Grail - Elizabeth Bear [31]
But she’d mentioned the book first. If she was guilty, would she have done that?
No, he thought. She was too savvy to play those kinds of games with an Exalt. And there was no increase in her pulse or respiration when she spoke.
But she had just given him the opening he had been waiting for.
Watching her face carefully, he lowered his voice and shielded the shape of the words with the dingy cup. “The book that isn’t in the case outside the Bridge anymore, you mean?”
Dorcas also had a lot of experience hiding her emotions. The uptick in her heart rate could have meant anything—but the fact that it happened reassured him that he had not missed a similar one previously.
She met his eyes briefly, then glanced down again. “Your Captain finally jettisoned the damned thing?”
“Three hours ago, an incursion group broke in and stole it,” he answered. “My sister Caitlin’s mind died in the attack.”
Her chin lifted abruptly. Her chest swelled on a sharply taken breath. Adrenaline response. “I am sorry for your loss.”
Not sincere, exactly, but not whatever the opposite was, either. He turned it aside with a lift of his hand. “There’s a radical element among your people that will not support any course of action except reversing course—no matter how Pyrrhic that would appear to be at this juncture.”
“Radical, are they?” Whoever she was now, Dorcas still had Sparrow’s appetite. He had startled her once; she would not show it now, and the meal balanced in her lap was vanishing rapidly, though tilapia were not small fish.
“When their political convictions can move them to unprovoked violence, I find it difficult to think of another term.”
“Like the ones who Exalted an entire colony ship full of life-forms?”
“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” he said. “We didn’t expect anything Mean to survive Acceleration.”
“You thought you knew what the world needed. Perhaps some of us would rather have died than be transformed. Perhaps—did you ever think?—perhaps it’s better to die than exploit others.”
“We made a judgment call,” he said. “I suppose you’re right, and that does make me a dangerous radical. So what does that make the extreme element among your people? The ones who consider themselves contaminated? Zealots? Fanatics?”
Dorcas set her plate aside and rubbed her hands on the grass as if wiping off a trace of oil or fish juice. “That’s because, at your heart, you’re still a reactionary.”
Tristen didn’t agree with her, but he also didn’t want to argue. And what was it to him what this woman thought? She wasn’t Sparrow, and nothing he could do would make her so. All he’d do was break his own heart seeking the lost girl in the present-day woman.
Children always grew up strangers, he thought, imagining what a disappointment he had been to his own father. In this case, the strangeness was literal as well as metaphorical.
“Some of your people view Earth as sacred,” he persisted.
“Sacred as circles,” she agreed, “and not just my people, Tristen.”
“Do you know who killed my sister?”
The cut direct. There was the held breath, the chilling of the extremities, the pupil blown wide to catch any scrap of information. Fight or flight.
Just a moment’s worth before she snorted like an alligator and tossed her head. “Would you have me ferret out whosoever it might be and remand them to you for questioning?”
Nobody was sitting nearby now, but Exalt ears could overhear distant conversations. This once, his knowledge of that fact did not affect Tristen’s choice of words. “I leave that up to your conscience. But I would prefer it if you handled any disciplinary issues among the Edenites internally.”
“So you can’t be blamed?”
“Because it reinforces your authority.” He folded his hands. “The murder of my sister cannot be considered to be a matter strictly among the Edenites.”
“Murder, or act of war?”
“Either way,” he said, “I will prosecute it.”
Their gazes were locked, and had been. Tristen made the choice to look down first. He needed Dorcas’s cooperation, offered rather than coerced.
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