“Yes, I’m sure that was entertaining for quite a few people,” I said tartly. “A little harder for you to claim moral superiority when you’re thirsting for someone else’s blood, though, isn’t it?”
“Your crime came first.”
“I’ve never argued that I’m on some kind of high ground with you,” I said. “Just that you might be on the low ground with me.”
Yma laughed, and she was about to aim another insult at me, I was sure, but I spoke over her.
“I know my brother disgusts you just as much as I do. I’ve known for a long time,” I said. “And I used to feel bad for you, for having to stay close to him to survive. I used to think you were just desperate and doing what you had to.”
Yma’s face twitched. She looked out one of the expansive windows at Voa, the ocean beyond it visible from this height, though it just looked like emptiness, like the edges of space.
“Used to?” she finally replied.
“Today I began to understand that you’re not desperate—at least not in the way I thought. Everything is perfectly in your control, isn’t it?”
She jerked her head back toward me, suddenly stern. I had gotten her attention.
“You’ve lost far more than I realized. You lost them before I ever laid a hand on your husband. Surukta is your name,” I said. “Your sister was Zosita Surukta, who fled the planet after she was caught teaching other languages to her neighbors, and later executed for participating in the revolt. Before she was caught, though, your nephew was killed for her crimes, and your niece, Teka, lost an eye to my brother.”
“The misdeeds of my family are behind me,” Yma said, her voice wavering a little. “You can hardly hold me responsible for them.”
“I’m not,” I said with a short laugh. “I’m telling you how I know that you are part of the revolt, and have been for quite some time.”
“My, you certainly have cooked up a theory, haven’t you?” Yma said, and her strange smile returned. “I am on the verge of marrying your brother and solidifying my place as one of the most powerful people in Shotet. I married Uzul Zetsyvis as a means to an end, this end. Social advancement. I have a skill for it. Something you would not understand, since you were born into privilege.”
“Do you want to know what ultimately gave you away?” I said, ignoring her explanation. “First of all, you were the one who turned Uzul in. You knew what my brother would do to him. People who act out of desperation don’t make calculated moves like that.”
“You—” She tried to interrupt, but I spoke over her.
“Second, you warned me that they were going to frame an innocent person for the renegade attack, knowing that I would do something about it.”
She scowled. “First you tell me about the people I’ve lost, and then you accuse me of bringing about my own sister’s execution? How does that make sense?”
“And last,” I continued, “all the tapping you do. What is it with you and Teka and the tapping? It’s not even a particularly good pattern.”
Yma’s eyes skirted mine.
“You’re a renegade,” I said. “That’s why, after all that he took from you, you’re still able to stand at my brother’s side. Because you know you need to be close to him in order to take your revenge.”
She stood, robe rippling behind her as she moved toward the window. For a long time she was still, a white pillar in the moonlight. Then, at her side, she tapped her first finger against her thumb. One, three, one. One, three, one.
“The tapping is a message,” she said without turning around. “Once, my sister and I taught ourselves a song to remember the fates of the family Noavek. She taught it to her daughter, Teka, as well.” She sang it, her voice creaking. “The first child of the family Noavek will fall to the family Benesit.” I followed her fingers as they found the rhythm again, and her body swayed. “The rhythm was one, three, one, three. . . .”
Like a dance.
“I do it,” she said, slowly, “when I need strength for the task at hand. I sing that song in my head, and I tap out its rhythm.”
Like at her sister’s execution, her fingers on the railing. Like at dinner with my brother, her hand on his knee.
She turned to me.
“So, what? Have you come to get leverage? Do you intend to trade me for your freedom? What?”
“I have to admire your commitment to this game of pretend,” I said. “You gave over your husband—”
“Uzul was sick with Q900X. Several ingredients in the treatment protocol are a violation of our religious principles,” Yma snapped. “So he sacrificed himself for the cause. I assure you, it was not what I wanted, but as a result of his selflessness—something you clearly know nothing about—I won my place at Ryzek’s side.”
My currentshadows moved faster, still spurred on by shifts in my emotions.
“I take it you haven’t spoken much to the other renegades,” I said. “You know they’re responsible for saving my life? I’ve been working with them for a while now.”
“Have you,” Yma said, flat, frowning at me.
“You didn’t really think whatever excuse Ryzek gave for carving up my face was true, did you?” I said. “I helped renegades sneak into Noavek manor to assassinate him, and after the plan failed, I got them out safely. That’s how I got arrested. Teka, your niece, was there.”