Objections
Rialu had offered Attari the choice between seeing Lady Orialu at once, or waiting until tomorrow. After weighing the terror she felt now against the idea of stewing in that same feeling the rest of the day and all that night, Attari had chosen the former.
At the press conference, Lady Orialu had been clad head to toe in bloodroyal finery; today, she wore a tight-fitting cropped shirt and loose linen pants. It should have made her less intimidating. Instead, Attari felt much the same now as she had when Lady Orialu had first called her forth from the crowd.
Attari stood five spans and five fingers. Rialu might have been a bit over six spans. Lady Orialu towered over them both; she had to be seven spans or damn near it. And she's not even done growing, is she? The venarch's daughter was only nineteen, and wouldn't be truly done growing until her early twenties…but even though Lady Orialu had yet to stack her third pyre, she already carried herself like someone used to giving commands and hearing them obeyed. Her body was as powerful as her presence, exquisitely muscled, as if Lady Orialu had set out to forge her body into a weapon to equal the spear she always carried. That spear was shut away in a wooden case today, but Attari remembered only too well the color of its blade: the same color as Lady Orialu's lone eye.
She turned that eye on Attari now. Attari tried not to quail under its gaze.
Attari expected the first words out of Lady Orialu's mouth to be something about her sister – Why did you talk to her? What did you want her voice for? Instead, Lady Orialu looked past Attari, at the box containing Word in Emptiness's anchor, and said: "What the fuck is that?"
Attari nearly jumped out of sheer surprise: at the topic, at a venarch's daughter dropping fuck in her first sentence, but mostly at the fact that a bloodroyal seemed to care about her partner's anchor at all. She couldn't help glancing over at Rialu, who looked much calmer – but she still caught his eyebrows rising ever so slightly.
"Miss Ila's anchor was sealed when she was arrested, my lady," said Rialu. "It is standard procedure – "
Orialu rounded on him. "I had her arrested three days ago!" she snapped. Though her ire wasn't directed towards Attari, Attari found herself taking a step back regardless. "Did it take you three days to find her entry in the Spirit Registry? I know it didn't. Why didn't you give her partner back as soon as you found out it wasn't any kind of threat? Justify me that, Ca'unaal!"
Attari stared at her, stunned as a clubbed fish. Rialu's face as he looked at Orialu was a study in careful blankness.
"A regrettable oversight," Rialu said after a moment's pause. "However, please rest assured that I will be inputting a request by the end of today to have Miss Ila's anchor returned to her – "
"Do it now," said Orialu, "before I take out my anchor and break that box open myself."
"Of course." Rialu gave a shallow bow; his snake-locks swung forward and momentarily obscured his face. Then he straightened and said, "Inquest committee, you heard Her Ascendant Radiance. Have someone bring the key at once."
An Ilisaf servant showed up moments later – how did he get here so fast?, Attari wondered – and handed off a minute key, its many teeth so fine that their points seemed to vanish into thin air. No wonder I couldn't pick the lock with fucking earrings. Attari was suddenly embarrassed that she'd even tried. But the thought fell away as she watched Rialu pick up the box and slot the key into place. Before he'd even finished opening the lid, a little silvery blur shot through the gap. Attari raised her hands to catch it, heart leaping. It smacked into her hand, stung the flesh, but Attari didn't care; the tears beading in her eyes were ones of happiness, of relief. She kissed the little silver earbud, pressed it to her cheek, closed her eyes to the rest of the world.
Attari! The word rang out in her mind, plaintive-happy as a lost child reunited with its father. Word in Emptiness could only give Attari one word at a time, but now it gave her that one word over and over. Attari! Attari!
Partner, she thought back, putting as much love into the word as she could. Attari could give her partner more than one word in return, but Word understood single words and simple phrases best. Missed you.
Missedyou! Word in Emptiness echoed. Attari! Missedyou!
Attari wanted dearly to be alone with Word, to make up for three days of separation, but it wasn't her place to dismiss a son of House Ca'unaal, let alone the venarch's own daughter. Love you, she told her partner. Missed you. Alone later. Promise. Attari tucked her partner's vessel into her ear, cold at first, but her flesh soon warmed the metal.
Missedyou, Word echoed, and Later. She felt its presence dim down into silent companionship, the sense of not-alone that she'd missed so sorely over the last three days.
