiling water, polishing up the last of the cups before the night crowds started to stream in. Otherwise, nothing. And... well. She leaned forward, and kept her voice low.

"Don't mention this, but he was curious about the curfew breakers."

Marana tilted her head to one side, considering this. And without any further ado, she stood, swinging her coat from the back of her chair with the same motion. Within a moment, she was dressed and ready to go, while Tanner was still fumbling for some spare change to pay the innkeeper. The bouncer nodded curtly as they entered into the gathering gloom of the colony at night. Curfew wasn't for a few hours still. Staggered curfew, that was the rule - you could stay out later if you were at an inn or going to one. But going from house to house was forbidden past a certain point. Given the quality of the songs that tended to break out when the drink flowed abundantly, she could... sympathise. Marana strode ahead boldly, the winter wind cutting into the both of them, almost driving them back. It was getting colder. Much colder indeed. The nights were growing longer. Soon enough, there'd be nothing to do with the days but buckle down and cling to whatever warmth they could, hold out until the storms stopped and the sun came.

In places like this, the world lived and died every year. Winter killed most forms of life. Spring brought them back. A single slip in the balance... if the winter went on a little too long, life returned weaker than ever, or didn't return at all. Animals died in their burrows, hibernating so long that their stomachs went hollow and their hearts slowed to a stop. Birds remained abroad, forlorn and unwelcome vagrants, or they came home and died to the wind they rode, killed by their finest steed. Even the fish remained locked under the surface of the ice, dwelling in confused darkness as everything died off, bit by bit, until... well. She wondered if this would be that winter, when everything shrivelled and faded, a matter of a few months deciding the fate of the colony. She'd almost died in that snowstorm, and that was because of a few days difference. Those other judges had been delayed by matters of days as well - had the western judges taken a different train, they'd be here. Had the eastern judges taken an earlier crossing, or ditched Herxiel and sought something else at the first sign of trouble...

Anyway.

She was feeling grim. Thinking about tiny quantities of time, and the influence they could have.

Ought to tell Eygi about it. They walked and walked until the streets were less populated, the houses less clustered. Approaching the external wall of the colony - a sturdy stone tihng, built of the alabaster, near-luminous stuff which made up Rekida proper. No wood to be found. Not a single scrap. The guards armed with flamethrowers told her why. No human would be attacking Rekida, not one. Only mutants lived out here and would dare to attack. Only mutants. The soldiers shot them odd looks, and Marana called up that they were just poking around the outskirts, no intention of going far. A shouted reminder to be back before final curfew, when even the inns were emptied out. Tanner checked her little watch nervously. Had a little while. Would rather to stay in the settlement, but... well.

"Sorry about that. Thought the privacy might be appreciated."

Tanner shot her a look.

"Slightly paranoid, don't you think?"

"Oh, not at all."

Her smile was slightly sad.

"Krodaw... towards the end, we were always being watched. If we wanted to do anything in secret, we did it in windowless offices in the depths of our palace, and played gramophone records to drown out our voices. Here, it's easier. Wind. Cold. Dark. And no Sleepless."

Tanner didn't press.

"...so, what did you want to talk about?"

"The curfew breakers. You've seen most of them, I've caught sight of a couple more... what do you think about the curfew?"

Tanner shrugged.

"It's a curfew."

"Yes, but why? Do you mind it?"

"I don't tend to stay out late. No reason to be grumpy about it."

Marana shot her a look.

"Come on. Push."

"...I really don't have anything to push for. I don't mind the curfew. I suppose... if mutants are really an issue, then it's fair enough. You've seen mutants, it's... fair enough. And, Marana, you're not from Fidelizh."

"Nor are you."

"I know, but I've lived there for eight years. And the shantytown there is an overcrowded wreck. They've been trying to clear it out for years. Never gone very well. People get moved out, get sent to other colonies... or places like this, if we've been able to reoccupy their ruined homes. But they have children. And there's never enough being moved. If the governor's... been in Fidelizh much, he hasn't mentioned, then he'll know how impossible the shantytown is to police. Makes sense that he'd want to start out with a firm hand."

Marana hummed, reaching into her coat for a hip-flask, swigging briefly before offering it to Tanner - who declined. Even with the wall in sight, she didn't like the idea of drinking in the cold. Kept thinking about any animals which might be hibernating beneath her feet, beneath the snow. Kept imagining them going to sleep and never waking up, being perfectly preserved, weak limbs frozen as they clawed ineffectually at the prisons they built for themselves, and...

She needed to stop being so paranoid. It made her insufferable.

"Very charitable view."

"Hm."

She liked being charitable. The world could be a sod of a place, and it didn't tend to care about your outlook. Her father had been cheerful, and that hadn't mattered when a harpoon smashed into his head and turned off his thoughts. But being pessimistic wouldn't have changed that either, now would it? Might as well be positive. Made life more pleasant. Made endeavours more worthwhile. She cultivated luck perpetually, she wore golden pince-nez to filter the world, she had a candle in Mahar Jovan to shield her from witchcraft at all times, and she was a judge. Judges had very firm views on the world, not entirely pessimistic ones. Plus... Eygi. She had a friend, somewhere in the world. A friend all to herself, receiving her telegrams, her letters, her thoughts... no matter how things changed, she always had a little golden anchor, out there in the wild. And there was something terribly comforting about that.

