“How many Valskaayans did you kill while you were there, Radchaai?” Not Grandfather, but one of the other people around the table, one whose anger and resentment had built beyond the ability of her fear of me to contain it.

“Quite a few,” I replied, calmly. “But I am not here to kill anyone. I am alone and unarmed.” I held my gloved hands out, over the table, palms up.

“Just a social call, then?” Her voice was thick with sarcasm.

“Sadly, no,” I replied.

Grandfather spoke then, trying to steer the conversation away from such dangerous territory. “I think you’re too young to have been in the annexation, child.”

I ducked my head, a small, respectful bow. “I’m older than I seem, Grandfather.” Far, far older. But there was no way for anyone here to know that.

“You’re very polite,” said Grandfather, “I’ll give you that.”

“My mother said,” observed the angry person, “that the soldiers who killed her family were also very polite.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, into the tense silence that greeted her observation. “I know that even if I could tell you for certain that it wasn’t me, that wouldn’t help.”

“It wasn’t you,” she said. “It wasn’t in Surimto. But you’re right, it doesn’t help.” She shoved her chair back, looked at Grandfather. “Excuse me,” she said. “Things to do.” Grandfather gestured permission to go, and she left. As she went out the kitchen door, someone else came in. She was in her twenties, one of the people I’d seen under the arbor the day we’d arrived. The lines of her face suggested she was genetically related to Grandfather, though her skin was darker. Her eyes and her tightly curled hair that she’d twisted and bound with a bright green scarf were lighter. And by the set of her shoulders, and the frozen silence that descended when she’d entered, she was who I’d come to see.

I rose. “Miss Queter,” I said, and bowed. She said nothing, did not move. “I want to thank you for deciding not to kill me.” Silence, still, from Grandfather, from the others at the table. I wondered if the hallways outside were full of eavesdroppers, or if everyone else had fled, hiding anywhere that might be safe until I left. “Will you sit?” She didn’t answer.

“Sit, Queter,” said Grandfather.

“I won’t,” said Queter, and folded her arms and stared at me. “I could have killed you, Radchaai. You’d probably have deserved it, but Raughd deserved it more.”

I gestured resignation and reseated myself. “She threatened your sister, I take it?” An incredulous look told me my mistake. “Your brother. Is he all right?”

She raised an eyebrow, tilted her head. “The rescuer of the helpless.” Her voice was acid.

“Queter,” warned Grandfather.