Attari wiped her eyes on the back of her hand, then opened them again. Rialu seemed to be looking at something just past her, his face once again carefully blank. Orialu was looking directly at Attari, her expression unreadable.
"I hated you, back in the press gauntlet," Orialu said to her. "Thought you were scum. But now I just feel sorry for you. Sit down."
Attari was grateful that Orialu had given her a direct command, because gods help her if she had any idea how to respond to what had come before it. She took one of the chairs and sat, eyes cast downward, waiting for Orialu to continue.
"Oh, look at me, won't you?" the venarch's daughter said. Attari's head snapped up at once. She raised her eyes to where Orialu had sat down across from her and looked her haltingly in the face. Rialu remained standing by the door, watching impassively. "Mother said I shouldn't even bother coming here at all, you know? That I should just leave everything to Ca'unaal and the inquest committee. But you're the first person I've ever had arrested, so I thought I should see the whole process through. Do we always seal people's anchors away from them for days like that?" For a moment, Orialu's eye lost some of its sharpness. She looked almost troubled. "That's fucked up."
"I…" Attari started, for some answer seemed to be expected of her, "I, ah…"
Ca'unaal, help me, she pleaded internally, you'd know the answer to her last question, at least. But Rialu was silent. Is he leaving me to answer alone on purpose? Or does he just not want to step in on a bloodroyal's conversation?
"Did you know you're all over the news?" Orialu said.
Attari gave up on trying to understand the flow of Orialu's thoughts and accepted herself as lost. At least Orialu had finally given her something she felt she could answer. "That, um – horrifies me," Attari said. "But I can't pretend it doesn't make sense. After I…did what I did. In front of all those cameras."
"Yeah," Orialu said. "You might not want to go home for a while."
Attari was suddenly very glad she was sitting down. Of course. Of course. It's like she said, by now most of Tei Ura has probably seen my face and heard what I did. And what did I do? Made a villain of myself out there, that's what, and against Venarch Orisai's sweet little younger daughter, too. Oh, I could just vomit right now.
But she didn't, thankfully. Meanwhile, Orialu was still talking.
"Definitely better if you just stay here," she said. "I mean, you'd have to anyway, seeing as your case has only just started – but we can move you to some nicer rooms, at least. Ones with windows."
"I'm at House Ilisaf's disposal," Attari said. She paused. "But windows would be…nice."
"We'll see about it," Orialu said, and smiled at Attari for the first time since she'd walked in. It lit up her face like a sunbeam lancing through a bank of stormclouds. "Anyway," she went on, rising from her seat and towering over Attari once more, "Ca'unaal and I are going to leave you alone now, give you a chance to make up for lost time with your partner." Orialu hefted up the case containing her own paired spirit's anchor. "Three fucking days, can't believe…" she said under her breath as she strode out the door, Rialu trailing behind her.
But this time, when the door closed behind them, Attari was no longer alone.
"We are done with Miss Ila for today," Rialu said.
They were at the top floor of the captivity bloc, in one of the inquest chambers – a dark, plain room, thickly carpeted, deeply quiet. To one side of the chamber, a wall of screens showed the camera feed from Attari Ila's rooms, bathing the inquest chamber in dim greenish light that made everyone in the room look half-dead. A woman was typing up notes from the day's questioning; a man stood off in the corner and spoke quietly into his cellband, obviously coordinating something; another man was doing something with quite a lot of data in text so small that even peeking made Orialu's head hurt. All of them studiously avoided looking at her; in fact, they all avoided so much as pointing their faces at her own, as if just looking at a bloodroyal too directly might scald them.
All except Rialu, who looked at Orialu from behind a polite smile with cool, measuring eyes. Orialu had the distinct feeling that he was weighing everything she'd said and done in front of him today. Why, it almost feels like being in a room with Mother.
"Have you any questions about today's proceedings, my lady?" Rialu asked her. "It would be my honor to contribute to the education of House Ilisaf's heir in whatever small way I can."
Gag me, thought Orialu. But she did have questions, all the same. "Do you want your people here while we talk?" she asked Rialu. "Or would you rather contribute to my education in private? Up to you, it doesn't matter to me."
Rialu looked at her a moment longer without speaking, then broke off to address the other people in the room. "Miss Metsu," he said, "Missin Ru, Missin Lau, would you all be so kind as to clear the room? Leave your things here, we will resume as soon as Lady Orialu is finished speaking with me." The woman and two men working for Rialu hurried out of the room. Orialu could almost smell the relief wafting from them as they left.