"...here's a question, Tanner Magg. You said that the people in this colony are from the shantytown, yes? That it's always been a problem, shipping people out?"

"Yes, that's right."

"You noted this yourself, though - there's a lot of Fidelizhi people around here, and not merchants or overseers, just... regular workers."

Tanner blinked.

"Yes?"

"Why? Why, if it's so hard to move people out here in the first place?"

Tanner thought for a long moment.

"...because it means there's a population here which probably supports the governor and the soldiers more. And the soldiers are Fiedlizhi, too, it might be a... matter of skills, importing locals who know the area, and Fidelizhi workers who know more specialised things."

Marana nodded approvingly.

"There. You're part of the way."

"Part?"

"You're thinking too short-term. People aren't... how to put it, people aren't tribes. People can disagree with people who come from the same place. How long until the Fidelizhi bunch start disagreeing with this governor? How long until they want to elect someone, rather than having someone appointed to rule them? There's a Golden Parliament back home, it's not unforeseeable they'd want their domestic privileges applied to their colonial dwellings."

Tanner tilted her head to one side, momentarily ignoring the cutting winds and razor-sharp flakes that reddened any flesh they caressed... well, reddened what they touched, and paled what they came near. Made both of them look like bowls of clotted cream and jam mixed together, honestly. She thought.

"...let me guess, something similar happened in Krodaw."

Marana didn't answer for a few moments.

"Is that why you came out here, out of interest?"

She kept her voice as mild as possible. Didn't want to poke any sore spots.

"Hm?"

"I mean, this is a colony, Krodaw was a colony..."

"Tanner, your analysis of the intricate clockwork of my mind is lacking. I don't walk around going 'oh, woe is me that Krodaw fell, I must devote myself to colonies as a way of redeeming myself'. I'm too old. When you get old, your capacity for nonsense declines, you have to commit a little to a smaller range of them, and I chose not to commit to being some colony-obsessed weepy little dilettante, arch-mistress of the theories and praxes of dejection."

"OK."

"I'm here because my holiday was a disappointment, and you looked more likely as a source of fun. The colony matter is a less-than-happy coincidence. Now, answer my actual question. Think long-term."

"...hm."

"Alright, think of it this way - in Krodaw, there were multiple ethnic groups. The Yasa, though they were always small, the Unglara, the Monosa, and the Leneras. And broadly speaking, all of them had... issues. The Leneras and the Unglara especially got along like an ecologically devastating wildfire. The colonial authorities were small. Powerful, yes, but limited in terms of numbers. So, we worked to split the population up. Father was explicit about this - and it was common practice beforehand. Build Krodaw in a way that favours the Unglara, who have no loyalty to the dominant Leneras. Offer them attractive routes to better themselves - make them auxiliaries in our army, make them Mahar-trained bureaucrats, encourage exchange and intermingling. Did some good work among the Monosa, as well - they benefited hugely from Krodaw. But, they were a much larger group, so only part of them wound up on our side. The point is, divide and conquer. A good chunk of the country liked us, from a cross-section of society. The Unglara could be the poorest of the poor, or fairly rich, but they all saw us as allies. Monosa too. Leneras... well, we intended to work on huge projects to benefit those who allied with us. All fell apart after the Great War, though. Do you see my point?"

"...they're trying something similar here?"

"Yes! Almost. I mean, in Krodaw we were dealing with too many people. Here... not enough. So they're playing it safe. Recruiting people slowly. Putting a lot of Fidelizhi into the population, more than would ordinarily come here, and making them workers. More in common. They're not bossy overseers smacking everyone around, they're colleagues. Which helps. See, my lovely, here's the gist - people don't like being ruled. But they prefer being ruled by people who look like them, sound like them, believe like them. Are them, in some ways. They don't like being ruled by people they can immediately identify as not them. In Krodaw, what mattered was that... the Leneras, that group, they could look at the world and see Maharites and Jovans ruling the roost, and Unglara sitting as their prize hounds. Nice, clear division. Not Leneras? Then they're colonial stooges and oppressors. Easier to fight the enemy when you know the enemy on sight. I suppose here they're trying to be more... subtle, I imagine."

Tanner hummed. Not entirely sure she agreed.

"The army is predominantly Fidelizhi, though. Surely that would... well, alter things."

"All the more reason to monitor things so closely. Stop people fomenting dissent. Maybe, in a while, they'll start recruiting auxiliaries, just like we did. Best to be careful there, though. We took in plenty of auxiliaries, especially when the Great War picked up. All we did was train up the men who'd form the Sleepless after the war ended and all our money ran out."

