“I am at a loss to understand what the fleet captain is asking,” said Sword of Atagaris, in the person of this ancillary.

“I am asking,” I replied, knowing the evasion for precisely what it was, “if you had a private conversation with Anaander Mianaai, one no one could overhear. But perhaps you have already answered me. Was it the one that claims the Presger have infiltrated the Radch, or the other one?” The other one being the one that had given me command of Mercy of Kalr. And sent me Tisarwat.

Or, gods help us all, was there even a third part of Mianaai, with yet another justification of whatever it was she was doing?

“Begging the fleet captain’s indulgence,” interjected Captain Hetnys into the brief silence that followed my question, “that I might speak frankly.”

“By all means, Captain.”

“Sir.” She swallowed. “Begging your very great pardon, I am familiar with the fleet captains in the province. Your name isn’t among them.” Sword of Atagaris had no doubt shown her my service record by now—or as much of it as was made available to her—and she’d seen that I’d been made fleet captain only a few weeks ago. The same time I’d joined the military. There were several conclusions one might draw from such information, and it appeared she’d chosen one—that I had been hastily appointed to this position for some reason, with no military background. Saying so aloud, to me, was potentially as much as her life was worth.

“My appointment is a recent one.” That alone raised several questions. In an officer like Captain Hetnys, I expected one of them to be why she hadn’t been appointed fleet captain herself. Possibly this question would occur to her before any others.

“Sir, are there doubts about my loyalty?” Realized then that her career was hardly the most pressing issue. “You said my lord was… divided. That this is all a result of a disagreement with herself. I’m not sure I understand how that’s possible.”

“She’s become too large to continue to be one entity, Captain. If she ever was just one.”

“Of course she was, sir. Is. Begging the fleet captain’s pardon, perhaps you don’t have much experience with ancillary-crewed ships. It’s not exactly the same, sir, but it’s very similar.”

“Beg to inform the captain,” I said, making my voice cold and ironic, “that my entire service record is not available to her. I am quite well acquainted with ancillaries.”

“Even so, sir. If what you say is true, and this is my lord split in two and fighting herself, if they’re both the Lord of the Radch and not… not counterfeit, then how do we know which one is the right one?”