"You can drop the smile now that we're alone," Orialu said to Rialu. "I did something you disapprove of. Probably several somethings. Tell me."
"Alas," said Rialu, "the smile is quite reflexive. But if you would like me to speak frankly, then I shall." He laced his fingers together, took in a long breath through his nose, let it out. "When you asked to speak with Attari Ila, I expected you to talk to her about your sister, nothing more. I suppose that is my own fault, but it was my understanding that you were here to observe. To learn. Not to give orders regarding the treatment of our subject."
"Oh," said Orialu, "you're talking about the thing where I had a problem with you sealing half her soul away for three days?"
"So that's how you see it," Rialu mused.
Orialu's hand tightened around the length of Ai Naa's spearshaft left exposed by the case. "Tell me why you did that," she said. "The Spirit Registry is hosted on a Tauhrelil biocomputer, one of the biggest and best ever made. Even counting for bureaucracy, how could it have taken a legalist employed by House Ilisaf itself more than a day to get Ila's information? Let alone three? Tell me."
Rialu tilted his head at her. His smile widened the tiniest bit. "Why do you think we left it for three days, Lady Orialu?"
"Don't," Orialu snapped, smacking her free hand down on the tabletop. Rialu didn't so much as twitch. "None of your interrogation games with me, Ca'unaal. Tell me yourself why Ila had to go without her other half for three days."
"I fear," said Rialu, "that the answer may be difficult for you to accept. Nevertheless…" He lowered his eyes briefly in thought.
"Consider the Heavenfacing Court," he said at last, raising his eyes again. "The executions and bloodshed carried out there are terrible, yet necessary, for that measure of suffering prevents even greater suffering for the rest of Tei Ura. You agree with this much, surely?"
"Who doesn't?" Orialu replied.
"Just so," Rialu said. "And as this is true for the Heavenfacing Court, so it is true for the rest of our legal system. Some suffering in the pursuit of justice is unavoidable, but it prevents the greater suffering that would arise if injustices were left unaddressed."
Orialu's mouth twisted. What Rialu was saying made sense…but there was still something about it she didn't like. Yet she couldn't figure out how to voice it, so instead she nodded for him to continue.
"Of course, this is the present day, not the time of living gods," Rialu went on. There was a shine to his eyes that hadn't been there a moment ago; Orialu got the feeling he was warming to the subject. "We are a civilized society, yes? We cannot eradicate all suffering, but we have eliminated undeserved deaths, unnecessary bloodshed, even excess pain. Take the case of Miss Ila." He gestured towards the wall of screens displaying Attari in her captivity. "Once, long ago, she might have lost her tongue for daring to speak to your sister as she did. Even a thousand years ago, she might still have been held for months in a bare stone cell, deprived of all comfort and beauty, forced to eat, sleep, and shit all in the same room while waiting upon the mercy of the court. Barbaric." Though he still smiled, Rialu spoke the word flatly, with contempt. "But such times are behind us now. Instead Miss Ila waits in chambers pleasing to the eye, with comfort and entertainment, fed the same food as House Ilisaf's own servants. Is that not better? More merciful?"
"I still don't see why this means you had to seal Ila's partner for three days," said Orialu.
"But would you agree," said Rialu, "that a shorter imprisonment is more merciful than a longer one?"
Orialu nodded, grudgingly, with the sudden sense that a trap was closing around her.
"As do I!" said Rialu, leaning forward slightly. "You see, we are of one mind about this." I fucking doubt that, thought Orialu, but she let him keep talking anyway. "And a subject who cooperates with us earns their release much sooner than one who does not. Do you see, Lady Orialu? Apply a bit of psychology, and we may shave days, weeks, even months off a subject's imprisonment."
Orialu crossed her arms. "And just how does sealing away someone's paired spirit make for a shorter imprisonment?"
"Shall we take the case of Miss Ila as an example?" Rialu tipped his hand once again towards the wall of screens displaying Attari's rooms. Turn those off, Orialu wanted to tell him, but she wanted even more to know how Rialu was about to justify sealing Attari's partner, and so she said nothing. "The rather…high-profile nature of her transgression aside, she is a fairly typical example of the sort of person who passes through our legal system. She came into our custody afraid, ashamed, and already convinced of her own guilt; when we first sealed her partner, she accepted this as a security measure, as part of her punishment. I can hear your objection already, my lady – that is already a miserable state to be in, why make it worse?" Rialu met Orialu's gaze with his. "Have I guessed correctly?"