Marana was rambling. She was, in Tanner's mind. No judgement implied, no scorn, just... she spoke rapidly, her ideas tripping over one another as they emerged. She seemed to be tempted by a hundred tangents - to speak of Krodaw's groups, and why they hated one another. To speak of the colony's foundation, and what went wrong. To speak of auxiliaries and Sleepless, of the ending of Mahar Jovan's greatest colonial possession, taken by a swirling maelstrom of madness and mutation. She trailed off. Seemed to have lost herself amidst the possibilities. Krodaw and Marana seemed tied up with one another, deeply and truly. For Marana to explain Krodaw, with all its complexities, would be to dissect her own spirit and paste it into the world for all to see. No, not dissection - dissection wasn't so bad. Vivisection was worse. And this was auto-vivisection. Quite another realm entirely.

"Any-whoo. Hardly matters, for now. All I'll ask, Tanner, pet, is that you don't... take the governor at face value. I'm just going to say, I saw one colony burn, and this one is young, this one is different, but it's still... well, I'd rather you had a nice boring sojourn here, rather than getting involved in colonial politics. Politics in general is for cheats, liars, and psychopaths. And colonial politics is where the lunatics who were too mad for regular politics get a land all to themselves, with no oversight. Just... be careful, won't you? I don't want you getting hurt."

Tanner blinked.

"Oh."

"Now, let's keep walking, and enjoy the great rolling plains of nothingness, more nothingness, and snow."

"...thank you, Marana. It's appreciated."

"Think nothing of it. I'm a governor's daughter, we dole out patronage like you wouldn't imagine. I tell you, in Krodaw, when the heat was up and we were sweating like pigs day after day, after a few weeks I honestly started sweating high-quality claret. So, think nothing of it. Fish swim, birds fly, I projectile vomit wine and gold at people. Enjoy."

Another slow blink.

"Alright."

Marana smiled slightly.

"Hurk. There you go."

Tanner wasn't going to say 'thank you' for an imaginary rain of wine-gold vomit.

She had no idea what was up with Marana, sometimes.

Honestly, sometimes she thought Marana didn't know, either.

She shivered. The cold was starting to slither into her limbs. The wall was close, the soldiers were still in view, silhouettes that slowly disintegrated as the lights winked off. Time to get home, she thought. Wanted to write to Eygi. Not that... well, not that it really did anything. The telegram 'office' was closed, definitively so. Letters were hard to relay at the best of times, and with winter sealing off the roads and rivers... regardless. There was no obvious loop to take, so they simply turned on their heels at an arbitrary point and walked back to the main gate, the distant, spread-eagle shadows of the wall-statues seeming to be reaching up to grab the sun out of the sky, drag it down behind the walls, and seal it with the city. Tanner felt, more than ever, that she didn't... know the colony. Oh, she knew how they supplied themselves, how they stockpiled food in the summer and stored it in great cold-houses in the winter, how they worked on the city relentlessly to clear it of rubble and contamination, how the curfews worked, how the inns were done, but... did she know it? She wasn't... the comparison that came to mind was her patron, Ms. vo Anka. Anthropologist and linguist. She'd doubtless see all the interplay of culture and religion, but Tanner didn't knew know what Rekidans worshipped. And thinking about it like Marana did, the crude interlocking of power... she started to wonder about things. Just a few. The bouncers. The cloistered houses. The curfews. The very summoning of judges to this far-off place. The ratio of Fidelizhi to Rekidan. What the Erlize were doing in all of this - didn't exactly see them walking around swinging billy-clubs and whistling show tunes, after all. Had to be doing something. So what?

And where was she placed in this great arrangement? How had her arrival, and the absence of the others, affected things?

The idea of failing to meet expectations, even manipulative ones, made her feel... uncomfortable. Didn't like the idea of failing something simply because her teammates hadn't shown up on time.

They walked back to the colony, mulling over their own thoughts. Tanner was just... maybe this was why the interviews were only having so much headway, why the one piece of information the governor really seemed interested in was gained outside of any formal environment. Maybe she'd wandered into a network of strained tensions - like she'd sat down at a card table with no idea of the rules, and was just throwing things around while yelping 'go fish' like an overly-enthusiastic angler. Probably... ought to learn a bit. Who had that pale figure been? Was it connected up to all of this? Did the curfew breakers have any unusual purpose to them?

A voice broke the silence like a hammer slamming into a frozen lake.

"Hey-ho!"

Tanner paused.

Marana paused as well.

But only Tanner knew the significance of that voice.

A memory. A memory of arriving in Rekida. Sitting in an inn, just trying to warm up by the fire. Exhausted, half-delirious, barely aware that the long nightmare in the snow was over. Desperate for feeling to return to all of her extremities. And then...

"Out fishing?"

Then that voice had split the air. Not asking about fishing, though.

The governor had asked if someone had tried to measure her skull when she arrived.

She'd said that someone had.

This was that someone. And she could already feel the sharp points of her deranged phrenology-divination device, which looked like something out of a torture victim's fever-dreams.

"Oh. Good evening, Tom-Tom."

A woman with a necklace of frozen fish grinned, her teeth gleaming in the dark.

And to her mild discomfort...

Marana was grinning back.

Oh, good heavens...