Too Like the Lightning by Ada Palmer Read Free Book Online

down leftovers in the Guildbreaker kitchen.”
    â€œThere is not no truth in such speculation,” Martin answered, with that awkward precision which infects his speech sometimes, and makes more sense when you remember he’s thinking in Latin.
    The two men looked me over now, and the surreality of it swept over me like headache, the wrong sides of the Earth together, as in some dream when a long-dead friend and some recent celebrity stand impossibly side by side. But this was no dream. “If I may add something, Members?” I waited for approving nods. “I think it would help, Nepos Martin, if you told Member Ockham that your team isn’t Masonic, it’s—I mean, when you do this work it’s for Romanova directly, yes? It wasn’t the Emperor who sent you.”
    â€œCorrect,” Martin confirmed. “In fact, I believe Caesar is not aware of this particular errand. I’m here as a personal favor for President Ganymede.”
    Ockham’s face brightened instantly. “The President sent you?”
    â€œYes and no,” ever-honest Martin answered. “Your President is not aware that I’m doing this particular favor at this particular time, but they know me very well, and they’ve used me often in cases like this. My team and I are not police detectives. Romanova sends us when polylegal tangles require an investigation but the place is sensitive, high-level, a Senator’s personal bash’house or the Sensayers’ Conclave, situations where all seven Hives need to be satisfied but the affected Hives’ privacy must remain inviolate, or the investigation itself might cause more harm than the original problem. We solve things while leaving as many feathers unruffled as we can. When your name came up in the Black Sakura tracker log, Commissioner General Papadelias had the warrant sent to me immediately, to make sure your doorbell wasn’t rung by someone your President trusts less.”
    As the Mason finished it was my face, not his, that Ockham studied, and I nodded eager confirmation. Ockham’s curious expression made me bold. “If … if a little of my own opinion wouldn’t be unwelcome?” I waited for him to nod permission. “Now that the hand of law is moving, Member Ockham, I think you’re not going to get a gentler touch than Nepos Martin’s. I’ve seen their work before; they really do focus on delicate situations like this, turning only the stones that must be turned. You’re seeing it already: they have a warrant, they don’t have to be this accommodating. You can trust Martin. They’re a good person, genuinely good. If you can trust anyone Romanova might ever send, you can trust them. May I show them the paper?”
    Ockham paused, and we all heard the scraaaa-thump of failed bed-moving upstairs. “Fine. Through there.” He gestured to a side door. “And I do appreciate your courtesy, Mason. But I’ll feel better when I’ve spoken with my President myself.”
    I led the way from the Mukta hall to a warmer room with practical chairs, neglected dishes, and an unfinished game of mahjong. As we left the front rooms’ No-Doodling Zone, spirals and zigzags like those on Ockham’s clothes flowed over the cushions, the wooden chair backs, even up one wall, like lichen starting to convert a bare island to soil. I think Martin did notice napping Eureka Weeksbooth, visible only as feet protruding from disordered cushions in the corner, but he made no comment, and moved only in Ockham’s wake. “Your bash’ has nine members, yes?” he asked. “Yourself, your spouse Lesley, Thisbe Saneer, Cato and Eureka Weeksbooth, Sidney Koons, Kat and Robin Typer, and Ojiro Sniper.”
    â€œNine-and-a-half counting Mycroft.”
    Martin smiled. “Any other frequent guests?”
    â€œOur regular guards and maintenance people, plus Kat or Robin bring a