Free 0316246689 (S) by Ann Leckie Page A

her. I am so glad I’m not Dlique. Did you know she dismembered her sister once? She was bored, she said, and wanted to know what would happen. Well, what did she expect? And her sister’s never been the same.”
    “Oh,” said Governor Giarod. Likely all she could manage.
    “Translator Dlique mentioned it,” I said.
    Translator Zeiat scoffed. “She would.” And then, after a brief pause, “Are you certain it was Dlique? Perhaps there’s been some sort of mistake. Perhaps it was someone else who died.”
    “Your very great pardon, Translator,” replied Governor Giarod, “but when she arrived, she introduced herself as Translator Dlique.”
    “Well, that’s just the thing,” Translator Zeiat replied. “Dlique is the sort of person who’ll say anything that comes into her mind. Particularly if she thinks it will be interesting or amusing. You really can’t trust her to tell the truth.”
    I waited for Governor Giarod to reply, but she seemed paralyzed again. Perhaps from trying to follow Translator Zeiat’s statement to its obvious conclusion.
    “Translator,” I said, “are you suggesting that since Translator Dlique isn’t entirely trustworthy, she might have lied to us about being Translator Dlique?”
    “Nothing more likely,” replied Zeiat. “You can see why I’d much rather be Zeiat than Dlique. I don’t much like her sense of humor, and I certainly don’t want to encourage her. But I’d much rather be Zeiat than Dlique just now, so I suppose we can just let her have her little bit of fun this time. Is thereanything, you know…” She gestured doubt. “Anything left ? Of the body, I mean.”
    “We put the body in a suspension pod as quickly as we could, Translator,” said Governor Giarod, trying very hard not to look or sound aghast. “And… we didn’t know what… what customs would be appropriate. We held a funeral…”
    Translator Zeiat tilted her head and looked very intently at the governor. “That was very obliging of you, Governor.” She said it as though she wasn’t entirely sure it was obliging.
    The governor reached into her coat, pulled out a silver-and-opal pin. Held it out to Translator Zeiat. “We had memorials made, of course.”
    Translator Zeiat took the pin, examined it. Looked back up at Governor Giarod, at me. “I’ve never had one of these before! And look, it matches yours.” We were both wearing the pins from Translator Dlique’s funeral. “You’re not related to Dlique, are you?”
    “We stood in for the translator’s family, at the funeral,” Governor Giarod explained. “For propriety’s sake.”
    “Oh, propriety .” As though that explained everything. “Of course. Well, it’s more than I would have done, I’ll tell you. So. That’s all cleared up, then.”
    “Translator,” I said, “may one properly inquire as to the purpose of your visit?”
    Governor Giarod added, hastily, “We are of course pleased you’ve chosen to honor us.” With a very small glance my way that was as much objection as she could currently make to the directness of my question.
    “The purpose of my visit?” asked Zeiat, seeming puzzled for a moment. “Well, now, that’s hard to say. They told me I was Dlique, you recall, and the thing about Dlique is—aside from the fact that you can’t trust a word she says—she’seasily bored and really far too curious. About the most inappropriate things, too. I’m quite sure she came here because she was bored and wanted to see what would happen. But since you tell me I’m Zeiat, I suspect I’m here because that ship is really terribly cramped and I’ve been inside it far too long. I’d really like to be able to walk around and stretch a bit, and perhaps eat some decent food.” A moment of doubt. “You do eat food, don’t you?”
    It was the sort of question I could imagine Translator Dlique asking. And perhaps she had asked it, when she’d first arrived, because Governor Giarod replied, calmly, “Yes,