"You have," said Orialu. She didn't like it.
"It is true that sealing Miss Ila's partner does worsen her mental state," Rialu went on. "That is why we only did it for three days. Psyche analysts, neurologists, and spirit artists have all studied this matter extensively, you may be interested to know, and found that three days provides sufficient impact for our purposes, without being a long enough separation to cause any permanent damage. So you see, we do not choose that period of time blindly, or to be cruel."
"You said impact," Orialu replied. "Tell me what you meant by that."
"Of course." Rialu inclined his head. "Restoring Miss Ila's partner shows her two things." He raised a pair of fingers. "One – that we will indeed return it. That we would not visit the cruelty of a long-term separation upon her. This shows Miss Ila that we are interested in justice, not simple punishment." He folded down one finger. "Two – that cooperating benefits her as much as it does us." Rialu's smile twisted slightly as he folded down the second finger. "And here, I must admit, is where we reach the source of my earlier displeasure."
Orialu said nothing, or perhaps didn't trust herself to say anything. Instead she simply raised one eyebrow at Rialu and tilted her head: go on.
"You disrupted the framework that I was establishing with Miss Ila," Rialu said. "The one that positions benefits as something to be earned from us through cooperation, rather than freely given – the way you freely gave certain concessions during your meeting with her. I doubt it will have serious effects in this particular case – Miss Ila is already rather eager to cooperate with us, as I'm sure you've noticed yourself – but it is crucial to have that framework in place, in case the investigation becomes difficult. Had this been a more delicate case, you might have set things back and lengthened the subject's imprisonment by weeks, even months."
Orialu wanted to respond, but there were too many thoughts crowded at the door from mind to mouth, and what had seemed so shiningly simple a moment ago had grown dim and twisted. A shorter imprisonment was better. Wasn't it? But if it came at the expense of separation from one's partner, of windows to the outside world…yet Orialu could hear Rialu's reply even now: that the separation was only for three days, that Attari Ila's rooms still had artificial sky. It was true, but it was wrong. So is a longer imprisonment better after all? But Orialu couldn't accept that, either.
"Does this repulse you?" Rialu asked quietly. His smile was a faint shadow, almost nonexistent.
"Of course it does!" Orialu burst out, with an intensity that shocked even her. She realized she had half-risen from her seat and sat back down, gripped Ai Naa's spearshaft, tried to ground herself. "Of course it does," she said again. "It's – it's ugly." She searched Rialu's face, unsure of what she was looking for, but knowing that she wasn't finding it. "Doesn't it bother you? At all?"
"If it troubles you so deeply," Rialu said, "then change it, Your Ascendant Radiance."
"If you think I'm going to wait fifty years – "
"Those years will give you ample time to study Tei Ura's laws and figure out how best to implement the changes you wish to see," Rialu said. His smile regained some strength. "Perhaps the shape of your partner's anchor belies your nature," he said, eyes flicking momentarily to the spear in its case. "Perhaps you will usher in a more compassionate age for House Ilisaf. If so, I look forward to seeing it."
"Do you actually believe I can do it?" Orialu said thornily. "Or is this just your way of dismissing me?"
"I believe," said Rialu, "that laws tend to be carved from stone, and that a lady of nineteen may not yet realize how difficult they can be to change." He tilted his head slightly. "But I also believe that few are in a better position to enact that change than the heir to House Ilisaf. If this outrage still animates you by the time you take the throne, who knows what you might achieve?"
Orialu felt one hand clench itself into a fist. He was dismissing her, she was sure of that, but his words echoed in her mind all the same. Who knows what I might achieve? Not him, that's for sure. She gathered up Ai Naa's anchor in its case and stood up from the table. I'll change this, Ca'unaal, see if I don't, or else tear it all down trying.
"Thanks for the enlightenment," she said to Rialu, and sketched a deliberately overcasual bow his way. "And call my aide when you move forward with the inquisition, understood? I still want to see this through. But don't worry." As Orialu turned to go, she couldn't stop a certain bite from creeping into her voice. "I promise I won't offer Attari Ila any more basic rights unprompted."